“Hot Rod got his ass beat up by a girl, huh? That amuses me, probably a lot more than it should. But, to answer your original question, I’m in my own room, not his suite. I moved out of there as soon as I got back from the park.”
She relays our conversation to Rod with an emphasis on her convictions in her tone. I can’t help but giggle at my best friend.
“Rod wants your room number. He said he’s coming over to talk to you.”
“I don’t think so. I’ll give it to you, but there’s no reason he needs it. You know I don’t demand much of anyone in my life, but disrespect is one thing I will not tolerate from anyone. My initial impression of him was spot-on, and I should’ve listened to my gut. Now that he has his suite to himself again, he’s free to do whatever he wants.”
“Rod, she said you can go fuck yourself with Lucille from The Walking Dead. I’m paraphrasing.”
I hear Rod’s response in the background. “Who the fuck is Lucille?”
“She’s a baseball bat covered with barbed wire. She’s very effective.” Tracy fake coughs to cover her laugh. I can only imagine the horrified expression on Rod’s face. “Daisy, what room are you in? I’m coming to see you in a few minutes. Alone.”
We disconnect after I give her my new room number and strict instructions not to share it with Rod. I feel like a big enough fool as it is. From the moment I first met him, I knew I shouldn’t trust him, shouldn’t fall for him, shouldn’t get involved with him, but I didn’t listen to my instincts. I thought I had gotten better about that, but I obviously have a long way to go.
A few minutes later, there’s a soft knock on my door. After checking the peephole to confirm it’s Tracy, and only her, I open the door and let her in. She wraps her arms around me in an uncharacteristic display of affection and kicks the door shut with her foot.
“Daisy, I’m so sorry. There’s something I need to confess, and I’m afraid you’ll be mad and never speak to me again.”
“What could you have done to make me never speak to you again?” I step back to gauge the seriousness of this conversation by her expression.
Shit. This doesn’t look good.
“We’d better have a seat.” She moves to the sitting area and pats the cushion next to her on the couch.
When I sit, she grabs my hand and gives it a light squeeze. “Okay, here’s the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”
I arch an eyebrow, waiting for her confession with anxious reservations.
“Kevin and I have been seeing each other for the last several months. When we met, we immediately clicked, and everything has felt so right from day one. He talked a lot about Rod because they’ve been best friends since middle school. Kevin is the vice president of Rod’s company.
“One night, Kevin and I were talking about how happy we are together, and we both wished our best friends could find someone, too. You’ve been closed off from feeling anything for years, with reason, but I wanted someone other than me to know how amazing you are. Kevin told me about how Rod dotes on his sister and niece every day, but that he had commitment issues, too.
“Kevin and I hoped you and Rod would find each other the same way we did. So, we arranged this trip as a way you two could meet, but without the usual awkwardness of a blind date. You’ve found something wrong with every guy I’ve tried to set you up with anyway, so I hoped a more casual setting would make it easier for you to relax and have fun. I’m sorry I kept everything a secret from you. This fiasco is all my fault. Are you mad at me? Can you forgive me?”
At first, I’m more than mad. I’m livid. When I read about others “seeing red,” I always thought it was a metaphor. Now I know it’s not. It’s an actual response when someone, such as myself, is so furious she could spit nails. Before I answer her, I take a minute to think about what she said … and about my inability to move past my traumatic experience. She arranged this entire trip to help me break free from the bonds of my past. Regardless of the outcome, I know she had the best intentions in her heart and she only arranged this trip because she’s worried about me.
“I am mad at you, Tracy, but I also understand why you went to such great lengths to lie to me and hide shit from me. For future reference, I’d prefer an honest conversation instead of an elaborate scheme to hook me up with some guy. That said, you did tell me not to fall for Rod. You warned me not to like him, to get that shit out of my head. I think that was the phrase you used. But I fell for him anyway, and that isn’t your fault. It’s mine. Even though I knew better, I jumped in with both feet. That’s not a mistake I’ll make again.”
“He wants to talk to you, almost to the point of desperation. He tried to follow me here, but Kevin stopped him from leaving our room. The entire time we were at the park today, he moped around with a miserable attitude, downturned lips, and vacant eyes. I don’t think he even recognized any other women were there after you left.
“I was so proud of you for that move, by the way. You just turned on your heel and left him standing there at the lockers without so much as a ‘kiss my ass’ on your way out. It was brilliant. I don’t know for sure, but I had this sense he pulled that stunt on purpose, just to test how you’d react.”
“Talking to him now won’t change anything. He probably assumes I walked away because I’m jealous over him looking at someone else. Nothing could be further from the truth. He acted as if we weren’t together when he was making ‘fuck me’ eyes at someone else, while I stood beside him, after saying he wanted us to be a real couple. If he changed his mind, I’d rather he man-up and tell me straight. Unfortunately, his true colors aren’t attractive to me. I’m glad I saw them sooner rather than later.
“Of course I still love you—you’re my best friend. But, Tracy, listen to me very carefully right now. Don’t ever do anything remotely like this to me again. When I’m ready to subject myself to the humiliation and pain of dating again, I’ll tell you.”
“That’ll be the day after never.”
“Most likely.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Rod
When I woke this morning, I knew I was in for a horrendous day, but I had no idea it would become the complete shitshow it turned into. Before I even opened my eyes, I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. A recurring dream about my parents returned last night, one I can’t escape from because it’s too close to real life. My mind warps my memories, exaggerating some of the worst points of my life the way dreams do—with moments of clarity mixed with others that make no sense. But the end result is always the same. I open my eyes and accept the painful scenes are part of me and have been since my early teens.
I needed some time and space to get out of my head, so I took a long shower alone, hoping the fog would clear out of my mind. Daisy felt the distance I put between us, I knew that, but I needed it to ground myself again. The truth is, I wasn’t intentionally pushing her away, but I couldn’t stop myself either. When I’m transported back to that time in my life, every nerve in my body feels raw and exposed and everything irritates me. It’s not pretty and that’s no excuse for my terrible behavior, but it is what it is.
By the time we left for the water park with the rest of the Scooby Gang, I was looking for anything that could distract me and remove the black cloud from over my head. To distract myself, I chose thrill rides over quiet tranquility, and constant stimulation rather than down time to reflect and turn the events of the past over in my mind. I needed laughs with friends over solitude from the world and one-on-one bonding time with Daisy. For my sanity, I took the opportunity to put a little separation between me and what prompted the dream in the first place.
I never want to turn into my dad.
However, the colossal mistake I made when we arrived at the park was all on me. It was entirely my fault and nothing I can blame on anyone or anything else. Sadly, my deed confirmed my belief I should remain a bachelor for the rest of time. As long as I do, I will never turn into him. The pain I
saw on Daisy’s face as the taxi drove away was far too similar to the sorrow my mom wore when she didn’t know I was watching her.
The stabbing in my chest as I watched her leave me there, clinging to the fence that separated us, acted as another time machine, dredging up feelings I haven’t felt in decades. My focus changed from the trauma of my past to the distress of the present. She stayed on my mind the entire time, regardless of how hard I tried to have fun with my friends and put everything else behind me. I can’t count the number of times I considered going to her, throwing her over my shoulder, and rowing our kayak miles from shore. When the group had enough of water slides, I couldn’t wait until we reached the hotel again.
But I walked into the suite, ready to apologize and grovel at her feet after a miserable day at the park without her, and found she wasn’t there.
Her suitcase had been packed, and she had moved out of my room without leaving a goodbye note, or a conversation, or a knock-down drag-out fight until all our cards were face up on the table and we had emptied our combined emotional baggage.
I felt abandoned, even though I deserved it.
Before giving up and writing this entire trip off as a loss, I made an honest effort to find her by going to the room she shared with Tracy. I was met with a plastic baseball bat to the face and body at Tracy’s hand. When she’d bent the bat so badly she could no longer use it, Kevin calmly took it from her hands and told me to have a seat.
“Where is Daisy?” I crossed my arm over my chest.
“How the hell should I know? You’re the one sharing a room with her now.” Tracy stood over me, her eyes firing daggers at me.
“Apparently not. All her things, including her suitcase, are gone. I thought maybe she came back to your room.”
Tracy froze, her eyes grew wide as her jaw dropped open. She grabbed her cell phone to call Daisy, keeping her glare trained on me while she spoke. At least then I knew Daisy was safe and in her own room, but knowing she’d rather be alone than spend one more minute with me was a jagged pill to swallow. Tracy made sure I didn’t follow her to Daisy’s new room, so I devised a plan to find her on my own.
After a quick search on my phone, I located a florist nearby that offered same-day delivery. When I called and explained I’d severely screwed up and needed to make amends immediately, the friendly lady on the other end understood my plight and took mercy on me. Two dozen red roses and $500 later, the flowers arrived at the front desk. I watched the box like a hawk until the concierge picked it up to deliver it to her room.
Now I’m following him.
Like a crazy stalker.
But I have no intentions of hurting her. Not that my exploits are completely benign since she said she didn’t want to talk to me and didn’t want me to know which room she’s in. I’m not respecting her wishes, but my desperation to fix the situation is driving me to extreme measures. I’m risking everything only to talk to her through the door, to make one last-ditch attempt to show her I’m not the completely self-absorbed asshole she believes me to be.
That I’ve shown her I am.
When she opens the door, the concierge offers the box with the long stem roses in it and she hesitantly accepts it. He carries on his way, leaving the hallway empty except for the lurker waiting in the wings. My feet carry me to the door before I realize I decided to move.
I knock softly and sit with my back against the door before beginning my monologue. She needs to know it’s me before she reaches the door, so she’s not startled by my presence. The last thing I want is for her to be afraid of me, to think I’m here for anything other than to apologize profusely.
“Daisy, it’s me. You don’t have to say a word or even crack the door open. I’m not here to harass you or debate anything I’ve said or done. My only objective is to tell you how very sorry I am for today, everything about it. You have been nothing short of amazing. I’ve had more fun with you in the last week than I can ever remember, no matter what we were doing. You have an incredible heart, an infectious laugh, and a beautiful soul. It’s a cliché, and it sounds like a really cheesy line, but what I’m about to say is the honest to God truth. Every minute I’ve spent with you has made me want to be a better man, because that’s exactly what you deserve, nothing less. You bring out the best in me.
“When I woke this morning, I was nowhere near being the man you should want. Old memories resurfaced and brought me back down to the tenth level of hell, my own private floor. My thoughts tormented me, and I did what I always do when I can’t deal with the past. I pushed you away, even though that isn’t what I want. But you didn’t give up on me, you walked beside me, quietly and patiently giving me space to deal with myself.
“Deep inside my soul, I know I deserve nothing you have to give me, and that fact made me even madder, at myself, so I pushed harder. The girl at the water park couldn’t hold a candle to you. No one can, to be honest. I’m so sorry that my inadequacies and insecurities hurt you, and I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
Now that I’ve put my heart and my pride on the line, all I can do is wait to see how she’ll respond. Will she open the door and let me back in her life? Will she pretend she didn’t hear any of my confession and apology? Will she simply thank me and go on without me?
I close my eyes and lean my head against the door, not caring that I’m sitting on the floor, in the hallway, of an upscale luxury resort. I’ll wait here all night for her answer if that’s what it takes.
Then I hear the sound of metal sliding against metal and the distinct click of her deadbolt locking in place.
That wasn’t the answer I hoped for, or even expected, but she made her position crystal clear.
I push myself up to stand, take one last look at the door separating us, and walk away without a fight. The suite’s minibar doesn’t hold enough booze to take the edge off what I’m feeling, so I take a detour toward the main bar in the hotel lobby.
Vacationers party all around me as I take a seat at the bar, but their smiles only piss me off. When the bartender approaches me, I order bourbon and tell him to keep them coming. My plan is to numb every inch of myself, including my mind, rather than going to the black places it usually takes me. If the hotel staff has to pour me into my bed when they shut down the bar before dawn, so be it.
My cell phone vibrates in my pocket, and my first thought is Kevin is looking for me. I’m sure Daisy has already called Tracy to replay my every word for her best friend. Since I haven’t checked on my business since the day I arrived on the island, I decide it’s probably best to check the alert before I’m too hammered to understand the words. But when I glance at the screen, I realize it’s not a text message at all.
It’s an alert about an unheard voicemail from my home line. Before I left for vacation, I forwarded voicemails from my office phone and my home landline to my cell, knowing my executive assistant wouldn’t contact me, even for urgent issues, while I was out of the country. She was too adamant I enjoy my first vacation in forever without the hassles of working that remotely. If someone got past her to my voicemail, the issue must be escalated and need my attention.
As I dial into the digital voicemail system, my mind is on all the possible problems that could’ve erupted since I’ve been away. A breach of contract? A client who missed their payment? A specialized software program malfunctioning? I’m so lost in thought I almost miss the computerized voice saying I have no new messages on my work number. Finding that odd, I disconnect and check my home voicemail instead. A couple of my largest clients have my home number, so it’s feasible they would’ve contacted me there if my assistant thwarted their attempts to reach me at the office.
The voicemail on my home phone is for my sister, Juliana … and the message makes my blood turn to ice in my veins. My free hand grips the edge of the bar to keep me steady on the stool. The room spins around me as if it’s a merry-go-round competing on the NASCAR circuit. I drop my cell on the counter and stare at my glass, trying to focus on
a single object until I can calm my racing heart.
The words replay on a continuous loop in my mind.
“Hi, Juliana. This is Claire, reminding you of your appointment tomorrow at one o’clock with Dr. Tomey. If you have any questions, give me a call back.”
I know who Dr. Tomey is. He’s a medical oncologist. There’s only one reason she’d have an appointment with him.
Her cancer has returned.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Rod
It took an inordinate amount of finagling, but I eventually got on an evening flight back to Atlanta. Even though I won’t make it home until the early morning hours, at least I feel as though I’m doing something rather than just sitting in my room, waiting with my bags packed. I didn’t call Juliana before I left. The conversation about her diagnosis and prognosis requires a face-to-face, sit down, come to Rod meeting.
Somehow, I did remember to send Kevin a quick text to let him know I was leaving early, so he doesn’t waste his time looking for me. But I didn’t say anything about why in the message. For one, Juliana’s medical status isn’t mine to tell. But even if she’s okay with sharing the details, I don’t have any to give and Kevin would have questions. He’s known Juliana almost as long as he’s known me, and he’s always considered her as his little sister too. I’ll fill him in when he returns from the Caribbean and his life returns to normal.
The flights and layovers felt as if they took forever, but I finally pull into my tree-lined drive just as the sun peeks over the horizon. I don’t bother with any luggage when I jump out of the car and rush inside. Juliana will be up soon, and I want to be parked at the kitchen table with a tall mug of piping hot coffee in my hand when she comes downstairs.
Once the coffee is ready, I don’t have to wait long for her to come flying around the corner, expecting to see Louise, my house staff manager, in the kitchen. She screams when she sees me instead.
All I Want: Rod & Daisy (All Of Me Duet Book 1) Page 17