Page 20 of Charm (Billionaire Buck Boys #7)
CHAPTER TWENTY
Greer
The ride back to Manhattan from East Hampton felt like it took forever. In reality, it obviously didn’t, but my impatience to get home made it torturous.
As soon as the SUV is parked next to the curb in front of my home, I’m launching myself out of the door of the vehicle so I can sprint up the concrete steps.
I glance back at my driver, who also happens to be my friend. Robby has been an integral part of my life for years. His job as an account executive with a clothing company was phased out several months ago, so he’s been filling in his time as a rideshare driver.
When I mentioned to him over lunch last week that I was heading to East Hampton, he offered to drive me there and pick me up.
We worked out a deal that compensated him not only for the cost of fuel but also put a few extra dollars in his pocket.
Since he’s set to start a new job a little over a week from now, I was grateful we had the uninterrupted time in the car to catch up.
“Go!” He directs me with his hand. “I’ll bring your bag.”
I blow him a kiss just as the front door of my house opens wide.
The one word that I’ve missed hearing all weekend fills the air. “Mommy!”
“Olive!” I yell back to my daughter.
Her brown hair bounces on her shoulders as she carefully descends the concrete steps. I fly toward her, taking the steps two at a time until we meet in the middle.
Her arms wrap around me as I lift her up until her feet are dangling in the air.
“I missed you, Mommy,” she whispers.
Tears prick my eyes as I repeat those words back, “I missed you.”
“I had the best time,” she tells me. “Grandma and Grandpa held hands, and they kissed. Don’t tell them I saw.”
I set her down on her bare feet. My sweet girl’s big blue eyes search my face.
I hold in my emotions. This is the first time we’ve been apart overnight since the day she was born seven years ago. I’ve clung to her so tightly because she’s everything I treasure in this world.
Olive Celia Irwin is the reason I do most of the things I do.
“Are you okay, Mommy?” Her hand swipes my cheek. “You look like you might cry.”
“Those are tears of joy, Olive,” Martha Bergvall says from where she’s standing near the open front door of my home.
Next to her is her husband, Bruce.
They are my family, and the people who pitched in to help me raise my daughter. Our relationship is as complicated as it is clear.
Martha and Bruce are my ex-husband’s parents. They’re my daughter’s grandparents, and yesterday, they took her to Coney Island, so she could ride a Ferris wheel for the first time and overindulge in lollipops and cotton candy.
“Did you have fun, Olive?” I ask even though I know the answer to that question.
Olive told me all about her adventures in a series of text messages sent from Bruce’s phone. She also explained it all in a rush with joy wrapped around each word this morning when she called me just after I woke up.
Joe was still fast asleep, so I snuck out by the pool and listened to my little girl detail what a blast she had at the place she’s wanted to visit for so long.
I intended to take her there myself next month, but Martha asked if they could take her now. I know why she did it. She recognized I needed a chance to sleep in, read, and think. She knew I needed time to rediscover myself.
“It was the best time ever,” she stresses before her gaze jumps behind me. “Hi, Robby.”
“Olive Irwin,” he says her full name to lure a smile to her face. “I promised I’d bring your mom back to you, and I did just that.”
Olive skirts around me to get down to Robby. She gifts him with a big hug. “Thank you, Robby.”
His brown eyes latch onto mine. “I should take off.”
Nodding, I smile. “I’ll text you before you start the new job.”
“New job?” Martha asks because her curiosity is a cornerstone of who she is. “That sounds exciting.”
“It is,” he affirms with a nod. “I’ll stop by this week and tell you all about it.”
“Good.” She wipes her hands on the red apron tied around her waist. “Come inside. I’ll pack up some dinner you can take with you.”
“Seriously?” he asks, his eyes brightening.
“Grandma makes the best biscuits,” Olive boasts, since they’re her favorite. “There’s soup, too, but those biscuits are the best.”
Robby shrugs. “I can’t say no to any of that.”
He rushes past me with my bags in his hands and Olive on his heel. They both disappear into my townhouse behind Martha.
Bruce smiles down at me. “We missed you, sweetie, but I’m glad you had a break.”
“Me too.” I rush up toward his open arms.
Bruce gives the best hugs. He’s a large man with bushy brown eyebrows and a crooked smile.
“Our girl had a great weekend, too,” he whispers. “Thank you for letting us take her, Greer. Thank you for letting us love her.”
A tear falls down my cheek as I look up and into his face. “Thank you for loving us both.”
“We always will,” he assures me with a tight hug. “We’re family. Nothing on this earth can ever change that.”