The Boss Upstairs - Roya Carmen Page 0,80
good for him.”
“I would love for the three of us to do something fun together,” he says. “Like the zoo or the aquarium.”
“He would love that!”
He smiles. “I would love that too. I’ll look into it, and let you know.”
“Thank you.”
He rakes a hand through his hair, a sexy habit of his. “He’s beautiful, but he looks nothing like you.”
True. “Yes, he’s all Donovan.”
He reaches for his wine. “Is that difficult for you? Seeing Donovan in him every day?”
“On the contrary,” I say. “It’s a blessing. I get to keep a small bit of Donovan. I get to see him every day in Ethan’s eyes, in his smile.”
Weston is teary-eyed. He shakes his head. “That’s beautifully put, Gretchen.”
“Here are your entrées,” the server announces. “Looks delicious, doesn’t it?”
Weston clears his area, and she presents him with his seafood pasta. “Careful… it’s very hot.”
Next, she sets down my plate, and my mouth actually salivates. The veal is beautifully displayed, but it won’t be there long. I’m famished.
“You need anything else?” she asks.
“Uh… no. I think we’re fine,” Weston offers.
“Yes, thank you,” I agree.
“Enjoy!” she says, and quickly disappears.
We both dig in as soon as she’s gone and eat in silence. It’s delicious.
The conversation resumes when we’ve both satisfied our stomachs a bit. My veal is half eaten, and I definitely plan to finish it.
“So how do you like Wicker Park?” I ask.
He smiles. “At first, I hated it. Too hip for me.”
“I love it. It’s so vibrant.”
“Well, it’s grown on me. I only moved here because of the kids. When Bridget settled here with her boyfriend, I had no choice but to follow. I wanted to be close to Ashton and Elizabeth.”
“Makes sense. It must be hard to see them only every other week.”
“It’s okay,” he admits. “Easier than I anticipated. I’m ashamed to admit it but I’ve always been a workaholic. Even when we all lived together on a full-time basis, I sometimes wouldn’t see them for days. I was a bad dad.”
I dig my fork in my salad. “I’m sure you weren’t.”
“How about you? What brought you to Wicker Park?”
“Well, Donovan got a position at Saint Elizabeth Hospital, and he loved the area, so I happily followed.”
He nods quietly, and a long uncomfortable silence follows.
“What happened?” he finally says. “With Donovan? He died in a car crash, right?”
My heart dips into my stomach. I don’t like to talk about this. Yet… he’s clearly curious. I’ve been complaining about the two of us not being close enough, just being fuck buddies, and here he is, asking me to crack myself open for him like he has for me. He’s shared so many secrets with me already, and I’ve been a locked vault.
“We were in Mexico, in Cancun,” I start. “It was our baby moon, you know, last chance to vacation before the baby comes. I was six months pregnant.”
He’s abandoned his meal. He’s listening intently.
“We rented an old jeep. We were heading to a cenote for a day excursion. And when I say the jeep was old, I’m not exaggerating. It was practically falling apart.”
“Yes, I’ve been there. I know what you mean.”
“Anyway, the driver seat belt was broken. Donovan put up a real fuss. He wanted another jeep. The guy offered him another, but the passenger belt was missing. He told the guy that he was leaving.”
I reach for my glass of water. My throat is suddenly very dry. I’m all choked up. I take a sip and continue. “I didn’t want to make a fuss too. I’m pretty easy-going, and I just wanted to go to the cenote and have fun. I told Donovan he was being a real stick-in-the-mud, and that if he drove safely, we’d both be fine. He finally relented.”
Weston’s face falls. He knows exactly where I’m going with this story.
“Long story short… some guy was driving like an idiot and swerved into our lane. He was coming straight at us, and Donovan veered off the road. He lost control, and we went flying down a steep hill.”
He takes my hand. “I’m so sorry, Gretchen.”
I stare down at my plate, because this part is the hardest to say out loud. “I was badly bruised up, but miraculously… I was fine. And… so was Ethan. But… Donovan flew right out the window. I was told he most likely died instantly.”
He squeezes my hand.
“It was all my fault. I killed him.”
Weston shakes his head, and squeezes my hand harder, so hard it hurts. “It wasn’t your fault,