Nights With Parker (22 page)

“You can’t possibly be hungry. We just ate,” I tease, wondering why we’re here. We make our way through the virtually empty restaurant and into the kitchen. Oliver positions me in the middle of the room, releasing my hand.

“Have at it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re going to have this conversation, but I thought it might be a little less stressful if you’re doing it while we bake.”

This is why I love him. The thoughtfulness people rarely see. It’s the way he thinks about my comfort level, and how he always finds a way to take care of me, even when I don’t want to be taken care of.

“We? Are you actually saying that you want to bake with me?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. What do you want to make?”

“Surprise me,” he says with a grin. “I’m sure we have everything you need for just about anything you want to make.”

“Okay.” I spout out a list of ingredients, and one by one, he gets them for me, setting everything out and getting the oven preheated in record time. He watches as I begin to work. He’s not really helping me at all, but I like that he’s here with me anyway.

“I’m supposed to leave for London after the hotel re-opening.”

I use a little bit more force in cracking open the egg that I had in my hand, but I throw out the discarded shell and look up at him.

“How long is the project in London?”

“Jacob seems to think it’ll take two months, but until I get out there, I won’t know.”

My nose stings, and I fight to hold back the tears. I will not allow him to see me break down, especially since he assured me we had a future just moments ago.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to leave?”

“No, baby.” He tips my chin up so that our eyes are locked. “I’m not just going to leave. I want you to come with me.”

“What?” I ask on a whisper, questioning if he actually wants to take me with him. A part of me had always hoped he’d ask but never believed he would.

“You’re working a temporary job right now anyway, your mother is in a good place, and even if you got into culinary school, your program doesn’t start for three or four months. We’ll be back by then.”

He lets me go, but only so that he can wrap his arms around my waist. Instinctively, my hands go up, resting on his chest, needing to touch him as much as he needs to touch me.

“We’ll be back?”

He nods. “Yes. I want to do the London job so that I don’t leave Jacob in a bind, but then I’m resigning.”

“You’re just going to quit your job?” I know this shouldn’t shock me; it’s not like Oliver has to worry about money. He could probably never work again if he chose not to, but in my world, people don’t just walk away from their jobs.

“That’s the plan.”

“And you’ll come to Savannah?”

“It’s as good a place as any? I’ve kind of learned to like it here.” He hoists me up and places me down on an empty prep station before settling his frame between my legs. “Something about it feels like home.”

I swear I can almost feel my heart skip a beat because I know the something he’s referring to is me. And it’s the same for me. Even if the plan wasn’t to return to Savannah, I’d go with him. I’d go because Oliver feels like home to me too.

“But what will you do for work?”

“I’m an educated man. I’ll figure it out.”

“You’re serious about all this? Really serious?”

“I’m serious,” he confirms then places a kiss on my forehead. “Take the trip to London with me and then we’ll come back here, you can start school, and I’ll figure out my next move.”

“You would do this for me? You’d give up New York?” I ask, and he chuckles.

“Just tell me you’ll come with me and stop overthinking it.”

“I’ll go to London with you.” I practically squeal with excitement, throwing my arms around his neck as he laughs.

“Seems like we’re destined to live in hotels you and me,” he says with a smile. I beam down at him because I’m so happy.

“I don’t care.”

“I’ll see about finding you a kitchen to bake in,” he promises, and just like that, I know he gets me. More importantly, he wants to make me happy, and with the exception of my parents, I’ve never had that before. If it’s in Oliver’s power to give me what I want—whether it’s tickets to a Broadway show that are impossible to find or a kitchen to bake in—he’ll find a way if it means my happiness. I only hope that I can do the same thing for him.

OLIVER

The last of our bags are packed and left by the door, ready for our flight to London tomorrow morning. All we have to do is get through this re-opening party tonight, and my job here is done. Anyone who’s anyone in Savannah will be here tonight to check out the latest in the Parker Hotel lineup. And even though I hate my father, I take pride in knowing that I’m the one who delivers the finished product to the public. This hotel is what it is because of me.

“How do I look?” Riley questions as she walks out of the bathroom like a vision in pink. The floor-length gown she chose hugs her curves perfectly and the gold strappy shoes give her petite frame a nice boost.

“Stunning,” I answer honestly. It’s funny. I was so annoyed with the fact that I had to spend months in the South renovating a hotel that I knew was a run-down piece of shit, but I could have never imagined that I’d find the woman I’d fall in love with here.

“You look good too.” She bites her lower lips, and I know she’s thinking about all of the trouble we’re going to get into later. How nice it will be when I strip her out of that dress at the end of the evening.

“Shall we head downstairs?”

“Yes,” she replies, grabbing hold of her gold clutch and walking over to me. As I do whenever she’s near, I grab her. This time, I pull her to me and place a kiss on her forehead.

Together, we make our way down to the hotel’s ballroom, as I imagined hundreds of people have come out to see the transformation from the Godwin to the latest Parker Hotel.

“Wow,” Riley says quietly, taking everything in. “Everything looks beautiful.”

“Come on, let’s get you a drink.” I lead her to the bar where she orders white wine and starts chatting with a young woman who’s sitting at the bar as well. I engage them both for a few minutes, and once I’m sure Riley is in good company, I tell her I’ll be right back. Not one for making small talk but knowing it’s part of the job, I try as quickly as I can to make my rounds around the room. Talking to a few people here and there, all the while circling back around so that I can get back to Riley.

She comes to find me before I can make it back to her, sidling up next to me just as I greet a local restaurant owner.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her ear, but she just smiles at me, not bothered at all by my having to work. After a few moments, Riley excuses herself to go to the restroom, and I tell her I’ll meet her at the bar. This is exactly where I’m headed when I hear his voice.

“You did a fine job down here even coming in late and over budget.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I take a deep breath and tell myself not to stoop to his level. Only when I’m sure that my temper’s in check do I actually turn around.

“Dad. I didn’t realize you’d be here tonight,” I say. That’s all I can get out because I’m stunned at the sight of him. Standing here, head held high with another woman on his arm. She’s a tall, slender brunette, and if I had to guess, I’d say she was about Riley’s age. I’m pissed at him for being here at all, but the nerve of him to come accompanied by someone else is beyond infuriating.

“What the fuck are you doing? How dare you show up here with someone else?”

“The time for keeping up appearances is over. Your mother’s gone, so I have no reason to pretend that I still love or owe that woman anything.”

“You’re still married.”

“Not for long. Besides, nothing’s wrong with being in the company of a lovely woman,” he says, jutting his chin in the general direction of his date. “You know that all too well, don’t you? I’m pretty sure I spotted that little spitfire of yours here, while Stephanie is back in New York none the wiser.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re drunk, and you know nothing about me and my relationship with Stephanie. Don’t ever compare me to you again because I’m nothing like you.”

“You’re wrong. You’re just like me, so don’t doubt it. It doesn’t matter how hard you try to be different or better than I am,” he says, getting in close, his mouth to my ear as if he was telling me a secret.

“You think you’re some kind of hero because you stopped me from reminding your mother what her place was? You’re no hero. You’re my son, you’re a Parker, and you’ll always be a Parker.”

“I would never lay a hand on a woman,” I growl, angry at his insinuation.

“You don’t have to lay a hand on her. That girl you spend all of your time with down here? Do you love her? Is that why Stephanie is nowhere to be found?”

“It’s none of your business.”

He throws his head back and laughs. It’s evil, and it’s the embodiment of everything he is.

“You think you can make her happy? You think you’ll be a better man to her than I was to your mother? You’re wrong. You’ll destroy her, and you’ll make her hate you. Then she’ll run away from you just like Carla ran away from me. Make no mistake about it.”

He takes a step back, grabbing his date’s hand and walks away, leaving me standing there with an unbelievable amount of pent-up rage. With a quick glance around the room, I spot Riley at the bar. She’s talking to the same young woman as before, but her attention is on me. I can see she looks worried, but she doesn’t want to appear to be rude and walk away from the woman. After ascertaining that she’s okay, I exit the ballroom and take the elevator back to the suite. I should have gone to her, but it’s better if I take a minute to compose myself.

I open the door, and step inside, slamming the door as I do. Running a hand through my hair, I try to control my emotions. Try to breathe through the anger that I’m feeling. It’s not helping. Nothing is going to help. I grab the first thing I can, a really expensive fucking lamp, and throw it across the room, not realizing that Riley is standing there. Her scream mixes with the sound of the lamp shattering. It explodes; pieces going everywhere but all I can see is Riley. She stands in the open doorway, looking frozen and scared. I should go to her, but I can’t. Going to her right now will only make it worse. I can’t be around her when I feel this out of control.

“Get out.”

“Oliver,” she whispers, taking the slightest step toward me.

“I said get out,” I boom, and she takes a step back, almost as if the sound of my voice is a physical force pushing her away from me. I can see the tears well up in her pretty eyes as she turns and runs out of the room.

My chest heaves in and out, as I pant in anger, frustration, and realization. He’s right about everything. He just confronted me about my greatest fear, about the fact that I am his son, and as such, his traits have been passed down to me. When he spoke those words into existence, it’s as if something in me shifted. A switch in my brain was turned on, and all of a sudden, I see myself for who I really am. I heard it straight from the donor’s mouth. The way I’ve used women for years all because I was terrified of getting too close to anyone. I thought if I did, I might hurt them the way my father hurt my mother. I hurt them anyway, by treating them like a useless piece of meat.

It’s in the way I treated Riley, what I did to her. How I used her need, her mother’s need, to get what I wanted from her. I’m a monster just like he is. Just like my fucking father and now, I know it’s true. That look on her face when I threw the lamp, the fear in her eyes when she ran out of the room moments ago … is exactly the look of fear my mother had when I pulled my father off her. I will not be responsible for putting that look on her face, not ever again. The only way I can spare Riley is by letting her go. I’m not trying to be a martyr, but I just couldn’t stand to see her broken down the way my mother was. I’d never let that happen to the woman I love.

This is for the best. I’m sorry. Good luck in culinary school.

I jot the message down on hotel stationery and leave it on the desk for Riley to find. Grabbing my car keys and my bag, I make my way out of the room, out of the hotel, and out of Savannah. With pure luck on my side, I manage to catch the last flight to London. The quicker I can close out this chapter of my life, the better. Everything will be okay once I can forget Riley. The thing is … deep down, I know that I’ll never be able to forget about her. Everything about her is permanently engrained in me. I can live my life without her, though; I have no choice. I can do that if it means that she won’t have to live a life with a man that would only cause her pain.

RILEY

“Medium-high is where you want to be, and you’re looking for the butter to lighten up in color, two times lighter. You should always scrape down the bowl, and then give it another minute for good measure,” the instructor at the culinary school drones on.

“If you have lumps of butter that aren’t mixed properly at the moment when you add eggs, you’ll have lumps forever. They’ll melt, and you’ll have holes in your cookies.”

I listen intently even though she’s not saying anything I don’t already know. For the most part, I’ve loved this school. Most days, I’ve learned new techniques and tips for making my recipes even better. Things like
how different levels of gluten in flour can change the texture of dough; how eggs add protein to the dough to soften it and create structure; or why using a European butter with a higher fat content makes for better sugar and egg emulsions when creaming batters. Information that might be boring to most people, but to me, it’s has made such a huge difference in my baking.