Epilogue
Christian
I groaned as Gretchen lightly shook my shoulder. I'd been up late the night before. I'd gotten caught up working on the boat out in the garage, and the next thing I'd known, it had been three in the morning, and I still hadn't gone to bed. Gretchen had to know that I'd gone to bed late, too, since she'd clearly stayed up waiting for me, she'd eventually fallen asleep with a book in her hands.
I'd come back to the room and found her like that, and I hadn't been able to hide a fond smile as I watched her. It seemed like every new day, every new caring gesture that she made, I loved her more, as though that were somehow possible. But she was so wonderful.
“Give me five more minutes,” I mumbled, turning my face into the pillow.
“But then your breakfast is going to get cold,” Gretchen said, and when I cracked an eye open, I saw that she had brought me breakfast in bed.
But of course she had because it was Sunday morning, and she always brought me breakfast in bed on Sunday mornings, just like I always cooked dinner for her on her days off. I always insisted that she didn't have to do that, but she liked doing it, and it wasn't like I was complaining about it.
I pushed myself up into a sitting position, surprised to see how late it already was. “One o'clock already?” I asked, baffled to see that.
“Yeah, you were asleep,” Gretchen said, smiling fondly at me. “I didn't have the heart to wake you up any sooner.”
“I slept well,” I admitted, stretching broadly.
“And how's the boat coming along?” she asked.
“Really well, actually,” I told her. “I think I'll have it ready to sail by the time summer starts.”
“Awesome,” she said. She slipped into bed next to me and pulled her tray over her lap as she cuddled up next to me. “You know, I am still worried that you're just going to sail away and disappear one of these days,” she teased.
“You know I wouldn't do that,” I said easily.
“Hmm,” was all Gretchen said, even though I knew she couldn't possibly think that anymore. She had finally stopped asking me if I regretted moving to Hawaii, and things had been going great between us over the past couple years.
“You're coming to the luau tonight, right?” I asked her, trying to sound nonchalant.
“What luau?” she asked, frowning at me.
I shrugged. “Mark told me about it,” I said. “You didn't hear about it from Mina?”
“No,” Gretchen said frowning. “I've been pretty busy with work lately, what with all the new clients that we've been taking on. I think I need to find another masseuse to take some of the work because Mina and I are pretty much booked solid!”
“I know,” I said. “I've missed seeing you lately.”
“You see me every evening,” Gretchen said, rolling her eyes a little, but she was smiling. “And every day off as well, with the rare exception of the days that Mina and I both take off.”
“I know,” I said. “But it's not enough.”
Gretchen laughed. “What about this luau tonight? What are we even celebrating, anyway?”
“Do you need a reason to celebrate to have a luau?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Well, I guess not,” Gretchen said, giggling a little.
I shrugged again. “I don't know what it's about, I just know Mark told me about it, and he has his finger on the pulse here, so I'm sure there is one. You'll go with me, right?”
“Maybe you and Mark should just have a guy's night,” Gretchen suggested. “I have appointments tomorrow, nothing too early in the day because Mina said she'd take those, but even still.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I've been working a little too much lately, I think. I'm just tired. As fun as a luau sounds, I don't think I can make it.”
I sighed and lightly stroked the back of her neck. “I understand that,” I said. “I know just how hard you've been working, and your clients do as well. But don't you think we could have just one night of fun? I'm not saying that we have to stay out until late or anything like that, but maybe we could just go for an hour or two and then head home? I'm sure there are a lot of people there who'd like to see you and ask how the business is going, and you don't want to leave all the talking to Mina, do you?”
“No,” Gretchen admitted, grimacing a little. She sighed. “Fine, I'll go,” she finally agreed. “But just for an hour or two. And then I want to come straight back here and curl up on the couch with you to watch some shitty TV.”
“That's a deal,” I said, reaching out a hand so that we could shake on it. I grinned slyly at her. “Would you wear that pretty green dress that I love on you?” I asked.
Gretchen laughed. “Sure,” she said, blushing a little.
That night, when we got to the beach, Gretchen looked around in confusion, even more confusion than she'd sported when I insisted on “dressing up” a little, in khaki shorts and a green button-down shirt that matched her dress. Of course, it was nothing like the dressing up that I used to do in New York, but she'd grown pretty accustomed to seeing me in t-shirts by this point. I had to hide a grin.
“No one's here yet,” Gretchen said slowly, looking around. “Are you sure that Mark said there was going to be a luau?”
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging a little. “Maybe everyone's getting a late start since it's a work day. But come on, let's take a little walk down the beach. If we come back and no one's here, then we'll head home and have that TV date that I promised you.”
“Okay,” Gretchen said.
We ambled hand-in-hand down the beach, just on the line where the ocean met the shore. “It's still so beautiful out here,” I sighed as we walked along. “You know, I am so lucky to have met you and to have you in my life.”
Gretchen laughed a little. “I'm lucky too,” she said. “I never thought I was going to end up loving someone like you.”
“You are the sexiest, most beautiful, most talented woman that I know,” I continued. “When you want something, you get it. You constantly keep me on my toes. You have from the first day that I met you. That's what makes dating you so much fun. You've got a real spark to you. And I love that.”
Gretchen giggled. “What, are you trying to make me blush?” she asked.
“You're adorable when you blush,” I told her. “Honestly. I don't know what it is about it, but I love that you still get so shy around me sometimes, as though we haven't been intimately living together for the past couple of years. And I love hearing you giggle. It's cute.”
“Seriously, Christian, what's going on?” Gretchen asked, pulling me around to face her, looking searchingly up into my face.
I smiled gently down at her. “I'm just trying to tell you how much I love you, that's all,” I told her, steering her into walking again. We were almost there.
“You don't have to-”
“Yes, I do,” I interrupted her. “I want to make sure that you know, every single day for the rest of your life, how special you are to me, and how much I love you. I want to wake up with you every morning, and I want to go to bed with you every night. I want to stay with you here in Hawaii, or wherever we end up living. I want to build a home and a life with you.” I turned to face her as I led her into the spot that Mark and I had chosen.
Then, I sank down on one knee, as Mark illuminated the fairy lights all around us, showing the elaborate flower trellises and other decorations that we'd set up.
“Gretchen Means, I would very much like for you to do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
Gretchen stared down at me, her hands up over her mouth. Then, she looked around at the decorations, and then back at me. “Did you…”
“Yes,” I told her. “I had a little help from Mark and Mina, but it was my idea.”
She shook her head and then laughed, reaching a hand down toward me and cupping my cheek. “Yes,” she said, the sound choked with emotion. “Yes, Christian, God, yes. I would be so lucky to be your wife.”
I smiled at her and slipped the ring out of its box, sliding it carefully onto her third finger.
“God, it's gorgeous,” Gretchen said, her fingers tracing the pattern of flowers, dotted with little diamond centers, which swirled around the ring.
“If you don't like it, we can return it and get you something else,” I told her. I hadn't been sure about the design. Something about it spoke to me.
“I love it,” Gretchen told me, reaching down to pull me to my feet. “And I love you too.” She leaned in to kiss me. As we kissed, cheering and clapping broke out around us, and I grinned.
Gretchen whirled toward the sound and blushed brilliantly as she realized that pretty much everyone that she knew was there. They'd been waiting off in the shadows, but they'd seen the whole thing. She turned back to me, laughing. “You did all of this?” she asked.
I nodded and shrugged. “I know how important everyone is to you here,” I told her. “They're your family. It was only right that they be here for this special night.”
“There isn't a luau tonight, is there?” Gretchen asked.
“There will be now,” I said. “But I was the one to organize it. You should also know that Mina has canceled all the appointments at the shop for tomorrow, so you don't have to worry about staying out late. And speaking of Mina-”
Mina threw herself into Gretchen's arms. “I'm so excited for you!” she cried. Then, she pulled away, grabbing Gretchen's hand. “Let me see the ring. Christian wouldn't let me see it before he gave it to you, even though I told him that I'm good at keeping secrets; I kept this whole thing a secret, didn't I? But he wanted you to be the first person to see it, other than him. And wow, that is pretty. It suits you too.”
“Congratulations, man,” Mark said, clapping me on the back as he joined our little group. “Seems like just yesterday I was picking you up at the airport.”
“Oh, come on, don't get all nostalgic already,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Plenty of time for that when we're old.”
“I'm going to file that comment away and make sure I get super nostalgic in my speech at the wedding,” Jeff told me, winking at Mina as he slipped an arm around her waist. “That is if I'm allowed to be part of the wedding.”
I rolled my eyes again. “You're going to be my best man, aren't you?” I asked him. “So, yeah, I think you might have to be there at my wedding.”
“Hey, I thought I was going to be your best man!” Mark said, laughing.
I shook my head. “Sorry man, I've already destroyed my friendship with my brother once; I don't need to do it again.” I grinned.
Gretchen threw her arms around me again, burying her face against my shirt. “You're the best,” she said.
“No, you are,” I told her teasingly. I looked around. “Now, I know you all want to congratulate our beautiful bride-to-be, but let's get this luau started!”
Later that night, it was just Gretchen and me again, walking down the beach. “That was the best night,” she told me quietly, twisting her fingers into mine.
“It was,” I agreed, just as quietly. I paused. “You know, I am glad to be here.”
“I'm glad that you're here too.”
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
BILLIONAIRE IN REHAB PART I
Chapter One
Cassidy
“This is our dining area. You should come out here for all your meals,” Ronald March was saying as he brought the new guy around the facility.
I had seen enough tours of our swanky Aspen drug and alcohol rehabilitation center that I could probably have given the tour myself if I had to. Mr. March was dressed in a custom-tailored suit and looked more like a celebrity stylist than the manager of a drug rehab center. But then again, our drug rehab center wasn’t exactly like the ones you would see on television.
My heart flipped as I looked at the man Mr. March was giving a tour to. My initial thought was that he must be famous. His deeply-tanned skin was covered with a scruffy beard, and he was wearing a winter beanie hat that probably cost more than I earned in a week.
A guy like that showing up at our treatment center wasn’t all that unusual. We were a high-end facility that cost a lot of money. But what caught me about this guy was his general level of casualness. He seemed comfortable in our facility, more like he was on a tour of a candy factory than a drug and alcohol treatment facility. I had to wonder if he was even the patient or perhaps instead he was the agent to someone famous. That wouldn’t be unusual.
But no, Mr. March had said “you” when he talked about where to eat, so the man must be a new patient. Secretly, I was happy to have such a handsome guy around; it was fun to have a little eye candy when we were busy working such long shifts.
The whole room paused and watched as the two men made their way through the dining area. It was an open area with several tables, each seating two or four people. Most of the patients were already out of the rooms and waiting for their meals; watching a new patient get his orientation was something to keep them busy with while they waited.
People paid thousands of dollars to hide away at Paradise Peak. Many of our clients were famous actors, musicians, and children of the rich. So, I wasn’t exactly surprised at my physical reaction to seeing the man. Hot guys were just as susceptible to addition as ugly guys were.
But there was something different about this one, something in his eyes that seemed genuinely lost. At Paradise Peak, people had the opportunity to work on mental health issues, drug issues, and alcohol issues – and many people had them all. Some celebrities even came to spend a week and just get away from all the people trying to control their lives.
“Hi, Brad, are you ready for some delicious stuffed chicken?” I asked as I brought a tray over to one of my patients for the day.
“What’s it stuffed with?”
“I don’t know.” I laughed.
“I don’t eat things if I don’t know what they are stuffed with. Come back when you know what’s in it.”
Brad seemed like he had Asperger’s syndrome or some form of autism that had never officially been diagnosed. Although, his behavior could have been from being spoiled all his life just as easily as it could have been an official disorder.
“Sure thing; how about I leave the applesauce and salad for you right now, and I’ll bring the rest back after I talk to the cook? Will that work?”
“Whatever.”
Brad Hanson was a musician and child celebrity who had frequented Paradise Peak for as long as I had worked there. Over the two years I had known him, I witnessed just what addiction could do to a man, and it made me so sad. Brad was forty-two years old and all alone. In his prime, he had been in a boy band that had been very popular in the ’90s, but in recent years, cocaine had taken over his life. He had also been part of a sitcom that ran for many years after his band broke up. All that happened before he turned twenty-five.
Most of the other technicians that worked on my unit didn’t like to deal with Brad, so inevitably I ended up caring for him whenever I worked.
As a technician, my job was to make the stay more comfortable for our patients. Sometimes I called them clients, and sometimes Mr. March asked us to call people our guests. But it didn’t matter what people were called, they were at our facility to deal with their demons and hopefully get better during their time with us.
Brad was rude and often mean, but there was an honesty to him that hit home with me. I didn’t mind his attitude and found him quite enjoyable when he sobered up and got to the end of his stays at our facility.
Nothing much usually bothered me while I was at work. I didn’t take insults personally, and I was patient with people and knew that they would eventually become friendlier.
Drugs and alcohol had a way of changing how someone dealt with life and the people in it. So, when a patient arrived who had to go through detox and withdrawals, I felt it was my responsibility to make that process as comfortable as possible. Trust me, they were going to go through enough pain and uncomfortable feelings; they didn’t need me to have an attitude with them, as well.
“Is Brad giving you a hard time?” Kaitlin asked as I returned to the back room with the tray of food. “I don’t know why you even try with that guy. He’s never nice.”
“Oh, you know Brad. I need to go talk to Chef Alexander and find out what the chicken is stuffed with before Brad will eat it.”
“Just give it to me. I’ll tell him what it’s stuffed with,” Kaitlin said as she reached for the tray.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind going and finding out. It will make him feel better, and that’s all that matters.”
“You’re way too nice to him. He’s a drug seeker who’s not interested in getting better. I don’t know why you baby him like you do. He’s not even nice to you.”
Brad wasn’t a drug seeker in my eyes, though. To me, he was just an addict who didn’t know how to cope with even the simplest of things in his life. He had popped a pill or drank some alcohol anytime he felt bad for as long as he could remember; it was going to take some time for him to truly learn new coping skills.
“I’ll be right back,” I said as I headed down the hallway. “Can you start handing out the other trays, please?”
“I guess. But if they don’t like it, that’s just too bad.”
Kaitlin was a nurse at Paradise Peak and one of my best friends. As a nurse, she was responsible for ensuring everyone’s medications were correct and administering them throughout her shift. She liked to pretend like she wasn’t compassionate, but I knew that deep down, she cared a lot for our patients. Tough love was just as important as empathy, and Kaitlin’s value was seen just as much as mine by Mr. March.
“Cassidy,” I heard Mr. March say as I walked into the kitchen.
“Yes.”
“This is Erik. He’s going to be staying in room eight; he’s a vegan,” Mr. March said as he looked at Erik to confirm. “It’s vegan, right? Not vegetarian.”
“Yeah,” Erik said as he totally ignored me and looked out the window at the snow-capped mountains.
His eyes seemed glazed over, and I suspected he was coming down off of a pretty major drug or alcohol binge. Whatever landed him in our facility had probably only happened a few hours before, or he had used before arriving.
It was very common for people to try and curb their withdrawal by thinking that one last sip or hit would make them feel better. I felt bad for the guy; he was about to have a pretty horrible couple of days as his body got rid of the drugs he had taken and the withdrawals began.
“I’ll try to remember, but you might have to remind me sometimes,” I said as I reached my hand out to shake his.
I smiled and tenderly looked at him to offer my support. I always made sure new patients knew they could count on me to make their stay as comfortable as possible. It was my job, but I also really enjoyed helping people.
“Just remember. Let’s not make excuses for why you can’t do your job,” he said curtly and walked away from the two of us.
I opened my eyes large and looked at Mr. March; he knew that look and just shrugged his shoulders in response.
This new patient seemed to have a pretty big chip on his shoulder. I had to wonder what he was there for. My guess was drugs – he seemed pretty strung out. He looked like a spoiled rich kid whose father probably sent him to our facility to straighten up before he was handed the reins of some multi-billion-dollar company. Those guys were the hardest to take care of because they expected so much and put in so little.
Rich, spoiled kids were used to getting exactly what they wanted without having to be polite or work at all. Even when they became addicted to drugs, they expected that just coming to a rehab facility would cure them. Actually doing the work and learning about their addiction wasn’t really what they wanted. Those kids wanted a quick fix and someone to blame when it didn’t work out.
“I suppose he’s going to by my patient?”
“Cassidy, you’re so good with the tough cases. We are lucky to have you. You know, I just submitted your name for employee of the month.”
Nothing Mr. March could say would make it easier to work with a difficult patient. But normally, I could just put their words aside and see that they were sick and needed some loving attention. I already suspected that was going to be more difficult with this man.
My job was to be nice to the patients. I didn’t do therapy sessions. I didn’t give them their medications. My whole purpose for being with the patients was to make their life better while they were in our care. Sometimes that meant walking with them. Other times, it might mean getting them a different meal. It didn’t matter to me, as long as what I was doing would help them.
“Mr. March, we don’t even have an employee of the month program. It’s just you typing up a certificate for me,” I said with a wry smile.
It was a little joke that Mr. March had with all the staff when he needed something done that no one wanted to do. We were a small facility and it wasn’t reasonable to even do an employee of the month program; everyone worked hard and everyone got recognized for their work on a pretty consistent basis. But our recognition usually came in letting us leave early, or Mr. March might buy pizza for the staff; it was a nice gesture at least.
“But I would give you employee of the month if we had a program,” he said as he patted me on the back.
“Thanks, I think.” I laughed. “Now, I need to go get Alexander’s recipe for this chicken so I can convince Brad to eat it.”
“See, that’s the kind of thing that just goes so far above what others do. And everyone else does a pretty fantastic job, too.”
“I know, I know, I’m employee of the month.”
I started to walk away, hoping Mr. March was done with me. But there was one thing that I knew he was going to comment on. I cringed as I heard him start to talk to me and hoped he wouldn’t write me up for my blatant refusal to follow this one rule.
“Let’s take it out before anyone else sees it, please, Cassidy.”
“Mr. March, it’s so much work to take in and out. I really don’t understand why I can’t keep it in. Just because the patients need their piercings out doesn’t mean I should have to take mine out.”
“No unusual piercings are allowed; you know the rules. If the patients have to take theirs out, so do you.”
“What unusual piercings do you have?” the new patient, Erik, asked as he rejoined the conversation and suddenly seemed very interested in me.
For the first time, Erik looked me dead in the eyes. I felt my body warm at his attention. Not because I wanted him to like me or anything like that. But his deep, brown eyes penetrated me. They looked so far into my soul that I felt the need to take a step backwards as I reeled and tried to figure out if I should respond to his question.
I looked at Erik and then at Mr. March and didn’t open my mouth to respond. My tongue piercing had been a fun little excursion when I went to Vegas for my twenty-first birthday. I had been so drunk that I almost married a complete stranger, and only by vomiting on the man had I been saved from that horrible mistake. The next morning, I woke up with my tongue pierced. I could have taken it out and my hole would have healed, but I liked keeping it as a reminder of my past and all the changes I had made.
“Let’s go look at the pool area,” Mr. March said in an effort to distract the new patient. “We have a spectacular pool, hot tub, and sauna. All visits need to be with staff for your safety,” he continued as he guided the man out of the kitchen.
“Clit, nipples, tongue; which is it?” Erik boldly asked just before turning the corner and grinning at me while he waited for my response.
“What?” I said in total shock.
“Where’s your piercing?”
I burst into laughter at his bold question. Erik was a handsome man with a bit of an attitude, but everyone had an attitude when they arrived at our facility. His smile would certainly stick in my mind for the rest of that evening, though. His half wink and brilliant white teeth mesmerized me and gave me a shot of adrenaline. For a man with such an attitude, he sure did seem to be flirting with me.
“Let’s go,” Mr. March said without giving me time to answer.
Mr. March put his hand on Erik’s elbow and guided him out of the room and toward the pool area. Luckily for me, I didn’t have to answer his question. The tour of our facility was quite impressive and Mr. March was a pro at it. He showed guests the workout room, the pool, the spa; he walked new patients around the grounds and looked up at the mountains. Our treatment center was more like a resort than a hospital and that was exactly why we got the rich and famous to send their loved ones to us.
“That one looks like trouble,” Alexander said from behind me.
“Yeah, I bet he won’t last a week. Probably one of those rich, spoiled kids.”
“I think he’s that guy from Slap 142, that rock band?”
“I don’t know. But he’s not very friendly, and he’s a vegetarian. Or wait, was it vegan? Crap, I don’t remember.”
“I’ll give him a bacon omelet tomorrow and we can find out.” Alexander laughed. “Is it horrible that I enjoy a bacon freak out so much?”
“No, don’t do that,” I begged. “At least I’m not working tomorrow; I won’t have to deal with that disaster. Speaking of disasters, Brad would like to know what the chicken’s stuffed with. He’s not going to eat it unless he knows.”
“Tell him it’s stuffed with my soul,” Alexander joked. “Or mozzarella, whichever sounds more appropriate.”
Poor Alexander had been stuck working at Paradise Peak for the last six months. He was an internationally-acclaimed chef who had run his own restaurant in Paris for two years before he got caught with drug paraphernalia on a trip to Miami. Luckily, his lawyer had brokered a plea agreement and found him a position at Paradise Peak for his year of probation.
I knew he hated it with us, but he was the best chef we had ever had, and despite Brad’s pickiness, Alexander delivered top-tier food. Probably better than any other rehab facility in the country.
“I’ll tell him it’s mozzarella,” I replied.
After serving Brad his mozzarella-filled chicken, I finished getting everyone started on their meals before leaning against the nurses’ counter to talk with Kaitlin. It was our normal afternoon routine and a short bit of semi-solitude while the patients enjoyed their meals.
“That new guy seems like a giant asshole,” I said.
“A hot one.”
“Well, I don’t think looks have a bearing on someone’s asshole rating. Mr. March told me to take my tongue piercing out again; what is the probability I can get him to forget about that damn rule?”
“Cassidy, just take it out. It’s not like you’re giving blowjobs here and need to impress your boyfriend with it. Oh, wait, you haven’t had a boyfriend in two years.” She dramatically laughed.
It was the truth, and I hated when Kaitlin brought it up. I had purposely been avoiding men since getting sober myself. I could have dated any number of guys if I wanted to, but I didn’t. I was single and very happy. But she just drove me nuts when she teased me about it.
Most guys my age drank, and it was impossible to find a guy who didn’t want to go out to the clubs or drink at a restaurant, and I just didn’t think I could handle that kind of pressure. I hadn’t even gone out with my friends lately because I wasn’t confident enough in my own ability to stay sober yet.
“You’re just jealous because I could have any man I wanted, down on his knees begging to have me,” I said to try and get her riled up and then I turned toward the room to go back to work.
Sure as hell, when I turned around, there was Mr. March and that damn new patient Erik standing right there. They had both heard everything I had just said. Mr. March stood there with a disastrous grimace on his face.
“Do I have to get on my knees?” Erik said and winked at me.
My eyes got big, my face turned one hundred shades of red, and I looked to Kaitlin to rescue me, but she just turned around as she started to laugh. There was no way of avoiding the fact that both Mr. March and this new patient had just heard me and I stood frozen as I tried to figure out what the heck to do.
Erik had a smirk on his face and looked like he was devouring my body with his eyes. He was obviously one of those confident guys who could get any woman he wanted, no matter how crude he was. But that wasn’t going to work around here. He was at Paradise Peak for treatment, not to get laid.
But as I looked at him, I felt my body warming. His tongue darted out and gently licked his lips as his eyes moved up every inch of my body. He was taking in my curves and mentally saving the pictures so he could think about me later: I just knew it. The pure embarrassment of the moment was too much for me, and I finally gathered myself enough to mumble something and then storm away from the two men.
Damn him and that sexy-ass smile and winking! Damn that guy!