The Spark (Carolina Connections Book 2)

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The Spark (Carolina Connections Book 2) Page 26

by Sylvie Stewart


  He took on a serious tone I didn’t see very often. “Miss Fiona, do you know why I hired you?” He paused as if I could actually answer him. “I hired you because from the moment you opened your mouth during your interview you made me fucking happy. When you left that day, I was so damn cheerful Ollie was about to call a doctor.

  “And that’s what you do for every customer you talk to. I should have shown you this before now, but do you see this?” He held the camera up to his computer screen. I could make out a little but not much. “All these customer reviews mention you. Sure, they love me because I’m brilliant and I treat them right, but every review since you started working here raves about how awesome you are too.”

  He brought the camera back around to himself. “So I don’t give two shits if you misfile a document, break the copier, or pour cocaine into the coffee maker. You are fucking brilliant at your job and don’t ever doubt that. So, that’s all I’ve got for now but I’ll see you Monday.” He reached for the button to shut the video off and then paused and brought the wicked grin back. “Oh, and I’ll make the coffee.”

  The screen switched and my heart flipped in my chest again. It was Mark.

  “So, it’s me again. I’ll let you go and you can decide what to do next. But I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that I want to be with you, and I want us to take care of each other. Hopefully, that will mean bringing out the best in one another and being happy, but even if it doesn’t and bad shit happens, it’s still what I want. Later, Shortcake.” He winked and shut off the camera. The video ended.

  I was in a bit of shock.

  I was equal parts embarrassed, confused, and bowled over by the outpouring of affection from the people in my life and the effort Mark had gone to in order to fight for me.

  I bawled my eyes out and fell asleep knowing that I would look like Sloth from The Goonies when I woke in the morning.

  “Rise and shine, beautiful.” I heard my father’s voice beside me. I opened my eyes a crack and saw him standing at the side of my bed dressed in his navy-blue robe. It was still dark out.

  “Sorry to wake you so early, sweetheart, but I couldn’t sleep—I had too much on my mind,” he said.

  “What time is it?” I managed to mumble. My face was tight and my eyes were practically swollen shut from all the crying I’d done last night.

  “Six-thirty—I know, it’s early, but I want to talk to you.”

  What was this, confession time before the apocalypse? Since when did everybody have so fucking much to say to me?!

  “Dad,” I whined, “I need sleep. You can talk to me later.”

  “I want to talk before your mother wakes up.”

  That got my attention. He never kept anything from her. I made myself sit up and piled the covers around me. He took the opening.

  “Your friend called me.”

  I was wide awake now. “Laney? When? Is something wrong?”

  He shook his head. “Not Laney—Mark. He called me earlier this week.”

  “You’re joking.” It wasn’t enough that he had rallied my friends to give me motivational speeches—he had to enlist my dad as well? Couldn’t they all find a celebrity charity to focus on instead? I’m sure there are plenty of homeless cats in need of a good catnip supplier.

  “Before you jump to any conclusions I want to tell you why he called.”

  “I know why he called. I broke up with him and he’s using extortion to get me back for some unknown reason!” I huffed.

  “He called to ask me about your health, not about anything having to do with a relationship. That’s between the two of you.”

  Ha! If only. “But my health is open to public discussion?”

  He gave me the “Dad” look. I guess when half of Raleigh knows all about your medical history it’s kind of public already.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing at first,” he said and then settled on the edge of my bed. “But then the more I talked to him the more I realized how much he cares for you and how worried he is.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “Fiona, why is it that this young man you’ve only known for a short while had to be the one to tell me that my baby girl is living scared?”

  “He had no right—” I began, but my dad cut me off.

  “Maybe not, but I have the right. Your mother has the right. You’ve always been such a cheerful, positive young woman. Your smile brightens the room—you take everything in stride. How is it I didn’t know you’ve been living each day waiting for the other shoe to drop?”

  Well, he had me there. I looked at my dad and was reminded again of my reasons. But I guess the jig was up.

  “I didn’t want you to worry about me anymore. I saw what a toll the leukemia took on you guys and I wanted you to think my life was perfect again.”

  “But clearly it hasn’t been.”

  “Not so much,” I admitted with a pathetic little shrug.

  He pulled me in for a hug. “Baby girl,” he whispered, and I cried a little into his shirt. At this rate, I was approaching the dehydration level of a stick of beef jerky dressed in cute pajamas. Lovely. No wonder Mark was so hot for me.

  Following our conversation, my dad made pancakes while I sat at the kitchen island and drank a regimen of juice, water, and coffee while holding a cool cloth over my eyes so I could hopefully regain my full vision one day. He set my plate in front of me and then went to wake my mother so we could have a family meeting.

  Yay. Cue sarcasm.

  But it actually didn’t turn out to be so bad. Knowing my love of lists, my father proceeded to line the island with list after list. First came the statistics on someone in my situation developing another cancer. Then came lists regarding the health of my heart, lungs, and bones. And lastly, he produced a list of therapists, and both of my parents encouraged me to focus on that list in particular.

  Our little meeting ended and lots of hugs and promises to check in with each other followed before I gathered my things and headed back to Greensboro. At the last moment, though, my dad pulled me aside and reminded me exactly who he was. “By the way, in the event you do decide to date this Mark guy, please remind him that I know where to find him if I ever have cause to.”

  Good God.

  My brain buzzed on overload the whole way home—I had a lot of thinking to do.

  But first, I owed somebody a response.

  Fiona: Thanks for the video. I think.

  Mark: Yeah, I figured it could go either way.

  Fiona: Can I have some time to think?

  Mark: As much as you need, Shortcake. You know where to find me.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The Future

  MARK

  Six Weeks Later

  “For the one-hundredth time, yes, I am coming to the engagement party.”

  “Don’t bite my head off. I’m just the messenger. Laney was afraid to call you again. Wimp,” Bailey said on the other end of the line.

  “I’m a grown-ass man. I can be in the same room as Fiona and not lose my shit. And, besides, I’m actually looking forward to seeing her,” I admitted as I leaned back in my desk chair.

  “So you’re still holding out hope? Pardon me for saying this, but you’re a glutton for punishment, Beckett.”

  “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say something in a remotely polite way,” I baited her.

  “Shove it up your ass, Romeo,” she growled.

  “And, yes, I’m still holding out. She’s gonna come around—you’ll see.”

  “Well, I hope for all our sakes she does because I don’t know if I can handle any more of these GNOs she keeps organizing. I mean, it’s bad enough with all the wedding stuff.”

  “What in the fuck is a GNO? It sounds like a lady-doctor problem.”

  “I know—they actually have an acronym for it. It’s supposed to stand for ‘Girls’ Night Out’ but I secretly refer to it as ‘Got No Orgasms.’ It
’s just a bunch of girls drinking and talking shit about guys. I mean, sometimes I guess it’s not so bad, but with all the girly wedding crap? I’m maxing out on all things ‘girl.’” She made a lovely gagging sound. “Laney’s going to make me wear a dress to the wedding,” she whined.

  “Bailey, you’re one of her bridesmaids. Of course you have to wear a dress. In fact, I think you’re required to wear the exact same dress as the rest of the bridesmaids.”

  “What? That’s just idiotic.”

  “I don’t make the rules. Anyway, I gotta run but I’ll see you tonight. And don’t wear jeans and a t-shirt! This party is the kind you dress up for.” I stood from my chair.

  “Motherf—” She began, but I hung up, laughing to myself.

  I grabbed my hard hat and headed toward the trailer door to go check in with the crew. Before I got there, however, there was a knock on the door. I turned the knob and swung it open, expecting to see one of the guys. Instead, Fiona stood on the top step looking like a fucking dream. Hell, maybe she was.

  “Hi, Mark,” she said quietly.

  Nope, not a dream.

  “Hey, Shortcake,” I responded and couldn’t help the dopey smile I’m sure was plastered across my face. Her returning smile told me it looked as stupid as it felt.

  “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this but I finally worked up the courage so I just had to go with it.” She looked down at her designer-shod feet before bringing her eyes back to mine and scrunching her face up in the cutest fucking way.

  “You can barge in on me anytime you want—you know that.” I was starting to get a bit nervous. For all the waiting and forced confidence I’d had, now that the moment was here I was afraid she was going to end things once and for all. “Come on in,” I stepped aside and held the door for her. If I was going to get dumped at least I could ensure a little privacy.

  She stepped in and walked toward my desk before turning around. “You’ve been so patient and I really wanted to thank you for that. Um…a lot has happened.” She ran her hands down the skirt of her sexy little sundress. Girls don’t wear sexy outfits when they’re going to dump a guy, do they? Oh, who was I kidding—she looked sexy in anything so it was a moot point.

  “Oh?” was all I could manage.

  “Yeah,” she began again. “I’ve started seeing a therapist my oncologist recommended. It’s been helping me gain a new…perspective…on things. I’m taking a break from my parents’ foundation—from all the charity stuff, really. My therapist thinks that in order for me to stop fearing the worst around every corner I need to shed the past as much as possible and focus more on the future.”

  “That sounds pretty smart,” I said and then forced myself to ask, “So, which part do I fall in—the past or the future?”

  She turned and plucked a stapler off the desk, playing with it to occupy her hands. “I’m also considering starting a small catering business—a very small one.” It was as if she hadn’t heard my question.

  “That sounds like a great idea,” I responded, genuinely pleased, but not understanding where she was going with this.

  “Yeah, it’s funny. Your mom was the one to come up with the idea.”

  Now that was a surprise. “My mom?”

  She let out a small laugh. “Yeah. With all her waitressing experience she has a lot of great ideas. I don’t know, it’s just a kernel of an idea at this point.”

  “Wow. I never thought of that—of course she would be a huge help in that area.” I scratched my chin.

  “The future,” she said suddenly, her eyes meeting mine in earnest.

  My heart may have stopped. “What?”

  “The answer is, you’re part of the future—if you want to be, knowing what that could mean.”

  She’d hardly finished her sentence before I scooped her up and kissed the fucking hell out of her. She started laughing halfway through the kiss and that got me laughing too. “We sound like complete idiots,” I managed to say between laughs and kisses.

  “No, I’m the idiot. I almost let you go,” she said, grabbing my face in her hands.

  I pulled back and looked at her. “Nah, I never would have let that happen, Shortcake.”

  She scoffed. “Cocky bastard.” But she was smiling.

  “You know it,” I replied and pulled her in again.

  The party was in full swing by the time we got to the restaurant. A small detour to Fiona’s condo ended up in a furious round of what I suppose qualified as make-up sex. Whatever it was, I was looking forward to a whole lot more of it.

  “Oh, thank God you’re here!” Laney accosted Fiona the moment we walked into the private room. It took her a moment to realize Fiona and I had come in together. She pointed back and forth between us, her mouth agape. “You…you…really?” She was beaming at us. We both nodded our heads and then she Lost. Her. Shit.

  There was squealing that I probably only heard part of—the rest being audible only to neighborhood dogs—and some weird references to the Brady Bunch. When the squealing started again, I managed to still Fiona long enough to kiss her quickly before I went in search of testosterone.

  I found Nate, Gavin, and some of the other guys gathered near the makeshift bar in the corner. After a round of handshakes and some razzing about my date, Nate cut in.

  “Hey, why am I just finding out now that your brother is moving back to Greensboro?”

  I put my hands up defensively. “Don’t ask me—I just found out the other day when he called to tell me.” Truthfully, I’d missed Jake since he’d left a few weeks back, but I wasn’t ever going to tell him that.

  “What’s that all about? I mean, not that I’m not happy to have him around, but I thought he loved Florida.”

  “Who the hell knows,” I replied. “All he said was that he was sorting shit out and he’d be moving here within a couple months, hopefully. I don’t know what he has in mind.” I left out the part where he’d said he was moving back to steal Fiona. Why did I miss him again?

  “Must have to do with his future wife’s cooking,” Gavin taunted, as if he’d read my mind.

  “You’d best watch yourself, Junior, or you’re gonna end up with a broken nose,” I told the little douchebag. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t little, but he was definitely a douchebag.

  “Calm your tits, Beckett. All of you sappy lovesick assholes are such easy targets,” he threw back at me and then wisely backed up a few steps. “I’ll grab some beers.”

  I refocused my attention on Nate, considering that he and Laney were the actual guests of honor at this party. “Congrats, man. I’m really happy for you guys. Laney’s got her work cut out for her, though.” It was my job to give him a hard time.

  “Speaking of,” he replied. “I hope you don’t mind that I volunteered your new girlfriend to save the day and get me off the hook.”

  I just looked at him quizzically.

  “The chef was supposed to prepare some healthy shit for my dad, but now he’s saying it’s a set menu with no exceptions so Laney is panicked.”

  Nate’s dad had a heart attack last summer and his mom had been vigilant about Riordan’s diet ever since then. She’d gotten Laney on board as well so I knew this had the potential to mess with the evening. Let’s just say Riordan was not one to acquiesce quietly. And neither was Erin.

  “Well, if anyone can sweet talk her way into a professional kitchen it’s Fiona,” I said.

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Nate.

  Gavin approached and handed us each a fresh beer—probably as an apology for being a douchebag. Or not.

  “To crazy-ass women,” Nate said, raising his beer.

  “To the man brave enough to take on my crazy-ass sister,” Gavin chimed in, raising his.

  “To the ladies brave enough to take on…anything,” I finished as we clinked bottles and took a healthy swallow of our beers.

  Yeah, I was a total fuckmuppet.

  You got something to say about that?

  Epilogue
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  MARK

  Three Months Later

  “Hurry up, Shortcake! The ceremony starts in fifteen minutes.”

  “I just had to make sure Kelly has everything under control!” she yelled as she rushed up the front steps of the church where I was waiting.

  I held out my hand and she sighed dramatically before handing over her cell phone. She was adorable when she pouted. It also usually made me want to bite her bottom lip.

  I turned the phone off and tucked it into the pocket of my tux. “You know everything is going to run perfectly. The two of you have been over this a hundred times, everything is already prepped, and you yourself said the recipes are simple.”

  She sighed again. “You’re right. I don’t know why I’m worrying about this. I should be focusing on Laney—I’m a terrible Maid of Honor.”

  “Ducking out to make one phone call does not make you terrible. You girls spent the entire morning together and she’s all ready to go.”

  “I hate that Kelly can’t be here, though,” she said quietly as I opened the front door of the church and ushered her inside.

  “We’ll all see her at the reception, and Jake promised to take lots of pictures. Now kiss me quick because I have to go keep Nate from passing out.”

  She did, letting her lips linger a little too long for a church setting—not that I was complaining. Then she shot me her gorgeous bright smile and strutted off in her tan heels and blue dress, looking as stunning as ever. Oh, right—a few weeks ago I’d been scolded for using the words “tan” and “blue” and had been informed that the wedding colors were to be referred to only as the very elegant “parchment” and “pale cerulean.” That had been the moment I’d decided Nate was more pussy-whipped than I was.

  It was hard to believe Nate and Laney’s wedding was already upon us. The last three months since their engagement party and the “official” beginning of Fiona and me as a couple had flown by.

  In the beginning, I’d vowed to tread lightly and try not to overwhelm Fiona, but she’d put the kibosh on that pretty much immediately and we’d spent every night together since. Although we still maintained two residences, we were basically living together.

 

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