AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Elliot Daxton Whittaker at your service.” I was tempted to take a bow, but I was already getting funny looks from my team members, so I refrained.
There were a few beats of silence from my friends, and then Ophelia asked, “You’re really excited about this aren't you?”
I smiled. Yea, I was excited. This was an adventure. “I’m excited to see a place I’ve never seen before. Jamie even mentioned going to an art’s fest.”
“She paints you know,” Ophelia added point blank.
“No, I . . .” I stumbled. I had no idea Jamie painted. We had talked about my band and her family, but not once did I askherquestions. With as much as I wanted to know her, you’d think I’d ask her something abouther,but I never had. I heaved a sigh. “I didn’t know she painted.”
“I wonder if she wants to submit one, oh that would be a complete dream for her.” Ophelia’s voice faded, more than likely because she was stepping away from the phone with her eyes in a daze. Ophelia was the one to follow dreams—she was the one you wanted to be there as you followed yours. Sprinkle in some tough love from time to time and Ophelia was the perfect cheerleader.
“Can I talk to Elliot again? It’s great that he’s finally getting Jamie’s attention, but we have business to talk about now?” Clay’s voice was harsher than I expected, and the chuckle that Ophelia let out brought a smile to my lips. I rubbed my forehead and peaked my eyes out into the office. Everyone had returned back to their own desks—most seemingly getting their work completed.
Three weeks away from this building was something that I needed.
“Clay”—my hand trailed to the back of my neck—“we talked about selling the company before. You’re the one who told me to investigate it. And before you ask, yes, I talked to my mom. She gave me her go ahead and we will be telling my dad this weekend.”
“You, selling the business I don’t mind, it’s the leaving for three weeks that’s bothering me.”
“I will—”
“I know, you’ll have your laptop, and you will get some work done but are you sure this is a good idea?”
“When has a vacation ever been a bad idea?”
“Not the vacation. The fake . . . boyfriend . . . thing?” he drew out his words. I knew Clay. I could envision him circling his hand in front of him, that look of concentration on his face.
“It’s a brilliant idea, don’t overthink things Clayton!” Ophelia shouted in the background. “You know he’s liked Jamie since day one.”
“Phe . . .” Clay sighed. “I get that but if he wants to date her, he should go about it the right way, not by posing as her ‘fake boyfriend.’”
“Listen, Jamie has no interest in dating me, she made that abundantly clear when she ghosted me for five months. We can be friends, and friends help each other out. And for some reason she needs a boyfriend and I happen to be single,andmy middle name just happens to be Daxton.”
“No, no, no. I’m going to need to see your driver's license. Or birth certificate.” Ophelia laughed in the background.
Shaking my head I grabbed my wallet from my desk, flipping it open to look at my ID. The nameDaxtonwas right there—clear as day. “I’ll send you a picture. Look, Clay, it’s going to be great. The vacation will be good for me and once I get back, we can meet with agents and sell this dump.”
“It’s not a dump,” Clay mumbled.
“Ha, I know. Doesn't mean I can’t wait to start something new.”
My mom met me at the assisted living home, and as we walked in the door the rush of cold air hit me in the face. As much as I loved my dad, coming here always had thatfeelingto it. The nurses sat at the check in counter, waving to my mom and I as we walked past them into the living areas. Other residents mingled together or with their families, and when I spotted Dad—sitting across from a nurse playing a game of chess—I smiled.
Even though I knew he wasn’t who he used to be, he still looked like my dad. His gray hair was thinning on top of his head, brushed back and tucked behind his ears. His glasses perched on his nose as he lifted a skinny finger to move the pawn. I knew he was concentrating, his eyebrows gave that away. Finally, he picked up the piece and moved it one space ahead. I let out a small laugh, so much concentration for such a small move.
“Good morning, Graham, honey,” my mom said softly as she came up to him, leaning over and giving him a sweet kiss on the top of his head. He looked up, blinked a few times and then smiled. It was always fifty-fifty on if he remembered my mom and it looks like today he did.
“Good morning, Harriet.”
Harriet? Aunt Harriet? His sister?Oh—perhaps he doesn’t remember today.
My mom gave him a sigh. “No, honey, it’s me, Linda. I have Elliot with me.” She placed her hand on his shoulder and glided it past the back of his neck. My parents' love story could almost be from a book. They were loyal to each other, high school sweethearts from the beginning. The touch she gave him was one she would do often as he sat at the table waiting for dinner, or as he hunched over his desk drawing yet another building. It was a touch that always gained her his attention.
“Hey, pops,” I said, pulling the seat out next to him.
He blinked a few times at my mom and looked over at me. “Oh yes, Linda.” He smiled. “How are you, dear?”
“I'm wonderful, thank you.”
