Blessed

When my father told me to check up on Connor, he probably didn’t mean for me to travel all the way to New York City. But that’s exactly what I did and, now that I’m shifting my weight from foot to foot, anxiously waiting for Connor in the lobby of the Ritz, I can’t help but think that maybe I should have just called him on the phone.

In fact, now that I think of it, that’s what my father intended me to do. "Can you please call Connor?" He asked me over dinner. "Ask him if he’s comfortable at the Ritz, and if there’s anything else we can do for him."

Of course, the moment I heard my father’s words, the gears inside my head started turning fast. Before I knew it, I was already excited with the prospect of seeing Connor again. Even though I had that crush on him when I was younger, seeing him again after so many years kinda short-circuited my brain. I remembered him as someone fun, someone I could be rebellious with, but now… Now he has shed all the immaturity, and all that’s left is a man that seems more than ready to take on the world without flinching once.

Every night, right before I drift off into sleep, my mind wanders back to the funeral. When Edward’s casket was being lowered into its final destination, my gaze was focused on Connor, and I simply couldn’t take my eyes off him. He stood tall, as tall as a giant, and the lines in his face seemed so hard and full of poise. It was in that moment that I understood the true meaning behind the word gravitas.

Anyone else would be reduced to tears or, at least, they’d allow a few kinks in their armor to show. But not Connor - even though his father was being buried right in front of him, he seemed determined to stand tall through the whole ordeal.

That made me kinda sad. I can’t exactly explain why but, in that moment, all I wanted was to rush toward him and wrap my arms around him. I wanted to tell him that it was okay to be sad, to feel hurt. I wanted to cut through these hard layers of his and take a look into his soul.

"Clarise?"

I turn around slowly, a wave of embarrassment washing over me as I look straight at Connor. I was excited and anxious about seeing him again that I hadn’t even considered what I would say.

"Connor," I simply say, hurriedly trying to work on something else to say. "How are you?" I ask him, and I immediately regret the tone of my voice. It sounds awfully condescending and, more than that, it’s a stupid question. His father just died, why the hell am I asking how he’s doing?

"I’m doing fine," he replies, and the lines around his eyes soften up as he smiles at me. It’s almost as if he knows what I’m thinking and wants to put me at ease.

"Good," I find myself smiling back at him, suddenly feeling more relaxed than I expected to. Despite the sobriety of his character, there’s something about him that’s truly disarming. "My father wanted me to check up on you. He wanted me to ask if there’s anything else we can do for you."

"Your family has already done enough, Clarise," he tells me, taking one step toward me. "I only have to thank you, really. None of this was necessary," he continues, waving one hand at the building around us.

"Of course it was," I tell him, and then we just look into each other’s eyes for a long time, a deep silence around us.

"Come, let’s walk," he says then, that maddening smile still on his lips. Without waiting for my reply, he starts walking toward the exit door and I follow after him, stepping outside as the warm glow of the morning sun laps at my skin.

My driver is waiting by the limo, parked right in front of the hotel; expecting me to head toward the car, he’s about to open the door for me when I nod at him. No need, my gesture says, and he just nods right back.

I cross the street side-by-side with Connor and, a few minutes later, we’re walking under the shade in Central Park. We walk in silence for a long while, neither of us daring to say a word. It’s unnerving at first, but then I realize that it’s exactly the opposite - with one deep breath, I calm myself and realize that I feel comfortable around him in complete silence. That says something, doesn’t it? With most people there’s always that urge to fill these moments of silence, t

o small-talk your way through everything; but with some special people, silence is all it takes.

"I’m worried," he finally says, and I have to take a moment to understand what he’s saying. Central Park feels so peaceful right now that something like worry just seems out of place.

"What about?"

"Guiding your family is going to be hard," he admits, stopping dead in his tracks as his gaze wanders into the distance.

"Of course," I smile, closing the distance between us and laying one hand on his shoulder. "We’re the Donovans - nothing about us is easy."

"I’ve been doing some research, Clarise. Your financials are sound, but lately…"

"You should have been resting, not doing research," I chide him, but then I sigh. "I know. My brother has been making some risky bets, and they’re not paying off."

"No, they aren’t. And Earl doesn’t seem the kind of guy that listens to advice."

"He isn’t," I agree. "When he started working under my father, he was pretty receptive to his guidance, but as time passed… He became confident - too confident. And I’m not sure if that’s a good thing."

"What about you?" He asks, turning around to face me. "My father told me you were interested in being part of your family business."

"That’s right," I nod. "I know I haven’t exactly lived up to the Donovan name but… I want that to change. I know my father has pretty much given up on me, and I really can’t blame him. But I refuse to sit on the sidelines, twiddling my thumbs while Earl slowly takes control over everything. I’m as good as he is, and I know it."

"You’ll have to be patient," he whispers, his gaze once more wandering far into the distance. "But, with time, I think Jonathan will allow you to prove yourself."

"Do you think I can do it?" I ask him then, a sudden need for approval taking over me. I’ve never been the kind of girl that always needs to be encouraged but, right now, I need Connor’s validation.

Looking back at me, he chuckles softly.