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“Can’t sleep?” Douglas asked as he paced into the kitchen.
Chantelle straightened in her seat. “No, I had a business call.”
“Everything alright?” he asked, tightening the royal blue robe around his waist. “You sounded a little stressed.”
“I’m fine.”
Douglas bobbed his head, but his lips parted to say something else. His eyes softened. “I am here for you Chantelle. When you’re ready.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. Her kind-hearted dad would sit her on his lap as he read her short stories as a kid. Then he would kiss her temple and tell her how smart she was.
“You’re going to be great, and remember you already are,” he had said.
“Really Daddy?” She had asked in her childlike voice.
He kissed her full cheek. “You’re not only beautiful, but you’re smart.”
Chantelle closed her laptop on her mother’s table. She drained the rest of her coffee cup and carried it over to the sink. “Thank you, Douglas.”
She went to her room and shut the door behind her. Chantelle laid her laptop on the bed. Pacing to her dresser, she pulled out an old jewelry box given to her by her paternal grandmother. No jewels inside, but the scratched wooden box kept her beloved stories she would write for her father. Unfolding the crumpled, worn notebook paper, Chantelle read the words scribbled in pencil.
The little princess lived in a castle in a faraway land. No one cared what she thought since they only looked at her face. Why? She was pretty, but more was inside. She had a heart, but no one cared. Would anyone?
She spotted another piece of paper tucked in her jewelry box. Chantelle grabbed and opened it. She wrote this one in pen. Ten years ago. Her chest heaved as she read.
I couldn’t protect you. I failed. Maybe I didn’t know what I was doing. Maybe it was better this way, but I can’t imagine how. The safest place in the world should have been with me, and I can’t apologize enough. I won’t forget you. I’ll always love you. I’ll never know what you would have looked like. I can only picture your smile as you would look up at me.
Chantelle folded the paper. She couldn’t read anymore. Tears brimming in her eyes, she stopped and returned the paper to her jewelry box. She wiped her face as she nibbled on her lips. Rubbing her arms, she forced herself to remember the good times. She needed to focus on one thing. Her article.
She could do this. Chantelle could write her story without exploiting Lance and his life. There had to be a way without disappointing her boss.
Sitting on her bed, she opened her laptop once more and typed an introduction to her article. What would she call it? Tapping her slim fingers to her lips, she mulled title names.
“The Bachelor Takes a Wife”? She noted it as a placeholder. She could change it later. Lance had a future with Andrea Williams. They would marry and live happily ever after. Chantelle’s stomach hardened at the notion. She would return to Chicago—alone.
***
Lance waited for Andrea to pick up the phone as he paced his bedroom. Waking up early, he made his coffee, grateful Dottie had made him a hearty breakfast. After his workout, he slept better, and woke up refreshed.
He only had a few minutes before going into the office today, so he wanted to catch her in his free time. The fresh scent of his aftershave overwhelmed his nose. Running his hand down his face, he bit back the groan in the back of his throat. Then he heard Andrea’s voice.
“It’s about time you answered.” Wrong move, but he said it.
“What’s that supposed to mean? I’ve been working. Aren’t you?” Andrea asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
He sighed, plopping down on his bed. “I don’t want to argue with you. It’s not why I called.”
“Why did you?”
His eyebrows furrowed as he sat up in bed. “How about this is the first conversation we’ve had without you rushing me off the phone.”
“I haven’t been rushing you. I’ve been—”
“I know working.”
She huffed. “So I’m just supposed to forget about my life and be what you want?”
“No.” He rubbed his forehead. “All I’m asking is for you to take a break.”
