The Fix Up (11 page)

Camryn

I’m playing hooky from work, which is totally out of character for me, and I’m practically giddy about it. I feel so rebellious and alive. As I hold Sterling’s hand, we practically skip down the New York City sidewalks until we reach a parking garage, where he pauses.

“My car’s parked here.” He tugs me in after him.

“Are we leaving the city?” I hadn’t anticipated driving anywhere, so I’m a little surprised.

“You’ll see.” Sterling hits a button on his key fob, and a sporty black sedan in front of us flashes its lights.

“A man with a plan. I like it.”

We slip inside the cream-colored leather interior that smells so deliciously of his cologne, I almost moan.

“This is me letting you into a new piece of my life.” He smiles sadly at me.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes. I promise I’ll have you home in time for supper.”

“Yes.”

We drive for forty minutes and cross the bridge into New Jersey. I don’t ask where we’re going—not because I’m not curious. I don’t ask because I trust him, and I want him to know that.

“What band is this?” I ask.

A CD has been playing softly in the background. It’s atmospheric rock, and I like the mood it creates—one that’s achingly tender and deep, yet filled with possibility.

“It’s a band I like called Broken Bells.” Sterling looks straight ahead, watching the highway, and I can’t help but feel his thoughts are far away.

Finally, we exit and make a handful of turns. I don’t recognize the area, and still have no idea what kind of adventure we’re in store for. When Sterling slows the car and pulls over on the street in front of a building whose sign reads
Westbrook Assisted Living Facility
, my heart drops.

Everything springs to rushing clarity. It’s like opening your eyes after being underwater. This—whatever this is, whoever lives here—this is an important part of his life. And he’s choosing to share it with me.

He turns off the car, and the quiet intensity of the moment engulfs us. My hand pauses halfway to the door handle, and when I see that he’s just staring straight ahead, I drop it to my lap.

My heart pounds as the significance of this moment sinks in. “Sterling . . .”

Finally, he licks his lips and turns to me. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

I glance at the building again, then back at him. “Are you worried you’re going to scare me off, or that I can’t handle whatever is in there?”

“Something like that. Just having second thoughts about this.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I assure him and take his hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

“Okay. Let’s do this.” His expression is determined.

“Care to tell me what it is we’re doing here first?” I attempt a smile.

“Right.” He chuckles, opening his car door. “Come on. I’ll explain everything.”

On the walk into the building, he tells me that his mom has early-onset dementia. He tells me about his dad leaving, and that some days are better than others for his mother. He tells me that when he gets his inheritance money, the first thing he’s doing is moving her into a nicer place closer to home. My heart is melting by the time we sign in at the front desk.

Finally, we’re directed to room 302.

Everyone here seems to know Sterling; he’s a regular fixture here. From the man sweeping the floor, to the nurses, to the director—they all know Sterling. And to them, he’s not the handsome and successful attorney who’s been in the news lately. He’s just a devoted son who loves his mother.

Sterling pauses at the entrance to her door and turns to me, his face somber. “Maybe I should have told her you were coming. Shit, maybe I should have told her
I
was coming.” He rubs the back of his neck.

I shift my weight, unable to think of what to say in this moment.

“Never mind. It’ll be fine. Come on.”

We step inside a dimly lit room. A woman with long silver hair sits in a rocking chair in the corner, reading a book. The room itself is tiny; there’s just enough room for a twin-sized bed, a dresser, and the chair she’s seated in. A narrow window covered in a dusty drape looks out onto the parking lot below.

“Sterling!” She beams when she sees him. She rises to her feet, and we meet her in the center of the room.

“Mum, this is Camryn Palmer. Camryn, this is my mum, Gillian.”

“Pleased to meet you.” I reach out and take her small hand in mine.

“I’m charmed, darling.” She releases my hand and looks to her son. “What’s the occasion?”

He shrugs. “No occasion. I just thought I’d take my two best girls out for ice cream.”

Gillian breaks into a happy smile as if this man, her little boy who now towers over her, is her whole world. “Brilliant. Let me get my purse.”

We set off, heading to an old-fashioned ice cream shop around the corner. After ordering, we slide into a booth. Sterling sits beside me, and his mom across from us.

It’s actually pretty adorable watching Sterling with his mom.

I love that he’s sharing a piece of himself that he previously held back. I’ve tried to deny it all these weeks, but I know now I’m falling hard for him.

Last weekend spun out of control. I never meant to let things go that far, but when the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid eyes on wants to pleasure you—you don’t say no. And it was amazing. Most guys don’t know what they’re doing down there, like a vagina is some foreign hostile territory they have to get in and get out of as quickly as possible. Sterling was the opposite. I sensed he actually enjoyed giving me that pleasure, and would have done it for hours if I’d let him. A ripple of heat pulses through me at the thought.

After last weekend, I made a conscious decision not to have sex with him. That’s something I can’t let happen. I can’t give myself to him completely without knowing where he’s headed—especially since that might be down the aisle with someone else in a matter of months.

“Tell me, Camryn, what it is that you do?” Gillian asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

Since there’s no way I’m telling her that I’m supposed to be playing matchmaker for her son, I keep it simple. “I’m in public relations for a firm downtown. I’ve been there since college.”

“And you enjoy it?” she asks, taking a careful bite of her banana split.

“I love it, actually. I feel very fortunate. And I’ve gotten the chance to work with Sterling on a special project, so that’s been nice.”

His mom takes a special interest in me, and my life, and at first I’m not sure what to think. Then I realize it’s her way of trying to get to know the woman who her son has just told her holds at least some significance in his life.

“Is that where you two met?” she asks Sterling.

He shakes his head. “I met Camryn years ago through Noah and Olivia.”

Gillian smirks. “That Noah is pure trouble.” She winks at me. “Too handsome for his own good, and naughty. I had a hell of a time with Sterling and him growing up.”

I chuckle. “I bet you did.”

“Noah’s married now, Mum. With a baby on the way,” Sterling says, as though they’ve talked about that before.

Gillian takes another bite of ice cream, unaware of the look being shared between Sterling and me.

“Oh, there’s a movie I’d love to go and see if you’re still coming next weekend, dear,” Gillian says to Sterling. “It’s called
Indiana Jones
. Looks like something we’d both enjoy.”

“Great movie,” I say.

“You’ve seen it? It just came out.” Gillian’s tone is one of disbelief.

I look to Sterling, confused, and then decide to just go with it. “Yes, I got to see it already. It’s excellent. Maybe we can all watch it together sometime.”

“I’d love that,” Sterling says, squeezing my hand under the table in a silent thank-you.

Soon, we’ve chatted about movies and our favorite desserts, and even discovered that Gillian shares a love of
House Hunters International
with me. And then suddenly, it’s time to go. Sterling’s so light and carefree on the ride back to her home, he’s whistling.

We drop Gillian off, and she kisses us both on the cheek. “
Indiana Jones
. Next weekend. Bring popcorn.”

Sterling chuckles, and we all say our good-byes.

“She’s great,” I say as we pull away.

“She liked you.”

“I think it’s admirable how you take care of her.”

Watching the road, Sterling stares straight ahead. “I wish I could do better . . .”

“That’s what the inheritance is for.” That realization is like a pit in my stomach.

He nods.

“Why have her live there if you hate it? Why not move her in with you?”

With a soft sigh that tells me he’s given this a lot of thought, he drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “I wish I could. But I often work long hours, and there’s too many things to worry about. She could leave the apartment to go to the grocery store and forget how to get home. Forget she left the stove on and cause a fire. There are so many things that could go very wrong.”

Glancing at me, he adds, “I don’t want to give you the impression it’s a bad place. They care for her, provide her with three hot meals a day, oversee her medications, monitor her when she has an episode and doesn’t remember where she is. I couldn’t do that for her at home. That’s why she’s there.”

“I understand.”

“But I want better for her, I want more,” he continues. “Somewhere she can garden and go on organized outings, and have her own apartment versus just a narrow room with a bed. A real community, not someplace that feels like a hospital. There’s a community an hour away I’ve set my sights on for her. They have a team of doctors who are on the cutting edge of memory care.”

“That’s amazing, Sterling.”

The elephant in the room that we don’t discuss is that in order to make that happen, he and I need to end our charade, and he needs to marry.

Reaching over, I squeeze his knee. “You’re doing the best you can. You’re a good son.”

He nods, now smiling. As the miles tick past, the music plays softly in the background.

It seems a visit with his mom, and seeing the two of us get along, has done his soul some good.

But there’s still something I need to talk to him about. In the excitement of him surprising me at my office and whisking me away on an outing, and then holy crap, introducing me to his mother, I pushed it to the back of my head. Now it’s time to get some answers.

“I need to ask you something.”

“’Course you can.” He strums his fingers against the steering wheel.

“The credit-card statements on my dining table . . . they went missing after you were at my place last weekend.”

“You noticed that, did you?”

“You took them?”

I’m shocked and my voice betrays it. I thought, worst-case scenario, he saw them when I went to the restroom, and perhaps shuffled them aside somewhere so I wouldn’t be embarrassed I’d left my personal business scattered about.

“Are you upset?” He’s still looking out on the highway, dangerously attractive, but even more so infuriating.

“I’m . . .”
Embarrassed. Horrified
. “Why would you do that?”

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort. “I saw an obstacle standing in your way. Saw an opportunity to clear a path for you. I only meant to help. I’m sorry.”

“Wait.” I hold up my hand. “What exactly did you do?”

“As an attorney, I occasionally do some work helping people to consolidate debt, file for personal bankruptcy, and things of the like. I got everything arranged with a credit counselor on my team to erase those astronomical interest charges and roll everything into one low monthly payment. You’ll be able to pay it off much faster now.”

My face contorts into a horrible grimace. Is he fucking insane? He stole my bills, made a plan against my wishes, and now he expects me to pat him on the back?

“I have no idea how it works where you’re from, but that was a huge invasion of privacy. It was totally inappropriate, unethical, and just . . . not okay.”

He pulls off on an exit and stops at a service station before turning to face me. “I never meant anything by it. Honestly, those are the kinds of things I work on. It was totally normal for me. It didn’t feel invasive, or I wouldn’t have . . .” He shoves his hands into his hair. “Fuck. Are you angry?”

My heart is still pounding, my pulse racing. I’m pissed off. I feel like he bulldozed his way in and took over, like I’m some damsel in distress.

“Just take me home,” I mutter.

After another curse, Sterling hits the gas pedal and speeds off down the road.

The sooner I can be out of the car with his presumptuous ass, the better.

Sterling

What started as a brilliant afternoon turned into utter rubbish. Camryn’s angry at me for stepping in to help with her debt, and here I expected to be praised for being so thoughtful. People normally pay me three hundred dollars an hour to do that.

I spent a sleepless night tossing and turning, rolling it over in my mind, and came up with exactly nothing to solve this mess. Watching her interact with my mum? Camryn fits like the puzzle piece that was missing all along. But now I’ve fucked things up.

Now as I sit in my office, dunking a tea bag into a cup of steaming water, things with Camryn seem as bleak as ever. I’ve got meetings all day and a client dinner this evening I can’t get out of, but tonight I’ll find a way to make Camryn understand. Perhaps it’s time to tell her how I really feel.
The truth will set you free.

I press the intercom button on my phone. “Teri, can you come in here?”

My assistant, Teri, steps inside the office, stopping directly before my desk. She’s a straight shooter, and I love that about her. And since she plays for the opposing team, there’s never been any weird advances or complications between us. It’s the perfect relationship.

I remove the tea bag and take a sip of the scalding brew. “Would you mind closing the door?”

Her mouth presses into a line, and she scurries to the door to shut it. “Am I in trouble?”

“Not at all. When have you ever been in trouble?” It’s usually me we’re plotting how to bail out of hot water.

“Good point.” Her smile returns. “So, what’s up?”

“I think I might have fucked up.”

Teri sighs and sinks into the leather armchair across from my desk. “Is it the Levenstein file, because if I have to fix that one more time, so help me God . . .”

I chuckle. “No, it’s not the Levenstein file. It’s Camryn.”

“That woman you’ve been spending all your time with?”

I nod, realizing I haven’t been as private about the whole affair as I thought.

“What did you do, Romeo?”

“I was only trying to help.”

“What did you do?” she says, her voice growing stern.

“I may have taken Camryn’s credit-card statements and consolidated them with some help from Brian in the credit department,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Shit. That’s a total invasion of privacy, Sterling. You’re right. You did fuck up. Bad.”

“Thanks,” I mutter dryly. “Let’s just say she was less than appreciative.”

“No kidding. You need to ask someone before you do things like that. Why do you think I can help?”

“Because you know women.”

She tips her head, seeming to agree. “Have you tried apologizing?”

I did in the car, didn’t I? But Camryn was so angry, maybe she needed time to cool down. I replay our conversation in my head. There’s a chance that I just asked her why she was mad and told her I was trying to help. Shit, maybe I never said the two little words I should have.
I’m sorry.

“You know? That might just work.”

Teri’s brows dart up, and her mouth opens. “Start with that. Let me know how it goes.”

Somehow I know a text message with an apology and a sad-face emoji won’t be enough. This is a conversation that needs to happen in person. Face-to-face.

The rest of the day drags by at a snail’s pace as I tackle one problem after another. When I finally finish up with the client dinner, I’m crushed to see it’s already ten o’clock—too late to show up unannounced at Camryn’s place. She’s probably in bed.

Not that I wouldn’t like to join her, but I know the best thing is to head home and create a game plan for tomorrow.