A Night Of Mercy Page 10

  Parker is leaned over the counter, braced on his elbows. “Probably not under normal circumstances, no. But I think we can agree that these aren’t exactly normal circumstances.” With a sigh, he straightens up and starts digging through the drawers. “Where do you keep the takeout menus?”

  I watch him, failing to suppress a laugh. “Why?”

  He looks up at me, smirking like someone with a secret. After closing the drawer he’d just been rummaging through, he saunters towards me. That’s all it takes for my entire body to come alive. Goosebumps spring up all across my chest and down my arms. My lips part, my breaths come quicker.

  “You already said that Elena’s staying at her mother’s this weekend. Before long, the kids will be gone too. And if you think I’m about to pass up an opportunity to spend an evening alone with you…” He drops his mouth to hover over mine. “You haven’t been paying attention.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Mercy

  “Pick one, or stay home.”

  Sophie looks up at me, her blue eyes watering as her lower lip protrudes. “B-but…” Her tiny chest heaves in a dramatic sob. “P-please?”

  Behind me, Parker shifts uncomfortably on his feet. I’ve noticed that he has a weak spot for my little sister. I know it’s taking everything he has not to jump in and promise her the world, just to put off the impending water works.

  Peering back at him over my shoulder, I give him a pointed look. “Didn’t you have to make that phone call? Why don’t you go make it on the porch.”

  Confusion clouds his golden irises for a brief second before understanding dawns.

  “Right,” he says, sounding hilariously relieved. “I’ll… uh… I’ll just be….” His voice trails off as he leaves the room.

  When I look back down at Sophie, she is clinging to the five stuffed animals in her arms like a lifeline. “I can’t choose!”

  Jason is standing behind her, caught between boredom and annoyance, with the strap of his duffle bag draped over his shoulder. “Just let her bring what she wants.”

  Ignoring him, I crouch down to Sophie’s level. “Tell you what. You can bring two of your stuffed animals. If you’re a really good girl this time and remember to bring them both back, I’ll let you take three next time. Deal?”

  She considers this for a brief moment, before nodding and sniffing bravely. “O-kay.”

  When she returns from upstairs five minutes later, accompanied by Simba the Lion and Bert, the Hockey-Playing Bear, she’s in markedly better spirits. She accepts my goodbye kisses with a delighted giggle while Jason merely grunts and wipes the offending evidence of my affection off of his cheek.

  “Hold her hand the entire way,” I say, even though the Warners live just three houses down. He gives me one final grunt of acknowledgement before leading Sophie out the door. I watch them as they head down the red brick of our front walk.

  Four minutes later, I get a text from Mrs. Warner letting me know they made it safely. When Parker wanders back into the kitchen, he’s on the phone. His eyes light up the second he sees me, and just like that, I’m all caught up in him.

  As much as I love him in a suit, this is the version of Parker I like best. His jacket is gone, his tie is loose, and his sleeves are rolled up, revealing rigid forearms dusted with dark blonde hair.

  He’s all easy swagger and dimpled smiles as he moves toward me, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the phone to his ear. “Yes. The same address I gave you earlier. Thanks.”

  He hangs up and, for a long moment, we just look at one another.

  “I think we should go back into the city. To my place.”

  My body stiffens a bit in surprise. “What? But—”

  “I’ve already arranged for someone to be at the house all night long. She’ll be here for your dad and she’ll be close by for the kids in case they need anything.”

  I shake my head. “Parker—”

  “Please.” His arms snake around my waist, drawing me to him. I go almost limp, overwhelmed by the proximity as his forehead slowly lowers until it’s less than an inch above mine.

  “Just this once, I…” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, I’m helpless in the face of the flames. “I want you to relax and have one night where you can just be you. And I can just be me. If we stay here, that won’t happen.”

  I can’t argue with him. It strikes me then, in a vaguely sad sort of way, that my childhood home has become a sort of prison. When I’m here, I’m a sister and a daughter. A provider and a caretaker. But I’m never just Mercy . I haven’t been just Mercy in quite a long time.

  Pulling back a little, I look up at him. “Okay.”

  * * * *

  Walking into Parker’s penthouse, I get an eerie sense of deja vu. It’s the same grand foyer, the same marble floors, the same priceless art. But the man beside me could not be more different from the man I was expecting to meet that night.

  In fact, this man is unlike anyone I’ve ever known. He’s kind and brilliant and passionate. He’s so wonderfully alive. And I, having grown accustomed to little more than the company of ghosts, am helpless in resisting his warmth.

  For most of my life, there was always an endgame. Get good grades in high school, go to college. Pick a major, build a career. It wasn’t until after the accident that I started living one day at a time. I think the old me might’ve been far more resistant to the idea of Parker. She probably would’ve known that it couldn’t go anywhere real.

  But this me — the only me there is left — doesn’t care. It feels so good, being here with him, feeling alive. All I want to do is look at him and drink him in. Soak up a bit more warmth, a bit more laughter and joy, so I’ll have something to fill up the silence once all the fire burns away.

  He leads me to the media room— the same one I was brought to on my first night here.

  “Get comfy and find us something to watch,” he says, urging me towards a plush sectional sofa. “I’ll be back soon with sustenance.”

  I plop down onto the sofa, feeling soft and cozy in the sweater and leggings I’d changed into before we left the house. “Any requests?”

  He tosses me the remote with a wink. “Surprise me.”

  Dubiously, I sort through Parker’s vast media library and endless supply of streaming services. I think it’s safe to say I have access to just about every movie ever made. Or, at least, a really large percentage. Eventually, I stumble upon one of my old favorites just before Parker strolls back into the room. I look up at him and quickly do a double take.

  Oh, come on! That’s not fair. Does he have to look good in everything?

  Dressed casually in black track pants and a fitted gray t-shirt, Parker is every bit as sexy as he is in a suit. His blonde hair is perfectly disheveled, curling ever so slightly by his ears and at his nape.

  He’s carrying a pizza box and a huge bowl of popcorn. The man I recognize from last time — Miles — follows behind him. Gretchen, the housekeeper, comes in as well, and between the two of them they deliver a full ice bucket, cups, two liters of diet soda, a twelve pack of beer, and two bottles of wine.

  “Do you think we have enough?” I tease.

  He smiles sheepishly. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I brought it all.”

  “What’d you decide on?” Parker asks once everything is set up in front of us on the coffee table, Gretchen and Miles having left as quickly and quietly as they arrived.

  “The Birdcage ,” I say, taking a huge bite of pepperoni pizza. I didn’t realize how hungry I was. “The most underrated Robin Williams movie ever.”

  He twists the cap off of a beer and leans back, his eyes lit with amusement. “Is that a fact?”

  “Mmmhmm. It’s also got Nathan Lane,” I explain between bites. “Basically the comedic dream team of the nineties. Seriously, it might be the funniest movie I’ve ever seen. Robin plays this man who owns a drag club and Nathan plays his life partner-slash-star drag queen. ”r />
  I look up to see him smirking at me. “What?”

  “I just like seeing you like this.”

  “Like what?”

  He hesitates for about half a second before answering. “Happy.”

  Blushing, I look away. On a whim, I reach forward and grab a beer, awkwardly mimicking Parker as I twist the cap off. “Can I ask you something before we start?”

  His forehead furrows slightly in a frown. “You can always ask me anything.”

  “Wayne Fitzpatrick…” I take a sip, cringing only a little at the hoppy taste. “Why is he so afraid of you?”

  If I wasn’t watching him so intently, I might’ve missed the flicker of a smile pass over his lips.

  “Who says he’s afraid of me?”

  I narrow my eyes at him and take another sip. Laughing, Parker grabs a small handful of popcorn and gracefully tosses a few kernels in his mouth.

  “He imports jewelry for a living. Bolton’s is his biggest client. He knows I could have the contract severed if I wanted to.”

  “I didn’t realize you and your sister had so much control over Bolton’s.”

  “I don’t get involved with it. That’s Lorelai’s gig. But a few years ago, I had to buy all of my uncle’s shares, so I now have a controlling interest.”

  That brings me up short. “Really?”

  “Yeah. When my grandparents died, everyone freaked out. Oliver’s not the most stable individual. It was only a matter of time before he did something stupid, like wager off his shares at Vegas poker table. So I bought them off him, giving my sister and I controlling interest.”

  “Always the hero,” I tease.

  His smile falls just a bit. “Not always.”

  Without another word, he picks up the remote and hits play.

  * * * *

  By the time the movie is over, I’ve got a strong buzz going and Parker isn’t far behind me. I’m lying down with my head in his lap, trying not to purr out loud as he strokes my hair.

  “Can I tell you a secret?”

  His smile is my favorite kind — wide and silly and playful. “Always.”

  “You promise not to judge me?”

  “Never,” he says without hesitation.

  I cast an exaggerated glance around the room before answering in a loud, obnoxious whisper. “I really liked tonight.”

  The smile grows wider. “Why is that a secret?”

  “Because I should feel guilty. And I do. A little. But…” With a sigh I sit up. Booze is coursing through my veins and suddenly, spilling my guts to Parker Callahan seems like the best idea I’ve ever had.

  “Sometimes, I wish my life was different. I wish…” I fold my legs up against my chest, resting my chin on my knee. “I wish…. I wish I could just be nineteen. You know?”

  When he answers, his voice is impossibly soft. “I know. You’re human. It’d be weird if you didn’t feel those things.”

  Spurred by his compassion, I ramble on. “I wish I could’ve gone to college. Or finished high school. Or, at least, I wish I could’ve gone to prom.”

  He jerks his head back a bit in surprise. “You didn’t go to prom?”

  “Nope.” I smile sadly. “I was supposed to go. With Liam.”

  “Who’s Liam?”

  “My boyfriend. Or, he was . He’s not anymore though,” I clarify.

  Geez. Apparently, almost-drunk Mercy is a chatterbox.

  “After the accident, everything changed. At first, people were around all the time. They were always bringing food, checking in on me and the kids. And then, one day, it all just stopped. The world started turning again. I drifted apart from most of my friends, other than Elena. And Liam…”

  I wince at the memory. Mostly because it doesn’t hurt as bad as it used to, and somehow that’s a wound all its own. Part of me longs for the days when my whole world seemed to revolve around a baseball player with green eyes and a dopey grin.

  “Liam tried to be there for me in the beginning. But eventually, it got to be too much. He wanted… I think he wanted to just enjoy his senior year, and I couldn’t really blame him for it. I broke things off with him the day I dropped out.”

  Okay, that’s enough. Sharing time is over. He doesn’t want to hear any of this.

  But then I glance up and he looks as though he’s hanging on my every word.

  “He took Hailey Sherman to the prom,” I blurt out.

  “Who’s Hailey Sherman?”

  I shrug. “A normal girl with a whole, functioning family. Anyway, that night, he posted a ton of pictures and videos to his Snapchat story. Her in the dress, him in the tux. There were videos of them dancing with the people I went to school with for twelve years, and all I could think about when I saw them was how I wasn’t there.”

  Looking away, I shift a bit in my seat. “Afterwards, a big group of them went to a cabin upstate. There was this one video of them all in a giant hot tub, singing along to songs on the radio. Like they didn’t have a care in the world. I must have watched it at least ten times. How pathetic is that?”

  Parker shifts until he’s pressed up next to me, putting an arm around my shoulders and tucking me into his side. “He should have been there for you.”

  “He was just a kid.”

  “So were you.”

  “No,” I say on a deep exhale. “I wasn’t.”

  We sit in silence; and after a while, I feel like I could write a song to the rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear. I have to bite back a protest when he eventually moves and shifts me off of him.

  He stands and holds out his hand. “C’mon.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.” He grabs a bottle of wine as he leads us out the door.

  * * * *

  We end up on his private rooftop terrace and the view is so stunning it literally takes my breath away. Manhattan awaits like an ocean of dancing light at my feet, the endless symphony of sound nipping at my toes like tiny waves.

  In a daze, I follow Parker as he walks along the edge of the heated pool, it’s clear blue water lit up by underwater lights. Towards the edge of the roof, Parker stops and squats down to fiddle with a mat that’s covering a portion of the deck.

  “What is that?” I ask, dubious.

  “What does it look like?” He stands and lifts the mat, revealing a hot tub. From seemingly out of nowhere, he produces a tiny remote. Seconds later, the water comes to life with bubbles, lit by soft glows of lights that flash in alternating colors.

  Delighted despite myself, I let loose a loud laugh. “You’re ridiculous. I don’t even have a bathing— “

  The words die in my throat when he curls his fingers at the hem of his shirt. Watching him take his shirt off feels like that first monster drop of a roller coaster — terrifying and thrilling in a way I’m not ready for. In a way I’ve never been more ready for.

  The gray fabric slips away, revealing hard pectorals and finely sculpted abs. His golden skin is luminous, the light dancing across his steely planes. His pants are gone next, and suddenly he’s standing before me in nothing but a pair of fitted black boxers.

  My mind goes blank and I don’t have the presence of mind to feel self-conscious as he stalks towards me, as he eases me out of my clothes until I’m wearing nothing but a matching white-lace bra and panty set. His eyes run over me, hungry and dark, leaving a delicious burn in their wake.

  The next minute, I’m in his arms; and the minute after that, I’m submerged in deliciously warm water.

  “What are you doing?” I sputter once I resurface, eyeing him as he sits perched on the edge of the hot tub fiddling with his phone.

  He looks up at me, his smile devious as he puts the phone aside and wades into the water with the newly uncorked wine bottle. About ten seconds later, the opening chords of “I Want It That Way” by The Backstreet Boys begins to play from the invisible speakers surrounding us.

  “Seriously?” I ask, even as the grin stretches across my face. Stea
m rises all around like a hazy silk curtain and the world becomes dangerously surreal.

  “Oh, c’mon.” He takes a long swig from the bottle before passing it to me. “Name a better song to sing along to.”

  Laughter rips out of me like a cleansing rain as I take the bottle and bring it to my lips. From there, things become a blur of boy bands, dancing lights, and the seductive warmth of wine.

  My inhibitions are nowhere to be found as I sing along to the cheesy songs. Parker takes me up in his arms, leading me in a rhythmless dance as he sings along with equal gusto. Eventually, I’m all wrapped around him— my legs wrapped around his waist, my arms around his neck. Feeling bold, I snake my fingers through the damp hair at his nape.

  “Golden boy….” I murmur dreamily into his neck during the brief silence between songs.

  He nuzzles the side of his head against mine. “Hmm?”

  Before I can offer any kind of answer, “She Will Be Loved” by Maroon Five fills the silence. He sways us to the music as the mood between us goes from playful to smoldering. His hands on me are promise and torment all at once.

  The promise of beauty and light and fire as he scorches a path across the sky. The torment of certain pain once he’s gone and the world goes dark again.

  “Why?” I whisper. “Why do you want me?”

  My eyes go to the strong column of his throat and I watch muscles work as he swallows. “You really need to ask me that?"

  When I don't respond, he goes to sit on the concrete bench lining the wall of the hot tub, adjusting my position so that I’m straddling him. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been fighting other people’s battles. I never mean to… but it always ends up that way. And then I met you…”

  When he looks at me, I feel exposed down to the very cells of my being. “You are so beautifully brave, Mercy Chase. You make me feel safe, and at the same time… “ He breaks off on an incredulous laugh. “You scare the absolute hell out of me."