Finding Him (Covet 2)

She looked skeptical.

Shit, was I selling her too hard?

“What would you possibly get out of helping me? I feel like I owe you something. I mean I was serious when I asked. I just didn’t think you’d be bored enough to say yes.”

“It’s not boredom,” I said smoothly.

“Then what is it?”

Lie.

Lie.

Lie.

But I couldn’t. It was on the tip of my tongue, but I knew I couldn’t do it, not to her face. “You. I get to spend time with you.”

A tentative smile grew. “You realize you don’t get sex every time you finish a chapter.”

“Absolutely.” I nodded seriously. “As long as you realize you don’t get anything until you say the magic words.”

“‘Please’?”

“You’ll figure it out when the time comes.”

“You’re confusing me.”

“Good.” I winked. “Now let me call the car. I expect you to be here at nine in the morning with donuts.”

“Wait, why am I bringing the donuts?” she wondered out loud as I typed a text to my driver, who was probably downstairs waiting out of sheer habit.

“You’re the one who needs help. Ergo you bring the donuts for me to consume, and I’ll try to call it even.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Yeah, right, a businessman calling us even over donuts? Why don’t I believe you?”

“Why, I don’t have the faintest clue.” I leaned close and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Be safe.”

Her eyes softened. “I always am.”

I didn’t want to let her go.

I wanted to convince her that she should stay, preferably in my bed. I wanted to ask her if I could hold her, and pathetically enough I was so desperate I would even just take her friendship over anything else.

She left.

The door shut with finality behind her.

And I was blanketed in the depths of my own loneliness and mistakes once again, stuck wondering if my mom was watching, if she had been instrumental in bringing this woman into my life, and wishing like hell she was there so she could give me some wisdom on how to keep her.

A grieving girl who worshipped Noah.

A grieving man who missed his mom.

The only thing we had in common was our grief and money.

Maybe that would be enough.

For now.

Maybe for now was all I needed.

I grabbed the rest of the champagne from outside and carried it into my bedroom. I drank from the bottle and winced, even though I was doing what I typically did every night. Because tonight was different, it was my birthday, so I tortured myself with memories by clicking to the saved video on my TV.

With tears in my eyes, I watched my mom sing “Happy Birthday” to me at the cabin on my tenth birthday.

“Happy birthday to you! And you!” She burst out laughing as Bridge and I fought over the cake, and then she held up two forks. “Before you dig in, I have to make my speech.”

“Aw, Mom!” Bridge groaned. “We have the speech memorized!”

“Can’t we just eat?” I said in a whiny voice that made me want to punch my ten-year-old self. “It’s gonna melt!”

“It won’t melt, it’s not ice cream cake,” Mom scolded. “Now listen, one day you’re going to be old like me, one day you’re going to have the world at your feet. The most important thing to remember is that the world needs good men in it. Not powerful men, good men, men who are passionate about what they do, who want to make the world a better place. Remember, who you are defines what you are. You may be a Tennyson . . .” She hesitated like she hated the name. “But you’re half mine, and you were born for greatness like the world has never seen. Love hard. Serve others. And most of all . . .” She trailed off.

We both jumped into the air and shouted, “Make Mom proud!”

I flipped off the TV in disgust as tears streamed down my face.

“I haven’t been . . .” I whispered to myself. “But I think my penance is about to start . . .”

Mom knew and still loved me.

She was gone and she’d never gotten to see my true potential, all she saw was a carbon copy of my father, and in the end, a man trying to find himself.

I hoped that the universe was on my side, and I hoped that she would somehow know that I made it right.

Starting with the girl whose rose I’d crushed.

Whose heart I’d just ignored was breaking because I was too focused on myself, on my own pain, my own anger.

I would start with her, and I would let her go if she asked me to. Because that was what a true man did.

He didn’t force his feelings, choking it out of the other person until they had no choice but to relent. He let them make the choice and honored it.