by Rose Hudson
By the time I step through the office door to follow him, I barely catch sight of him rounding the front end of the boat parked in the work bay, headed to a set of stairs leading to an upper level. I increase my pace to catch up with him, feeling torn in a million directions by all the emotions coursing through me. I can’t help but be pissed to see him after the way he left with not even as much as a note left behind. If it would have been simply a ride home, then sure, I would be over reacting. But even slightly intoxicated I could tell he was interested that night, that I was certain of. Which is why I’m confused and hurt to see his nonchalant dismissal of me right now. He opens the door at the top of the stairs, leaving it open as he makes his way inside, and I quickly follow.
I’m surprised to see that the stairs have led us to what appears to be a loft apartment. Looking around the space, I quietly wonder if it belongs to him, then true to his statement downstairs, he takes the makings of a sandwich out of the fridge and cabinet, answering my question. Wow, this just keeps getting better. Over the past four weeks, I have gone over every possible scenario for why he wouldn’t have left a note, a number, something. Maybe he couldn’t find a pen and paper. Maybe he had an emergency and suddenly had to bolt. I’ve come up with every possible way not to see him as the asshole that he appeared to be, but today, right now, he is showing me that he in fact is every bit the asshole he looked like then. What baffles me though is that I can deal with assholes, I do it on a daily basis. But assholes are usually that way from sun up to sun down, never changing. They don’t go above and beyond to take care of you, then suddenly turn on their ‘Asshole Open for Business’ sign and clock in for duty! So apparently, Patrick Lawson is a special kind of asshole that gets off on playing games with women!
I’m guessing that he sees the internal screaming match my little devil and angel are having, because he stops what he’s doing and clears his throat, bringing my eyes up to him.
“Are you okay? Do you want a sandwich?” He looks from me to the food on the counter and back. Did he really just offer me a fucking sandwich? I know guys can be totally oblivious to the way women around them feel about three-fourths of the time, but he can’t be serious right now.
“No thanks. Look, I have to get back to Daphne soon. Are you going to give me the information or not,” I ask. Apparently we’re back to being angry. Gah! I really suck at self-control with this man! Taken aback from my crazy ass mood swings himself, he stands, crossing his arms over his chest, causing his muscular arms to flex. Oh god, not the muscles! Get it together Erin!
“Why are you so interested in the warehouse?” I can tell his question is genuine, but his tone wavers, revealing his forced control.
“I am not interested. I was sent in place of my boss who wasn’t available to come today, but is interested in purchasing it.” I cross my legs and lean forward, noting that his eyes drop for a split second to my thighs before quickly returning to my face. I watch him intently, focusing on the muscles at his jaw flexing, appearing as though he is gritting his teeth. I may be the only one here who is voicing my agitation, but I’m starting to see that he too is fighting back emotions, about what I don’t know. Unable to keep the charade up any longer, I push out of the chair and storm to the counter opposite him and place my hands flat on the surface.
“Are you seriously going to keep this up? Not explain why you just left that night without another word?” Even though his eyes are slightly hidden by the bill of his hat, I see a glint of change in them. He leans forward, mirroring me by placing his hands on the counter. Now we are only about two feet apart and I can see his eyes more clearly, but the urge to take them in fully consumes me. Not wanting to shock him with the movement, I slowly raise my hand up to his head and remove his hat, placing it on the counter beside his hand. I almost regret the move when I’m fully penetrated by his deep gray eyes, his hair, long at the top falling slightly over his forehead at the loss of the hat. For the first time, I get to take him in without the shadow of night or his hat to obstruct my view, and it’s almost too much. I know he sees my reaction because I couldn’t hide it with all the reserve in the world. Every feature is perfect and beautiful, and I suddenly realize that he doesn’t fit this setting. He doesn’t look like a man that works on boats, he looks like a man that walks around in Armani suits and drinks the finest Bourbon from the finest Crystal.
“You were asleep Erin. What did you want me to do, wait until you woke up?” He breaks into my thoughts, the wall I saw drop now firmly back in place, refueling my anger.
“Don’t play me for a fool Patrick. No, I didn’t expect you to stay, but would leaving a phone number have killed you?” He tilts his head slightly to the side and furrows his brow.
“I did what I said I would, I took you home. You just assume I wanted more? Who’s flattering themselves now?” Cynical laughter spews from my throat in response.
“I would never assume anything. It was your actions that spoke louder than words ever could. But I suppose you’re going to tell me I’m crazy now.”
“So just because I wasn’t a dick, that means I wanted you?” He holds his hand up to keep me from disputing his statement. “Erin, I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression. You looked like you needed help, and I was leaving. Nothing more, nothing less.” His words cut me to pieces, and before I fall apart I turn and grab my bag. I reach inside and pull out one of Chanin’s business cards, handing it to him after circling her number.
“If you come up with that information, this is my boss’s name and number. I’m sure she would appreciate it.”
I turn and leave the apartment as fast as my legs will carry me without running. And no surprise, he doesn’t try to speak or stop me, making my heart twist and mind spiral out of control. I take the minutes it takes me to walk back to my car to thank God he didn’t. After Glendon, I swore to myself that no man would ever see me cry again.
BEFORE THIS PAST WEEK, I thought I couldn’t be any more miserable than I had been the previous month. I couldn’t have been more wrong. After Erin stormed out of my apartment, I bet I stood there for an hour staring at the doorway, going over every word exchanged between us. I knew that my life had made me a stubborn asshole, but even I was floored at my determination to keep from revealing my feelings to her. I hadn’t ever been so callus to anyone, and I hated myself for successfully treating her that way. She had every right to be confused and hurt by my actions. I know that even though I tried to keep my walls up that night, I had failed and she had seen it. I could tell when I had carried her to my truck. I could tell when I held her in her driveway and carried her up to her bedroom. And I knew with certainty when I laid her down on that bed. The chemistry was there. It had been there as soon as my gaze shifted to hers in that damn mirror at Charlie’s, and it was apparent now that we both knew it then. I decided as I stood there watching her sleep, to leave and never try to contact her again. The fact that she showed up at my place of business a month later tells me one thing, fate was forcing my hand. And what shakes me to my core is the fact that I don’t think I have the strength to fight it.
I have always been sure that the fear of my past would continue to keep me strong, keep me from wanting or needing. And until now, that had never wavered. The questions have been insurmountable. The internal battles have been long and tough to overcome. But I have always kept that to myself, never having the smallest inclination to divulge any of it to anyone. But this woman makes me want to throw caution to the wind.
The straight-faced lies I had told her in my apartment had been hard but necessary. The anger in her words as she recovered from the shock of seeing me sitting behind that desk, let me know that she felt something too. Knowing that I had to deter her from feeling anything for me, as I walked from the office to my apartment I forced the Patrick she knew away, and shifted into the Patrick I knew I had to be to save us both from making a mistake.
Sitting on the dock, watching the sun set as I usually do, I pull the busin
ess card from my wallet and dial the cell phone number listed.
“Chanin, this is Patrick Lawson. I hear you’re interested in purchasing my warehouse.”
Pulling into the parking lot of Chanin Grace Fashions, my anxiety is eased knowing that Erin wouldn’t be in the office. When I spoke to Chanin last night I hadn’t gone into detail, but I had told her that Erin had left on bad terms before I revealed that I owned the warehouse. She didn’t seem surprised at my admission of our argument. Erin had already told her. She agreed that Erin didn’t need to know of our conversation, and the meeting at the office would be kept confidential. I was leery of her willingness to do something behind Erin’s back, but thankful that she understood.
“Hello. Can I help you,” The receptionist asks as I approached the desk just through the entrance.
“I’m here to see Ms. Grace.”
“Your name,” She holds the phone suspended in the air.
“Patrick Lawson.” I hear her say my name into the phone before she hangs up and stands, gesturing for me to follow her back.
When I had first met Chanin at the bar that night, it had been loud and dark and I hadn’t taken the time to really look at her. Which is why I’m taken aback at her sophisticated beauty when the receptionist lets me in to an office where Chanin is sitting behind the desk talking on the phone. She gestures for me to sit as she continues her conversation, giving me a curt smile.
“Yes Shaylyn. Just wanted to make sure she was still there. Tell her to stay there and that I will be over shortly. Thank you.” She hangs up the phone and clasps her hands together on the surface of the desk. I suddenly feel like a teenage boy at the principal’s office under her gaze, like an ass chewing is coming.
“Patrick Lawson, how are you,” I lean forward and extend my hand to her.
“Good Ma’am. And you?”
“I guess you could say that I’m elated and irritated to see you here today. Finally.” I raise an eyebrow at her choice of words.
“Elated and irritated? Why is that?”
“Elated that I will finally have my warehouse and irritated that it’s taken you a month to make it happen.” She lifts her glass from the desk to her lips, holding my gaze as she drinks in the clear liquid. Okay, if I was confused before, I’m stupefied now. A month? I just talked to her yesterday. A sly smile forms on her lips as she sets down the glass. Taking pity on my apparent confusion, she leans back slightly in her seat and says, “It really is amazing what you can find out about a person with just the information from their driver’s license.”
My palms start to sweat and I scoot to the edge of the huge armchair I’m sitting in, placing my elbows on my knees and leaning forward. The time it takes her to continue feels like millenniums and I’m praying that she doesn’t decipher my mixed expressions. I have invested years into the anonymity of my identity, and I’m not going to let her see me sweat from one comment, she’ll have to ante-up to see these cards.
“You do realize that land deeds are public record, don’t you?” I exhale an inaudible breath, relaxing in my chair to know the extent of her knowledge only pertains to the warehouse. “After seeing the affect you had on Erin after her birthday, my need to protect got the better of me and I decided to put my skills to work by pulling the only public record I could find under the name of one Patrick Lawson,” she paused to allow me to process her statement. “Discovering that it was vacant and for sale was merely a bonus, so I waited, knowing that any man charming enough to catch the attention of Erin couldn’t be an imbecile and would surely come calling.” Her words dripped with disdain and I felt smaller with every one that left her mouth.
“And when I didn’t, you thought you would arrange a surprise visit,” my words come out in a rush of realization, before quickly changing to irritation. “Why would you put her in a situation like that? You don’t know me from Adam and could’ve been putting her in danger.” She scoffs in response to my accusation, slamming her hand down on the desk.
“Do not feign concern for her Mr. Lawson! If I were not so easily swayed by Erin’s belief that you are in fact a good person, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now, so cut the shit.” She stands, rounding the desk before sitting down on the edge of it in front of me. “I realize you’re a man that values the female population for little more than an orifice to stick your dick in, but you will hear me on this.” There is a notable change in her features as they soften and she shifts her position where she sits on the desk. I on the other hand am glued to this over-sized arm chair for fear that this woman will cut my balls off and ship them to Erin in a neatly wrapped package. If I didn’t know she was coming from a place of love for Erin, I would tell her to fuck herself, but I am genuinely interested in what she has to say. “For years I have watched Erin in awe. Her unwavering devotion to this company, impressing me at every turn with her ability to stay a step ahead of everyone else on the team, and doing it all while being a single mother raising a daughter and never asking for anything in return, ever. She walks around, completely unaware of the draw people have to her, completely dismissive of any advance made toward her by any and all men for years. Until you.”
The weight of what she says falls over me like a lead-filled vest, making it hard to follow through with the urge I have to leave. I want to get the hell out of here and forget that this conversation has ever taken place, but I can’t move. A pattern is starting to form any time the subject of Erin comes up, continuing to add to my confusion. I came today to sell the warehouse, but also to stipulate that the sale remain confidential to everyone, including Erin.
“Listen Ms. Grace, the fact that Erin is perfection remains undisputed, but that isn’t the purpose of this visit. If you don’t mind, I would like to get to that part of the meeting and keep mine and Erin’s business just that,” I finally free the words that I’ve been holding on the tip of my tongue. It has taken all the strength I possess and then some to fight the feelings I have for Erin, listening to Chanin supply more evidence for wanting Erin isn’t something I care to sit through. The feeling of anxiety is slowly crawling from my stomach up to the back of my throat and all I want to do is bust out of my skin like the hulk. The internal battle between what I want to do, and what I need to do is wreaking havoc on my patience.
“I will gladly move forward with purchasing your property, after you answer one question,” Chanin stipulates, true to form of a successful business professional. I don’t know if it’s out of pure need to get the hell out of there, or if subconsciously I want to provide an answer so maybe we’ll all know what the hell is going on here, but I move to entertain her question.
“What’s your question?” Before answering, she walks back to sit down, and her hands steeple over her lips, with eyes that reveal her struggle to deliver her next words.
“Do you remember what you said to me at Charlies’s when you came in to retrieve Erin’s things that night?” For the first time, her tone is completely calm and collected, almost kind. I take a minute to think back to our conversation that night, but can’t put a finger on what exactly she’s referring to. Confused, I look up to see her signing the purchase agreement for the warehouse, before arranging them neatly and placing them in the copier behind her desk. Waiting on the duplicate copies to print, she turns to me.
“Like I have made abundantly clear to you today, I am particularly protective of Erin, so I paid close attention to not only what you said that night, but how you said it. The look on your face was one that struck a chord with me, like you had just seen the Holy Grail or something,” she turns to pull the printed documents off the copier before continuing. “Being the pessimist I am, I usually choose to see the negative in what someone says, but as much as I tried, I couldn’t do that with you. After I threatened your life and took a picture of your driver’s license for collateral, I had given you a smart ass line along the lines of ‘You hurt her, I hurt you’, and your response was unexpected to say the least coming from a man that Erin had just
met.” She pauses to staple each set of documents together, and I take a moment to process the memory from that night she’s referring to. She hands me a copy of the signed purchase agreement, but holds onto it, bringing my gaze up to meet hers, and I can’t help the small twinge of fear that develops at her next statement. “You looked at me with genuine conviction and said, ‘I will never hurt her. I assure you she’s always safe in my hands.’ This was right before turning and leaving as if you hadn’t just said something profound. It made me wonder if even you had realized what you’d said.”
After she releases the papers, although I want to stand and leave, the realization that Chanin is only trying to help, forces me to stay seated. Hearing my words repeated back to me from her, a woman that I had no doubt was not a believer in fate or the powers in which it possessed, caused awareness of what I’d said to scream through me, shattering my resolve like glass to waves of focused energy. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I could take this leap and figure out the rest later, because if I continued to try and force Erin out of my heart and my mind it would surely destroy me. But at this point, would Erin even be open to what I had to say? Would any explanation I gave her be enough for her to trust me? With self-doubt replacing my determination, I decide humbleness might aid in rendering some advice from Chanin.
“How do I make this right,” a glimmer of hope is reflected in her eyes at my question, and if I didn’t know it before, I knew now that Chanin truly cares for Erin, wanting only the best for her.
“With the truth. No games, no gimmicks. Just you.” We both stand, bringing the conversation to a desirable resolution. I approach her with my hand extended, and she takes it firmly with a wry smile playing on her lips.
“After all, it is the White Knight that she wants.”