Page 118 of Last First Date

I nodded, feeling the weight of his words. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I responded, knowing that it was a promise I intended to keep.

We spent a few more minutes chatting about the company and the staff, Richard offering several pieces of advice. There were many topics we covered, but his main emphasis was working together, being unified despite our differences.

“You know,” he began slowly, as if selecting his words carefully, his gaze holding mine. “A company can only thrive when its leaders are in sync. You and Knox are leaders, each in your own way. It’s a bit like ballroom dancing, you know. Even if the steps are different for each partner, they’re working together to create something beautiful.”

“I never thought of it that way,” I admitted. His analogy seemed so simple yet made so much sense.

“Think about it,” he continued. “If the partners are not in tune with one another, they’ll step on each other’s toes and fall out of rhythm. But when they move together as one, harmony is achieved, and the dance becomes an embodiment of their unity.”

He had no idea how spot on he was. When Knox and I were in New York, we kicked ass. We kicked ass because we fed off each other’s strengths. We had a natural understanding of each other. Things had been so easy in New York.

As our conversation continued, I noticed Richard’s energy waning. The toll of his condition became evident. Recognizing the need for him to rest, I encouraged him to close his eyes and sleep. “I’ll stop by tomorrow,” I whispered quietly. “You get better. That’s all you have to think about right now.”

50

KNOX

Istrolled through the hallway, my thoughts on what I needed to get done today. I was juggling a lot of balls between staying on top of things at the office and managing my grandfather’s long-term care. I didn’t want my grandmother to have to worry about anything. She wasn’t a spring chicken. I couldn’t lose them both. That would devastate my mother and I risked losing her as well. That meant it was all on my shoulders.

As I neared the door, I heard Waverly’s voice. I stopped, staying out of view. My first thought was she was tattling on me. Telling him about the bet and every other sin I committed. But that wasn’t what I heard.

Instead, I heard her soothing voice, encouraging him to rest, promising him of better days, and assuring him of her unwavering loyalty to the company. I felt an unexpected surge of respect and gratitude toward her for giving my grandfather a reason to relax, for softening some of the stress weighing down his frail shoulders.

I lingered in the hallway for a few moments longer, overhearing the end of their conversation. It appeared that she had just finished telling him about the recent happenings at the office. My grandfather responded with words of wisdom and advice.

Waverly told my grandfather that I had been nice to her. The realization caught me off guard. I had expected her to tell him how horrible I was. Had she really just said I was good at my job? Did she actually believe that or was it merely a courteous gesture to comfort my ailing grandfather?

A surge of conflicting emotions swept through me. On one hand, there was a flicker of relief, a glimmer of hope that perhaps the rift between us wasn’t as irreparable as I had feared. On the other hand, a profound sense of regret and self-loathing settled in my chest. I had messed things up with Waverly. She deserved so much more than what I had to offer. I hated that she got swept up in Benjamin’s hatred of me.

The desire to fix things with Waverly tugged at me. Yet, my family, especially my grandfather, needed me now more than ever. As much as I wanted to address the Benjamin lie, the urgency of familial responsibilities took precedence.

It wasn’t like I could shoot Waverly a text and tell her it was a lie. It was a situation that required a heartfelt explanation. I wasn’t able to give that to her right now. I wasn’t the kind of guy that talked about feelings and all of that. Working up the courage to talk to Waverly about what I felt for her felt like trying to climb a mountain with one leg. Once I knew my grandfather was going to be okay, I could open myself for another trauma.

I quietly walked away from the room. I didn’t want to interrupt their conversation. I knew how Waverly felt about my grandfather. They deserved some time alone.

I made my way to the cafeteria and bought a cup of coffee. I found a seat by the window, letting the sun beat down on me through the tinted windows.

I watched as the hospital staff bustled around, their focused faces a stark contrast to the serenity outside. I let my coffee cool as I wrestled with my thoughts.

For the past few years, my life had revolved around two things—becoming the CEO and running the company from New York. But suddenly, there was a third factor. Waverly.

She had stormed into my life so unexpectedly, disrupting everything with her bright smile and unwavering determination. I had tried to keep her at arm’s length, convinced she was nothing but a pain in my ass.

I took a sip of coffee and almost gagged. “Gross,” I muttered.

It wasn’t the coffee Waverly always brought me. That was something I missed. She was always taking care of me, even when I knew all she wanted to do was dump the coffee over my head. I didn’t deserve her.

After some time, I walked back to his room to see if she was still around. The room was quiet when I walked in. My grandfather lay alone in the room. I sat down and watched the monitors for a few minutes with my thoughts still on Waverly. His eyes were closed, but there was an unmistakable presence about him that indicated he wasn’t really sleeping. He was just resting, saving his strength for another day, another battle. There was a sense of calmness about him that I found strangely comforting. He had always been so healthy. I couldn’t remember a time when I saw him down and out. He set a high bar for me. He had been the leader of our little family, always portraying strength. To see him literally on his back shook up my whole world. He was supposed to be invincible.

The room was filled with a mild antiseptic scent, a constant reminder of the battles my grandfather was fighting. I touched his hand lightly, noticing once again how delicate it felt, how weak. But the strength in his soul still remained untouched, unbroken. It made me remember all the lessons he had taught me over the years, to be strong, to be resilient, to never back down but be flexible. He had taught me by his own example, by living those values every day.

He stirred then, his eyes drifting open to find me sitting beside him. A faint smile crossed his lips as he squeezed my hand gently. “You’re a good man,” he said, his voice hoarse but clear.

“Thanks. You must be delirious,” I joked.

“I had a visitor earlier,” he said.

“Oh?” I pretended I didn’t know who he was talking about.