He stood as she stepped to the door. “Robyn, that is not what I’m saying.”
She stood in the doorway, looking at him and the bright pink of the sunset beyond. “You don’t hate yourself for what he did, for something you had no control over? Because that’s what I just heard, Curtis.”
“They are two very different situations.”
“No, they aren’t. You are punishing yourself for something he did, and I won’t let you punish me, too.”
“I wouldn’t.” He stepped closer, his eyes pleading for understanding. But this was the one area she could never back down on, because it would change how she saw herself. “You don’t understand, he raised me, he did things—”
“What about the Fryes? They adopted you because you were so wonderful.”
“I don’t know why they adopted me.” He pushed his hair back off his forehead.
“You never asked?”
“Not once.” He met her gaze and held it. “I’m not passing judgment on you, but I’ll never have children.”
“And I will.” Perfection faded around her, the sky darkening as the sun dipped below the horizon. “I should get my things and go back to shore now.” Her chest felt hollow, shrinking in on itself as her hopes withered inside.
“What?” He blinked a few times, shaking his head. “Why?”
“We’re done. This is fundamental, Curtis. Who you are and who I am can’t coexist. I’ll go back to my parents’ and you can have my things from your house shipped there.” She turned and stepped into the house.
He grabbed her arm and spun her back around to face him. “You stay here and finish the project. I’ll go.” He released her arm, stepping back and drawing in a deep breath. “If you ever change your mind—”
“I won’t.” She turned from him, walking as quickly as she could through the house and up the stairs, so she could cry behind the safety of her bedroom door.
She’d been so wrong about him, about everything. A person who hated himself could never love anyone. And Curtis Frye thought of nothing but business, even keeping her here to finish a remodeling project after she’d rejected his proposal. If she wasn’t an emotional wreck, and technically unemployed and homeless, she might have refused. But she believed in the project, and she needed the job to get back on her feet now that this sordid chapter in her life was over.
Chapter Thirteen
Time slipped through his fingers. An entire month now, and he still hadn’t come up with a solution. Curtis hadn’t spoken to Robyn since the night he left Sapphire Isle, but he knew the remodeling project on the house was nearing completion. She’d been in constant email contact, always going through the amazingly efficient assistant she’d selected for him.
All that time, and he was still no closer to thinking of a way to get her back. Out of frustration, he’d replayed their last conversation in his mind, tripping over her incredulity that he’d never asked the Fryes why they adopted him. He doubted it would give him any clarity, but at this point, desperation won out.
He entered the Fryes’s Huntington Beach estate through the garage, skirting as much of the staff as he could. They always made things so formal, announcing his presence like he was some kind of prince. He knew they all liked the pretense, but it made him uncomfortable, and he was already ill at ease.
Camille Frye spent most mornings in her study returning phone calls, so he sought her out there. When he heard voices in the hall, his steps faltered. He didn’t care to have this conversation with an audience. At the door, he paused, listening to see who was speaking.
“Forever Family is my favorite cause, that’s why it gets so much of my time.” Camille’s tone was perfectly polished, the epitome of class.
“You devote a lot of your time to adoption charities. Is this because one of your children is adopted?”
“I’m a firm believer in adoption and making it affordable for families. Cost wasn’t a factor for us, but it can deter some families.”
Curtis smiled at the graceful deflection.
“I can see how that would be. I was thinking of steering the piece toward a more personal angle, using your special experience with adoption. Which of your children is adopted?”
“You know, I can’t recall.”
The stony silence unnerved him. Was this reporter fishing for dirt on him, or was this interview for real?
“I take that to mean you’d rather we focus on your charity work?” The reporter let out a nervous laugh.
“I think that would be for the best.” He listened for a few more minutes as his mother rattled off more facts on adoption than he had ever heard in his life, then he knocked softly on the door before pushing it open. His mother’s office was ornately decorated in creams and golds. She and the reporter sat in high-backed chairs in front of her desk, his mother’s phone at her elbow.
“Mother, when you get a moment—”
“We’re just finishing up,” Camille said, her smile thanking him for the reprieve. “Curtis, this is Jane Morton from the Chronicle. She’s covering the Forever Family auction on Saturday. Did you get my invitation?”
“Yes, but we can’t make it.”
“Curtis, this is very important to me.” The authoritative tone cut him.
He eyed the reporter clutching both a recorder and notebook at the ready and decided it wasn’t worth the risk to upset his mother. Kendra thought it best not to issue a statement to contradict her original story about why there’d been a scene in the middle of the photo shoot. Robyn had stage fright, and they would wed secretly and quietly when the attention died down. Even his parents had bought the cover.
“I know, but with Robyn’s surgery she won’t be up to it yet.” Not that she knew he’d scheduled it, or had agreed to it.
“Surgery?” the reporter asked, clutching her tape recorder in her hand. “Is Miss Tindall all right?”
He knew better than to talk in front of a reporter. This whole situation had him completely off his game. He plastered on his best smile and turned to speak to the media.
“Robyn is wonderful. She’s getting her vision corrected, so she won’t be up to going out for a few days afterward.”
“Oh, that’s good to hear it’s nothing serious.” She clicked off her tape recorder and slid it into the bag at her feet along with the notepad on her lap. She stood to shake his mother’s hand. “Thank you so much for your time, Mrs. Frye.” She turned to Curtis. “My best to Miss Tindall. Keeping up with the eye drops helped me recover quickly.”
“Thank you.” He smiled, not at all surprised when the maid showed up at the door to show the guest out. Camille kept the house hopping with just a few touches to the buttons of her house phone.
“This is a surprise.” Camille motioned for him to take the vacated seat. “Are things going well at work?”
Curtis nodded, getting as comfortable as he could in the straight-backed chair.
“And Robyn?”
“Her project is ahead of schedule.”
“Good.” Camille gave a curt nod. “I’d like to have lunch with her when she gets back.”
That’s just what he needed, his mother running interference. “I’m sorry we won’t be at your event.”
“I’m sure Robyn won’t mind changing the date of her surgery. It’s elective, after all.” Camille straightened her shoulders, not a single wrinkle on her turquoise silk blouse.
Curtis cleared his throat, leveling his gaze at her. “I’m very proud of all you’ve done, but we won’t be there. Your devotion to adoption causes has to do with why I came.”
“Really?” Her cheeks lifted in a genuine smile. “Is Robyn looking for something she can be involved in?”
“This isn’t about Robyn. This is about me.”
Her perfectly arched eyebrows lifted.
Might as well get to the point. “Why did you take me in?”
She blinked once. “Because we loved you.”
“Why did you adopt? You could have had more chi
ldren.” He stared at her face, seeing the thinness of her skin for the first time.
“What’s prompting this, Curtis? Are you and Robyn considering adoption?”
“No. I don’t want children.”
Her eyes widened, their powder blue color shining. “Really?”
Clearing his throat, he tried to steer the conversation back on track. “Did you always plan on adopting?”
“Yes, I did.”
“An older child?”
“Yes, Curtis. What is it you need to hear?”
“I don’t know.” He dropped his head into his hands. A fight about adoption had started this whole mess with Robyn. He’d hoped his mother had some magical answer to solve everything.
“I always knew I would adopt. Time got away from me a bit when your brother and sisters were young, and so an older child made more sense for our family. And you slid in so perfectly. You are smart and hardworking, so easy for everyone to fall in love with.”
He lifted his head, hating the worried look in her eyes. “You weren’t afraid?”
“Of what?” Her smile was warm, softening her surprise.
“That I’d be like him?”
She blinked. “Who?”
“My…” Father seemed the wrong choice, as if it discounted John. “Jason Curtis.”
“Oh, Curtis, really. Jason was a good man—he just fell apart when Diana died. He lost reality completely.”
“That was the drugs.”
“Yes, he was self-medicating. Losing your spouse is painful. But we never worried you’d have a problem with drugs. We were very clear with all of you what our expectations were.”
“He killed someone. You never worried I might…” What exactly?
“Not once. Mrs. Rutledge knew I’d wanted to adopt. The moment she introduced you to us, it all came together and felt right. Didn’t you think so?”
“I don’t know what I thought. What I think.” He stood and crossed the room to stare out the window. The rolling expanse of manicured lawn held no answers.
He hadn’t expected an ulterior motive, but it would have been a crutch to hobble back to Robyn on. Instead, he found he was adopted by wonderful people, for all the right reasons. Staring into nothing, he realized he’d known that all along. He’d shut down long before he came here, and even all the decadence and opportunity around him couldn’t bring him to risk feeling anything. He didn’t think he deserved it, so he’d worked hard to earn all he’d been given, and it would never be enough.
He’d never feel whole, never have another chance with Robyn unless he faced what had closed him off in the first place.
…
“You’re going to have to tell him yourself.”
Peter Hardy, Curtis’s new assistant, was dancing along Robyn’s last nerve. “No, you are capable of relaying the message.”
“Why should I? If you don’t want the job, decline it. If you don’t want the surgery, don’t sign the consent forms. But I’m done playing monkey in the middle with you two.”
She couldn’t blame him. The poor man had been fielding the terribly civilized emails she and Curtis exchanged almost daily for the last month. But she wasn’t ready to talk to him. Most days, she still thought she’d made the biggest mistake of her life when she let him walk away.
“You know what I’d do? Come down for the eye surgery, and tell him then.”
“Tell him while I can’t see?”
“You’ll be fine. I slept for the first two days and was partying by the weekend.”
But where would she stay for the first two days? And why had Curtis scheduled the surgery anyway? Sure, he’d said he wanted to help her get a new start no matter what, but she’d never planned on holding him to it, not after the way they’d left things.
She sighed, leaning back in the leather desk chair in the newly decorated office of the Sapphire Isle estate. Her work here was nearly done. A dozen guest rooms, a commercial kitchen, fire codes up to standard—she’d changed every inch of the house into the perfect cross between bed-and-breakfast and luxury hotel. She’d loved every minute of it, except when the contractors neglected to realize everything had to be brought to the island by barge, and she wanted nothing more than to do it all over again.
Golden City had offered her a project-manager position, but how much Curtis had to do with that, she wasn’t sure. And she didn’t know if she could work with him. She had to stand her ground and stop being his answer for everything, but she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to resist the magnetic pull of all they could be, if she’d only let a part of her dreams die.
She could see just one way to find out. Full steam ahead.
“Can you arrange for a car to take me home from the surgery on Thursday? And book a room at a hotel?”
“Listen, it is obvious you two had a row, but you can go home. He won’t be there, his calendar is blocked off until Tuesday.”
Well, that answered that question. Curtis didn’t care to see her. He’d scheduled her surgery while he was away. It would give her the perfect opportunity to pack her things. And meet with Curtis face-to-face when he got back. Yes, by next week, she’d see everything clearly.
…
Curtis jolted to awareness, the sound of the slap on his shoulder stirring him back to the room, the meeting. He couldn’t even manage to work in this state of mind. Three of the men from the exclusive investment club he’d joined in college sat around him, discussing options for their next move in the market. And he hadn’t heard a word.
“You feeling okay?” Cameron Price had flown the red-eye from New York, and he was bright and alert.
Curtis nodded, wishing work would help. He’d never had a problem he couldn’t distract himself from with work. Ever since he’d pried up the floorboards of his past, the darkness had seeped through.
David Strong nudged him with his elbow, every bit as hard as the slap he’d delivered moments ago. “If you’re sick, you should go home. Sweat it out, sleep it off.”
“I’m not sick.” He did have that shitty out-of-control feeling being sick gave him. Anything he couldn’t influence to stop, or start, annoyed him.
“Lovesick, maybe?” Ryan Hendrix had the worst sense of humor. And the guy thought he was funny. “You know how it is. You can have money or you can have honey, but not both.”
“What the hell?” David Strong glared across the table, six and a half feet tall and built like a redwood.
Ryan leaned back and held up his hands. “A year ago, you would have said the same thing.”
Cameron cleared his throat. “I want to say, hey assholes, you’re wasting my time bickering, but I won’t. Because I have a plane to catch.” He glanced at his watch and frowned. “Curtis, your assistant knows to get me a town car, right?”
“He ought to.” The guy tried, but a lot got away from him. Robyn’s learning curve hadn’t been this steep. And there it was, the hollow ache right under his ribs. It never really stopped.
“I’ll take you in. You can check out the new Lambo.” Ryan stood, then dug his keys out of the pocket of his jeans. His choice in clothing punctuating his differences from the other club members. Sometimes the guy was brilliant, and sometimes he was just a dick.
They said their good-byes, but David stayed and sat with him in the quiet, staring out the windows as the city went through the motions like he did, going nowhere.
“You should get home, David.” He shifted in his chair, his mind too tangled and tired to pretend nothing was wrong.
“Sophie’s at a yoga retreat, so I have all the time in the world. You do this a lot? Sit here and think?”
He did. When he tried to work, he’d wind up right back here, trying to find a path through his own bullshit.
“You need to talk to someone, Curtis.”
And let them know about his father, about not wanting to pass that on to children, about her? Never happening. “I’m good.”
“And Robyn?”
“We want different
things out of life.” The words escaped before he could think better of it.
David stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankles. “Well, one of you is going to have to dream a little bigger. I vote for you.”
“Thanks.” He’d tried. He’d talked to his mom about adoption, brainstormed with his dad ways he and Robyn could still work together. That had been the smallest item on her list of things that didn’t line up. It wouldn’t be enough.
“You know how we say things are just casual, no strings attached,” David began. “Those strings tear at you as they get ripped out. I don’t know how to fix it for you. I was so desperate I went to my mother’s grave and asked her about it. And now I regret how stupid I was. What I put Sophie through.” He blew out a slow breath and then stood.
Curtis couldn’t move. Didn’t even want to. Neither of them were emotional people. But somehow Sophie had taught David to be. His friend lay a heavy hand upon his shoulder and squeezed.
No words, no good-bye. They didn’t need them.
Curtis had been to his mother’s grave just yesterday, but she didn’t have any answers, just a gut-twisting punch of frustration. He had one thing he hadn’t done. He didn’t want to do it. Had sworn he never would.
And now he had to at least try.
…
He pushed against the door, amazed at how heavy it could be. Every movement felt like he were underwater, being pulled at by an inevitable undertow. He toed off his sneakers and pulled off his sweatshirt.
“Jason?” Mrs. Rutledge appeared in the shadows. “Have you eaten?”
He didn’t know what he felt, but it wasn’t hunger. “You’ve seen him every month. Why would you betray me like that?”
“Visiting your father in prison does not betray you.”
“You’ve shown him pictures and articles. He knows everything I’ve ever done, thought, felt—”
“No one knows how you feel, Jason. Most of the time we talk of Diana, and how she would have loved to see you grow.”
“Don’t bring my mother into this.” He pushed his hand through his hair, hoping removing the sweatshirt was enough to get rid of the stench of despair that clung to him after he’d visited the prison. He’d smelled it all the way home.
The Billionaire's Runaway Fiancé (Invested in Love) Page 17
