Boss I Love To Hate Page 7

  “I’m suddenly regretting that I tell you everything,” I laugh.

  “I’m your best friend. I’d kill you if you didn’t tell me everything.” She smiles. “So, when are you going on another date with him?”

  “I haven’t gone out on a date with him to begin with.”

  She waves me off. “Fine, whatever. Semantics girl.” She sticks her tongue out at me. “When will you two be occupying space together again?”

  I laugh out loud. “You’re so dramatic,” I say. “And I have no idea. It may have been a one off. It was probably a one off.”

  The biggest reason I believe that is that I practically ran out of the restaurant at a dead sprint. I’m sure that made quite an impression on the man. Not that I’m looking to see him again or anything anyway. Gabby laughs and shakes her head as she looks at me, earning her a small frown.

  “Look at you,” she teases. “You’re squirming in your seat. This is the first time I’ve ever seen you have such a visceral, physical reaction to a man. It has to mean something.”

  “Yeah, it means I don’t like him.”

  “I think we both know that’s not exactly true,” she responds with a knowing grin.

  I sit back in my seat and grumble to myself under my breath. I want her to be wrong. I really do. But even if it’s only to myself, I have to acknowledge that spark between us the other night. I have no idea where it came from or why I felt a growing sense of chemistry with Sawyer, but I’d be lying to myself if I denied it.

  It makes no sense to me, and that’s what has me feeling so off-kilter about it. There was nothing he did – and certainly nothing I did – to precipitate it. We were having a normal conversation, everything above board and on the surface – it was all totally superficial. And then, out of nowhere, it felt like I got hit with a bolt of lightning, and as I looked at him, I was overwhelmed with a rush of emotion.

  Like I said, it makes absolutely no sense. Least of all to me.

  “Well, I’ll admit that he’s a very good-looking man,” I tell her. “But that’s a far cry from being into him.”

  She shrugs. “Give it time. The seed’s been planted, now nature will take its course,” she chirps. “I mean, God knows you need to get your field plowed.”

  I erupt in laughter and feel my cheeks glowing with heat, so I quickly cover my face with my napkin to hide my embarrassment.

  “You are awful,” I manage to croak.

  “That doesn’t mean I’m wrong, though,” she laughs along with me.

  It’s one of the things I love about Gabby – she’s always been able to pry a laugh out of me at the most unexpected times. She doesn’t sugarcoat much and is never afraid to give me the unvarnished truth of things. But at the same time, she just instinctively knows when to reel it in and lighten her touch. We’re opposite in a thousand different ways, and yet, we mesh together perfectly all the same.

  “Okay, I’ll stop harassing you about Sawyer for now. But just think about it. I mean, it wouldn’t really hurt at all to at least give him a chance, would it?” she presses. “If he hasn’t changed, he hasn’t changed. No skin off your nose. But if he has – well, that’s an entirely new ballgame, isn’t it?”

  I pull at the ends of my hair, twisting it around my finger – an unconscious nervous gesture I’ve had since I was young – and ponder her words. I just have too much going on in my life, and I’m not in the market for a relationship right now. I haven’t been in a very long time. But I have to admit that being with Sawyer the other night, even though I resisted his charms as hard as I could, was still intriguing. As much as I hate to admit it, a massive chemistry bomb exploded between us. To say the least.

  It was completely unexpected, but I’d be denying the truth if I didn’t acknowledge that spending some time with him lit something up inside of me. Something I’ve never felt before. The way he conducted himself also made me start to question a lot of the beliefs I’ve held onto about Sawyer West. But is that enough? Is that a door I should even be opening right now, given everything happening in my life?

  I give my head a small shake. No matter how brightly he’s lit me up inside, between my job, my advocacy, and my father, I can’t afford to take on the burdens of a romantic relationship. Maybe he has changed since college. Maybe he’s really not the same person as he claims. But I still think on a fundamental level, Sawyer and I see relationships – and people – on very different levels.

  And right now, I’m neither able nor willing to change my point of view.

  * * *

  “Hey, Mrs. Hawley, thanks for sitting with my dad today,” I greet her as I close the door behind me.

  She lowers her book and looks up, favoring me with a sweet, almost grandmotherly smile. Mrs. Hawley is still an attractive woman with a nice figure and a full head of black hair that’s got a small sprinkling of gray woven throughout. Her dark eyes shine with her intelligence, and her dusky complexion gives her an almost exotic appeal. I have no doubts she could still go out and snag men half her age if she wanted to, but she insists that her interest in love died with her husband. It’s sweet but also sad.

  “Of course, dear,” she responds as she gets to her feet. “I’m always happy to come by. Gives me something to do with my day, you know?”

  I give her a small smile. “I appreciate that, Mrs. Hawley. More than I can even express.”

  She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “You don’t need to express anything, Berlin,” she tells me. “I know what you’re going through, and it’s a big responsibility. Far bigger than you should have to handle on your own. It’s too much.”

  “He’s my dad. It’s my responsibility.”

  “It takes a village, dear,” she holds my gaze. “You’re young and beautiful, Berlin. You should be out having adventures and falling in love.”

  My soft laughter leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. “I’m afraid those aren’t the cards I was dealt.”

  “And how would you know what hand you were dealt, child?” she admonishes me. “You’re so busy burying yourself in work and caring for your father; you have no idea what cards you’re holding, let alone what the game is.”

  I grin. “You really know how to stretch a metaphor, Mrs. Hawley.”

  She returns my smile. “It doesn’t make my meaning any less true,” she says gently. “You’re only young once, Berlin. You should be out taking advantage of it.”

  I chew on my bottom lip and look away. There’s a part of me that would like to be able to go out on a moment’s notice and have drinks with the girls, or just get out and have some fun. As it stands, I have to plan well in advance and make sure I have somebody to sit with my dad. It’s not always easy, and although Mrs. Hawley keeps telling me all I have to do is ask, I don’t like imposing on her so often.

  “I know it’s difficult to think about, but have you considered putting your father in an assisted care facility?” she asks.

  I nod. “They’re all so expensive,” I explain. “And between his bills and my own – I just don’t have enough to make it happen.”

  She frowns and looks down at the ground before raising her eyes to me again. “Surely with your connections working for the city, you can find resources that can help. There are social aid programs and whatnot, right?”

  I give my head a small shake. “I haven’t,” I admit. “I don’t want to rely on social aid – not when I have a job, and there are others who need it worse than I do.”

  “I don’t know about that, dear,” she says. “You could use the help, and you are just as worthy as anybody else. Don’t let your pride lead you to make bad decisions.”

  “It’s a family trait, unfortunately,” I grimace. “It’s in the genes.”

  Mrs. Hawley gives me a wan smile. “I didn’t know your father before he came to live with you, but I can’t believe he’d want this for you,” she encourages me. “I have to believe that he’d want his daughter to enjoy life, find love, and be happy.”

  I f
all silent and look down at the ground, unsure what to say. Sometimes my life feels so complicated, my responsibilities like an anchor around my neck, dragging me to the bottom. No, my dad wouldn’t want this life for me. He’d want me to be out having fun – having a family of my own. But I can’t just dump him in some shitty state-run facility and forget about him. For all his faults and flaws, he’s my dad. And before his own life came off the rails, he was a good dad. At least, he did the best he could. I can’t just abandon him in the hour of his greatest need.

  “Yeah, probably,” my voice is barely more than a whisper. “You’re probably right.”

  She pats my hand and gives me a gentle smile. “Well, I won’t keep badgering you about this, dear,” she says. “I just don’t want to see such an intelligent and beautiful young woman end up alone and miserable. You deserve so much more.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hawley,” I say, pursing my lips.

  “Of course, Berlin,” she says, moving to the door before turning back. “Just – promise me you’ll think about it.”

  “I promise.”

  She gives me a nod and then opens the door. I walk over and watch to make sure she gets into her apartment okay before I close and lock my own door. I hear the television in my father’s room going – another sports highlight show, judging by the sound of it – and head down the hall. I lean against the door frame and look in to find him sitting propped up in bed, his eyes glued to the tube. He looks over and gives me a smile.

  “Hey, honey,” he says, sounding every bit like my father rather than the stranger he is some days. “How was your day?”

  I feel tears well in my eyes as I look at him and can’t help the smile from stretching across my face. His eyes are bright and lively – I can tell he’s actually here with me right now. He’s present and in the moment. After the last few days of him being out there and not recognizing me, along with him being so angry about it, it’s a nice change of pace. One that overwhelms me with emotion.

  He pats the edge of his bed and gives me a gentle smile. “Come sit next to me.”

  I walk in and sit down, and he immediately takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. My dad used to be a big, burly man with a barrel chest, broad shoulders, and an overpowering laugh. His voice was a deep rumble, and back when he sported a full beard, he looked like a bear of a man. It’s hard for me to believe the balding, sickly thin, frail man in the bed before me is my father. He literally is a shell of the man he used to be, and all too often, he just looks hollowed out. His gaunt face and empty eyes break my heart every time I see them. Which is what makes seeing him present and in the moment with me mean all the more, since I know there is a day in the not too distant future looming when that sparkle will be gone forever.

  “Tell me about your day, honey,” he says.

  The smile crosses my face at the same moment, the tears roll down my cheeks, and I’m powerless to stop either. My dad squeezes my hand again and reaches out, wiping away my tears. I can see the sadness and frustration in his eyes, knowing he’s as powerless to stop what’s happening to him as I am to control my tears.

  “Sorry,” I sniff and wipe at my eyes. “I’m making this weird.”

  He chuckles. “You’re not,” he reassures me. “But maybe telling me about your day will make it seem more – normal.”

  I wipe at my eyes again, doing my best to will the tears to stop falling. Maybe he’s right. Maybe just talking about something normal like my day will help alleviate the strain of awkwardness in the air around us.

  So, I start my story, not that it’s overly exciting, but he listens, hangs on my every word, and seems to relish every moment of it.

  I don’t know; maybe his condition makes moments like these, when he’s coherent, lucid, and totally present, make the mundane mean so much more to him. Maybe it makes him feel more – well – normal. Whole, perhaps. He’s taken life’s day to day things for granted – hell, we all do – and it’s only now, at a time when he doesn’t know who he’s going to be when he wakes up every morning, that he appreciates it. Maybe it’s knowing that he very well may forget everything I’ve said, forget himself, and even forget me, that makes him seem to cherish life’s small, inconsequential moments in ways he never has before.

  He seems eager for more, so I go on and tell him about everything else I can think of – from the meeting with the borough board, to lunch with Sawyer, as well as my conversation with Gabby about it. My mouth is moving so fast, and my words are flowing out so freely, I don’t even realize what I’ve said until my dad quirks an eyebrow and grins.

  “What are you grinning at me for?” I smile.

  “I think Gabby is right,” he laughs softly. “It sounds like you have a crush on him.”

  My peal of laughter is something close to a shriek as I playfully slap his hand. My dad laughs along with me for a moment before his expression grows serious.

  “Obviously I don’t know this Sawyer West character,” he begins. “But one thing I want is for you to have a full life, Berlin. I want you to find love, have a family – I just want you to be happy.”

  I give him a lopsided grin. “What, you don’t think I can be happy on my own?”

  “I think that you’ve dreamed of having a family of your own since you were a little girl, honey.”

  I shrug. “Dreams change, Dad,” I state. “Priorities change.”

  “True enough. But one thing that’s never going to change is that I want you to be happy. I want you to live a happy, fulfilled life, Berlin,” he presses. “I never want you to be like me, looking back at all the things you wish you’d done – or that you wish you’d done differently.”

  He stares into my eyes. The meaning behind his words is more than clear to me. I squeeze his hand in return and give him a smile that probably looks as weak as it feels.

  “Dad, I –”

  He shakes his head. “No, I know that I haven’t been the best father. I know I screwed up plenty,” he declares. “And I know that now, you’re paying the price for those things.”

  “That’s not true, I –”

  “It is true, honey. No need to sugarcoat things for me,” he cuts me off. “I never want you to look back at your life and have a single regret. I never want you to look back and say you wish you’d done this or that differently.”

  I open my mouth to speak but come up empty. I’m at a loss for words only because here I am at twenty-eight years old, and I can already look back and see things I wish I’d done differently. I can already look back and feel that sting of regret. It has nothing to do with my dad, and it’s nothing he can shield me from. It’s just life.

  He squeezes my hand again, pulling my attention back to the here and now, and when I look up, he’s staring back at me with eyes that are more focused and intense than I’ve seen them in a very long time – maybe ever.

  “Listen to me, Berlin, not only do I want you to live a life free of regret, I never want to be a millstone around your neck,” he says fiercely. “I never want to be a burden to you. Ever.”

  “Dad, you’re not a burden to me.”

  “I am, though. I’m not a fool. I know I am,” he tells me. “Which is why I want you to put me in a home somewhere. A state-run place – I don’t really care. I just want you to be able to live your life for you instead of worrying about me all day, every day.”

  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” my voice is firm.

  “It’s what I want, honey,” he presses. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and that is exactly what I want.”

  “Like I said, it’s not going to happen,” I spit. “So you might as well get that thought out of your head right now.”

  He sighs and looks down. “So you’re not going to abide by my wishes?”

  “When they’re stupid and irrational, you bet I won’t.”

  “Berlin, I’m not incoherent. I know what I’m saying, and I know what I want,” he continues. “This is my wish –”

  I stand up so sudde
nly, he bites off his words. I’m not going to just stick him in some warehouse where he can sit there every day waiting to die. He’s my dad, and as such, is my responsibility. That he’s pushing back so hard against me is filling me with grief and anger – emotions I’m learning all too often go hand in hand.

  “Berlin –”

  “No, Dad. I’m not going to do that,” I tell him, my voice barely more than a whisper. “This conversation is over.”

  I turn and leave his room, closing the door behind me. I hate leaving him when he’s so present with me – I worry how many more of these days we’ll have together – but I can’t have that conversation with him. I won’t. I’m not going to entertain the idea of sticking him in a hole somewhere and just wait for his clock to run out.

  I can’t. And I won’t. I refuse.

  Chapter Eight

  Sawyer

  “Hey, I couldn’t help but notice we’re in the same building as the public defender’s office.”

  Having just wrapped up a meeting with a couple of the city planners on a project for the city we’ve got scheduled, Rider and I are standing at a vending machine in an alcove.

  “You’re quite the observant one this morning,” I quip.

  He shrugs and feeds some money into the machine, then presses the Dr. Pepper button. There’s a loud clunk, and Rider bends down to retrieve the bottle that rolls into the tray. He twists off the top and takes a long swallow, then grins at me like an idiot.

  “I’m just pointing it out in case you feel like going up a couple of floors to get a first-hand look at how our wonderful justice system works,” he notes. “Or you know, just in case you felt like taking an extremely smart and incredibly gorgeous social crusading lawyer to lunch or something.”

  The same thought had actually already occurred to me which, was why I agreed to meet the city planners in their office rather than insist they come to mine. And given the way Berlin had sprinted out of the restaurant the other night – along with the fact that she has yet to reach out to me – I figured I’d have to track her down if I wanted to see her again.