IRL: In Real Life (After Oscar, #1)(49)

In real life, I wasn’t the kind of guy who could jet up to New York and coordinate a multimillion-dollar business deal without losing my shit.

In real life, I was scared, confused, and alone. So fucking alone. And I hated it.

I blew out a breath and turned away from the city. After shoving my phone into my suitcase to get it out of sight, I took its place in the middle of the bed.

If there was one thing I was sure of tonight, it was my exhaustion. I could only hope sleep claimed me quickly.





It did not.

And my attempts at using memories of home to soothe me didn’t help at all. I finally gave up and got dressed for my final day in the office at Grange. Putting on a suit yet again chafed in ways I was beginning to resent. I’d done what I came here to do. Even though Wells had, for whatever reason, given my mother everything she was asking for, I’d still worked to represent my mother’s interests to the best of my abilities. Now all that was left was signing the papers and getting home to her side.

And if that failed—if Wells Grange pulled the rug out from under us—I’d finally gotten bank approval to put my shop up as collateral on a loan that would at least cover some of the costs needed for her experimental treatment. Not that I’d ever be able to pay it back in my lifetime on what the shop made. But maybe I’d be able to grow my business in other ways. I’d have to ask James to help me brainstorm if the worst-case scenario came to pass.

My gut was in knots and there was no way I could stomach breakfast. With my phone still powered down in my coat pocket, I settled for just a coffee on my way out of the hotel, which meant I had an extra half hour before needing to be at the meeting. Instead of arranging for a ride, I took off on foot toward the office. But only three blocks later, I found myself off the city streets and surrounded by the steady thumpthump of joggers’ footfalls on the path beside me.

I was in the park again. And I finally felt like I could breathe.

“Back for another ride?”

I glanced up to see Scotty peering down from atop his carriage with his trademark flirty grin.

“It’s awfully early for you to be giving rides, isn’t it?” I asked with a smile. “I figured you guys wouldn’t start until later in the morning.”

His cheeky grin was a welcome sight. “Nah. Tourists wake with the sun. Want to make the most of their days. We make a killing year-round if we’re willing to hustle.”

“I think I’m just walking today, but thanks.” I didn’t want to keep him from any potential customers.

Scotty hopped down. “Hey. You okay? No offense, but you kinda look like shit.”

I shrugged. “Feel like shit. I’m not sleeping well, and honestly, I’d rather be back home. My mom is ill.”

He reached into his secret stash of carrots and handed me one to feed to the horse. While he was showing me how to hand it to her, he spoke gently, leaning his shoulder into mine the way a good friend would. “I’m sorry about your mom. Do you want to talk about it?”

His sweet concern unleashed unexpected waterworks. I blinked back tears. “She’ll be okay. I’m working on something that will help take care of her. It’s just… a lot, you know?”

Suddenly I was engulfed in a hug, my face mashed against the rough texture of his cold-weather coveralls. Even though he was noticeably shorter than I was, his hand had cupped the back of my head and drawn it down to his shoulder.

The funny guy was stronger than he looked, and it wasn’t lost on me that I was more willing to open up to this stranger about my mom than to Wells. Why was that? Did I still not trust him?

“Where’s your jackass boyfriend?” he teased as he let me go. “He should be the one copping a feel instead of me, not that I mind.”

I wiped at my eyes and chuckled. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Scotty blinked at me. “Liar.”

“Not lying. He’s a business colleague.”

He grabbed me by the upper arms and met my eyes. “Conor, that man wanted to eat you like a churro, crunch you down in three big bites, and lick the leftover sugar off his fingers afterward.”

The image had me laughing again, if only because the alternative was springing inappropriate wood in the middle of Central Park. “He’s cute, yeah?”

Scotty met my eyes. “Uh, yeah. Like Chris Hemsworth is cute. Like Adam Levine is cute. Like motherfucking Idris Elba is cute.”

I held out my hand. “Stop, I get it. It’s just too bad the guy’s a corporate drone. He’d probably sell his own mother for a quick…”

The rest of the sentence died in my throat.

Wasn’t that basically what I was doing? Selling my mother’s life’s work for as much money as I could to the last person on earth she wanted to have it?

I stared at the carriage driver without seeing him. I pictured my mother all alone in her bed at home feeling like she was completely out of choices. Forced to sell the patents to her invention rather than donate it to a nonprofit as she’d always intended.

Instead of pursuing some lofty or lucrative career, I’d followed a stupid kid’s dream and opened a game shop. Because of me, she didn’t have someone like Wells Grange providing for her the way Wells provided for his sister, Win. As much as I’d judged him for being a corporate sellout, he’d done what I hadn’t even thought to do: taken care of business. Taken care of his family.