by Tara Sue Me
After we finish eating, the kids run off to their rooms to get ready to watch the movie. All the staff look busy and I feel kind of out of place not doing anything. I tell Tate, and he says we can go help pop popcorn if I would like.
In a way it reminds me of the time we spent making peanut butter and jellies. This time, however, feels more like a big family, the two of us and all the staff, making popcorn. We pass out the snack before the movie starts. The kids have brought blankets or towels, and we all get comfortable and sit on the ground. Fortunately, it is late enough in the season that we don’t have to worry about mosquitoes.
For a few hours, I forget about thinking and overanalyzing everything. I let go of all the stress and business that consumes my life and get caught up in the story playing out on the screen. Laughing and cheering along with those watching with me. I also spend some time observing Tate. While I’m sitting on the outskirts of the group, he has taken up residence right in the middle. It’s easy to see that everyone likes him, and likewise as easy to see why. He treats everyone as if they are important, sure, but it’s more than that. Watching him, it’s clear he actually listens when someone talks to him. A characteristic that is getting harder and harder to find these days.
All in all, it’s a good evening. In fact, I’ve enjoyed the entire day much more than originally anticipated.
If there are any side conversations or whispers going on about me and Tate, I don’t hear them. I’m not sure if that’s because I’ve been busy doing other things or if Tate had told everyone ahead of time not to talk about such things in my presence.
The movie ends and everyone heads back to their rooms. Tate makes his way to me and asks if I would like to walk to the lake. I look around to see if anyone’s watching. Tate, of course, knows what I’m doing, and laughs.
“We’ll be by ourselves, Darcy. I promise.” He reaches for my hand, and it hits me that this the first time all day that he has done so. I assume it’s because everybody is in bed now. But it does strike me as odd that he didn’t do so earlier in the day. Regardless, I take his hand and smile, looking forward to spending some alone time with him.
The full moon is high overhead and Tate knows his way well enough around his property that he doesn’t need any additional lighting, though he has handed me a flashlight in case I’d feel more comfortable with one. There’s a security gate leading to the lake we stop at so he can unlock. It’s the perfect spot for me to overlook the whole of his property and I can’t help but to be impressed.
“I just can’t get over how beautiful everything is,” I say for what feels like the five hundredth time. “And peaceful. So different from the city.”
He unlocks the gate and we continue our walk to the edge of the lake.
“I have to admit,” he says. “I definitely find it hard to get used to the city whenever I’m away. And it’s such a relief when I pull into my driveway. I think part of it is knowing that this is what I’m supposed to do. It’s not like baseball when I always felt conflicted and confused.”
“I think it’s great that you know with such conviction that you’re in the right place and doing what you were meant to. I don’t think the rest of us, or at least I don’t, have that kind of clarity.”
“If you could do anything, what would you do?” he asks.
“Oh, wow.” I give a nervous laugh. “Going right to the deep questions, aren’t you?” I’m not sure I know the answer to what he’s asking and if I did, I’m not so certain I want to share it with anyone.
“Life’s too short not to. It’s also too short to spend time working at a job that you aren’t meant for.”
There’s truth to his words, but they somehow rub me the wrong way. Seriously, not all of us can afford to walk away from the money he turned down. And I don’t think it would make me a bad person if I worked in the hotel industry the rest of my life. Does Tate think Elliott’s in the wrong for staying in professional sports?
I think it would be very judgmental for him to think any of those things, and he doesn’t come across as judgmental. But I keep my questions to myself for the moment, not wanting to disturb the peaceful area with an argument, if that is indeed the way he feels.
“I’ll think on it and get back with you,” I tell him, and he takes it for what it is and doesn’t badger me for more.
We had walked by the lake earlier in the day while he showed me around, but it’s almost an entirely different place with the lake’s surface and nearby pines touched by the light of the moon.
I suppose most things are like that in the moonlight, but there’s something almost magical watching the way small ripples sparkle in the water. It’s almost romantic, for lack of better word, if you could in fact say that about a children’s camp.
“You told me about your plans for a library and the barn and horses,” I tell him. “What are your plans in general for the camp, let’s say three or four years from now?”
He answers quickly which tells me he has a well thought out business plan. “I actually have a few opportunities for growth,” he says. “Especially where the older children are concerned. There are a few companies nearby, both large and small, that have expressed interesting providing internships or summer jobs for the teenagers that are interested.”
“This is really promising,” I say.
“Yes,” he says. “It is and it gives them an opportunity to learn a skill or save for college. But to be honest, I’ll need to hire someone full time to get a program like that up and running, to organize it, and match everyone up. Unfortunately, I don’t have the funds at the moment.”
I nod. It has to be hard on him, knowing the potential for such a positive program is out there, but not being able to do anything to start it because of lack of money.
“I’ll make it happen,” he vows. “How can I not when it could change the course of their lives?”
I don’t doubt him for a second.
“I’ve also been asked,” he adds. “If I would be able to provide the means for a few people to serve out court-appointed community service time.”
“That sounds a bit scary,” I say. “How do you know who you’re getting to work for you?”
“I spoke to the DA about it, and he assured me that anyone they sent my way would be completely vetted, have a background check and all that. But it’s a bit of a concern, so I haven’t agreed to it yet.”
“But you think you will?”
“I told him I wasn’t sure, but I’d think about it and let them know.”
I nod, understanding completely. He’s in charge of a lot of children and their welfare has to come first. You have to respect him for that.
“What's the plan for tomorrow?” I ask.
Hie smiles. “On Saturdays, the older students interested in culinary arts take over the kitchen and fix breakfast. I know it’s not the same as say, working in a five star restaurant. And it can be a challenge to cook for so many people at the same time. But they learn more than cooking skills, they also learn the value of teamwork.”
“They enjoy it?” I ask.
“They seem to,” he says. “Most of them come back the next day.”
“You do it on Sundays as well?”
“On Sundays they cook lunch. And if they want, they can also prepare some desserts for the coming week.”
Every time I’m around Tate, I grow more and more in awe of everything he has already accomplished. It’s impressive. It’s also humbling as hell and I can’t help but feel like a loser and a half in comparison. It’s not his fault, and he doesn’t think that, but still.
We chat a bit more, but not about anything major or earth shattering.
Tate is still holding my hand and every so often he’ll run his thumb across my knuckles. I keep waiting for that feeling in my belly. The one I had with Elliott when we were sitting on my couch and his arm was draped across the back. But it never comes.
I wonder if it’s because Tate holds back so much on the physical side? Ma
ybe I need to be more straightforward about what I need in a relationship.
It’s that thought that makes me bold enough to ask, “Will you be joining me in the guest house tonight?”
His eyes widen in shock. Obviously he was not expecting an appearance by Bold Darcy. I’m so certain he’s going to say yes, I’m unprepared for his reply.
“I hadn’t planned on it.”
My mind goes completely blank and I have no idea how to respond. “Oh,” I say, finally. “I see.” I cringe because I don’t like the way this conversation makes me feel, but it’s too late to stop it now.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says. “Trust me, there’s little I’d like more than to take you to bed. But ever since I changed my name, I’ve lived by a set of self imposed rules and some of those involve limiting any physical relationship, especially here at the camp.”
Well, if that doesn’t make me feel like a cheap floozy, nothing will. However, he would hate knowing I feel like that, so I steer the conversation away from that direction. “That makes this weekend a lot easier then,” I say.
“Why is that?”
“It kind of takes the pressure off, you know?” But even though he nods, I get the feeling he doesn’t.
It’s not too long until we head back to the guesthouse. Tate gives me a rundown of the next day’s activities and I smile and tell him I’ll be there. The entire time I’m standing there wondering what in the world is wrong with me? Why am I not madly in love with this guy?
Any woman would be completely insane not to be in love with this man. He is absolutely perfect. Smart. Accomplished. Gives back to the community. Devilishly good-looking. Polite. Nice. I’m sure he has a body to die for. And yet he doesn’t do it for me. I don’t think it has anything to do with his hesitation to get physical. That he has rules is different, even if my first reaction is disbelief.
My heart races as we say good night and he leans forward for a kiss. But it’s not the good kind of heart racing. It’s the oh my goodness he’s going to kiss me and I want to crave it but I can’t work up any excitement about it kind.
His lips brush mine, but he doesn’t deepen the kiss, or even try to. “Goodnight, Darcy,” he whispers, and I suddenly recall Elliott whispering in my ear and all at once I break out in gooseflesh and shiver.
I hastily whisper my own goodnight and head back into the safety and solitude of the guest house. Once inside, I take a shower, drop a quick text to Elliot, and then curl up in bed with my e-reader. Moments later, I throw it to the side. Reading sexy times isn’t working for me tonight. With a sigh, I climb out of bed and into the living area where I remember seeing a bookcase earlier.
Fortunately, there are no romances to be found. I look through the small offering and settle on a sociological thriller. Hopefully that will keep my mind occupied and off of love, romance, and two very different guys.
Except it doesn’t.
By the time I head back to Atlanta on Monday night, I’m completely exhausted. Exhausted in a good way, but when I’m sitting at work tomorrow trying to keep from falling asleep, my body won’t care that it’s a good exhaustion.
Halfway home it hits me that when I talk about the weekend with Elliott, I need to clarify that good exhaustion does not equate to sex.
Chapter Sixteen: Elliott
“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.” Federico García
I'm not a person who is easily surprised. However, it’s curious to me that every time I am, it somehow involves Darcy. But I have to hand it to Tate. I think his phone call wins hands down for biggest surprise ever. I'm not exaggerating. If I had been any older, he probably would have given me a heart attack.
It's been two weeks since Darcy’s enchanted weekend in the mountains of Georgia with Tate. She returned singing his praises and with a glow that has to be a side effect of love. Every time since then whenever she goes out with him, I feel her drift further and further away from me.
So yeah, I'm shocked when Tate calls me. We aren't close friends or anything, but since he's in Darcy’s life, for at least the foreseeable future, I have to play nice. It's always been my assumption Tate knows how I feel because he tends to keep his distance when we're in each other's presence. We don’t text during the week, either. Obviously, it appears I may have been wrong. Really wrong.
I recognize his number when it show up on my phone, simply because when I called him to set up the date with Darcy, I entered his contact information then.
“Hello, Tate,” I say when I answer. “How are you?”
“Doing excellent, Elliott,” he says and I have a strong suspicion I won’t be able to say the same in a few minutes. Why do I have a bad feeling about this call?
“That’s good to hear.” It’s hard to hear him over the pounding of my heart echoing in my head.
“I was calling to let you know how happy I am you set me up with Darcy. I’ve told you I feel like she’s the one, but I have to be honest, I grow more and more sure each time I see her. And I have a question for you.”
As soon as those words were out of his mouth, I knew three things:
It was going to involve Darcy.
I was going to hate it.
I’d do whatever he asked because in doing it, I’d be making Darcy happy and that’s all I wanted.
“Sure,” I say with more conviction than I feel. “What can I help you with?”
“I was thinking about asking her to move in with me. Not immediately. Maybe after the first of the year.” I don’t say anything. I can’t and he adds, “Or maybe in the spring?”
I want to tell him no, they haven’t been dating long enough for that.
But you always hear about those couples who just knew within five minutes of meeting that the other person was the one and got married two weeks later. You know the ones I’m talking about. The ones still married and telling their How We Met story on their fiftieth anniversary to anyone who will listen.
“Oh?” It’s the only thing I’m able to get to come out of my mouth with the image of eighty-year-old Tate and Darcy, blissfully in love and surrounded by two dozen children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren, taking root in my brain.
I want to tell him no because he lives in the fucking sticks and if Darcy moves in with him, I’ll never see her.
It’s not about you.
I close my eyes against the truth of those words, because is it asking too much to have it be about me for once? I take a deep breath and tell myself I will not act like a petulant toddler. We’re all grownups here and I have to act like one.
“Elliott?” he asks, jerking me away from my thoughts.
“I’m here,” I reply. “You caught me a little off guard with that one. Moving in with you? You know she works in Atlanta, right?” Surely he’s not expecting Darcy to quit her job. I don’t see her agreeing to do that.
“I was thinking they would allow her to work remotely,” he says.
“She spent the month of June working from their locations in Asia-Pac,” I tell him. “I’d say that’s pretty remote.” It’s a smart-ass reply, but I can’t help saying it anyway.
“I am very aware of how much and how long she currently travels,” he says. “But she is looking to change jobs. She put in the request a couple of weeks ago and she told me she hoped to hear back within the month.”
I remember my shock at hearing she has requested a change in position. An unwelcome thought enters my head. “Did she make that request because she’s expecting this?”
“No, I don’t think so.” He pauses for a minutes as if he’s trying to decide whether or not to tell me something, but eventually he says, “The thing is, while she was here, I told her about a new opportunity that I would like to pursue. Unfortunately, at that moment I don’t have funds to do so, but I had thought that if she were to move in with me, perhaps after a while she might want to resign from the hotel and work with me full time.”
Frankly, I can’t see Darcy ever quitting her job at the hotel, nor would I want her to. Especially if she was going to move to Timbuktu or wherever the hell his camp is. But had I not at one time thought she would love the work he did with the children, and that it would be something she would be very interested in? When I think about it like that, it only seems logical that she would also want to be part of it as well.
The truth of it is I’m just a good matchmaker. Other people’s lives, I’m great at. My own? I suck.
It’s not about you.
It’s not, and it is high time I stopped acting like it was. This is Darcy’s life, and if she picks Tate to share that life with, I have two choices. I can either accept it and live with her choice, therefore, allowing myself to still be part of her life. Or I can not accept it and put myself in a position not to see her anymore. That’s not going to happen. Ever. Tate is not a bad man, and if he is Darcy’s pick, then I have to accept that.
* * *
I spend the rest of the day depressed. Mentally kicking my own ass for setting the two of them up in the first place. Seriously? What the hell was I thinking? Here, Tate, take my heart and keep it for your own. Nah, I don’t need it, it’s just a thing.
And no matter how many times I tell myself that it was only supposed to be one date, the reality is, the whole thing was completely out of my hands after that.
Just as I’m about ready to admit there’s nothing for me to do other than accept the inevitable, I wise up. And instead of mentally kicking my own ass, I ask myself what the hell am I thinking? If I want her bad enough, how can I not fight for her?
Seriously, I’m afraid I’ll lose her forever if we decide to become more than friends and it doesn’t work? Yet I think it’s going to somehow turn out differently if I stand by and let her marry somebody else? I don’t think so. The way I see it, there are three options not two.