Horrible awkwardness once again enveloped them as they stood in his entryway, humiliation cascading from her head to her toes. Why would she think he would confide in her? And why did she think he should care about her troubles? He didn’t like her. She was a fake date. He’d helped her with her job search because that was his part of the bargain. Not because he liked her.
And she was an adult. She might not have a family, but she had good friends in Laura Beth and Olivia. Soon she’d have a job. She wasn’t really alone. She was just alone on Christmas.
She sent him her fake smile. “I really appreciate this.”
“You’re welcome...again.”
She winced. “I already said thanks, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. You did.”
Again, the little foyer grew quiet, and she suddenly realized why this awkwardness felt different, stronger. She had no reason to be standing there.
She was such an idiot. Always an idiot.
She turned to the door and, a gentleman, he reached around her to open it.
She slipped outside and headed down the silent, empty hall to the elevator. When would she learn none of this was real?
* * *
Ricky stood in front of the closed door, filled with pain for her. As she’d told him her story, it had taken every ounce of restraint he had not to pull her into his arms and comfort her.
But to what end? He was wounded as badly, if not worse than she was. She needed someone strong, someone whole, to be whole for her, to fill her stocking at Christmas and tell her it didn’t matter that her parents didn’t want her... She had him.
Yearning rose in him. How he wanted to do that. Wanted to give her that. She’d cared for a husband with cancer. She’d nursed him. She’d probably watched him die. Her parents had abandoned her. Rejected her in her hour of need.
Then she’d moved to New York City and found nothing but failure and more rejection.
He understood what it was like to be alone. Still, even in his darkest hours, he knew he could pick up the phone and call his mom and dad.
She had no one. Any scrap of consolation or comfort could fill her. But he didn’t have anything to give. He couldn’t be a boyfriend for real.
So he’d kept his hands at his sides, measured his words, hadn’t given her false hope.
Now he ached for her.
The next day, he went to work carrying the ache, trying to console himself with the reminder that he’d done something good for her when he’d gone the extra mile, brought her to his home and sent out her résumé. But it didn’t work. The ache stayed with him. It sometimes even nudged aside the guilt he felt over Blake’s death.
Somebody, somewhere had to really help this woman. Not just be a roommate or listen to her troubles, but do something tangible. And finding her a job suddenly seemed like the salvation she needed and also the way for him to feel better.
His secretary came into his office with that day’s mail. “Good morning, Mr. Langley.”
“Just set the mail on my desk—”
He stopped himself. He knew he was upset about Eloise, but that had sounded gruff and rude.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
Halfway to the door, Janey paused. Peered back at him. “It’s fine.”
“No. I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s just that I had a weird weekend.”
She took the few paces that brought her to his desk. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Why?”
She shook her head. “You’ve never said you were sorry before.” She smiled. “Never mind. Not important.”
She left the room, and he didn’t think anything of it until his personal assistant forgot to ship his mother’s Christmas gift and he exploded. “It’s Christmas season! Holiday mail is a mess. It takes weeks to get a parcel delivered. You can’t—”
Thoughts of Eloise rumbled through him. Her parents wouldn’t even accept gifts from her. He had parents who loved him. They not only loved his presents; they sent him presents also. They wanted him home for Christmas. They wanted him home anytime. Any day. It was his own sadness and guilt that kept him away.
Why was he shouting over something so trivial?
He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I’m sure if you get it out today, it will be fine.”
David, his gray-haired assistant, nodded. “Okay. I’ll get right on it.”
“Great.”
David started toward the door but stopped and turned around. “You didn’t need to apologize. I don’t take it personally when you yell. I know that’s how you are.”
“How I am?”
“Sometimes you talk loud. I’m accustomed to it. It doesn’t bother me.”
David left his office. Ricky walked to the window and blew his breath out on a sigh.
Sometimes he talked loud?
Sheesh. Was he a grouch? A Grinch? Somebody who yelled so much people thought it abnormal when he didn’t?
Thoughts of Eloise shamed him. She was alone, yet never once had he seen her bite anyone’s head off. Even when they’d argued after his frat party, she’d been reasonable.
He sighed. He didn’t like discovering he was a grouch. Especially because he wasn’t. He was sad about his son. Lonely for his son. And everyone understood that.
He sat down and squeezed his eyes shut. He remembered Blake’s one and only Christmas. He could hear the sound of his little boy’s laugh. See wrapping paper strewn on the floor. Remember the way Blake loved cookies, chattered nonsensical baby words with Ricky’s mom, sat on his dad’s lap.
He swallowed.
If he was grouchy with his staff over missing Blake, over feeling guilty about Blake’s death, he had a right. Even his staff knew that.
Feeling sorry for a woman he barely knew? It didn’t make sense. Her making him feel bad for something he had no right to be guilty about? Well, that didn’t make any sense either. Why should a woman he barely knew affect him like this?
He had to fix it. The best way would be to get his relationship with Eloise back to where it was supposed to be.
A deal.
Not a friendship, and certainly not a romance.
Simply a deal.
