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THE MORNING SUN WOKE me up in the rudest way possible. I reached for a pillow and covered my face to block out the sunlight. There was a dull throb in my head, the lingering aftermath of last night’s scotch-induced haze. After the incident in the kitchen, which was what I was calling it, I finished off the bottle.
My stomach turned with another sharp pain slicing through my brain. I groaned and forced myself to sit up, fingers pinching the bridge of my nose to suppress the oncoming migraine. The smell of scotch hung heavy on my breath, reminding me of last night’s transgressions.
My tongue felt like I’d been sucking on cotton balls. My eyes felt like they were swollen shut. “Fuck me,” I groaned.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had such a hangover. With a sigh, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and sat there, letting my head hang between my shoulders while I tried to stop the room from spinning.
I stumbled out of bed with only one eye open. I made it to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. Despite knowing better, I stuck my head under the faucet and greedily sucked down big gulps of cold water.
When I felt like I could swallow without choking, I stood up and splashed more water on my face. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and grimaced. My disheveled hair and red, puffy eyes were all the result of a very bad night. I looked terrible. This was a new low for me.
I leaned against the sink counter, breathing heavily. Last night’s escapade loomed in my mind.
“Shit,” I muttered, running a shaky hand through my hair. I had let things get way out of hand with Catherine. What was I thinking? She deserved better than a quick romp on the kitchen counter and an abrupt departure without so much as a decent goodnight.
I needed to address the tangled mess of feelings competing with the hangover trying to rule my scotch-soaked brain. I needed to talk to her, to apologize and try to figure out where we went from there.
I turned on the shower and stripped. The water did little to wash away the cobwebs but I felt slightly more human. I dressed and attempted to regain some semblance of composure.
I headed downstairs, walking into the kitchen and immediately getting flashbacks from the night before. No one was around. I checked the house until I finally made my way outside. That was where I spotted Bennet and Amber talking.
“Where’s Catherine?” I asked, my tone more curt than intended.
“Timothy, are you okay?” Bennet asked. “You’re looking a little green around the gills.”
“I’m fine,” I answered. “Where’s Catherine? Have you seen her this morning?”
Amber looked me up and down. “She went to her dad’s workshop.”
“Is she coming back?”
“I’m not sure,” Bennet answered. “I didn’t ask.”
“Fine. I’ll be back. Make sure Paisley doesn’t burn the house down or steal my Beamer.”
I walked to the garage and made my way to the workshop. I had no idea what I was going to say, but I knew I had to say something.
I suspected I was falling in love with her. I couldn’t explain what was happening. I had never felt this way before. Walking out on her had been a stupid move. I panicked. I needed her to know it wasn’t the man I was.
I didn’t see her truck in the parking lot, but I went inside to check. John was sitting at a desk in the corner engrossed in a file.
“Hello,” I said, trying to straighten my shirt but knowing it wasn’t going to help my rumpled appearance. There wasn’t enough Visine to clear my red eyes.
He looked up, taking in the sight of me. I felt the judgment. “Morning,” he said, nodding.
“Have you seen Catherine?” I asked, my words coming out more urgently than I intended.
There was a knowing glint in his eyes. I felt like he was looking at me and cataloging all my sins. “She’s not here, Timothy. She left a while ago.”
“I need to talk to her. It’s important. Do you expect her back soon?”
He shrugged. “Can’t say.”
It was more like he wouldn’t say. “John, I really need to talk to her.”
He was quiet for a moment. “You want to see what I bought for Catherine,” he said casually.
I wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything, but I didn’t need to make an enemy of the man. “Sure.”
He handed me a sheet of paper. “I just bought her a colonial-style house near downtown. I know she’s been looking for something better than that crappy apartment. I’m giving it to her. A project she can take on to get out from under you.”
The news hit me hard. John’s intentions were clear. He wanted her away from me. Had she told him about last night? I didn’t even get a chance to explain my actions to her.
“What the hell do you mean by that?” I demanded.
“I mean exactly what I said, Timothy. I know what you want from Catherine.”
“I’m sorry, but what makes you think you know the first thing about me?”
“She’s not some rich socialite,” he said getting to his feet. “I know your type.”
“I don’t think you do,” I said, my voice barely controlled. I was trying to give him the respect I would give any elder, but he was pushing it.
“She’s smart, talented, and I won’t let her throw her life away for some rich guy who’ll keep her hidden away from the world in his sad mansion. I don’t want her with another man that doesn’t know how to treat her. She deserves better than you or that other character. The right man is out there for her.”
I felt the sting of his words. I wanted to be pissed at him, but there was a part of me that got it. I would do the same for Paisley, if not more. A father had to protect his daughter.
“I care for your daughter,” I retorted, my words laced with frustration. “I wouldn’t hurt her.”
John stared at me with a great deal of skepticism. “She looked pretty hurt this morning.”
I dropped my head, hating that I had hurt her feelings. That was not my intention. I had been a damn fool last night.
“Where is she?” I asked again. “I need to talk to her.”
“In Albany,” John replied.
“When do you expect her back?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t keep tabs on her. She went to get some fixtures for your house.”
That was a sliver of hope. It meant she would be back. “John, I care about her. There was a misunderstanding. I can explain things and I will make it right.”
“Or you could just leave her alone,” he said. “We both know you two are from different worlds. Just let her finish the job and move on to the next one. She’s going to be busy fixing up her own house. She’ll forget about you in no time. You just need to back off.”
“John, you don’t understand,” I said, feeling the desperation creep into my voice. “You’re right, we are from different worlds, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t...” The words wouldn’t come.
He stared at me, his face hardened with years of experience and wisdom. “Timothy,” he began in a soft voice. “I have seen too many young women get hurt by men who cannot or will not commit. Catherine has had her fair share of heartache and disappointment. As her father, it is my duty to protect her.”
It was like a gut punch. “I don’t want to hurt her, John. I want to protect her too.”
“Do you?” he questioned, skepticism hardening his face. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems you’re part of the problem, not the solution.”
Anger welled up inside me, but I swallowed it down. He was just looking out for Catherine, and I couldn’t fault him for that.
“I know what you think about me, John,” I said, my voice steady but firm. “But what you see isn’t all there is to me.”
“Then prove it,” he said.
“Prove it?”
“Yes,” John replied, his gaze steady. “Prove that you are more than the man I see standing in front of me right now. Prove to me that you’re not just another spoiled rich guy looking for a new plaything. Most importantly, prove to Catherine that you’re the man she deserves. Because right now, Timothy, neither of us believe it.”
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me. It was a challenge and a warning rolled into one. But it wasn’t an impossible task. I could do it.
I nodded. “I will. You’ll see. Please tell her I stopped by.”
“Sure.”
I had a feeling that meant he had no intention of telling her. I walked out of the shop and called Catherine. It went to voicemail, which didn’t surprise me. It had gone straight to voicemail when I called her the first time. And the second.
As I drove back to the manor, the realization settled in that I needed to prove to Catherine that what had transpired between us wasn’t merely a fleeting moment. I needed her to understand that my feelings were sincere, that I was serious about us. Yes, I handled it badly last night, but that was a moment of weakness.
I didn’t want her to leave the manor and go to work on her new house. I had a feeling I wouldn’t see her. She would be too busy for me. Catherine was important, but I had another priority I needed to deal with.
Paisley. It was time to get things situated in my life. No more drama. It was time to move forward. Regina and her bullshit were in my past.
With a reluctant sigh, I pulled out my phone, scrolling through the contacts until I found the number I never wanted to call again, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
