Carrying Hope (8 page)

I exited the bathroom and stuffed my feet into my shoes before announcing that I was done.

“Okay, I’m ready,” I said timidly, hoping that he wouldn’t change his mind. I didn’t think he ever really got a good look at me before and I was terrified that he was going to turn tail and run away when he saw me in all of my non-glory.

He turned to face me, his expression unreadable at first. Slowly, a smile grew and he reached his hand out to me.

“Are you really really sure that you want to do this? Please don’t feel like you have to because I cried at you,” I finally voiced my worst fears. I never wanted to be a charity case. Even more, I never wanted to be someone’s obligation.

“Marcie,” he said sternly, my name on his lips sending shivers down my spine.

“Nothing in this world could make me happier than to give you and your child a home.” My stomach did a little flip-flop at his words. No man had ever spoken to me in that way. He sounded genuine and concerned for my well-being.

“Temporarily, I mean,” he finished.

“Of course,” I replied, deflated. What was I thinking? He wasn’t going to get down on one knee or anything just because I saved him from a mugging. For all I knew, he had a girlfriend… or a wife. He was just being a nice guy. There was no need to look into it further than that.

His arm slipped around my waist and I felt myself melt into his side. He was warm and smelled like cinnamon and pine trees. I knew it was ridiculous, but I felt so safe and content with Bryce by my side.

I signed my discharge papers and watched in disbelief as Bryce handed over his black credit card to pay my bills.

“You don’t have to…”

“Hush,” he commanded.

I didn’t even want to think about how much my hospital bills cost him. I’d heard horror stories of people going bankrupt from emergency room bills. I didn’t want to be a financial burden on him.

He made it clear to me that there would be no more discussion of the bill. He led me to a sleek black sports car and opened the door for me.

I looked to the interior of the car and back to Bryce.

“This is your car?” It looked like it was worth more money than I’d make in a lifetime. I was afraid to breathe on it, let alone sit in it.

“Yes, why?”

I slid into the leather seat, inhaling the heady scent of a well-kept car.

“Oh, nothing,” I muttered as he closed the door.

Maybe he was just really into cars. Maybe that’s what he spent the bulk of his money on. I wondered how he made so much money though. In my life I’d only met one kind of person with that much disposable cash: criminals. I prayed that Bryce wasn’t a criminal, but he was hanging around in that alley.

He climbed in with a wince and the car came to life with a gentle purr and I finally had the thought to ask him the question I should have asked an hour ago.

“Where do you live?”

He started to pull away from the hospital and I watched the red lights of an ambulance pass us.

“A few miles outside of the city.”

I nodded, leaning my head against the window. The cool glass felt nice against my throbbing head. The hospital was in the center of town, so no matter which direction we needed to travel, it was going to be a long ride.

Once we were on the freeway, Bryce opened up and started to show off what his car could do. I glanced over and watched the speedometer tick higher and higher until we were well over 100 miles per hour.

“You weren’t kidding about driving fast, were you?” I asked, looking for a place to hold on to.

He laughed and reduced his speed.

“I’m sorry; I forget that it makes some people uncomfortable.”

There weren’t any other cars out at this hour. Sun rise was still a couple hours away and bars closed a few hours ago. This was the in between lull. I knew I wasn’t in any danger from his driving.

“I’m not. Aren’t you worried about getting a ticket, though?”

He turned to me with the biggest grin I’d ever seen on his handsome face.

“They’d have to catch me first.”

I found myself smiling with him even if I didn’t completely agree with his logic. I’d employed much of the same thought process with my gambling.

“All right. Show me what this thing can
really
do, then.” I raised my eyebrows at him in a challenge that he instantly accepted.

He shifted gears and the car took off like a shot. Seventy, eighty, ninety, one hundred, our speed kept increasing until we were pushing two hundred. My hand was on his leg, my fingers digging in to his thigh. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him; the unevolved part of my brain was screaming at me that it shouldn’t be possible for us to move this quickly.

As quickly as we’d gained speed, Bryce slowed down approaching his exit.

“Don’t ever challenge someone if you’re not willing to deal with the consequences,” he teased, my fingers still clutching his leg in an iron grip.

“What are you talking about?” I quipped without missing a beat, “I just didn’t want
you
to get scared.”

I saw him look me over once more in the dark car and wondered what was going through his head. He seemed amused, but if he was he didn’t say anything. A few minutes later we were pulling onto a narrow dirt road. It was pitch black and I didn’t know how Bryce was able to see the curves and twists in the road. The sports car’s headlights weren’t made for practicality and they really didn’t provide enough illumination.

I could make out faint lights at the end of the road that I assumed were windows in his house. As we came closer I realized this wasn’t just a normal house; this was a
mansion
. I looked at Bryce again, hoping he was there to provide an explanation, but his eyes were trained straight ahead.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the door.

“I asked my housekeeper to make a room ready for your arrival. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”

I nodded dumbly.
Housekeeper?
What had I stepped into? I got the impression that Bryce was rich, but just how rich was he? I didn’t exactly come from pedigree stock and I really hoped I wouldn’t do something stupid to offend him.

He opened the door for me and I climbed out of the car, clutching my ratty backpack and feeling like an alien on a new planet.

The front door opened without either of us moving and an older balding gentleman in a suit opened the door.

“Marcie, this is Francis, my butler. He and Clara run my house. If you want to know where something is or if you need something, you’re better off asking them than me, I’m probably useless.” He smiled at me, but I got the sinking feeling that he was trying to brush me off. His entire demeanor seemed different to the man that doted over me in the hospital. Now he was cool, aloof, and detached.

Had I done something wrong? Maybe this was the real Bryce. We were on his home turf now, what better time to show his true colors?  I decided not to press my luck. He was going out of his way to give me a place to stay and be hospitable. Who was I to insist that he be personable, too?

A middle-aged woman in pink flannel pajamas appeared behind the butler. Her wild gray-blond hair was in a messy bun and I could see that her soft blue eyes still had bits of sleep in them behind her tortoiseshell glasses. A pair of fuzzy slippers completed her ensemble and I felt terrible that she’d gotten out of bed for me.

“Clara, this is Marcie; Marcie, Clara,” Bryce introduced us before dismissing himself.

Without his reassuring presence at my side, I felt exposed and vulnerable. Both of the older people greeted me with warm smiles and Clara even looked like she wanted to hug me. I didn’t know what Bryce had told them about our ordeal.

“Come with me, sweetie, I’ll show you to your room,” Clara ushered with a yawn.

My eyes roved back to the direction Bryce had disappeared until Clara tugged on my arm.

“Are you hungry? Frankie, be a dear and make Marcie a snack, won’t you?” She tossed a flirty grin over her shoulder to the butler who tried his damnedest to suppress the little upturn of his lips. He nodded without a word and then he disappeared, too.

Clara held my hand in her own and patted it gently.

“It’s all right, love. We’ll take good care of you here,” she said as she led me up the stairs.

“I’m sorry you had to wake up for me. It really wasn’t necessary.”

“Nonsense! We never have guests and Mr. Dorian is never home. It will be a nice change to have something to do.” She stopped in front of one of the doors and her plump hand reached out to turn the knob.

She led me into the room and flipped the light switch. I heard myself gasp and was suddenly overwhelmed.

A crackling fire warmed the room, a plush rug anchored the luxurious canopy bed and glass french doors led to a balcony at the far side of the room. In all of my wildest dreams I couldn’t have imagined something so opulent.

“This is too much,” I muttered, tears springing to my eyes for what felt like the dozenth time that day.

Clara busied herself turning down my bed and I stood in the doorway still in shock.

“What was that?” She asked, fluffing the pillows.

“This is too much,” I repeated more forcefully.

“I don’t even know Bryce… Mr. Dorian,” I amended, “this is too generous.”

The housekeeper frowned at me with her hands on her hips.

“You may not know Mr. Dorian, but I do. If he is doing all of this for you, there’s a reason. He obviously thinks that you’re special, so you should just settle in.”

My lip quivered and a lonely tear trickled down my face.

“Oh, sweetie,” Clara said with a maternal tone. Her arms wrapped around me in the fiercest hug I’d ever had.

“Why don’t you come over here and tell Clara all about it?”

A soft rap on the door announced Francis’ presence with a sandwich. My stomach rumbled loudly, reminding me just how empty it was.

The next thing I knew, I was telling the pair everything between bites of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

I paced around my bedroom like a lion in a cage. It was a mistake to bring her here. She’d taken one look at my house and my staff and jumped to a million conclusions about me. I could see her judgments all over her face.

That’s why I didn’t even want to tell her about my money. There were plenty of times that being a billionaire came in handy; finding a decent woman wasn’t one of them. The women that cared about my money weren’t women that I was interested in, and the women that didn’t care about my money couldn’t ever seem to see past it.

“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid,” I raged as I hurled the closest thing to me — a vase — across the room. It made impact with the wall and shattered into a thousand pieces.

I kept seeing her bewildered look. That look that said a million things that Marcie would never say aloud. It replayed in my head stuck on a loop, eating at me each time. There had to be a way to show her that I wasn’t that guy. I wasn’t some stuck up rich fucker that couldn’t tell the difference between the smell of a daffodil and his own farts. I was in no position to judge anyone about their upbringing or education. I wasn’t the man she assumed I was.

But maybe I should just leave Marcie alone. She’d been through enough without me trying to take advantage of her. If I pressed it, she may feel like she doesn’t have a choice. For the moment, she was reliant on me and pursuing anything with her would be highly immoral.

There had to be a way to make this work, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure it out. My head pounded; I was exhausted, my body even more so. A shower and a good night’s sleep would help me think my way out of this. Well, a shower, a drink, and a good night’s sleep.

I took the fastest shower known to man, barely able to move enough to clean myself, and poured myself a drink as I toweled off. I carried the drink as far as my nightstand, but the moment my head hit the pillow I was asleep.

It had been many years since I’d last left a glass of liquor untouched. Even more years since I woke up after eight solid hours of sleep. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d slept without a nightmare. As embarrassing as that is to admit for a man in his thirties.