Chapter 34

Crissy

Even as I worked on organizing files, I couldn’t get last night out of my mind. It had felt different that time with Grant, like something between us had shifted. I wasn’t sure what it was, and I honestly was too sore to figure it out, but it did have me thinking. I kept stealing glances his way all morning, wondering what it was that had changed. Maybe he felt the same way I did, or maybe he was ready to let me go. Maybe that was our last lesson, and he was wanting to make it an explosive session before letting me down easy.

Either way, I tried to keep my gaze from falling on him too much, unless I wanted my mind to run away from me.

I walked some files into his office and began putting them away. I darted my gaze over to him, seeing if I could catch his stare, but all I got was the profile of his face. For a man who’d just taken the only thing I’d never given anyone else, he sure as hell was distant. But he also had a massive stack of papers on his desk, so maybe he was just busy.

I knew I was in trouble when I began overthinking things.

“Mr. Grant,” a man said. “I need to speak with you. Privately.”

I looked up and saw someone I didn’t recognize standing in the doorway of the office. Grant looked up and nodded, then looked over to me and cocked his head toward my desk. No smile. No greeting. No calling my name. Nothing.

Whatever the hell had his mind so occupied, it wasn’t being trumped by the evening we shared last night.

I slipped out of the office and shut his door, then stood there to listen. If you stood at the right angle, you could hear most of what was going on in his office, and I wanted to know what had his mind so occupied. He looked rested and well, but there was conflict behind his eyes.

I was honestly worried about him.

“I’ve got some sensitive information for you,” the man said.

“Thanks, Paul. Now, what am I looking at?”

Paul? Like the I.T. guy Paul? I’d never seen him around the building, but I did hear some of the ladies talking about him sometimes. Apparently, he was always on call to fix their computers, and rumor had it that he enjoyed fixing a bit more than their computers.

I guessed women couldn’t resist a man with dexterous fingers on his knees.

“It’s confidential,” he said.

Just then, I heard Grant get up from his desk. I ran back to mine, hopping over the top of it before I settled down into the seat. I slipped my headset on and began to fire up a random document on the computer. When Grant opened the door, I slowly turned my head toward him.

“Everything all right?” I asked.

His eyes scanned me before they darted down to my desk. The papers were a bit disheveled, and I’d knocked my cup of pens and pencils over. A playful smirk crossed his face. I felt my insides melt as he winked at me, shaking his head before he shut the door behind himself.

There he was, my playful little Grant.

I wondered what the information was about. The only thing I could figure was that it was about that bullshit trip to New Orleans. Maybe they’d figure out what the hell was going on. Either way, I couldn’t continue my work, so I decided to head to the break room for some coffee.

Maybe a bit more caffeine would keep my asshole from throbbing.

I walked into the break room and saw Dylan standing in the corner. I stuck to the outer perimeter of the room until I made my way to the coffee machine, but I could feel his eyes on me. I poured myself a cup and doused it in creamer. Then I chanced a look at him and couldn’t help but smirk. He still had a massive bruise on his jaw from where Grant had clocked him, and it served him fucking right.

I could see the fury behind his eyes. He was obviously still upset about what had happened, but it wasn’t my fault. He was the idiot who had tried to shove me into his car. He honestly deserved to lose his job. I poured a cup of coffee for my father, suddenly getting the inspiration to go visit him with all this bullshit going on. I always loaded mine with creamer, but he always loaded his with sugar. I could remember the first time I’d ever had coffee. It was right around the time my mother died, and I was drinking it in order to stay awake and keep making funeral arrangements. I was so angry at my father that I was trying to do everything the exact opposite of him.

I even made my coffee different just so I could separate myself from him.

I giggled at the bruise as I walked out of the break room and left Dylan there to fume. I wanted to pay my father a visit to see if I could figure out what in the world was going on in Grant’s office today. If he had the I.T. department in on it, then that meant whatever was happening with this merger was, in fact, an inside issue. I made my way down to the junior executive floor, then took a sharp right and headed straight into my father’s office.

“Hey, Dad,” I said as I sat the coffee cup down on his desk.

He hung up the phone quickly before he fixed me with a smile. He looked down at the cup of coffee and seemed relieved, but I finally got a chance to really study my father. The lines around his eyes had deepened just a bit, and the sparkle I’d always known to be there was gone. I was slowly seeing my father in a different light, especially now that I was in love with Grant. I looked down at my coffee, seeing how murky it was with creamer. I had been so desperate to separate myself from my father in any way possible, but the reality was, he must’ve been devastated.

When we lost Mom, he pulled away from all of us, shut himself in his room while Sissy dove into her studies. I planned the funeral and took care of the arrangements while Sissy kept up the house. There was no more having him wake me up for school or making sure I had my lunch packed. He pulled away from everyone and everything, and it wasn’t much longer after that he sold the company to Grant. In my eyes, it was like he was getting rid of everything that reminded him of Mom.

But as I stood there and studied the dark circles underneath his eyes and the way his hand trembled holding his coffee, I realized something very important.

I realized that Mom’s death had broken him.

He had lost his best friend, his confidant, his partner in crime. While I couldn’t compare how I felt about Grant to the love I saw between my parents, the idea of having to eventually walk away from Grant shattered my soul.

But having to bury him? It would ruin me.

Just like it ruined my father.

He couldn’t touch her any longer. Couldn’t talk to her anymore. Couldn’t go to her when he needed emotional support or someone to rant to. He was stuck raising two daughters on his own with absolutely no idea how to provide the emotional support we needed growing up. He had to learn about things like makeup and fashion. He had to figure out the difference between scented and unscented tampons after I first started my period. He had to take off work when we got sick so someone could be there to take care of us. Then he had to nurse himself back to health while working so he didn’t lose any more days at work.

The hell that man must’ve been going through was something I hoped I never experienced if I ever got married myself.

“Thank you for the coffee, sweetheart,” he said.

“No problem,” I said as I choked back tears.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah. Just a bit tired, I guess.”

“How did the networking session go last night?”

“It went fine,” I said. “I’m not sure it was as productive as Mr. Jacobs thought it would be. They spent most of the evening picking his brain about things.”

“Did you pick up some knowledge while you were there?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah. I just think he expected a different outcome for the evening is all. Either way, I came out of it with some valuable knowledge.”

“That’s good, sweetheart. Good, good.”

My father looked older. Tired. There was concern etched around his eyes that I quite couldn’t place. I was worried about him. Worried he was spreading himself too thin or that things with Mel were going south. My father didn’t date much after Mom died, so it was a shock when he announced he was getting remarried. Sissy loved the idea of Dad falling in love again, but I couldn’t stand it, especially with her being Sissy’s age.

“You look a bit tired, Dad,” I said. “Is there anything I can help with?”

“No, honey. Nothing you need to be concerned with. This new deal just has me up all night with changing figures and crap. Boring stuff about the market.”

I knew he was keeping his explanation vague because he thought I had no knowledge of things like that, but I let it slide. He was obviously tired and would probably jumble his words anyway, and I wasn’t in the mood to pick out the bits and pieces that made sense.

I was worried about my father.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“You know I love you, right?”

Shock rolled over his face, and it curled my stomach in on itself. The idea that my father was shocked that I’d say something like that told me a great deal about how I’d been acting recently, and it brought tears to my eyes.

“I do now,” he said.

“I really do,” I said. “I’ve always looked up to you. You’re the reason I went into business in the first place, so we could have something in common, so you would be proud of me.”

He winced, like I’d just pierced his heart with an arrow. I stood there, gripping my coffee cup, hoping I hadn’t said too much. All of a sudden, my father got up from his chair and rounded the desk. He took me into his arms and pulled me close, and for the first time in years, I felt the comfort and warmth I had associated with my father when I was younger.

“I am proud of you, sweetheart,” he said as he kissed the top of my head. “So very proud of the woman you’re blossoming into.”

I knew our relationship was still fragile, so I decided not to press anymore subjects. I wanted things to remain just like this. I wanted to etch this moment into my memory for good, to cling to it the next time I fucked up, or the next time Mel fucked up, or the next time he fucked up.

Because the truth was, people fucked up all the time.

“Can I ask you something, sweetheart?”

“Sure, Dad.”

“Why does Dylan have a bruise on his jaw?” he asked.

I pulled back with a smirk and shook my head before I sighed.

“Remember those protective moves you showed me before I went off to college? The punches and kicks and how to get out of special holds?”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Let’s just say your junior executive doesn’t quite understand the word ‘no,’” I said.

Anger boiled behind my father’s eyes before he pulled me back into a hug. He kissed the top of my head one last time, squeezing me before he let me go. He scooted by me and reached for his door, slinging it open as he stepped out into the hallway.

“Dylan Anderson,” he roared. “My office! Now!”

At least my father no longer looked exhausted.