Wish I May (13 page)

Cally jumps back when she spots Maggie. “I’m just here about a room Lizzy was telling me about.”

I shake my head. I already forgot about that. I was so absorbed in watching Cally appreciate my gallery—so absorbed in watching
her
—that I lost focus.

I turn to Maggie. “Can you handle things down here for a bit?”

“No problem. I was going to do inventory today while it’s slow, then later I need to talk to you about my schedule for the fall.”

“Of course.” I turn to Cally. “Follow me upstairs?” I head into the loft, where I feel her watching me as I pour myself a mug of coffee. “Want one?”

“Sure.”

“Cream or sugar?”

“Cream if you have it.”

Opening the little fridge, I pull out the cream and add a dash to her coffee before handing it to her. “How’s that?”

Her eyes close as the first sip hits her tongue and that soft, mewling sound slips from the back of her throat, reminding me of our night in the restaurant and turning me
way
the fuck on. “God, that’s good.”

“Jesus, I thought I was special for making you moan like that, but now that I know coffee can render the same results, I might need to check my ego.”

Her cheeks flush and she shoots a look toward the stairs then back to me. “Hush!”

“Maggie doesn’t care.”

“Yes,” Maggie calls from the showroom floor below, “yes, Maggie does care.”

I bite back a grin and motion Cally toward my office, closing the door behind us so we can have some privacy.

“To be fair,” she says, “you make a damn good cup of coffee and I’ve been subsisting on instant crap. Powder creamer and all.”

“Instant? Damn, you must have been hard up.”

Her eyes connect with mine for a minute, and the heat there clears up any doubt in my mind that she was left wanting as much as me after our date.

Let her go
, I remind myself.

“I’m looking to rent a room for massage therapy clients, and Lizzy said there was an apartment above the gallery she thought would work great. Obviously you work here too? Do you know the owner?”

“You’re looking at him.”

She drops her gaze to her coffee. “I was beginning to suspect as much. Lizzy could have mentioned that.”

“I’m glad she didn’t.” We both know Cally wouldn’t be here otherwise. Maybe that was intentional on Lizzy’s part. “So you’re staying?”

“For a couple of months, yes.”

“What changed your mind?”

She crosses her arms and her face turns sad. “My sisters. It was foolish of me to think I could just drop them at Dad’s house and they’d magically feel at home.” She shakes her head. “And the house is a disaster. Not dirty, really, but a mess and not maintained or updated. I took a shower there this morning and the water pressure was so bad it took ten minutes to wash the shampoo from my hair. So I’m staying, helping get the house in order, helping my father figure out how to be a dad. It’ll be okay.”

“So you’re going to start up a massage business while you’re here?”

She shrugs. “I need money, and it’s what I do. Lizzy gave me a couple of leads on spas by campus that might be looking for someone, but—” She hesitates for a minute, choosing her words. “Nothing worked out.”

“Wouldn’t the money be better on your own?”

She shrugs. “Established businesses come with built-in clientele. Kind of a shortcut, which makes sense since I don’t plan to stay.”

“My friend Meredith owns a salon, and I think she was looking for a new massage therapist.” I’ll call in a favor. God knows Meredith has made it clear enough that she wants to see me again.

“Meredith Palmer? At Venus Salon?”

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“She’s not interested in hiring me.”

“What? Why?” She lifts her gaze to meet mine, and I get it. Meredith knows about Cally’s mom. The rumors. “I can talk to her. I’ll explain.”

She puts her hand on my arm, stopping me from getting my phone. “Please don’t.” She forces a smile. “It’s probably best. Once I have a client list built up, the money is much better on my own. I’ll find a space to rent.”

“
That
I can help you with.”

She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “How often are you here?”

“Often enough.”

“I think we both know this would be a bad idea so—”

“Hold that thought.” I motion back to the hallway.

She follows me across the little kitchenette and reception area to the other side of the upper story that holds a small apartment.

For a few weeks after my second failed engagement, when I was just opening the gallery, I spent a lot of nights here to escape the big, empty house and all my ruined plans. Now the apartment sits unused for the most part.

I pull my keys from my pocket and unlock the door, flipping on the lights as we head in. “There’s access from the outside, too, a balcony out back, and a stairwell down the side of the building. Your clients wouldn’t have to go through the gallery, though they’re welcome to.”

She nods, but she’s frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

She turns a slow circle, taking in the furnished living area and small kitchen. “It’s just really nice, but it’s too much.”

“Would you be living here, too?”

“No. I’ll stay with the girls. I just need a space to work.”

I motion her toward the bedroom. “I thought this would be a nice space for you,” I say, flipping on the lights in the small bedroom. “Honestly, I’ve become accustomed to using this apartment for a quick shower when I don’t want to run home. I’d give you a deal if you wanted to rent only this space, and I’d make sure to stay out of your way when you had clients.”

She nods as she looks around the room. Like my office, this room has a set of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the river and let in tons of light. “Lizzy was right. This would be perfect.”

“Then why do you sound so disappointed?”

“It’s not a good idea for us to work this close.”

Despite all reason, I can’t help but smile. “I can’t think of many ideas better. You don’t even have to pay me upfront. I know money’s tight now. You can pay me once business picks up.” I sound desperate. Maybe I am. I want to be close to her, to have her close to me.

She shakes her head and looks at me, bewildered. “I’m not in a position to say
no
to that, so…thank you
.
”

I grin. “You’ll take it?”

Slowly, she returns my smile, but hers is shakier, more tentative. “I’ll take it.” She pauses a beat. “William?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for not assuming the worst. About the kind of massage business I’ll be running, I mean. Thank you for understanding I’m not my mom.”

“You’ll never be like her, Cally. You’re too good.”

A crash echoes off the walls as her coffee cup slips from her hands and shatters on the floor, coffee splashing all over her legs.

“Oh,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

I run to the kitchen for some towels, and when I return, she’s on her knees, collecting shards of coffee mug. Her hands are shaking.

“Hey.” I sink to my haunches, dropping the towels and taking one of her hands in mine. “It’s no big deal.”

A tear spills onto her cheek. “Mom wasn’t bad. She just did what she believed she had to do.”

“Aw, shit.” I gather her against me, and she cries, big, body-shaking, silent sobs that leave my shirt wet and me feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet.

A
FTER
I recover from my little meltdown, I rush from the gallery as quickly as I can without running. I need to put space between me and William. It felt too good to cry in his arms, to have him stroke my hair and murmur apologies he doesn’t owe me.

Once I’m outside, I go around the building and sink onto a bench, dropping my head into my hands. I take deep, calming breaths.

Everything’s going to be okay. It’s all going to work out.

That space is perfect. So perfect. The apartment’s tiny kitchen and living room would make a comfortable waiting area for clients. I would set out herbal teas and bottles of water on the kitchen’s granite island. Clients could sit with me on the couch and chat about their concerns with their bodies. And the massage room? Those windows overlooking the river give it a unique ambience I would bet nowhere else in town can match. I’d set up the room with minimalist luxury, and my clients could look out those windows as I gave their massages. Not to mention how ideal the location is. What says “high class” more than an art gallery? And even though my business wouldn’t be a part of the gallery, people would connect the two in their minds, instantly earning me the respect I’ll need in order to escape my mother’s reputation.

It’s perfect. And I should probably walk away. Because I already want William too much, and I can’t have him. If he knew the truth, he wouldn’t want me anyway.

Someone sits next to me, and I look up to see Maggie Thompson, her red curls framing her frown. I remember being jealous of her when Will and I were dating. She’s a couple of years younger than me, so it’s not as if he seemed interested in her
romantically
back then, but I knew how she felt about him. She would have been maybe fourteen when he and I were together. But he was always very protective of her. Of all her sisters. And now she’s working for him. Interesting.

I sit up and force a smile. “Hey, Maggie.”

“Hey.” She toys with the pendant on her necklace. It looks like a piece of shattered glass, and the sunlight dances on its surface. “Do you think renting that space is really a good idea?”

“Probably not.” I should see about commuting to Indianapolis. Maybe I could find a position at a spa where I wouldn’t be working under the shadow of Mom’s reputation. But that would mean gas money, and I’d have more hours away from the girls. I’ve always wanted to work for myself, but I’ve never had the luxury of being able to walk away from the benefits of working for a large company. This may be my only chance.

“But you’re going to do it anyway?” she asks.

“Sometimes the bad idea is still the best option you have.”