Time-Lapse by J.B. Heller
Chapter Thirty-One
When we got backto my room last night, I was going to throw on a baggy shirt and leggings, but the opportunity to tease Hux was too much to pass up. So, I’d opted to wear the tiniest pair of bed shorts I owned. And it worked like a charm.
It was a real struggle to keep the smile off my face when I saw the look in his eyes, and I slipped up a couple of times. But it was still worth it. He knew exactly what I was doing, and I was okay with that.
I figured he deserved it. It used to kill me every time he would put the brakes on when we were fooling around. Blue bean is real, and I had it. Bad.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get to enjoy my scheme for very long. We’d ordered dinner, and I was so exhausted I fell asleep before I’d even finished eating. I woke up this morning on my couch, with a blanket that I’m assuming Hux put on me.
Today is another big one, so I shower as quickly as possible and grab an apple out of my fruit basket on my way out the door. I’ll have to forgo breakfast in the restaurant this morning. I don’t have time for it.
I’m certain I made the right decision in choosing Hux yesterday. I have no doubt at all, which is really surprising since I was so conflicted about it in the first place. Everything with him is so natural and easy.
The problem now is where I find space for him in my busy life. I’ve worked hard to gain a solid reputation in this industry, and that doesn’t allow much time for a personal life. That’s how I liked it—too busy to be lonely.
And too busy to think about this right now, I remind myself as I’m met with my first client of the day at the entrance to my office.
I’ve thrownmyself into decking out the hotel so I don’t have time to worry about the hours that El is putting in. She works constantly. The only time I see her is in the evenings. And that’s when I show up and drag her out of her office then force food down her throat before she falls asleep.
The hours she pulls seriously worry me. But when I tried to bring it up, she blew me off by saying it was just a busy time of the year. I don’t buy it. She easily does the work of three people.
I want her to come with me when I go, but I don’t see her being able to walk away from her job here. And it’s really not fair of me to expect her to either.
Could I handle moving back here? I’ve been fine so far.
Do I want to move back? If it means being with El, then yes, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
But that would mean running the risk of one day bumping into my father. And that, I don’t think I could handle.
So basically, I’m fucked.
The next few days pass the same way, dragging El out of her office around six o’clock every night to spend an hour or two with her before she falls asleep in my arms on her couch and trying not to overthink how in the hell we’re going to make this work between us.
I’m not sure when I started thinking of her strictly as El again instead of Eliza. She is Eliza or Liza to everyone else, but she’s always been El to me. My El.
It’s Friday morning of my second week here, and I’ve dragged the project out as long as I can. Today, I’ll put up The One, The Only in the lobby, and I’ll be done. I’ve just stepped out of the shower when the phone to the suite rings.
“Hello,” I answer while scrubbing a towel through my hair.
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Hadley, but there’s a man here who wants to see you,” the receptionist says.
I frown. “Who is it?”
“He didn’t give his name, sorry. He simply asked that you meet him in the restaurant.”
Scratching my neck, I reply, “Uh, okay. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
My stomach fills with a sense of unease as I stand in the elevator and watch the numbers count down until the doors slide open in the lobby. I approach the restaurant and look around the room at the seated patrons. But I don’t recognize anybody except one of the waitresses, so I ask her as she goes by, “Do you know who asked to meet with me in here this morning?”
She smiles and nods. “Sure, it’s a guy and his wife. They’re sitting in my section. I’ll show you.”
Following closely behind her, I look at all the faces of the people we pass until I stop dead in my tracks. Before me is my father and a woman I’ve never seen before.
My entire body fills with a combination of dread, fear, and revulsion, but I can’t move. My out-of-control emotions paralyze me.
He stands and approaches me, and it’s only when he reaches out to touch me that I’m able to move, and I jerk away from his outstretched hand.
“Huxley,” he says my name in a gravelly tone, and I flinch.
I haven’t heard his voice since I walked out of his house five years ago. It’s never left me, though. It’s haunted my dreams, my thoughts. It was my constant reminder that I would never be enough. I could never be more than I am—a mistake, a fuck-up of massive proportions.
I swallow down the bile that’s risen in my throat and turn my back on him, but he grabs hold of my arm. “Please, Huxley, we need to talk.”
His hand on me makes my skin crawl. “There’s nothing to say,” I grit out.
“There is everything to say, son,” he says with desperation tinting his voice.
I spin around to face him. “Don’t call me son. I was never more than an inconvenience to you, a constant reminder of what you lost, of what I took from you. You’ve said more than enough in the past. There’s nothing more that needs to be said.”
“I’m sorry,” he blurts, and I balk.
I want to explode. I want to ask him what he’s sorry for, exactly. For convincing a two-year-old that his mother hated him so much she had to leave? For ensuring his son would grow up knowing he was the destroyer of lives? For drinking so much his teenager had to clean him up and put him to bed? Or for eventually sinking his fists into his own flesh and blood just to make himself feel better?
The woman stands from the table. I’d nearly forgotten about her. “Will you please sit with us? Just for a few minutes?”
When I shift my glare to her, my father shifts in front of her protectively. And I almost laugh—until I notice the bump protruding from her abdomen. The air leaves my lungs as if I’ve been physically body-slammed. And that’s exactly how I feel.
I take the seat closest to me before my legs give out, and I stare at her stomach. What the fuck?
My father helps her lower into a chair then sits beside her, and I watch the way his eyes follow her every move. He loves her.
She reaches across the table for my hand. “I’m Vivian. It’s nice to finally meet you, Huxley. I’m sorry it had to be like this. Henry thought it would be best.”
I take her offered hand. It’s soft and warm. “Hi,” I say but can’t think of anything else. I’m still in shock. Clearly, she’s pregnant—with my father’s child. Jesus, I’m going to be a brother.
My palms are sweating, and my head is starting to spin. I’m about to pass out when I feel El’s hand land on my shoulder. “Hey, sorry I’m late,” she says as she pulls out the seat beside me then presses a kiss to my cheek as she sits.
I have no idea how she found out I was here or that I needed her more than I ever have before, and I don’t care. I’m just glad she’s here.
She rests her hand on my thigh as she turns to my father and says, “Hello, Mr. Haynes. Mind if I ask what the hell you’re doing here?”
God, I love her. She doesn’t pull any punches, just launches straight for the kill. I’m so proud of her right now, but I can’t make my mouth move to tell her.
My father’s faces flushes with embarrassment. He obviously remembers the way he behaved the only other time he saw her with me. I notice Vivian reach for his hand in a show of support, and it gives him the strength to straighten his slumped shoulders and look El, then me, in the eyes.
“I saw a picture of you in the paper. The article was about your exhibition here. When I showed Vivian, she told me it was fate intervening. And I believe she was right. I have a lot to apologize for, and I can’t begin to express how truly sorry I am for the way I treated you, Huxley. You were right. I was never the father you deserved. I didn’t treat you the way a parent should. And I will never forgive myself.” He takes a deep breath, appearing to brace himself for what he wants to say next. “After you walked out, I realized a few things about myself. But I didn’t do it on my own.”
He looks to Vivian and squeezes her hand. “I met Vivian about a year after you left. I knew she was special from the moment I laid my eyes on her. But I knew I wasn’t any kind of man who deserved a woman like her. Despite that, I couldn’t stop myself from getting to know her, and I learned that …” He pauses and looks to her for guidance. Or maybe reassurance?
Then, Vivian takes over telling their story. “I told Henry that I was a recovering alcoholic, and if he wanted to continue to spend time with me, he had to do something about his drinking. He attended my next AA meeting with me, and he hasn’t missed one since.”
My eyes travel over Vivian again. She doesn’t look worn and aged like my father. I had assumed he looked that way from the drinking, but here was Vivian telling me she was once an alcoholic, and she looked fresh and vibrant.
“So, you fell off the wagon, and you think coming to me for forgiveness will help you climb back on?” I sneer.
But he shakes his head. “No, it’s not like that. I haven’t had a drink in three and a half years, Huxley. It does something to me when I drink. It turns me into someone I don’t recognize. And I’m sorry that that’s the only version of me you ever got to know. So damn sorry.”
I grit my teeth to keep my emotions in check. This whole conversation is surreal. I can hardly believe he’s sitting across from me—sober—and apologizing to me. I feel like this is a practical joke and someone is about to pull the rug out from under me.
“And what? Hux is supposed to forgive you for years of abuse just because you’re sorry for it now? That’s a bit rich, don’t you think, Henry? What possible reason would he have for accepting your apology?” El speaks for me as I soak in everything happening around me.
My father’s eyes shine with unshed tears. “For closure. For validation. For the freedom that comes with letting go of what we can’t change and moving forward without the burden of our past on our shoulders. I know I said and did inexcusable things, but I need you to know, Huxley … none of it was true. All the times I berated you, belittled you, and dragged you down … you didn’t deserve it. None of it. And I am proud of the man you have become despite my actions. I don’t expect you to want to play happy families, Huxley, but …” He pauses as a tear slides from the corner of his eye. “Your sister deserves to have a man like you in her life.”
El’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?”
Vivian smiles shyly. “We’re expecting a little girl in just over two months. We would like Huxley to be a part of her life. We understand it will take time, and we will willingly give you as much as you need. All we ask is that you think about everything your father has said today. She …”—Vivian rests her hand on top of her protruding belly—“shouldn’t have to pay for our past mistakes.”
