Page 82 of Holiday Love
He looks toward Helen, then to Linda, his face softening. “Trust me, I know how hard it is when things change.”
That hits me in the gut. I’m here sulking over bruised egos and housemate infighting, while he’s quietly losing the love of his life.
God, I’m such an ass.
I cough, trying to clear the shame that sits heavy in my chest. “Thanks,” I say quietly, meaning it. “For the perspective. I needed that, Dr. Chu.”
“Phillip,” he corrects gently. “That’s not why I came over here, though. I wanted to thank you.”
That catches me off-guard. “For what?”
He nods toward Linda. “For this. The boat parade. She’s always wanted to be part of it, but we never quite managed it. Since her diagnosis, well, fun has been hard to find. We’ve been so preoccupied with her cancer that sometimes I think we forget to take hold of the time we do have. Tonight…” His voice falters for half a second. “Tonight made her feel like herself again.”
I don’t know what to say to that. All I did was invite them and drive the boat, but the look in his eyes stops me from brushing it off.
“I’m glad,” I say, quieter now. “Really.”
He nods. “So am I.”
There’s a beat of silence. I shift, unsure if he’s about to walk away, but then he speaks again. “She cares about you, you know.”
For a minute, I’m not sure if he means Helen or Linda, but then it clicks. My throat tightens. “Helen?”
I glance to where Helen is perched on a bench, laughing at something Jamie’s saying. Her eyes cut toward us and hold, just for a second.
I shift. “She’s great. Amazing.” I glance down at my cast. “I really appreciate how she helped me out. She let me stay at her place after I got hurt and never made me feel bad about it.”
“She’s been through a lot this year,” Phillip continues, his voice lower. “Between moving back here and her mom’s health...”
He’d worry even more if he knew about Helen’s suspension, but I keep my mouth shut.
Phillip’s still talking. “She usually doesn’t open up easily, tends not to let people in. It’s worried her mom and me. We hate to think of her alone.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “She’s not alone, though. I’m here.”
He looks at me. Really looks. His gaze sharp. “Whatexactlyare your intentions?”
I blink. “My intentions?” There are about twenty ways I could play this. I could joke about how old-fashioned it is, asking me about my intentions toward his daughter. I could deflect. Tell him I haven’t thought about it, that I’m just going with the flow.
But the truth is, I have thought about it. I think about iteverytime I look at Helen.
Don’t take the easy way out.
“I care about her,” I say, my voice steady. “More than I expected to.”
His jaw tightens. “And?”
“And...she makes me want to be better.” I pause, looking him in the eyes. “She sees the version of me I want to become. Not the guy I’ve been. I—I don’t want to disappoint her.”
That finally gets a reaction. Just a flicker of something behind his eyes, surprise, maybe, or understanding.
“She pushes me,” I continue, the words coming easier now. “Without even meaning it, and she believes in me. Something I’m not used to, but it makes me want to try. Not just for her. For me, too.”
He looks out over the water for a long beat.
Finally, he says, “I hope that’s true.”
“It is.”
