Sweet Love

by Kayla, Mia

  My shoulders relaxed when there were a few enthusiastic murmurs of agreement. My father’s face was stoic, but that wasn’t a surprise because he rarely showed any enthusiasm—ever.

  It was not until he knocked on the table twice and said, “I don’t think it’ll work,” did I stagger.

  I held my breath for two long seconds and stared at everyone else sitting at the table, who were equally shell-shocked. He was the minority in this situation; I was sure of it.

  Every muscle in my body tightened, and my hands fisted by my sides.

  Keep calm, I repeated the mantra in my head, but I already knew it wouldn’t work.

  “What don’t you like about the concept exactly?” My voice was steady.

  Breathe, Connor. I swallowed, waiting for his response, clenching my jaw tight.

  “I just don’t think that it’s the concept I want to portray for Colby’s. The branding is off. I want older people to reminisce and remember what it was like to be a kid, eating a Colby’s Chocolate Bar. There is something about the original packaging that I want to keep. Maybe if we can change up the commercials to be a kid growing up.”

  “That won’t work,” I said, knowing in my gut that we had to show the series of events as they happened to evoke emotion.

  “Well, I don’t like it how it is.”

  Without warning, I slammed my fist against the table. “This is bullshit.”

  “Connor,” my mother scolded.

  But I was too far gone. There was no saving me now.

  All hope of keeping my anger at bay was out the door.

  We’d worked on this for months, and judging by everyone else’s reaction, I knew I was exactly right with this concept. My father was dead wrong.

  “Your original branding is dated, and the fact is, your profit margins are dwindling because you are trying to cater to an audience that’s most likely dead. You’re not getting any new customers.”

  “Connor!” my mother yelled above the noise, standing.

  “Calm down,” my father said, his face devoid of emotion while I was raging.

  “We have worked so hard on this, and I know this is a winning direction. What?” I threw up both hands. “You don’t want to take the family approach because you don’t know what family is about, is that it? Well then, we can lie, just like how we lie to pretend that we are one big, happy family when it’s all bullshit.”

  “Connor, that’s not what this is,” my father said, standing. “Calm down.”

  My eyes went around the room to the people that I’d seen most of my life, growing up in the factory—the boardroom members.

  My face heated. They didn’t deserve my wrath. My father did.

  My mother grabbed my arm to try to still me, but I shrugged her off.

  “No. I’m done, Mom. I’m fucking done.” I flipped to face my father full-on. “Save your own company.”

  I charged out the door and went to Charlie’s desk, but she wasn’t available, so I pulled out my phone and called her, but her phone went to voice mail. Casey would know where she was.

  I walked directly to Casey’s office, and when I knocked twice, she opened the door. Both her eyebrows rose.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Have you seen Charlie?”

  “No. Why?”

  I shook my head, not giving her a chance to ask me more questions, and stormed directly to see Alyssa. Financial statements were spread across her desk. Should I tell her there was no point in trying to figure out projections for next quarter, that layoffs would be happening soon?

  “Hey.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “She left. She’s taking a sick day.”

  “What? She looked fine this morning,” I stated because she had been.

  She had almost been giddy about the presentation, knowing that the board and my father would love it. Wait till I broke the bad news to her.

  She shrugged and tore her gaze from mine, focusing back on the financials.

  “Aren’t you curious about how it went?”

  With nonchalance in her tone, she said, “Not really.” Then, her eyes met mine again. “I’m assuming it didn’t go well or else you wouldn’t be huffing and puffing and there wouldn’t be smoke blowing from your ears.”

  I placed my fists on my hips, totally not getting why her sharp tone was directed at me. “He’s such an idiot. My father …”

  Alyssa gave me a pointed glance. “You’re the idiot.”

  “He won’t even listen to me. I came here to turn the company around, but he won’t even listen to what I have to say.”

  “Then, change it.”

  “Change what? It’s not my company.”

  “It’s not your company because you don’t want anything to do with it.”

  I huffed, beyond aggravated, not needing this lecture from her too.

  “Yep. This is the thing. Maybe instead of suggesting the changes, for once, you act like a man and institute the changes and push them through.”

  “What? I told you, it’s not my company.”

  “It’s your company if you want it to be. Listen …” She stood, getting into my face. “You won’t want to hear this, but because you know me as a no-bullshitter, I’m going to tell you anyway.” She pushed her finger into my chest. “You have everything you’ll ever need, right here at this company, right here in this town, but all you’ve ever done is run because shit’s not going your way, because it’s hard. Yeah, it’s hard to live with family. Yeah, it’s hard to run a multimillion-dollar company, but tough shit. It’s called life.”

  “You don’t—”

  She snapped her fingers in my face to shut me up. “Shh. Not done. Real talk now.” She leaned in, narrowing her eyes, her tone serious. “Quit crying like a baby and man the fuck up. Quit complaining and get the job done. Stay for the company. Stay for your family. Stay for the girl.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  She turned to her financials then, already done with a conversation I wasn’t finished with. And as though she hadn’t heard a word I said, she uttered, “And leave Charlie alone. Don’t be cruel. Give the girl a break.”

  “You know nothing,” I said.

  But of course, Alyssa always had to have the last word in. “I know everything.”

  I stormed away, out the door and making it toward the suburbs. She would’ve gone home, right?

  But she wasn’t there.

  Charlie

  I turned off my phone. I wanted to be alone, to wallow in my sorrows, just for once.

  I had so much to look forward to. Nui and I had been communicating via email, and early next month, I’d be featured on her blog. She wanted to do a whole spread and interview. Her blog was so popular that she had tons of sponsorships on just her page alone. Who knew what opportunities would open up for me then?

  My relationship with my mother was better—on its way there at least.

  I had everything I’d ever wanted finally falling into place.

  I picked up a stone and tossed it in the lake. “Daddy, I wish you were here. I wish you would tell me what to do about this man.”

  I laughed because I so knew what he would say. He’d tell me to move in with Connor, to pick the man. Because Dad would want me to live my own life. But that was the thing. I wasn’t going to be that girl—the girl who moved for a guy and left her whole life behind.

  His place would be my place. His friends would be my friends. That wasn’t the kind of life I wanted to live.

  I pulled out my phone and turned it on, knowing I’d have to face the world sooner than later.

  Twenty-two texts—all from Connor.

  Five voice mails from him.

  All of me was curious about the decision of the board, so instead of going through the texts and voice mails, I decided to call him instead.

  “Hey.”

  “Charlie, where are you? I’ve been going crazy, trying to find you. I even rang your doorbell at home when you weren’t at the pool house.�
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  “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t care. Where are you right now?”

  “I’m at the lake.”

  “Where? What lake?” There was urgency in his tone.

  “The same spot we filmed at.”

  Before I uttered another word, he said, “Don’t leave. I’ll be there.” And then he hung up.

  Thirty minutes later, Connor showed up.

  He plopped down and sat beside me, staring out at the lake. Taking in multiple boats whooshing past us, the skyscrapers in the horizon, the sun setting in front of us.

  “Hey, are you okay?” he asked.

  I nodded, smiling. Having him this near me did things to me, and I couldn’t ignore the way my heart flipped and then flopped at the sight of him.

  “Why did you leave?” His voice was soft, tender, coaxing.

  “I think the commercials worked. They got me so super emotional that I had to leave.” A small laugh escaped my lips. “How did it go?” I switched the subject so fast, probably giving him whiplash. It was either that or … tell him the truth, which I wasn’t about to do.

  “He hated it.” There was heavy disdain in Connor’s eyes.

  “Wait, what? Why?”

  We had such a solid campaign.

  He shook his head, staring back at the lake. “I don’t know. Maybe he hates me. He’s doing this to spite me.”

  “Oh, Connor …” I took one of his hands in mine. “I’m sure that’s not it. Maybe the case for him is not wanting change. It’s difficult for older people to change.” I squeezed his hand, and his eyes flickered to where we were connected. “I can imagine that he set up the original branding, and it’s hard for a stubborn man to see out of his original vision. He’ll come around.”

  “He won’t. Don’t you see? Nothing I do will ever be good enough. I can’t believe I upped and left Manhattan to come back to this shit.” He turned to face me fully, his knees by my knees, blowing out one slow sigh. He reached for me and practically pulled me into his lap. “I don’t care anymore. It only confirms why I should leave. What I say doesn’t matter.”

  I held my breath, as though he’d slapped me in the face. I mean, I had known this, right? I shouldn’t be surprised by any of it. But why did it hurt so much?

  It was because there was finality in his tone.

  “Listen … I meant it. I want you to come with me.”

  His eyes searched mine, and there was this ache so deep that it would’ve consumed me if I were a weaker woman. I’d do what he wanted, not what I wanted.

  “I can’t. We’ve discussed this.” And then I straightened, and for the first time, I got the courage to ask him what I’d always wanted to ask him, knowing the rejection would soon follow. “Why don’t you just stay?” For me, it was evident, but I bit my tongue before more of my feelings flew out.

  “I can’t.” He blew out a breath, sadness encompassing his features. “I can’t be around him. I just need to move on and get on with my life. It’s like my whole life is on pause to save this company. And all this work that we did, all the months that I’ve stayed here, has been for nothing. It’s for fucking nothing. I’m done. Anytime I think of Colby’s or Chicago, I just get so damn angry. I need out. I’m happier when I’m not here.”

  I extracted my hand from his, feeling the rejection strong and clear, like a bee sting.

  I was going to cry. I could feel it, the warmth behind my eyes, and I hadn’t cried over him leaving in front of him because it felt sort of stupid really, knowing this was the end game, this was our deal of sorts.

  “I get it. I understand,” I said, knowing there was no changing his mind.

  His face registered panic for a second, realizing what he’d said. “But not with you, Charlie. Not with you. I’m happy with you.” He stood and took my face within his palms. “I mean, my silver lining in coming here was meeting you.” His lips touched mine. “Stay with me.” He leaned in, kissing me more passionately. “Stay with me tonight.”

  And I gave in because if this was all I was ever going to get, if I could only get Connor for this short period of time, then I’d take it.

  Chapter 29

  Charlie

  I stared at his boxes and suitcases along the wall. His plates and mugs and glasses were scattered all across the kitchen table, and my stomach sank and kept on going.

  We were silent as I helped him take out all the pots and pans from the cupboard, wrap them up in bubble wrap, and stack them in the box.

  I repeated the motion with his utensils and his mixing bowls, and I could not breathe. Tears welled up in my eyes, and he didn’t see me crying because he was too damn busy packing the plates, making sure they were secure in the box.

  I hated this.

  All this thinking and moping had me coming to one irrational thought: he was leaving me even though he had a choice.

  I swallowed back the lump in the back of my throat, but that did nothing to my tears, nothing to stop the stream from falling down my face. It came harder and harder until a sob escaped me.

  “Charlie?”

  Connor immediately rushed to my side, and I swiped at my tears, ignoring his looming presence above me.

  ’Cause if I looked at him, met his beautiful face that I loved so damn much, the tears would flow endlessly.

  I’d get over this, right?

  My father had left, and it had taken me a while to get over that. I remembered the anger at first, as though it were his fault that he had gotten sick, and then the utter sadness that took me under, but over time, I did recuperate. I’d healed.

  But this was different, and I knew that. If my father had had a choice, he’d still be here. Connor had a choice, yet he was choosing to leave—leave his company, his legacy, his nana, and more so me.

  Connor didn’t give me a choice to deny him because he pulled me into him and wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, dropping his head to the crook of my neck.

  “Stop crying. I can’t take it when you cry,” he said, his voice broken.

  Even though I shouldn’t, even though it would make it harder in the end for both of us, I hugged him against me, feeling his chest rise and fall against mine.

  I sobbed into his chest, and he squeezed me tighter.

  I loved this man—so damn much. He’d lifted me up in some of the lowest points with my mother, and he believed in me, in my art, in my paintings. He made me want to be a better person, to strive for utter perfection, to believe in myself and my abilities. And he was leaving.

  “I love you, Charlie. So much. Maybe …”

  I lifted my head and placed one heavy hand on his chest, pushing him away. I swiped at the tears—angry now. “Don’t say that.”

  His eyes widened, and when he reached for me, I slapped his hand away.

  “Don’t say you love me because if you did, you’d stay.”

  Boom.

  There it was—my ultimatum—what I really wanted out in the open. Like fireworks on a silent night, clear and deafening. Hadn’t he told me to do that—to tell my mother how I really felt, to not sugarcoat my feelings?

  “I … I can’t.”

  My hands fisted at my sides, and I let out a ragged breath. “Why not? Because you have family and a girlfriend in New York? What you’re doing here is running. Staying is the easiest choice, and you refuse to do it. You have your family here and your friends and”—I placed both hands over my chest—“me,” I rushed out.

  I swiped at the last of the tears, and all that was left was this never-ending anger.

  “All you have there is a job, a desk you go to every single day.” I shook my head. “But here, you have a legacy—your legacy—and I know you don’t want to believe it, but it is yours. When your parents leave this world, it will go to you and your brother. Or would you rather it go to some investors who couldn’t give two shits about the families Colby’s employs and who would rather tear your company apart and sell the different lines?”

  He took a step t
oward me. “You don’t understand, Charlie.”

  I raised a hand. I didn’t want him to touch me; it would slay me. “No … I do. You are resentful. Your parents were never there for you, growing up, obsessed with setting up this company. I get your anger toward them. I get why you feel the need to run away …”

  “I’m not running away,” he snapped.

  “But see … you are. You have this underlying bitterness toward them, and because of that, you want nothing to do with anything that they are ever involved with. I get that too. Where is forgiveness and compassion and all those qualities that make you … you?”

  His facial features dropped, and he tilted his head, a frown heavy on his face.

  “I can’t … it’s just too hard. But me leaving has nothing to do with you, Charlie. I stopped considering this my home a long time ago. When I left, I promised myself that I would never come back, so I set up a life in New York.”

  “A life? You call a desk at your financial institution, an apartment that’s bare, and friends you see every other weekend a life?”

  He was unhappy. That was the fact of the matter. He was running away, not setting up a life.

  I was done—officially done. He could leave. Fine. I couldn’t stop him, and he already knew how I felt. But I didn’t have to stand here and help him do it.

  “I’m sorry. I just can’t today.” I averted my stare and walked to the couch to grab my purse.

  When he reached for my wrist to still me, I turned to meet his eyes, and his face crumbled.

  “Don’t leave like this.”

  I lifted my chin to tell him what I honestly felt in my gut. My voice breaking, I begged him, “Don’t leave at all.”

  “You know it can’t be like that.”

  He made no sense.

  “This is your decision, Connor. Single-handedly yours.”