Desire (Venture Capitalist Book 3)

by Ainsley St Claire

  Without even thinking, I ask, “Can I give him part of my liver?” My heart beats faster from the hope.

  “I suggested that a few months ago, and he was pretty adamant that you weren’t interested.”

  “Doctor, my father and I have been estranged for a while. I didn’t realize my dad was coming to San Francisco until he showed up at my office earlier this week. And I didn’t understand he was seeing a doctor until you called to tell me that he collapsed in your exam room earlier today. We do have a troubled relationship on many levels, but if my liver’s compatible, I’ll give him part of it without hesitation.”

  “We’ll have to do some tests, but let’s see how he’s going to respond to the chemo and radiation. If we can shrink the tumors small enough in his lungs that we can operate, we can discuss the transplant.”

  The doctor leaves, and I call Dillon and Mason to tell them the news. They put me on speakerphone so I can talk to them jointly.

  “Wow, man, I’m so sorry,” Dillon empathizes.

  “Take however much time you need,” Mason shares.

  “Thanks. I’ll keep you posted, but for now I’m working, just from the hospital.”

  “What do you need from your house?” Mason asks.

  “I’ll call Hadlee and see if she can bring a few things over. I’ve got it covered.”

  “Well, let me know if I can bring anything from the office, or if you need anything at all, okay?”

  “Promise. Thanks, guys.”

  I hang up, then debate what I want to say to Hadlee. She’s a doctor, so she must have experience in this area. I call her next.

  As the phone rings in my ear, I’m still working on what I need. It goes to her voice mail, and she singsongs in her message. “Hello, this is Hadlee. I can’t take your call right now. You know what to do.” Beep.

  “Hadlee, it’s me, Cameron. I’m at University Hospital with my dad. Can you stop by my place and bring me a few changes of clothes? I may be here a while. I’d appreciate it.”

  A few hours later, after grabbing a sandwich and Diet Coke from the hospital cafeteria, I enter the room to find Hadlee talking to my dad, his chart in her hands.

  “What are you doing?” I demand.

  “I’m checking out his chart.” She points to a bag in a chair. “I brought you some clothes. I can tell you where you can get a shower here in the hospital.”

  I want her to leave. I need to figure this out with my dad, just us. “Thanks, but I’m good.” I don’t want everyone to know what’s going on with him. We don’t need their pity, damn it.

  “Would you like me to explain some of the things they’re doing with your dad? I’m happy to translate some of the medical jargon if you’d like.”

  “No. Thanks for bringing my clothes. You can leave now.” This is a private matter. I don’t need my friends trying to make me feel better. My dad needs me, and I need to concentrate on him. No distractions.

  She’s visibly stunned by my directness. "Cameron, how can you be so cold? I’m only trying to help." She keeps her eyes steady, but I can tell there’s sorrow already building.

  “He’s my father, Hadlee. I already told you not to put yourself in the middle of this.”

  Rather than leave, she stays rooted to the spot, the breeze from an open window moving her hair away from the cheekbones that have become so much more prominent over the previous weeks. Her features buckle slightly before she speaks, the only betrayal of her anguish. “There was a time when you enjoyed spending time with me, remember? Yet you give me up as soon as there’s a threat to the balance in your life. That isn't how you treat your friends, or at least not a version I can respect. You’ve broken me, and now you’re attacking the pieces. There isn't a woman alive who wants a man who would betray her like you’re doing. But don’t worry, I’ll leave you to your life. We have friends in common, but we never have to interact again.”

  Hadlee’s face is paler than I’ve ever recalled it being, as if her very blood was shrinking away from my presence, her lips almost ghostly despite the light of the room.

  I’m shocked by her tirade. I can’t explain to her that this is too much at one time, but I deserve everything she’s said. I know I’m being an ass when I concentrate on the view outside the window and a passing plane instead of apologizing, but I’m mad. More at myself than her, but rather than tell her as much, I snap, "You don't realize how it was. You like to judge me, but have you any idea what I did for you? Any idea at all?" Then I turn my back to her, face set like an adversary, eyes cold, muscles tense.

  There’s disappointment in my father’s eyes. Maybe now she’ll understand the anger I work so hard to hide and why I don’t deserve anyone’s love.

  She seems quiet, angry, and sad all within a sixty-second window.

  My father yells, “Cameron! I didn’t raise you to behave like this.”

  My anger spews like a volcano. “Of course not. You didn’t raise me at all.”

  “I’m going to miss you,” she whispers, eyes beginning to fill with unshed tears.

  “Cameron, I think you need to leave and go cool down,” my dad pleads.

  “Don’t worry about it, Michael,” Hadlee tells him. Watching me carefully, so she knows she’s being heard, she says, “Cameron’s just worried about you. I need to return to my rounds. I’ll let you two continue your afternoon.” She turns and almost runs out the door.

  My dad turns to glare at me. “I know I made a lot of mistakes with you after your mother died, but that was completely uncalled for. You need to go after her and apologize.”

  “Mind your own business.”

  “You are my business. She’s a sweet girl, and she deserves better than you, but somehow she likes you. So pull your head out of your ass and go after her.”

  Rather than do what he says, I sit in my chair and eat my sandwich.

  Fuck her. Now she understands what I’ve been telling her.

  I’m not the guy for her.

  Hadlee

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  I’m heartbroken that Cameron was such a jerk, but it’s a giant neon sign that he was only interested in sex and nothing more. And now he isn’t even interested in sex.

  I wasn’t trying to get in the middle of anything; I only wanted to share my expertise and hopefully make it a bit less stressful for them. I like Michael, and I was falling for Cameron. I understand that they have a challenging relationship, but that’s for them to figure out. My only hope was to help explain what seems like an intimidating situation and make it less scary, but so much for that.

  I can’t live in his house anymore. He hasn’t called to apologize for the episode at the hospital last week. Ever since our blowup, I’ve essentially been avoiding him. He has my number and hasn’t called or texted me. I’ve waited long enough; now it’s time to move on. Each evening, I come home and hide in my room, doing my charts and returning e-mails from my bed. I believe he owes me an apology, and he hasn’t reached out to me at all. Fuck him!

  I thought we made a good team. Ever since Cameron helped by calling my insurance company with me, they agreed to cover the reconstruction process. What a relief it was to know I’ll get my home back again. And with CeCe’s help, we’re getting closer to being done.

  I have water and electricity, and while it isn’t perfect, I’ve decided I’m going to move home. Cameron’s angry with me for inserting myself, and he obviously doesn’t want what I want. I’ve already fallen for him, but it’s smarter to just rip the Band-Aid off before I really go head over heels for him.

  I’m so grateful he gave me a place to stay and at no cost, but it’s time to give him his privacy back. He’s a good friend, and maybe after I get over the rejection, we can be friends again. His generosity came at the right time. I needed the reprieve because the insurance deductible’s off-the-charts expensive and I don’t have much savings, plus my debt from medical school. I miss my house and my things. Granted, not much was able to be salvaged throughout the house,
but I’ve found several good substitutes if I couldn’t find the real thing, and thanks to my bedroom door being shut, most of my personal belongings were saved, including a picture of my mom and dad when I was eight years old.

  I never aspired to a large home, preferring cozy and friendly. It’s the perfect space for my needs and many of my wants. It’s my “cottage” in the city, furnished with everything rustic, the old being a stage for my new creations, new paintings daubed on perfect squares of canvas. Space is just space until you bring your own personality to it, make your mark, express what’s sacred to you.

  I need to tell Cameron I’m moving out. I think I should tell him in person, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I guess we’re both avoiding each other, when I really think about it. I know he has a lot going on between his work and his dad’s illness, so I don’t push. Finally, I decide to just text him.

  Me: Hey. I really want to thank you for allowing me to stay in your rental. My place has electricity and water and is almost ready, so I’ll be moving out this weekend. I’ve made arrangements with your housekeeper to come in on Monday to clean at my expense, and I’ll place the key in an envelope and drop it in your mail slot. Thank you again. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.

  He doesn’t respond, and it makes me depressed. I hid from him, but if I’m honest with myself, I wanted him to apologize. I understand his dad’s in a bad place, but I did him a favor by picking his things up, and he responds by yelling at me.

  I’m on the patio in the candlelight, enjoying the backyard one last time when I notice the lights come on upstairs. I’m trying to destress by just concentrating on all the things I have to do when I hear him slide open the upstairs door, the light jazz coming from my unit probably alerting him to my presence. I’m sure I can feel his eyes on me, but I won’t glance at him to be sure.

  “Hey.”

  I turn to see him halfway down the stairs. “Hey. Did you get my text?”

  I can see him in the muted light of the setting sun. He looks tired, but he still makes my heart race, my stomach clench, and my panties wet. “I did. I haven’t been a very good friend. You don’t have to leave if your place isn’t done yet.”

  I can’t change my mind. It’s time to get some distance. “I know, but I figure I can get out of your way now so you can get it rented and actually make some money.”

  He takes his baseball cap off and runs his hands through his hair. “I’m not hurting for money. Please stay as long as you need. I’m not going to rent it for a while. And my housekeeper will clean the place. You don’t have to pay her for that.”

  I can’t give in. I see the desperation in his eyes, but I must be strong. “I don’t mind. It’s the least I can do.”

  He reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry I’m such a shitty friend.”

  I carefully pull my hand away and put it in my lap, pinching the soft spot between my thumb and forefinger, hoping the pain will distract me enough that I don’t cry. “We want different things.”

  He sits back and looks surprised. “We do? What do you want that’s different from what I want?”

  We’ve never talked about it, but it’s time to be honest with him. “I want to get married and have kids.”

  He can’t look me in the eye. “You do?” Cameron sighs loudly. “I’m not good at relationships. My parents were terrible examples, and I’m pretty screwed up. You’ve seen it. I’m not marriage material.”

  I scrutinize him carefully. “Cameron, I’m not sure anyone’s good at relationships. They take work, and you have to be willing to do that work. My home life growing up wasn’t perfect by any means, but I want to do better for my kids one day.” I wait for a response, but he doesn’t even glance at me. Gathering my things from the table, I say, “I better get to bed. Good night, Cameron. I’ll see you… I guess when I see you.”

  He doesn’t call after me or follow me, and it makes me cry big ugly tears as I lie in bed, thinking about Cameron and the last few months. I’m not working tomorrow, so I’ll meet the movers at my storage unit in the late morning. I hate to leave the comfort of his home and the connection here, but I can’t take the rift between us anymore and feels it’s for the best. We want different things.

  I replay our conversation over and over. I could’ve taken it in so many different directions. He stared at me like a stranger, yet worse. Instead of the fragile soul he’s had the opportunity to know, he sees an adversary in me, even though I never sought to upset him or insert myself into his situation. It’s as if he hates me. Okay, hate may be too strong a word, but from what I saw with my parents and have seen over the years, it takes a strong hate to break a strong love, to erect walls, to protect the self.

  That can't be us though. It can't be the end of our story. Can we find a fragment of at least a friendship we can share? A seed that might grow into a new relationship—a friendship to heal us both?

  I believe in him and seem to give him more credit than he gives himself. I understand him, and I wish he could see the person he is to me. I know he’s been hurt and I'm sorry, truly, yet there has to be a part of him that knows I’ve also been hurt. If he can be softer, I can be too. I can take down some of those walls a brick at a time.

  I let him in and let him see my naked heart. I guess that’s best the way to find out who we truly are. Was it all worth it? I’ll be wiser from the mess he made, at least.

  Thanks, Cameron, for breaking my heart and showing me who you really are. Because of my father, I’ll always be a survivor.

  Cameron

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  I was shocked when Hadlee’s text came this afternoon. I’ve been debating on how to apologize for being such an asshole. My dad has barely spoken to me since, and now he’s refusing my help. He’d rather die than take part of my liver.

  I’m such a giant ass.

  She was only trying to help, but I couldn’t figure out how to apologize, and now she’s leaving. I would love to blame it on my dad and all the shit he brings with him, but I need to own this. I barked at her, and she didn’t deserve it.

  Fuck!

  When she told me tonight that she wants to get married and have kids, that threw me for a loop, although I’m not sure why. She’s a pediatrician, for God's sake—of course she likes kids, and she probably wants a bunch. The sex is pretty much the best I’ve ever had, and it kills me that I won’t see her every day once she moves back home.

  I sit back in my chair and listen to the sounds of the city permeating the dark backyard. All I can think about is her beautiful smile and how I love that I can still smell her after we’ve spent the day together.

  Sitting for some time, I watch the light from the bathroom in her apartment cast shadows on the yard and then grow dark, followed by various lights going on and off. She’s definitely going to bed. I wish I knew what I could do to talk her into staying.

  Her apartment goes dark and I don’t see any more movement. Figuring she’s gone to bed, I head upstairs to my place. I’m too upset with myself to sleep though, and all I can think to do is sit in my home office and work.

  Turning on my computer and dialing into our company VPN, I scroll through the various technology gossip sites, stopping when a story on one of the start-ups we presented to catches my eye. They threw us under the bus by sharing all of our confidential information a few months ago, including Dillon’s financial evaluations.

  In the blurb, they announce the CEO and CFO have both been fired. Hmm… I wonder what happened there. I forward the article to Mason, Dillon, Emerson, Greer, and Sara, saying, Did you see this? Big changes at Fractional. Very interesting.

  I get a quick response from Dillon. That’s awesome. I’d love to understand why. Who do we know that can find out?

  Mason’s quick to add, They seemed to have a pretty solid management team if I remember correctly. Emerson?

  Yes, it was a good team. Solid experience and excellent firsthand knowledge.

  Sara joi
ns the conversation. Trey forwarded the link to his dad. Our lawyers threatened to sue over them sharing Dillon’s models and our confidential information, but we couldn’t prove anything. It didn’t go anywhere. Hopefully Charles can find something out.

  We banter back and forth, speculating why they would’ve suddenly been fired. Sara then adds, Do a quick search of the other companies we recently lost to PK. Does anyone notice the same trend?

  I search Smithright Software, Adaptive Technologies, and Flintridge Solutions. Just like Fractional Technologies, they’ve seen some great changes in their leadership. Holy crap! There’s a pattern. Each one has lost at least one of their founders, and it’s been pretty discreet. Do we know what’s going on?

  Dillon inquires, Has anyone heard from Terry Klein? Any word on how he’s feeling?

  I have a quick inner debate on sharing, mostly because it’ll upset Mason the most. I saw him last weekend in the rehab clinic in Foster City. He’s doing okay, but they won’t release him because he lives alone.

  Emerson chides, Can’t he afford a full-time nurse?

  I’m not sure. PK’s struggling, Mason writes.

  That’s what I needed to hear, Dillon celebrates.

  Suddenly there’s an e-mail from Greer in the conversation. Sorry, guys. I’ve been watching your conversation but following up with some friends to find out what seems to be going on. Apparently Perkins Klein has been selling their investments to Benchmark to counter some of their bad investments and remain solvent, and Benchmark has been demanding the changes.

  Holy shit! This is what we wanted when we pushed the duds their way, I remind everyone.

  I thought we had Quinn sharing what was going on from the inside. Why didn’t we realize this? Mason asks.