12. Carina

CHAPTER 12

Carina

A s Reggie reaches the highway, I sink into the soft leather seat and let out a happy sigh.

Ryan Stirling.

I finally had a name for my prince, and I got to see his entire face. His chiseled cheekbones and bright blue eyes make him even hotter.

The street lamps make a steady stream of light enter the car. I'm curious how much further we have until Alex's mansion, but I don't want to ask. I don't want to do anything that'll make this feeling I have from being with Ryan go away.

It's almost 1 am as we turn onto the long driveway. I wonder if Odessa is still awake, and I imagine us sitting up in bed talking about Ryan when I realize what a child I'm being.

I think back to my grandmother's regrets about me for not going to school dances and parties. For my choosing to stay with her instead of doing things with people my age. And my heart aches.

Did I really miss that much? Would it have made any difference in my life? Would it have helped me? There were times tonight when I was with Ryan that I felt like such a child, and other times that I forgot he had more than ten years on me.

"Miss, Master Alex will be waiting for you in the study," Reggie says.

I stifle my giggle over the way it reminds me of the game Clue. Only this would be the billionaire in the study with the ball gown. I practice what I'll tell Alex about the date in my head.

As I enter the front door, I can see the glow of the fireplace burning. I follow it to find Alex looking out of a different set of windows towards the river.

For the first time, he's not in a suit. Instead, he's wearing a plaid pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a Who concert t-shirt. His hair is a little messed up, and for the first time I see an Alex who is more human than the suited man I've experienced. It's a good look for him, one I have to admit I find very attractive.

I must still be high off the time I spent with Ryan to think that.

Alex walks over to me and lets out a low whistle.

"Had I seen you dressed like this earlier, I don't think I would've let you go."

"Why not?" I ask, looking at myself and trying to figure out what's wrong.

"Because you're so beautiful, I should lock you away and keep you for myself."

Heat travels up into my cheeks, and I look away, hopeful he doesn't notice.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"I forgot something. Wait right here, I'll be right back," he says.

I sat on the couch, took off my shoes, and gently rubbed my cramped toes.

Alex reappears with a steaming mug and hands it to me.

"It's hot chocolate, just like my grandmother used to make. It's the only real memory I have of her," he says. "She passed away when I was really young."

I carefully take a sip of the hot chocolate. It's rich, with a deep flavor, and the perfect temperature.

"Did you make this?" I ask.

Alex kneels before me and slips his hands around my feet before resting them on his thighs.

"Yes, from memory. She used to heat up the milk and then melt pieces of chocolate into it."

"It's amazing."

"Thank you. How are your feet?"

"A little sore and tired, but fine."

"Sounds like you need a foot massage."

As he starts to massage my foot, I pull it away.

"What is going on?" I ask, eyeing him suspiciously. "This isn't like you."

"Well, maybe it should be. It's not every day I have an intelligent, gorgeous woman like you in my home."

I feel as though I've entered the Twilight Zone.

"Have you been drinking?" I ask.

He laughs. "A little, but this has nothing to do with that. I'm just in a good mood. Now, come on, tell me about your date."

"There isn't much to tell," I say.

He rolls his eyes and presses a ticklish spot on my foot.

"Talk or tickle," he says. "It's your choice."

I laugh and try to pull my feet away, but he's got a firm grip on them.

"Stop it! Okay, okay, I'll talk."

"Wow, that was easy," he says.

"I'm just really ticklish."

Alex continues to massage my feet, making them feel so much better. But seeing him reminds me that what I want with Ryan can't happen. It reminds me that Alex wants me to break Ryan's heart.

I let out a long sigh as it sinks in.

"I can't do this," I say. "I know what you're going to say. You're going to remind me that I can. I just need to keep myself protected so I don't get hurt, too. It's exactly what my grandmother said."

"She sounds like a wise woman."

"She is."

"And what are your plans for her? Are you going to move her back into that hole in the wall you call home? The doctors told me she'll be released to go home soon. Have you thought about that?"

I sit up and pull my feet underneath me.

"No. I've been pushing it off. We probably need to move. The stairs aren't safe for her anymore. But where am I supposed to find a place when I don't have a job?"

"How about here?"

"What?"

"Move in here. There's more than enough space, and she'll be treated like a queen. I'll pay for a staff of people to come in and care for her, give her physical therapy, cook for her, and do whatever she needs. This way, you don't have to worry so much about her."

I open my mouth to tell him no, but the offer does make sense other than it would put me too far from the city to be able to get to work easily. But do I want to live there? With Alex? I'm not even sure which version of him is real.

"Let's put a pin in that," he says. "If you won't tell me about your date, at least tell me about the ball."

"We didn't go. I got there, and it was pure chaos outside. There were photographers there for some reason, and they were really rude."

"Weren't there photographers there last time?"

"No? Maybe? I really don't know." Thinking about how crazy everything was, I began hugging myself again. "I guess I should've warned you. I have an anxiety disorder. It's not that bad, but there are times when it takes over, and I'm just along for the ride."

He moves onto the couch next to me, concern across his face.

"I'm so sorry I put you in these situations that are causing you any grief. You should have told me. I would've come up with something different."

"So, can I get out of this? You know I don't want to do this. I know I owe you already for saving my grandmother, but there's got to be another way. Something different I can do."

"Why?" he asks, his tone serious and his voice gruff like the old Alex.

"Because I don't want to break his heart."

"Why?" he asks, his voice growing colder, deeper.

"Because it's not right. Because I don't want to hurt him. Because…"

"Because you think you care about him already. You think you can love him. Right?"

I nod my head.

"So again, I'm going to ask you. Why? Is it because of him, or is it because of you? Are you afraid of getting hurt, or are you afraid of hurting him?"

His questions are hurting my head, and his voice is making me wish I was anywhere but there.

"Well?"

"I don't know!" I yell at him, my voice cracking. I stand up, ready to storm out of the room, but not until I give him a piece of my mind. "I'm already falling for him, okay? I'm not some whore who can turn it on and off as needed. I'm a woman who's probably been way too sheltered in life to deal with someone like you." I point at him, and he stands up a few feet from me. "Everyone dreams about being rich, or they have the old damsel in distress dream where the prince saves them. I don't want that. I don't want all of this. The stuff." I wave my arms around. "It doesn't mean anything. It's fake. It's a lie. And there's nothing worse than lying to me."

"Did he tell you his name?" he asks, his voice calmer.

"Yes. He would've given it to me last time, but I wouldn't let him. His name is Ryan Stirling."

"And that doesn't ring any bells? Doesn't sound familiar?"

I wince as his words stab me even though I don't understand why.

"No, why? Should it?"

"What did he tell you he does for a living? He had to tell you something."

"He's a plumber."

Alex scoffs. "I can't believe him. And people say I'm fucked up."

"What? What aren't you telling me?"

"He's lying to you," he says, his voice calm.

"He's lying? You'll really say anything, won't you? Like I can believe you. He brought me to a diner and made us burgers and fries."

I let my words trail off as I replayed the night in my head. Did he say he was a plumber? Or did I just ask him? I'm not sure, and I'm not sure it matters either. Maybe it's better if I think he lied to me. It'll keep me from allowing myself to get too close to him.

"I'm going to bed," I say.

"That's fine," he says as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. "I won't be around when you leave in the morning; I have meetings in town."

"Good."

I turn away from him and head upstairs to my bedroom. I'm so frustrated and annoyed that I grab whatever I can find in the drawers to change into, climb into bed, and fall asleep.

I awaken to the smell of fresh pancakes. I rush downstairs and find Odessa sitting at a large kitchen table that's covered with pancakes, waffles, scrambled eggs, French toast, and hash browns. It's way too much food for just the two of us.

"Mmm, you have to try the French toast," Odessa says before mimicking a chef's kiss.

I nod as I reach for a plate, stunned by all of this.

"There's a note for you, too," she says as she points to the area at the head of the table.

I pick up the folded sheet of paper and read to myself.

Carina,

I'm sorry about last night. Seeing you as stunning as you were and knowing how beautiful you always are, I guess I got jealous. It won't happen again. I hope you enjoy breakfast before you leave. I wasn't sure what you liked, so I just made everything.

Alex

PS—my offer stands. You and Lydia are welcome to move in at any time. No strings attached.

Odessa takes a sip of her freshly squeezed orange juice and smiles.

"This is the life," she says. "It sounds like you had some night. You know I read the note." She laughs. "Think I can move in too?"

"He's just feeling bad. He drank too much last night."

"If you say so," she says. "This doesn't taste like the food of a hungover man."

As we ate, I told her about last night, including my coming back and everything with Alex.

"So, are you going to move in?" she asks. "It does make sense for Lydia."

"No, definitely not. Especially not after last night."

"But what about this incredible breakfast? I would like a lot of them in my future."

"Can't you be serious for once?"

"Oh hello, pot, this is kettle."

"Ugh, you're right. I can't deal with this now. I'm not going to bring up moving. Maybe he'll forget about it, and it'll all just go away."

"Okay, I'll drop it, but are you still on the hook for destroying that guy?"

"That's not helpful. And yes, there's no way out."

During the drive home, Odessa looks over at me with the same worried look she had the other day.

"I saw that," I say. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"I was kind of hoping it would go away too. I never thought I'd have to have this conversation with you."

"Sis, you're not making this any better. What's going on?"

She sighs loudly.

"I guess I don't have any choice." Odessa is quiet for a moment, then glances at me, then back to the road. "Your mother showed up at the restaurant."

"My mother? You must be mistaken. She's dead."

Odessa shakes her head. "She looks just like you, only older and with dark hair. She showed up asking for you. She's been there a few times already."

I stare at Odessa, trying to understand what she's saying.

"So she's alive?" I said. "Grandma didn't talk about the past much, but I grew up hearing that my parents had a car accident when I was little, and they were both drunk. Grandma never said anything more than that. I figured it was because it was too difficult for her to talk about, so I never asked any questions."

"So you've never heard from her before?"

I shook my head. "Why didn't she reach out? Didn't she want to know how her daughter was?"

She shrugs. Maybe she didn't know how to reach you."

"I've had the same phone number for years now. And this is the same apartment I grew up in. She somehow found out I work at John's, so she knows something. Somehow."

I don't know how I feel about my mother suddenly popping up, other than angry. I'm angry for how much of my life she missed, angry for her leaving when I was little, and even angrier that she's asking about me instead of just being my mother and showing up.

We drive the rest of the way in silence while I stew about my mother.

I think about how much I would love to have a mom to talk about all of this stuff going on with Alex and Ryan. I would have loved to have a mom who helped and guided me so that I didn't flounder and do nothing with my life. I wasn't blaming her for my not dating or my lack of job skills, but had she been around more, I was sure my life would've been different.

But would it have been better?

"Hey, instead of dropping me off at the rehab, can you just bring me home?" I ask.

"Sure. You okay?."

"Yeah, I just need some time to think."

"I'm sorry about your mom."

My stomach flips hearing the word ‘mom' again, and I begin to feel a little sick, wondering why she's back. Why now? And for how long? Deep down I know she wants something. But what?