Nights With Parker (19 page)

She stands and opens her mouth to say something, but no words come. She looks at me for a moment as if she’s seen a ghost. Something’s off with her, but I don’t know what. Maybe she wanted to tell me something else.

“Was there something else you wanted to tell me?” I probe, but she simply shakes her head.

“No. That was it. Thank you for your time,” she returns, and before I can say another word or ask her if she’s okay, she turns and walks out of my office, leaving me with an odd sense of concern. I replay the conversation in my head, wondering if I said something that might have offended or upset her, but I can’t think of anything.

My phone signals that a text has come through, and when I pick it up, I see that it’s from Riley. Immediately, I smile at the sight of her name on the screen.

Riley:
I took the night off. I miss you.

Me:
I miss you too. What would you like to do on your night off?

Riley:
Order room service and …

I smile at the insinuation because my innocent little virgin has turned into an insatiable sex kitten. Her appetite is almost as big as mine is—almost. I think of how hard she came for me just last night as I type out a response.

Me:
And what?

Riley:
You know what.

Me:
All right baby. I’ll make you tell me tonight. Meet you around five.

Riley:
Five ☺

Me:
Bring snacks.

I type out the last message, referring to the desserts she often bakes and brings me. It started out with a carrot cake as a thank-you for fixing her car. I had one piece and asked her where she bought it, so I could go there and buy more. I was impressed when she told me that she’d made it herself; it was better than anything I’d ever tasted in New York, hands down. Every few days, she brings me another one of her creations to try. I’m convinced that she’s missed her calling. She should have a chain of bakeries throughout the South by now, but when I brought it up to her, she just brushed it off and changed the subject.

Putting my phone down, I try to focus on getting through the rest of this day. I spend the next few hours handling the situation between the young girl and the manager who will never work for a hotel chain again if I have anything to do with it. I’m so caught up with work that I forget all about the strange behavior from Riley’s mother before she left my office.

RILEY

I’m just about ready to leave the house to go meet Oliver when I hear the front door open.

“Hey, Mama,” I call, wishing I’d left ten minutes ago. It’s a lot easier leaving to meet Oliver when she’s not home. When she doesn’t see that I’m overdressed, and I could just send her a text later to let her know I’m spending the night at a friend’s house. Not that she buys that excuse day in and day out, but at least, she’s cool enough not to say anything. I mean I’m an adult, but technically, I still live in her house.

“Where are you off to?” she asks, coming into the kitchen and dropping her bag on the counter. She doesn’t greet me in her normal happy tone. Instead, she appears to be a little agitated.

“Just going out with some friends. Is everything all right?”

She purses her lips the way she used to at my father when he’d tell her something she didn’t want to hear. Instantly, I go on alert, and I can feel the sudden tension in the room go from nonexistent to stifling.

“Would one of those friends be Oliver Parker? My boss.”

She narrows her eyes as at me, and it’s as if though the wind has been knocked out of me. I’m stunned speechless, all of the color drains from my face, and the only thing I can do is stare at her in confusion and disbelief.

“What—” I start, but she interrupts me immediately.

“Don’t you dare open your mouth to lie to me, Riley,” she warns, which only confirms that the shit has absolutely hit the fan. This is going bad real fast. “Are you going to meet him? Is that why you’re never home anymore?”

What can I do? I can’t stand here and lie to her; that’s not who I am. I mean technically I’ve been lying to her for months, omitting the truth, but this is different. She’s flat out asking me, and I can’t lie. Oliver and I have been careful, so if she’s bringing it up at all, I’m certain that she has proof.

“Yes,” I confirm with a nod. “He’s the reason.”

“How do you know him?”

“He came into the restaurant once, and I was his waitress.”

“How do you go from that to where you are now?”

“He was new in town and asked me for a tour of Savannah.”

“Are you the reason I got my job?” she asks, practically seething.

“Mama.”

“Answer me.”

“I didn’t know he was the one who’d fired you until you told me his name that morning. I wanted to help, so I went to his hotel and asked him to give you your job back. He said he couldn’t because he’d already hired a cleaning staff, but he would consider you for a different position.”

I know I cleaned up the real version of what happened, but I can never tell her how he blackmailed me. She would lose her mind and confront Oliver. That’s the last thing I want. At least, this way I still have some hope of smoothing things over.

“All these months, you’ve been lying to me.”

“I knew if I’d told you I put in a good word for you, you wouldn’t take the job, Mama, and you needed that job.”

“You’re damn right I wouldn’t have taken the job. I don’t take charity.”

“It’s not charity,” I say, thinking if she only knew the price I really paid for her to get that job. “Oliver did me a favor.”

“By giving me a job that was double the salary I was making?”

“I didn’t know what he was going to pay you, just that it would be more.”

“You know I have to quit now, right?”

“What? You can’t. You can’t do that?”

“Why not.”

“Because you’d leave him in the position of not having someone to cover you, and he thinks you’re doing a great job. He told me that you turned out to be the best choice for that job.”

I know I’m laying it on thick, but I can’t let her quit her job because of me. Her hands are crossed over her chest, and she’s staring at me, no longer in complete fury, so I think I’m making some headway.

“Besides, Mama, this thing with him and me … it’s not going to last,” I tell her and when I do, I look away so she won’t see the emotion in my face. It’s a true statement, I know it … I’ve always known it. I’ve just avoided admitting it because it hurts too badly.

“Why won’t it last, Riley?” she questions, moving so that she’s in my line of sight again.

“Oliver’s from New York, and as soon as the renovations on the hotel are complete, he’ll be leaving.”

“And this hurts you because you’ve fallen in love with him,” she deduces accurately. I don’t say anything because I don’t have to. The tears that have now begun to fall are confirmation enough. “Oh Riley, does he know?”

“No. What’s the point? He’s leaving, and he doesn’t love me.”

“You’re wrong,” she says, cupping my chin in one hand and wiping my tears with the other. “He absolutely loves you.”

“What? Why would you say that? How did you even know about us to begin with?”

“I went to see him today. I had an issue arise I needed to let him know about.”

“And he told you about us? He wouldn’t do that.”

“No, he wouldn’t. He was very professional.”

“Then how?”

“Because he keeps a picture of you in his office, Riley. One that’s framed all pretty and on his desk. He didn’t even think to hide it when he knew I was there.”

“He has a picture of me?”

“Yes, and a man like that wouldn’t do that for just any girl. He’d only do that for a girl he loved. So maybe you should tell him how you feel.”

“I can’t.”

“Riley.”

“He’s going to leave no matter what, but if I tell him I love him, and he leaves anyway, it’ll be worse.”

“So ask him to stay.” She says it as if it were so easy. I love him, and I want him to stay, but he
is
leaving. He is leaving, and it’s a fact that resonates with me. It’s always on my mind, all I can see. He is leaving, and I spend every second of my time wishing that he wasn’t.

“No. He has a home, and it’s not here, not with me. I’m just someone he likes to spend time with.”

“He loves you, sweetheart. I promise you he does.”

“You can’t possibly know that from a framed picture in an office. You can’t possibly know that to be true.”

“Riley …”

“He’s not mine,” I say, unable to hide the sadness in my voice. “And I don’t think he ever will be.” I close my eyes in order to keep a fresh set of tears from falling, and when I finally open them, I look down and realize that Mama’s grabbed my hand. “He’s going to break me, Mama … when he leaves. He’s going to shatter me, and the saddest thing of it is that he won’t even know it.”

“Tell him.”

“Promise me you won’t quit your job. Please, I won’t be able to live with myself if you quit. I know how much you love it.”

I know she can’t stand to see me hurt or sad, and I use that to get what I want from her. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t let all of this have been for nothing. I can’t deal with the inevitable loss and pain I’m going to feel if I know that it was all done in vain.

“All right. Fine,” she answers, but I know she doesn’t like it. “I’ll keep the job, but you need to think long and hard about if pride and fear are worth losing someone you love.”

She gives my hand a squeeze before releasing it and walking away. All these months, I’ve been spending my time with Oliver, and I’ve been falling in love with him. I guess I got pretty good at denying it, at sweeping my feelings under the rug, but I’ve spoken the words into existence now. It feels real, all of a sudden, and it’s stifling. Love should be the thing that makes me happy, but with Oliver, it’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for him to finish his job and leave me behind.

Walking into the bathroom, I stare at the reflection in the mirror, and I can almost see it. That fear lying just beneath the surface, that fear of being left behind. It’s a familiar feeling, a lot like how it was when my daddy died. Carefully, I fix the small mascara smudges left behind from crying earlier. After a few minutes, there are no signs of a breakdown; all traces of the chink in my armor are gone. I can pretend that I have it all together, and no one would ever look at me and suspect that I’m a little bit broken. Once I’m satisfied that I look presentable again, I grab my things and drive to the hotel to meet Oliver.

***

“You told her?” This comes from Oliver after I tell him that my mama knows about us. He was already here by the time I arrived, and more than anything, I just wanted to forget what I was feeling—just for a little while. He must have not had the best day either because the minute I walked in the door, he was on me. My arms pinned up against the wall as he kissed me recklessly. All rational thoughts evaporated as he picked me up and carried me to the bed, as he slipped inside me agonizingly slow.

Oliver’s good at it, making me forget, drowning out the parts of me that make me sad, that make me worry and overthink things. He levels me with a touch of his hand, a kiss, the way he makes love to me, even if I’m the only one truly making love.

“I thought you didn’t want her to know,” he asks, running a hand up and down my back. “She’s not quitting, is she? The staff actually loves her.”

“I convinced her not to quit,” I tell him; my eyes flutter closed as my body relaxes into him. “She knew. I didn’t tell her.”

He stops rubbing my back, and I let out an unhappy sigh.

“How could she possibly know? If you didn’t tell her and I didn’t tell her, then how?”

“She told me that she went to see you today.”

“Yes, she brought something to my attention that I’m taking care of.”

“She said that while she was in your office, she noticed that you had a picture of me on your desk.”

“Shit. That must be why she looked as if though she’d seen a ghost before she left,” he says, and then, out of the blue, he begins to chuckle.

“Why are you laughing?” I ask, but he just keeps laughing. His body shakes with it, and I have no choice but to move away and sit up in bed.

“You’re laughing because you have a picture of me in your office?”

“No, baby,” he says grabbing hold of my neck and pulling me back down to him. “I’m not laughing at the fact that there’s a picture of you in my office. A picture I like to look at often, by the way.” He kisses my forehead. “I’m just laughing at the completely ironic way that she found out about us.”

“Hysterical,” I say dryly.

“Oh, come on. Did she give you a hard time?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, you didn’t tell her everything, did you?”

“What? You mean did I tell her that you and I started out with you blackmailing me?”

“Riley.” He says my name softly, laced with regret. I feel bad for having said it now, for making light of a situation I know he still feels badly about.

“I didn’t tell her. I said you gave her the job as a favor to me, which didn’t go over well, either, but she’s okay with it now.”

“You know I wish I could take it back, right? If I could change the way you and I came to be, I would. I was a bastard to you, and I honestly don’t know why you’re still here at times.”

“You really don’t know?”

“What I know is that you’re too good to be with someone like me.”