If We Could Go Back, page 2
He smirked a little and nodded. “I hear ya.”
There wasn’t much more to say. Our mindless chitchat died out, though it was enough conversation for us to start saying good morning to each other when we got on the train from then on out.
Chapter 2
Jake was showing promise. I watched him work on something in his cubicle, while the others were more interested in deciding what to do for lunch. The bullpen outside my boss’s office held twelve cubicles, and I knew how difficult it could be to concentrate here.
My regular team and I shared a smaller area on the other side of the elevators.
“You can go on in, Bennett.”
I snapped out of my musings and rose from the little sofa outside Mr. Hayes’s office.
“Cheers, love.” I passed his assistant and entered his fishbowl of an office, the walls consisting of frosted glass. “Welcome back, sir,” I said. “How was your vacation?”
To be frank, he looked like he needed another one. He both looked and carried himself like he was decades older than me, when in reality, it wasn’t more than…two, three years? Or thereabouts.
He looked away from his computer and gestured for me to sit. “Thanks, Bennett, it was…all very fine. I have some good news to share with you.”
Did I get the promotion? No, that was a ridiculous question. I’d landed three fairly large accounts this summer, but the hotel chain was what I assumed he’d base his decision on. We didn’t have the account—yet—though I knew he’d gotten a meeting with them.
“First of all—” He reached for a folder on his desk and held it up. “This is wonderful.” Oh, it was the contract for another account. “I take it the campaign isn’t for anything seasonal? A little late to start the holiday promotions.”
I shook my head and straightened. “Rebranding. I suggested commercials running on regional public transit. They’re off shooting those now.”
“Clever,” he noted. “Unfortunately, I have to add more to your plate.”
“Oh?” I was on the edge of my seat. Tell me we have a shot. I knew I’d be great at this. I burned for what I did, and I had ideas—if only I could get to present them.
He smiled faintly and opened a drawer in his desk. “I want you to put together a team, Bennett. You have two weeks to come up with a concept for your meeting with the reps of Westwater.”
Holy fuck. I gusted out a breath as excitement filled me, and I nodded, doing my best to control my smile. No need to go megawatt on him. This was it. This was what I’d been waiting for. It was going to take me to the next level.
“Yes, sir.” I accepted a folder from him, opening it briefly. It was his notes on the conversations he’d had with the hotel chain’s marketing team, as well as notes for me. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”
He waved that off. “You’ve earned it.” Clasping his hands on the desk, he gave me his full attention. “You’re in for another few hectic weeks. I’ll expect daily reports, and you have to tell me if you need assistance.” He pointed at the folder. “You’ll be delivering your pitch at their headquarters in Boston.”
I nodded again, and it was getting hard to sit still. I wanted to shout from the rooftops, the relief was so overwhelming. “I’ll be well prepared,” I promised. “I want to be able to put everything into this. Can I get your advice on the Sportsmanship account and whether or not I give it to Ash?”
“She can join your crew,” he replied. “I assume Sportsmanship is already used to discussing everything with you, so I need you to keep doing that. But do hand over some of the responsibilities to Ashley. It’ll do her well to manage a team a little larger than her usual.”
That made sense, and I added a mental reminder to bring her along to my meeting with them in Seattle next week.
“Dad!” I closed the door after myself and walked farther into his house, following the voices toward the backyard. I smiled instinctively as I heard Nate rambling about everything his teacher did wrong.
I found them on the little patio, my father sitting by the table under a large umbrella. Nate was near him, and he was munching on apple wedges.
Jess was running through the sprinklers, and he spotted me first. “Daddy!” Then my five-year-old was darting straight toward me.
I grinned and caught him when he jumped, neither of us caring he was soaked in cold water. “Hello, sweetheart.” I kissed his cheek and situated him on my hip. “Did you have a good day with Grampa?”
“Yeah, we bought cookies after school,” he laughed. “I had four!”
“Well, you’re my cookie monster, aren’t you?” I sat down next to my father.
“He actually didn’t finish the last one,” Nate said frankly. “So, he had three-and-a-half cookies.”
“How about you give me three-and-a-half kisses?” I suggested.
My boys were polar opposites. Jess threw goofy grins and believed the loudest voice in the room was heard the best. Nate, my eight-year-old genius, was straightforward, quieter, and went for subtle sarcasm and lazy smirks. Unless he was in a cuddly mood; then I was given sweet smiles and Eskimo kisses.
“I don’t believe that’s possible,” he muttered. “Half a kiss is just a small kiss, but a whole kiss nonetheless.”
I snorted.
Dad huffed a chuckle and patted him on the bum. “Go kiss your father hello, you little nitpicker.”
Jess wanted down, so I let him run back to the lawn where the sprinklers waited for him, and I got a moment with Nate. He offered me a hug, and I kissed him on the forehead and asked how school was.
“Mrs. Dillon is going to be a problem,” he said. “She told me evolution is a theory.” He looked positively scandalized, and I had to hand it to him. It was quite the issue. I winced internally and promised I’d look into things.
If I got this promotion, I’d be able to afford to get him into private school. The boy actually needed it. He was so far ahead.
“Thank you,” he said, eyes showing his relief. It made me smile, and I touched his cheek. He was too adorable for words, this young adult. Both he and Jess took after me—brown hair, brown eyes, fair skin—but they could pull it off. What was recently making me feel subpar and forgettable, they aced. They were the most beautiful creatures I could possibly bring up in the world.
Nate excused himself to do his homework in the kitchen, which left me with Dad and his inquisitive expression.
“What?” I loosened my tie and shrugged out of my suit jacket. It was warm for September, though I wasn’t complaining. Fall would follow soon, and then we’d have another dreary winter.
“You’re happy about something,” he said.
“Yes, sir.” I couldn’t contain it. “My boss put me in charge of the pitch to Westwater Hotels. If they accept our bid, I think the promotion is mine.”
“Attaboy, proud’a ya.” He nodded and sat back, lighting up what was left of a cigar. Despite being the gruff, retired army veteran from another generation that he was, he was as generous with affection and rewards as he was with structure and punishments. He’d brought up my sister and me without help for the most part, and he had high morals and, in my opinion, great wisdom.
There was no one I’d rather leave my kids with after school than my father. Unfortunately, his physical strength wasn’t what it used to be. Shrapnel in his leg, a bad hip, and a knee that was mostly metal made him rely on a cane, and PTSD-related anxiety tired him out quickly. It was one of the reasons we’d eventually settled down in Camassia, where he was from. He was happiest here, where he could sit in his backyard, choose when he was mentally prepared to face crowds, and flirt with the neighborhood ladies who stopped by with casseroles and cookies.
“How are you feeling today?” I asked. He looked okay, but his pillbox was on the table.
He waved a hand and took a puff of his cigar. “I’m on the right side of the grass, so I can’t complain.”
My mouth twisted up. That was what he always said.
“You let me know if it gets to be too much with the boys—”
“Quit it,” he grunted. “Picking up those boys every day is the only thing I have that gets me outta the house. I’ll make you suffer if you take that away from me.”
“No need to resort to threats,” I replied, amused. “I still remember the lashing you gave Brianna when she tried to take away your crossword puzzles.”
“She’s too high tech, that girl,” he grumbled. “I don’t know where I went wrong with her. Electronic crossword puzzles?” He made me laugh. Brianna had given us PDAs for Christmas. I actually enjoyed mine. “What’s wrong with the old-fashioned way, huh? Not a damn thing, that’s what.”
He’d already complained about it a few times.
“She converted me,” I admitted. “I do my puzzles electronically now.”
“Yeah, well,” he huffed. “Maybe I do too.”
I chuckled.
“Don’t you tell her,” he warned.
“No, sir.” Wouldn’t dream of it.
Unlike my sister who jet-setted between her townhouse in Seattle and her condo in Chicago, I lived a few streets away from Dad. This was Downtown in Camassia, and most houses were modest Victorian homes or brick painted in pastel colors. There were picket fences everywhere and two cars in most driveways.
Jess ran inside to go play his video games, Nate stumbled over some outdoor toys because he had his nose stuck in a book, and I walked behind him to pick up said toys. I left them in the wicker chest on the porch, then entered the house to get started on dinner.
Sleeves rolled up, tie thrown over my shoulder, I did the dishes while I waited for the pasta to boil. The upside to doing meal prep once a week was that I always had ready-made marinara in the freezer. It would only need a few minutes in the microwave.
I threw in a few hamburger patties for good measure and pulled together a salad from leftover vegetables, and then I told the boys to get ready for dinner. What’s next…? I surveyed the kitchen, and it hit me. Setting the table might be a good idea. I had to prepare their lunches for tomorrow too. I had a work lunch, so I wouldn’t need to bring anything.
After dinner, I helped Nate with his homework while Jess watched TV. He was trying to impress his big brother, which might explain why he was watching the news. Helping them with their baths came next, and we’d gotten good at this. We had our own routine, and my boys made it easy for me.
Of course, shit shot straight to hell some days too. The next morning, we were running late. I dropped a fussy Jess off at Dad’s because it was too early to take him to kindergarten at six-fifteen, and then…then I forgot Nate. Sometimes I couldn’t believe myself.
“I’m sorry, son,” I said for the fourth time.
He yawned and shouldered his backpack higher. “It’s okay.”
No, it wasn’t. Who the hell forgot that his son was in the car? After dropping off Jess, I always drove Nate to his friend’s house. I had a deal with his parents; Nate ate breakfast with them, and I took the boys to soccer practice on Sunday mornings.
I would have to improvise today. On the way up to the platform where I took the train, I called my sister, who, thankfully, was home.
“Wait, I just woke up. You did what?” she asked tiredly.
“I may have forgotten to drop off Nate,” I sighed.
My son snickered.
“Can he be with you today?” I asked her, stopping to buy him a ticket.
“You’re taking him to Seattle?”
“Yes, we’re waiting for the train now,” I replied. “I have meetings in the city all day.”
Nate was the most well-behaved child I knew, so if Brianna was busy, it wasn’t a huge obstacle for me. It was for his sake. He’d be bored out of his mind tagging along with me.
“Bring him over,” she said. “Or do you want me to meet you at the station?”
“I’ll bring him to you,” I said, relieved. “Thank you, sis.”
“Anytime, love. Although, one might wonder why his mother can never be there.”
I wasn’t going to get into that with Brianna now.
The train rolled in a few minutes later, and I directed Nate to where I always sat.
Right as we got seated—Nate stealing my window seat with a sleepy grin—a certain man in black and neon blue followed.
“Good morning,” I said, taking the aisle seat next to Nate.
“Morning.” He nodded and sat down and stowed a duffle under his chair. He eyed my son curiously, then slid his tropical blue-green gaze my way. “I thought you’d found a better train. Been a while.”
Oh. He’d wondered about me?
“I usually work here in town,” I explained. “It’s just this summer that’s been different. And autumn, I suppose.” I closed my mouth before I could overshare.
I missed having mates. From time to time, I had a beer with coworkers. Otherwise, my interactions were limited to people I was related to.
“My dad meets with important people in Seattle so he can get promoted,” Nate elaborated.
I flicked him an amused look.
“Ah.” The man gave him a smile. “You helpin’ your father with the important people today?” The way he spoke—and it had to be a Boston accent—made father sound like fahtha.
Nate smirked slightly. “No, he forgot I existed until he arrived at the station and noticed I was in the back seat.”
“Nathan,” I chastised under my breath.
The man let out a laugh. It was a warm, infectious sound, one I couldn’t help but smile at.
“That happens sometimes,” the man admitted, eyes full of mirth.
Did it happen to him? Did he have kids, too?
I could no longer count on my son to carry the conversation, because he only snickered in response and then dug out his Nintendo. The man got comfortable and propped his foot on the vent under the table, and he grabbed his book that he’d put on the seat next to him.
I supposed I could go through my plans for my breakfast meeting…
It wasn’t until we reached Seattle that the man joined in on a conversation again. I was telling Nate we’d take a taxi to Brianna’s place, and I happened to refer to the neighborhood. The bike messenger who probably was a lot more than that weighed in, mentioning that the train would get us there faster at this hour. I’d never taken the public transit in Seattle, so I’d have to take his word for it.
I had an expense account, which meant I took a taxi or booked restaurants close to the train station.
“It’s close to where I work,” the man said. “I can let you know when to get off.”
Okay, then. We followed him off the train, and I took Nate’s hand so I wouldn’t lose him in the morning rush-hour crowd. I figured I’d lost my head enough for one day.
Fifteen minutes later, we boarded the Link light rail heading north to U District.
Unlike our cushy Amtrak, the city transit was packed with people, and we ended up standing close to the doors. I grabbed on to one of the bars above me, and Nate found his grip on my leather belt since I had to hold my briefcase too.
“And I thought the underground in London was busy,” I muttered.
The man heard me, and no wonder, we were as packed as sardines here.
“So you are British,” he said.
Had he been wondering again?
I lifted a shoulder. “My mother was English. American father.” She’d been a teacher where my dad was stationed in South Korea. It was how they met. My time in the UK had been restricted to a few years at an all-boys school before we moved to North Carolina. And after that, summers to visit Mum’s family.
No need to get into the way army brats grew up.
“You’re not from around here either,” I noted.
“Quincy,” he replied. “South of Boston.” I’d thought as much. “Then I took a left and ended up out here.”
I cracked a smirk. That was a far left.
The train jostled, and I gripped the bar tighter. It came to a stop, several people around us huddling while others pushed through to get off. Others came on. Nate shuffled closer and peered up and around him, visibly curious and fascinated by city life.
The air was stale and stuffy, and in a moment when we stood still, I managed to loosen my tie a little. Then we were moving again. I felt bad for crowding the man, though I didn’t have much choice. We were almost chest-to-chest, and it didn’t look like I was going anywhere anytime soon.
“Kieran, by the way.” His close proximity sent a whiff of mint and coffee my way.
I swallowed, feeling weird. My stomach grew tight. “Bennett.”
I caught his smile in my periphery. Why I couldn’t look him directly in the eye befuddled me. Possibly because I was a fan of personal space, and there was none here.
“Good. Now I don’t have to refer to you as Oatmeal Guy in my head.”
At that, I couldn’t help but face him, and I frowned. “Pardon?”
He chuckled quietly. “I’m pretty sure you had oatmeal on your shirt the first time I saw you.”
“Brilliant,” I huffed. I couldn’t say I was surprised. When you had kids, there was always a stain somewhere, and Jess was a thrower when he had a hissy fit. I shook my head and smiled ruefully. “Kieran.” I tested his name. “I guess that tops Bike Messenger.”
He offered a full-on grin at that. “Only until noon.”
“And then?” I couldn’t help but ask.
The train slowed as it approached the next station, and Kieran told me this was our stop.
“Cheers,” I said. Waiting. I had to solve this mystery so I could move on.
“And then I’m the boss,” he added.
I looked at him quizzically.
He nodded down to the logo on his chest. “It’s my company.”
“Oh.” Huh. I didn’t know what to do with that. He worked as a messenger at the company he ran?
Could the man be more frustrating? I loathed enigmas, yet they drew me in. Perhaps because I liked to figure things out, even when they drove me bonkers.
