by Marni Mann
“I appreciate all the messages you sent,” I said to him. “And the flowers.”
“Happy to do it,” he replied. “I’ll make sure to go real slow and avoid the bumps. Wouldn’t want any setbacks on my watch.”
“Thanks, Alfred.”
I glanced at Whitney as she mouthed, He’s lovely.
My arm slipped around her shoulders, pulling her even closer. “You’re about to meet the whole crew. Are you ready for this?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been secretly dying to see the mastermind’s playground.”
I laughed; her expression was adorable. “I wouldn’t exactly call it that.”
“I’ve Googled you, Caleb. I’ve seen your accomplishments, and you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit.”
“She’s right about that,” Alfred chimed in. “So, I’ll do the bragging instead.” His gaze was now on Whitney as he stopped at a red light. “Caleb’s been at that company since he was nine, running envelopes to all the staff, working his way up to where he was assisting one of the top advisors when he was only sixteen. Came in every day after school, even when he was in college. They started with one floor of offices, relocating to the building they’re in now, slowly taking over all twenty-six floors of the high-rise. Caleb helped build every bit of that.” His eyes were back on me. “Never seen a family as impressive as theirs. Those Hunts are the most driven, hardworking, and giving people.”
Whitney linked her hand through mine. “I’m learning that.”
“His folks didn’t just raise a good one; they raised the best,” Alfred added, winking at me. “Now, they’re counting down the days to retirement when they can hand over the torch, and Caleb will run the whole show.”
“Hunt Financial is going to you?” Whitney asked me.
I’d woken with a tightness in the back of my throat. It’d only gotten worse, the more Alfred spoke. “Yes.”
“Wow,” Whitney remarked. “I’m in awe right now.”
“Don’t be.” I swallowed, trying to loosen the narrowness, and rubbed my nose into her cheek, my back hating the movement. “I don’t have the talent to heal people or save lives, the way you do.” I patted the back of Alfred’s seat. “And this man right here can fix anything. I’ve yet to find something that he’s unable to reengineer.”
“Caleb, you’re being too kind,” Alfred responded.
The car turned silent as we entered Post Office Square, where many of the city’s financial buildings were located. Ours was only a block away, and Alfred pointed it out to Whitney as we got close.
“Hunt Financial,” she read from the sign on the dark, mirrored building. “My God, Caleb. Look at it; it’s incredible.”
“Isn’t it?” Alfred agreed. “Can’t help but feel proud every time I drive up to it.”
Her hand squeezed mine. You okay? she mouthed.
I nodded and looked through the windshield as he pulled into the underground garage, parking in front of the elevator. Alfred immediately got out, grabbed my walker, and opened my door. Whitney unhooked my seat belt before I had time to even search for it.
“I’ll hold you from the back,” she said, her arm around me.
I held Alfred’s hand and the safety bar and carefully got out. When my fingers were clasped around the walker, I took several moments to breathe through the pain.
“I’ll be here, waiting, when you want to go home,” he said.
“I don’t expect to be long,” I replied. “A few hours at most.”
With Whitney at my side, we slowly made our way to the elevator.
“You’ve been a little quiet.” As I focused on the numbers lighting up above the door, she added, “You want to talk about how overwhelmed you’re feeling?”
I sighed, unable to hide anything from her. “You have no idea.”
“I think I’m beginning to.” She moved my chin until I was looking at her. “You have twenty-six stories of employees along with your parents and Alfred, all anxious for your return. That’s a tremendous amount of pressure.” Her thumb brushed my lips, like she was kissing them. “Don’t let anyone force you into something you’re not ready for. Whether it takes you another month or three or even six, none of this is going anywhere.” She paused, poking my chest. “Don’t you dare nod your head at me. Give me words, so I know you’re listening.”
“I hear you. I promise.”
She leaned up on her toes, kissing me with her lips this time. “Remember, you’re the boss, so when you want to go, we’re out of here. No one is expecting anything from you today; they’ll just be happy you came in.”
That was where she was wrong.
Everyone was expecting everything from me. I could feel that, even in my bones.
I said nothing as we went inside the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor, the chamber immediately lifting us into the air. When the door opened, my mother was walking toward us, and my ears instantly filled with the sound of business—fingers typing on keyboards, phones ringing, heels clicking as assistants and advisors moved about the space.
“Welcome home,” my mother said, her arms outstretched, hugging me from across the walker. “It’s wonderful to see you finally shaved.” She squeezed tighter. “And dressed … I wish you had put on a tie.”
“Nice to see you too, Mom.”
She’d called daily since I’d gotten home from the hospital and visited every other afternoon. But when I entered this building, I wasn’t her son; I was her business partner, and that was the way I’d been treated since earning an executive title.
As she greeted Whitney, my father approached and shook my hand. “Son, it’s about time you returned. Things aren’t running the same without you; we really need you here.”
I gave him a nod as my colleagues began to trickle over along with their team of assistants, a large crowd forming as they stood in line to speak to me. Kind words were shared, and some even hugged me.
I tried my best to take it all in, and when the path finally began to clear, I led Whitney toward my office. “Please shut the door,” I said to her once we were inside.
She quickly caught up and guided me into my chair. I used the edge of the desk to pull myself closer, my brain taking me back to the thousands of times I’d sat in this seat. But now, the cushion was stiffer than I remembered, the back too reclined.
Whitney’s face softened as she looked at me. “You did amazingly well back there. How do you feel?”
“Sore,” I exhaled. “And overloaded.” I paused. “That was a lot.”
She pushed the keyboard out of the way, making room to sit. “But I know for a fact that’s the longest you’ve stood since surgery and definitely the fastest you’ve walked.”
We both knew why I’d hauled ass; she just didn’t say it.
“And never once did I see pain on your face. You hid it well.” Her hand went to my button-down, playing with the collar. “Maybe it was good to get your mind off your back for a little while.”
The pain had been there; it just hadn’t gnawed until I got into my office and needed to take the weight off my legs. Thoughts of work had been doing that instead, the heaviness still consuming me.
While I stayed silent, she glanced around the room, swinging her legs under the desk. “Just as gorgeous as I imagined.”
She climbed off and walked around the large space, looking at the framed pictures of Boston’s top athletes—who were clients—the art I collected, and the bar in the back, next to my closet and personal restroom. She ended the tour with my diploma from Tufts University and the certificates I’d achieved over the years before standing frozen in front of the oversize windows.
“Wow. Just wow.”
“The view?”
“All of it, Caleb.” She turned to face me. “Your office—which is bigger than my entire apartment—this building, the hundreds of people who work here”—she pointed at the photos and my collection of certificates—“you.” She shook her head, her brows high. “You we
ren’t handed this office; you worked your tail off to get here since you were nine years old. How many people can say that?”
“You can.”
I watched the emotion pass through her eyes as she realized what I was referencing, and she made her way back over to me.
“I hope you’re proud of yourself when you look at these walls—the same pride Alfred, your parents, and I feel when we look at you.”
I squeezed my hands over the armrests, the leather worn from where my fingers used to lie during meetings, in an office I’d spent more time in than my condo. “I don’t know how I feel.” I glanced past her, taking inventory, things I hadn’t paid attention to in so long—and not because of my absence. “But I know I was moving so goddamn fast; I didn’t have time to appreciate much.”
“And you lost yourself.”
There were those words again. The ones that hit home every time I heard them.
She sat in the chair across from me. “You’ve reached the stage of your life where you need to find yourself again and figure out what’s best for Caleb.” She pushed herself to the end of her seat, resting her arms on my desk, her chin on top of them.
I’d already caught my breath, but as the truth in Whitney’s eyes stared back at me, I found it even harder to inhale. “You’re right.”
“I know.” She smiled. “Now, get to work and don’t mind me. I’m just going to sit here and gawk at my ridiculously handsome boss.”
Fourteen
Several weeks had passed since my visit to Hunt Financial. Each morning that followed, I went in for a few hours, trying to make a dent in my workload, setting boundaries with my parents and staff, searching for what felt like the best in this new phase of my life. Alfred would then drive me home, where I’d meet Whitney. I had released Veronica from her duties around the same time I went back to the office, no longer needing overnight care. A conversation with Whitney needed to happen next, and while we had been on the phone last night, I’d mentioned that we had to discuss her schedule. I’d put it off long enough, but I fucking hated the thought of letting her go professionally even if that meant I was getting healthier.
When I arrived home after half a day, she was in the kitchen, a cooler already packed on the island, asking if I wanted to go for a picnic. I gently took her into my arms, her body feeling unusually rigid, and I kissed her, telling her that was the perfect idea. With help from my walker, we went to a nearby park, finding a bench in the sun.
Between us, she placed containers of olives and a spread of cheese and crackers, rolled prosciutto and roast beef. I grabbed a little of each, making a sandwich, dropping some fig jam on the top, and took the first bite.
“I know it’s only lunchtime,” she said, removing a bottle of white wine from the cooler, “but this food is too good to drink with water.”
I smiled. “You don’t have to convince me to day drink.”
She poured some in a cup and handed it to me. I clicked it against hers and took a sip.
“This is really nice, Whitney.”
There was an emotion on her face that I couldn’t read, matching the stiffness I’d felt earlier when I hugged her and heard in her voice when she called from her apartment yesterday evening. Something was bothering my girl; I just didn’t have the talent to read her mind, like she could with me.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” I said.
She slowly turned toward me, crossing her legs over the wooden panels. “I know you don’t need me as your nurse anymore. You’ve kept me on because of what’s happening between us, and I adore you for that, but it feels like I’m taking advantage of a situation that I care about far too much. I can’t let that happen anymore.”
I brushed the hair out of her face, the painful realization biting at me that our lunches and afternoons together were going to be limited. “I didn’t want to let you go.” My voice lightened when I continued, “And I still don’t.”
Her eyes were filling. If it was over a fear of her finances, I was putting an end to that now.
“I’m also paying you for another month,” and I added, “No exceptions,” when she tried to interrupt. I’d confirmed that with my accountant at the beginning of this week, making sure all of the documentation for that was in place. “And I’m going to continue to pay for your health insurance until you find coverage—I don’t care how long it takes.” My hand went to her face as I saw that she needed the comfort. “I’ll never forget the job you gave up and everything you did to heal me. I’ll be grateful for the rest of my life.” I ran my thumb under her tears, trying to catch each one.
“Caleb,” she said in the softest voice, “thank you, but I can’t accept it.”
“You have no choice.”
She held my stare, the drips rolling even faster until she glanced down to drain her wine.
When her chin started to quiver, I asked, “Whitney, what’s wrong?”
She pulled my hand off her face, holding it between hers, focusing on my fingers. “The more time I’ve spent with you, the more I’ve fallen in love with nursing—now in a whole different way.” She finally looked up, her chest rising and falling so fast. “I’ve listened to every piece of advice you’ve given me, trying to find myself between the cracks, searching for what will make me the happiest. And then something you said just clicked, and it happened.”
I brought my glass up to my mouth, swallowing what was left, my stomach feeling off, the more she spoke.
“Without you, I never would have had the courage to do this.” She shook her head, several drops falling from her chin. “Maybe I’m crazy, but something is forcing me in this direction, pushing me into trying.”
I couldn’t pinpoint what she was referring to; we’d had too many conversations in the past. “Whitney, what are you talking about?”
She took a deep breath and then another. “For the last week, the contract has been sitting on my nightstand, underneath my notebook of the places I want to visit.” Her lips were now trembling. “And whenever I returned home from your condo, I’d lift it into my hands and read it again, waiting for the right time.” She squeezed my fingers. “When you told me you wanted to talk about my schedule, I knew I was ready.”
I tried to find the answer in her eyes. “Ready for what?”
“To be a traveling nurse.”
Traveling.
The word vibrated through my body.
“You’re leaving?”
She nodded, the wetness pooling again. “Six months in Peru and another six in Chile. I’m going to be working in small villages where there’s hardly any health care or supplies and an overabundance of patients who need medical aid.”
Fuck me.
An ache even more painful than my back lodged its way into my chest.
This wasn’t what I wanted, what I’d expected.
I didn’t even know what the hell to say.
“I know,” she said, as though she were reading my mind. “We’re in the middle of something beautiful here, and I’m just up and leaving, but …” She glanced at my hand once more, her fingers circling it, fidgeting, like I’d never seen from her before. “Something about it feels so right, and I have to do this for me.” She swallowed. “My whole life, I’ve put everyone else first, and now”—she wiped her eyes—“I need to get out there and find myself again.”
“Whitney …” I exhaled several times, waiting for the right response, and finally said, “Come here,” as I opened my arms.
She fell against my chest, carefully wrapping around me. “I’m sorry, Caleb.” The dampness soaked through my shirt. “So incredibly sorry.”
I held the back of her head. “Don’t be.”
“I had no idea how to tell you. I’ve wanted to so many times, but I didn’t have it in me. I feel sick at the thought of not being with you every day and being that far away.”
I buried my face in her neck, the coconut now faint, a scent that would stay with me, even when she wasn’t here. I was having a hard tim
e with putting my mind there, the idea of letting her go an unbearable emotion.
I tightened my grip around her. “Goddamn it, I’m going to miss you.”
Her back shook, her nails gently stabbing my shoulders. “I hope you’ll be healed enough soon to come visit.”
I’d traveled through remote towns in South America; I knew how terrible the cell reception was, and Wi-Fi wasn’t available there. Our communication would be extremely limited, if there was any at all.
“A year?”
“It’s an eternity, I know.” She leaned back, her hand instantly going to my face. “I have no idea what this means for us. I don’t expect you to wait for me … I don’t know what I expect from any of this.”
As the gusts whipped past us, I remembered the way the flags had waved at the finish line moments before my world went dark. Now, it felt like it was happening again for an entirely different reason.
“When do you leave?”
She took several breaths before answering, “In a month.”
“Fuck.” I pulled her against me again, my lips pressing against the top of her head. “We have to make the most of the time you have left.”
Letting this woman go felt impossible. I couldn’t even imagine what that was going to feel like when it eventually happened, the hole she was going to leave when she got on the plane. An unknown time frame of when I’d see her again.
“Oh God, Caleb”—she gripped the back of my shirt, squeezing it in her fists—“am I making the biggest mistake of my life?”
I knew this decision must have been difficult. I also knew she had to go on this journey. I couldn’t be that selfish bastard who begged her to stay, not when she had already sacrificed so much out of guilt.
I ground my teeth together, convincing myself at the same time as I replied, “No.”
“Why do you believe that?”
“Because as much as I need you here, they need you more.” I used all the strength I had left to push the boulder out of my fucking throat. “You have no idea how much talent you possess, how good you are at nursing, how you’re going to change their lives, like you did mine.” I stopped her tears when they began to fall again. “You’re going to fight for them, the same way you fought for me.”
