Chapter Thirteen
“Sorry I’m late,” Gavin said as he slid into the bar seat next to Tate.
“Another crisis in the kitchen?”
“Not exactly.” He ordered his beer before continuing. “I was down in the city looking for a little action. This new rule of no relations on the resort is killing my mojo.”
“I’m sure it will die down once the heat from that pool shed incident goes away.”
“God, I hope so. Driving five miles away is rather inconvenient, especially when you consider all of the lovely ladies on the resort.” He paused while the bartender brought him his beer. “Speaking of lovely ladies, how’s Zoe?”
“Not good.” Tate took a long sip of his drink. “She knows.”
Gavin furrowed his brow. “About everything?”
Tate sighed. “She knows about you, too, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“And Claudia?”
Tate took a long sip of his beer. “Her, too.”
“Damn.” Gavin frowned and played with the edge of his glass. “She’s not going to tell anyone that we’re rich, is she? I kind of have a good thing going here, playing the poor and lonely local chef who’s looking for some company for an evening. Once word gets out that I’m rich, it’s going to be much harder to find someone who isn’t after my money.”
“I don’t know.”
“You have to go to her and find out.”
Tate shook his head. “I can’t. She told me that she never wants to see me again.”
Gavin frowned. “That’s harsh. Did she say why?”
Tate glanced at his friend. “She thinks I’m a lying bastard who thinks of her as some charity case.”
Gavin snorted. “Clearly, the woman has never seen you do your charity work.”
Tate chuckled. “Yeah, I hated standing around in those stuffy suits, shaking hands and smiling for the cameras.” Every donation, every charity event had been strategically planned to shed the Carrington family and their oil company in the best possible light. Big oil had this stigma, his father had always told him. We have to work hard if we want to change people’s minds.
And it was important that Carrington Oil was seen as a positive, prospering company. Strong companies made strong business connections, which lead to advantages in corporate meetings and lobbying efforts on Capitol Hill.
“She had to soften her heart when she heard about the deal you made with your father, and how you risked your freedom by dipping into your trust fund to help her.”
“She didn’t let me explain anything. She just sat there, accusing me of being a lying manipulator, not letting me defend myself.”
“She makes you sound like your father.”
“No kidding.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, she seems to be more than just a casual island fling. Zoe means something to you, and if the look she gets every time your name comes up is any indication, she has feelings for you, too. I’m wondering, how much do you really care about her?”
“I care enough to confront my father,” Tate said.
“But confronting your father won’t mean anything unless you confront her first.” Gavin shifted in his seat. “It will be much easier to withstand him if you have something to fight for. If you have a goal.”
Tate frowned. “You want me to talk to Zoe?”
“I not only want you to talk with her, but I want you to bring her with you.” Gavin smirked. “She charmed one Carrington man. There’s a good chance she could charm another.”
“I don’t know. I’m not comfortable with him meeting Zoe. What if he doesn’t approve?”
“He will.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No, but I know that your father is the type of man to marry his high school sweetheart. He’s also the type of man who was so devastated after his wife’s death, so scared of living without her, that he fought hard to hold on to everything that reminded him of her.”
“And he ended up suffocating his children in the process,” Tate added, finally understanding.
“Yes.” Gavin took a long sip of beer. “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought since it became obvious that you and Zoe were seeing each other. I remember my dad often talked to my mom about how broken up your father was over your mother’s death.”
“I heard he was devastated,” Tate said.
Gavin turned in his chair to face his friend. “We’re talking about a man who understands what it’s like to love a woman, and how that love can change everything. He might surprise you.”
He might have a point. Tate had never looked at things in that light before. If his friend was right, then confronting him might not be as difficult as he thought.
“Even if I wanted to bring Zoe with me, she won’t come. She made it clear that she needs some space.”
“Don’t give her too much space,” Gavin said. “Or you might find her slipping away.”
“I’ll give her the night,” Tate said. “Tomorrow, I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her about the deal I made with my dad, why I dipped into my trust fund…I’ll tell her everything.”
Gavin raised his beer and smiled. “Tomorrow then.”
Tate clinked his mug against Gavin’s. “Tomorrow.”
As they both drank from their respective mugs, Tate resolved to talk with her first thing in the morning. Right now she was too emotional. After a good night’s sleep she’d be more open to a fresh perspective, and then he could start working to set things right.
…
Hours later, Zoe was back lying on her bed in her condo, lamenting over what an idiot she had been. She had trusted Tate, had even opened up to him. Now it felt like he had taken her trust and thrown it back in her face.
Sniffling, she pulled the last tissue from the box and blew her nose. “Never again,” she mumbled into her hands. “I’m never going to trust a man again.”
A chime sounded from her laptop in the corner, piercing the fog of sadness in Zoe’s mind, slicing through her self-pity and loneliness.
“Shit.” How could she forget something so important? It just went to show how much Tate had her wrapped around his finger.
Pushing herself off the bed, she hurried over to the mirror and tried to straighten the rat’s nest of hair on her head. Slipping in the clip, she raced to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on her face, hoping to hide any sign that she had been crying. She had to remain strong for her bi-weekly internet chat with her mother.
“I can do this,” Zoe whispered as she slid into the chair by the laptop and went through the motions to make the call. Her mother seemed to amplify negative emotion. Whenever Zoe was upset, she would magnify it and turn it in on herself. It was painful to watch, and she didn’t want her mother suffering more than she had to.
After a moment, a young, dark-skinned woman smiled at the camera. “How ya doin’ Zoe? So good to see you.”
“Hi Mae. How’s Mom doing today?”
Mae glanced over her shoulder before refocusing on Zoe. “You’re in luck. We’re having a good day today.”
“Are we?”
“Better than most.”
“Is that my Zoe?” Her mother’s voice rose up from somewhere in the background.
Mae straightened away from the laptop. “It is.”
“Let me see her.” A wrinkled hand pushed Mae out of the way. Zoe relaxed as an older version of herself sank into the chair in front of the camera and smiled. “Oh Zoe. It’s so good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Mom.”
The old woman’s features softened. “I miss you, baby.”
“I miss you, too.”
“When are you coming home?”
“Soon, Mom. After this wedding is over I’ll come and visit.”
“That’s good. You work too hard.”
“Mom…”
“You do.” She shook her head so hard that her gray hair fell across her temple. “Much too hard.”
“I’m fine, Mom. And I’ll see you soon. I promise.”
Her mother narrowed her gaze and leaned to the side, as if she was trying to make something out on her computer screen. “What’s going on over there?”
“What do you mean?”
Her mother glanced at Mae, who stood off to one side. “Can’t you see the redness? My baby has been crying.” She turned back to Zoe. “What happened?”
“Nothing’s happened, Mom.”
“Something has happened. I can see it. Is that boss of yours too hard on you?”
Zoe wiped a stray tear on her cheek. “No, Mom. Work’s fine.” She knew she couldn’t say what really happened. If she did, her mother would somehow blame herself.
“It’s not right.” Her mother shook her head and dropped her gaze to her folded hands. “You work too hard. It’s not right.”
“Mom, don’t do this. I’m fine, see?”
“I should have been there for you, but your father…” She pressed her lips together and started rocking back and forth. “Your father said I was sick…”
Desperation gripped Zoe’s chest. “Mae—”
“I’m here, Mrs. Burkhart. I’m here.” Mae appeared on the screen and slid an arm around her shoulders.
“She works too hard. Works too hard,” her mother muttered.
Zoe ground her teeth as she watched her mother slowly descend into another depressive episode. She should have paid attention to the time, should have tried harder to clean herself up.
“Perhaps we should make this for another time,” Mae said.
“Okay.”
“Just you wait, Ms. Zoe. Once your mother adjusts to her new medication, things will get better, you’ll see.”
“I know, Mae. Talk to you later.” Zoe leaned forward and put her fingers on the screen. “Bye, Mom.”
“Should have been there—”
Zoe kept her fingers on the screen as the connection shut down. Guilt poured through her, making her feel slightly ill. She moved back to her bed and put a pillow over her head, trying to drown out the world.
She had let Tate get under her skin. Ironically, the situation wasn’t much different than what her mother had gone through with her father. Zoe supposed that she should feel lucky. At least she saw Tate’s true colors before things got too serious.
And things weren’t serious. What they’d shared was a fling, nothing more. And now it was over. She’d find some way to pay back the money he gave her. She’d pick up a second job, or perhaps set up one of those fundraising pages on the internet. With a little legwork, she’d give him his money, and then there should be no reason why things couldn’t go back to the way they were.
Although the thought of seeing Tate every day at the construction site, of hearing his voice and knowing how he had hurt her, would be torture. She’d have to find some way to endure it, however. Her reputation and livelihood depended on it.
Sighing, she stood and gathered her things. She was tired of feeling sorry for herself. It was time to put Tate Carrington behind her and move on.
Grabbing her phone, she checked her messages. One of them was from the florist she had spoken to in London. The man thought he had an idea on a suitable substitute for rainbow rose bushes at the wedding, but he needed Zoe’s input on the creation he had made.
She pulled up the picture, but the lighting was far too dark to see the arrangement properly. Frowning, she started to type back that she needed a different picture, then stopped.
She didn’t need a different picture. She needed to see the arrangement in person. This was far too important a decision to make via text.
Yes, she would travel to London. The flight would do her good, and some time away from the island would be just what she needed to get Tate out of her system. Nibbling her lower lip, she texted Sadie the information on where to meet her in London, and then went online to make arrangements. She was lucky to find a flight that left that night. Smiling, she clicked the button to purchase the tickets and began to pack. By the time she got back to the resort, the construction site would be done, and she wouldn’t have to see Tate Carrington—or listen to his lies—ever again.