“Stop changing the subject, I snuck you out here so you’d tell me about RISE.” He hands the champagne bottle to me.
I take a sip and hand it back to him.
“You trying to give me liquid courage?” I ask with a chuckle.
“You know I always aim to make you as comfortable as possible.”
I knock my shoulder to his and roll my eyes. “Hmm…I always thought those were ‘get in my pants’ lines.”
He hands me back the bottle, then holds his hands up in the air. “I don’t mean them to be.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, Firecracker, why did you start RISE?”
No matter how much I try to push this conversation in a different direction, he sets us back on the path. Embarrassment makes me flush and I take a deep breath. “I grew up with expectations. My mom had me in etiquette classes and always tried to instill the belief in me that I should stand in the shadow of the man I married. As I grew older, my fellow debutantes married into wealth similar to their parents. They stood behind the men they married and learned how to throw the best cocktail parties and how to please their husbands by making them look good in the eyes of the people that surrounded them.”
“You don’t seem the type.” He entwines his fingers through mine, the familiar flutter in my belly starts to stir.
“That’s because you met me after the fairy tale had torn at the seams. I wasn’t the first of my friends to be cheated on, but I was the first one who left. You could say it was my dad’s doing. After all, I was the only one of my friends who got an education in business. Most of my girlfriends clung to their mom’s teachings of how to find the right personal shopper and where the best place for brunch was. My mom always tried to get me to fill that role, but she never really had that much success. I was much closer to my dad, who was a doting father…as I grew up, I started to realize that my mom had very little interest in me.”
“I still remember the first time I figured out my mom had a drinking problem,” Roarke says. “The telescope from a kid’s perspective can be gentle.”
I nod because he’s right.
“Yeah, it can be like a punch to the gut when you finally realize what’s been there all along. Anyway, we don’t need to dig into my childhood issues.” I take a sip from the champagne bottle and set it beside me on the dock. “The psychologist my mother hired when I was sixteen because I was acting out delved into that enough. After I found out about Todd’s cheating, something snapped inside of me. My mom’s response was that men will be men. My response was to hire a private investigator to find out if my father had someone on the side. The thought of my father not being the man I thought he was might’ve torn me apart more than seeing Todd with his mistress.”
“And?”
I shake my hand. “Nope. He was clean. He only goes to the golf course, the club, work, and home. My father has always looked at my mom in awe, like he can’t believe she’s his. If I couldn’t believe in that, I’m not sure I’d ever stand a chance to believe in love again. But while my mother was convincing me that it might have somehow been my fault that Todd didn’t stay faithful—that maybe I was too moody or the fact that I didn’t organize a thirtieth birthday party for him, sent the wrong message…she even suggested I read books on sex.”
“Trust me, you have no problems in that area.” He kisses my neck. “I still get hard remembering you beneath me. Todd’s a bastard who let the perfect woman slip through his fingers.”
I smile at his kind gesture to try and reassure me, but any doubts of what I could’ve done to save my marriage left the minute I filed for divorce.
“That’s sweet.” I take back another swig of champagne, the bubbles tickling my throat. “My dad told me to cut off his nuts. Said he’d pay for the lawyer, but that ultimately the decision was mine. If I decided to stay with Todd, he would respect my choice, but he didn’t have to be cordial to him. The funny thing is that I almost felt relieved that I could end the marriage and not be seen as an ungrateful brat who didn’t know how good she had it. I hated all the dinners at nine at night when he was just getting home, and always being interrupted by his co-workers or his beeper. I hated the way I was expected to not have an opinion on anything of importance. By the end of our marriage, he was already sleeping in another room, using the excuse of his schedule. I didn’t want to be married to Todd, but I felt trapped in that life.”
“I hate myself for representing that prick,” Roarke grinds out then takes the champagne bottle from me and tilts it to his lips.
“That’s the reason I had to start a foundation where girls learn to know that they have a voice. They can speak their minds and have their own thoughts and beliefs they can own and no one should be trying to silence them.” I shrug. “I see so many of my friends whose happiness lies in the mood of their husband. I might never have a daughter, but I don’t want any girl to live a life like that. You’d think the world was over gender bias, but it’s not.”
“Just when I think I couldn’t be more attracted to you.” His hand lands on my cheek and he turns me to face him. “I want to promise you something because I know trusting me is hard for you. I told you I don’t break promises. Ever. I promise to never speak for you. I’ll never order for you at a restaurant. Your opinion is always welcome even if we don’t see eye-to-eye, which let’s be honest, is going to happen. I promise to value you as an equal, always. If we walk in this relationship together, it’s going to be side-by-side—not with me leading and you following.”
A tear wells in my eye, because he’s the first man I opened up to after my divorce and his response couldn’t be more perfect.
I give him a soft smile. “I never knew such a soft teddy bear was hidden under the grizzly bear facade.”
He leans in closer. “You never wanted to find out. But I’m glad you did.” He presses his lips to mine and his tongue slides along the seam of my mouth. I don’t just give him access to my mouth, I open the entire vault and let him into my life, consequences be damned.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“You’re glowing again,” Victoria mumbles passing me by in the hallway as she runs to answer an early morning phone call.
“Am not.”
“Are too.” We bicker like two siblings telling our mom the other spilled the Coke all over the carpet. “Good morning, RISE,” she answers. “Oh, hi.”
“What’s new?” I peek my head into Chelsea’s office.
She’s pale and has a sheen of sweat over her face. “Not a good morning. Ask me at lunch.”
I laugh and step away giving her some space. Pregnancy seems downright awful to me and I’m not even privy to how scared her and Dean must be about the health of their baby since she has a rare condition that decreases her odds of a successful pregnancy.
“It’s your dad,” Victoria whispers to me, covering the receiver. “Uh-huh. A handicap of thirteen? That’s great. You must really be in the zone these days.”
I smile at her failed attempt to talk golf with my dad.