Can't Let You Go (18 page)

“Thank you both.” The woman looked directly into camera two. “Thrifty Co. could not be reached for comment at this time.”

Ten minutes later, Ian and I walked to the parking lot of the Houston news station. After last night’s committee meeting, Ian had worn me down until I’d finally agreed to make the long drive with him this morning. The way there had passed uneventfully, with Ian making polite small talk, and me pretending to be engrossed in a texting conversation with Charlie. When in fact, it was Frances who had obsessively texted me, giving me updates on her wedding dress drama. She had returned the gown to Vivi’s and was now back to being a bride without a dress.

He unlocked his car, then hurried to open and hold the passenger door. Something he’d never done in nearly a year of dating.

“So that went well,” Ian said as he merged the car onto the highway, doing remarkably well for usually driving on the other side of the road. “You did a wonderful job.”

“Thanks.” The next compliment hurt to even say. “You were great as well.”

“Tomorrow I’ll be chatting with three radio stations. It’s a shame you’re working and can’t join me.” He sent me a chummy smile. “We make a pretty great team.”

“When did you say you were going to New York?”

“Ouch.” Ian’s brow furrowed as he fiddled with the radio volume. “Very subtle. So you want me gone?”

“I just want an idea of when I can quit expecting to see your face in my hometown. It’s weird.”

“Like a suddenly getting engaged kind of weird?”

“Why do you care if I’m engaged? It’s not like you wanted me.”

He drove for the better part of a pop song before responding. “That’s not true. That’s just not true.”

“Ian, get real. You were having an affair with Felicity. If that didn’t reveal the status I had in your life, then I don’t know what would.”

He took his eyes off the road and looked at me. “Do you ever think about me?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “It usually involves hot tar and chicken feathers.”

“Kinky.” He laughed. “I can hang with that.”

I couldn’t hold back the smile. Ian would never be my Mr. Right, and losing him had thrown my life into a tailspin, but he still possessed a certain level of charm. He made people feel as if they were his favorite person, like you were the one he wanted to sit and talk with. When you were with Ian, you felt like you were the most fascinating individual, and he was in awe just to be in your presence.

At one time, it had been a heady drug.

And I had fallen under its power.

But I was now clean and sober of Ian Attwood.

“Are you going to tell me the truth about this Charlie guy? You can’t possibly be engaged to a Thrifty Co. employee, especially one assigned to tearing down your theater.”

“It’s an obstacle,” I said. “But our love will see us through.”

Ian chuckled again. “Right.”

“I’ve known Charlie a very long time. He and I have had lots of stops and starts. But we always seem to come back to one another.” And that, I thought, was true.

“If Felicity hadn’t been in the picture,” Ian said, “you still would’ve left me.”

At this I said nothing. I didn’t like where this was headed.

“You were never all in,” Ian said. “Like you knew I wasn’t the one. But I wonder.” His knowing eyes found mine before returning his attention back to the road. “Does Charlie really have it either?”

*

I spent the
rest of the day trying not to think about my conversation with Ian. It helped that I had gone to the doctor to get my stitches finally removed. While there was a nasty pucker that would scar me and forever ruin any chances of my becoming a super model, I felt lighter without the lovely bandage and Frankenstein needlework.

As it began to rain outside, I celebrated my separation from the stitches by going home and poring over articles on the internet of businesses and homeowners who had also found themselves the victims of eminent domain. There were few success stories, and it only served to depress me even more. James and Millie had called, updating me on their experiences in Haiti. Their group had roofed a few houses, painted the church, and provided toys to a local orphanage. My parents were difference makers. And I wanted to be one too. Right here at home.

On hour five at my computer, I rubbed my dry eyes and leaned my aching head down to utter a quick prayer.

God, please save the Valiant and the other businesses. Save us from that monster known as Thrifty Co. And help me get my mind off Charlie Benson and back on figuring out my career. Do I go to New York and audition? Or are my acting days truly over?

Oh, and forgive me for my lies.

All 2,980 of them.

Okay, 2,981.

Amen.

I rolled my shoulders and heard my back pop. I had been sitting there way too long. I was starving, it was somehow dark outside, and my bladder told me I was seconds away from a tragic incident.

Minutes later, I hobbled downstairs on stiff, creaky legs, more excited over the leftover pizza in the fridge than Millie would approve. Her organic weirdo meals were still sitting in the freezer, untouched and dying a slow, cryogenic death. But Hawaiian pizza? My beloved ham, bacon, and pineapple trio had never done me wrong.

I stepped off the last stair.

Into a puddle of water.

What was this?

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

Water was everywhere. On bare feet, I padded my way through the shallow pond that had overtaken Millie’s shiny hardwood floors and followed the mess into the kitchen.

Where water poured from the pantry door.

I flung it open and found the water heater gushing and hissing and doing its best imitation of Niagara Falls.

Crap! What did I do?

Didn’t it have a place to shut off the water? A knobby thing? A switch? A magic button that said
IN CASE OF MONSOON, PRESS HERE?

I slammed the door, then ran to the kitchen phone. Picking it up, my fingers hovered over the numbers.

I couldn’t recall one phone number.

Cell phone! Where was my phone?

I sloshed across the kitchen and back up the stairs to my room. At this rate, I was going to need my life jacket and nose plugs to go back down there.

With a punch of a few buttons, I dialed Maxine. Sam could fix this. He knew how to repair anything.

No answer!

I dialed Sam.

Voicemail.

With visions of the dining room table floating down the hall, I called Frances, who answered from a bridal shopping trip in Dallas. Totally useless! Next I tried two of the neighbors, one of the deacons, Loretta, and my gynecologist.

Not one person answered.

Where was everyone?

Phone in hand, I ran back downstairs, knowing there was one number I hadn’t tried.

Charlie.

It was either let the house flood to the rafters or call.

“Hello?”

“I have an emergency,” I said. “I’m at the house, and the water heater seems to be flooding.”

“Did you turn the water off?”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

I could hear his smile. “I’m guessing you called ten other people first.”

“Eleven. Please hurry.”

He made it in four minutes and sixteen seconds.

“Where’s the water line?” he asked as he filled my doorway, all handsome, strong, and tool belt carrying.

“I don’t know.”

He nodded and palmed a flashlight big enough to light the football field. “I’ll be back.”

“I’ll get my umbrella.”

“Just stay inside.”

“I’ll hold it over you.”

“Stay in the house.”

“But what do I do?”

His eyes took a slow perusal of my shorts and tank. “Think of some creative way to repay me.”

“It won’t involve anything dirty!” I called as he walked away.

He cast a look over his shoulder and sent me a wink. “A man can try.”

Five minutes later, Charlie came back inside, his hair drenched, smelling like earth, rain, and savior. “Water’s off.”

I had a fluffy towel ready, but he ignored it and marched right into the battle zone, the pool-like kitchen.

He went into the pantry, rattled around in there, then stepped back out. “The PopTarts on the bottom shelf are totally ruined.”

A devastating loss. “They died a noble death. I will think of them fondly and write dark poetry of their sacrifice.”

“Let’s get some of this furniture to the living room.”

“Water’s in there.”

“To the garage.”

We spent the next three hours transferring furniture and odds and ends to the garage, then cleaning as best we could. Charlie got a wet vac from one of the neighbors and got rid of some of the water. It seemed to be everywhere I looked. Millie was going to pass out when she saw her house.

At the stroke of midnight, we were still working, so I decided to make dinner.

When the doorbell rang, I took the food from the delivery guy, looking like I had just popped up from a sewage drain. My hair hung in a wet, stringy mess, and frizz had staged a war and won. My clothes were soaked, and I knew I probably smelled.

And yet here Charlie sat in James’s very dry office, settled into a leather recliner, and looking at me like I had just placed in Miss America.

Or maybe he was just ogling the pizza.

Armed with more dry towels and paper plates, I sat on the floor and opened the pizza box, the scent nearly bringing me to revival.

I slid two slices onto Charlie’s plate, then filled my own. “It was nice of you to come over.” I took a bite, savoring the gooey cheese on my tongue. “You saved me. Again.”

Charlie eased onto the floor beside me. “Got a little marinara there.” He reached out and used his thumb to swipe a drop of sauce from the corner of my mouth. “You know, I’m not the bad guy you’ve decided I am.”

“I don’t think you’re. . .a bad guy.”

“That’s something I guess.”

I leaned back on my hands and closed my eyes for a moment, letting the tension ease from my neck. “This is a nightmare.”

“It’ll be okay.”

“Is that what you told yourself when you got assigned to In Between?”

The mood in the room shifted so hard, it was a wonder the floor didn’t quake. Despite the awful circumstances, we had been getting along so well in the last few hours. Laughing even.

“Can’t we pretend like we’re not on opposite sides for tonight?”

“Are we on opposite sides?” I studied his face, wanting so badly to know what was truly going on in that brain of his. “Do you really want a Thrifty Co. here more than you want to save our businesses?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Try and explain. I’ll Google the big words.”

“Nothing I can say is going to make this go away.” Charlie reached out his hand and pushed a damp strand of hair from my face. “I wish I could fix this. But if I wasn’t here in this job, someone else would be. I’m not the person shutting down your theater. I’m just the low guy on the totem pole who has to stay and put on a good face when it’s over.”

“Lots of people in town don’t like you very much right now.”

His expression darkened as he slowly nodded. “I guess that’s a work hazard.”

“I just. . .I’m just so disappointed this is your job. That it’s okay with you.”

“It’s not okay with me. I lie awake every night, seeing the faces of those angry business owners, people who were a part of my teenage years. Good people who know me.” He rested his hand on my dirt stained knee. “Mostly I see your face. Hear your angry voice and see that disappointment in your eyes.”

The crickets sang their lonely night song outside the windows, filling our silence. Charlie’s gaze held me in place, but I didn’t know what he wanted me to say. I was too tired to fight. Too sad to keep repeating what I’d said time and again.

Charlie picked the discarded crust from my plate and bit into it. We’d shared many a pizza like this. This was a man who had never feared carbs.

“Where were we headed before you knew the truth about my job?” He gave my knee a light squeeze. “You and me.”

“I don’t know.”

He rested his hand on the floor behind me, his body slanted toward mine. “I think you would’ve bailed on me at some point anyway.”

“Why?” I licked my lips, suddenly uncomfortable with this new direction of conversation. “Why would you say that?”

“Because that’s what you do. When things get too close, you jump ship. Maybe that’s what you did with Ian.”

“I’d like to remind you that Ian was getting it on with his assistant. Pretty sure my
bailing
had nothing to do with my emotional inadequacies.”

“How was it going before you found him cheating?”

It was hard to chew when he kept bringing up Ian. “I guess if it had been going well, he wouldn’t have strayed.”

“At some point, you’re going to have to dig in and stay. Fight for the relationship. Love that man enough to do it afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.”

Charlie was so close, his lips were a breath from mine. “Aren’t you?”

I said nothing, just shook my head.

“I think you are. I think you’re afraid for someone to love you. For someone to honest-to-God love you.”