Accidental Tryst (Charleston #1)(58)

"Maybe they accidentally switch phones," I said and cringed. It was bad enough I'd been crushing so hard on Trystan, but ascribing anything more to it than happenstance and chemistry was a dangerously slippery slope.

We sat quietly for a while, and then I got up and began straightening the clothes in his closet. David dressed himself every morning, and he wasn't the most agile person anymore, so if he dropped something or it slipped off the hanger it usually stayed where it fell.

"I'm sorry, Emmy."

"What for?" I straightened and hung up a hooded waterproof jacket. When would he ever need one of those again? Why was it even here?

"Where do I start? For the predicament I'm in that you have to deal with. For losing all our family's fortunes. For sending my sister to an early grave. All of it."

My breath caught. "David—"

He held up a hand. "No, let me say it. I feel awake. Everything seems very clear today. I know why I'm here. I'm not right in the head. It's a terrible burden I've placed on you. After everything I did—"

"David, you didn't do it on purpose. Shit happens." I swiped tears from my eyes. I hated how broken and lost he sounded. "The whole world went through a financial crisis. It wasn't your fault."

"Greed, Emmy. That's a choice. That's on me. I deserved what happened to me. But none of you deserved for me to take you down with me."

I crouched down in front of his chair and put my hands on his knees.

He laid his hand on my hair. "You're a good girl, Emmy. You were a gift to my family."

"And you were a gift to me. You are a gift."

"Listen." His tone took on a new urgency like he knew his mind might slip away at any moment. "Take a chance. Put yourself out there. Fall in love. Start a family of your own. Do it soon. Throw yourself into love, Emmy. It's scary, I know. But don't be like me and shy away from it."

Tears rolled down my face, and I gave up wiping them away. I hadn't had such a lucid moment with David for years. There was so much I wanted to ask him, but I felt stuck in his words and overwhelmed with emotion I couldn't identify.

A strange look came over his face. "Now get up," he said. "I'm about to pass gas."

I scrambled to my feet.

"And tell that lovely Asian lady I wouldn't mind a walk down to the beach this afternoon. Maybe after the concert?"

"Okay, David."

I had no choice but to get David closer to me, no matter what it cost. I'd take on more side hustles in the interior design business with my sewing, do whatever I had to to meet the shortfall from my PR paycheck until I could get his Medicaid sorted out again. I didn't know how much time I had left with him, and I didn't want to waste it.



* * *



I stared at myself in the mirror of the downstairs bathroom off the lobby of David's nursing home. David's thoughts he'd shared today hit me hard. It hurt that he carried so much guilt. My eyes stung again as I thought about him feeling so afraid and alone and worried about me in his moments of lucidity.

At least my hair was clean and nicely blown with waves because the rest of me was a fright. I was pale, and my eyes were red-rimmed, wide and frightened.



* * *



Suit Monkey: Let me know what time you are arriving tomorrow so we can exchange phones before I leave.



* * *



And there it was. It was only me who was dreading trading phones back with Trystan.

If I headed home, I'd have to see him and return his phone. It was frightening to realize I didn't want to. I didn't want this to be over. Being stuck in New York gave me a reason to stay in touch with him. Going home would mean having to see him, knowing it would burst the bubble. We were living in a fantasy. At least I was.

In this fantasy, I was in a relationship with someone who was there to talk to and laugh with and have sexy times with.

In real life, Trystan was a commitment-phobic serial dater.

In real life, he'd never be there for me the way he was now.

David had stuck this idea in my head that Trystan could be something more, and as soon as he had, cold fear had gripped me deep to my core. The signs all pointed to him not being relationship material. I'd be absolutely stupid based on evidence I had, including being another numbered woman in his hotel regardless of whether he was there with me or not, to think otherwise. But the stupid kernel of hope burst forth like popcorn.

The only thing I could think of was to go home tonight and not tell Trystan I was home until tomorrow. He'd rented my place for another night anyway. If he thought I was coming home, he might offer to move out or something, even though he'd already paid me. And where would he stay?

It would be weird and awkward. It would suddenly establish real life rules and distance because I'd be deliberately choosing not to spend the night with him when everything since last night seemed to say otherwise. I’d be coming home and . . . coming at home. Ha.

I guessed that was where the frightened look in my eyes was coming from—I felt caught on the cusp of something. Stuck between going home and lying about it, which didn't sit comfortably, or going home and bursting the bubble of whatever this was between us.

A knock at the door startled me. "Miss Dubois?"