Page 20 of Love Off Course

Camilo

T hree days later…

I’m going crazy.

My life has been off its axis since Dad had his stroke, but now it’s tilting so much, I feel like puking. Sheridan. She did this. Shoved my world just enough, it’s spinning hard and I can’t regain control of it.

Even though I just spent too much time with my good friend Carson, I need to talk to him.

Luckily, when I texted him, he invited me over for dinner.

We both live in Boca where my two-bedroom condo is located not too far from his ranch style home.

At one time, Dad stayed with me, but now he’s an official resident of Boca Dunes Nursing Home.

I park my Tahoe in Carson’s driveway. Before I can get the engine shut off, a little person tears out of the house right for me. Carson and Krissy’s son Brennan jumps onto the running boards of my vehicle and presses his nose against the window.

“Mr. Z!”

His blue eyes are wide and his dark hair is messy. Cutest damn kid ever. Acts just like his daddy too. Poor Krissy.

“Hey, Mr. B,” I tell him through the glass. “You gonna let me out of here so I can give you a present?”

He squeals and jumps off before bouncing up and down. I exit the vehicle and dig around in my pocket for his gift. I’ve started collecting beer bottle caps from different places that sell local beer.

“You’re going to turn my son into an alcoholic one day,” Krissy says, walking outside and into the yard, a grin on her lips.

I ruffle Brennan’s hair and hand him a bottle cap. “Beer is gross,” I remind him. “It makes you grow boobs.”

He rolls around in the grass, howling with laughter. “Momma! Mr. Z said boobs!”

Krissy swats at me, but I dodge her. “You’re a bad influence on my guys.”

“Your husband started it,” I try to defend, holding my palms up. “He corrupted me first.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she playfully grumbles. “How’ve you been, Camilo? Carson told me all about your women troubles.”

I grunt. “Woman.”

Her smile is beautiful and her blue eyes gleam. “Ahh, he said that, but I wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth. One woman, huh?”

“Just one.”

She pulls me to her for a hug. “Good boy. Now get inside and finish telling me all about the girl who has the only other flirty pilot I know all twisted up in knots.”

We head inside and meet Carson in the kitchen as he walks in from the back with a plate full of grilled foods.

It’s several moments of chaos as we make our plates and settle at the table.

Brennan tells me all about a giant bullfrog he’s been trying to coax into becoming his pet.

Krissy shudders every time he mentions how close he gets to capturing it.

Carson just watches his boy with rapt attention and a huge grin on his face.

I find myself caught up in the way the three of them interact.

The stupid longing inside my heart begins its tugging once again.

Carson doesn’t seem tied down whatsoever. If anything, he seems free. Happy as can be. His eyes shine brighter than any time we’ve been high in the skies. I’m witnessing it with new eyes this time.

“Okay, spill,” Krissy says once dinner is over and she slides a slice of pie my way.

Brennan has gone off to play. Carson leans back in his chair, his eyebrow arched in an amused way as he waits for my response.

“I found a girl I liked,” I admit with a sigh.

“A girl?” she asks.

“The girl,” Carson clarifies. “As in the one.”

“And why isn’t she here?” Krissy frowns.

“In Florida?” I ask in exasperation. “She lives in California.”

“So?” Krissy says with a huff. “You fly planes for a living.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” I grumble.

“How?” she demands. Carson shrugs when I glance at him.

“She has a guy,” I start.

“An old one,” Carson offers unhelpfully.

“She’s married?” Krissy’s blue eyes are wide and horrified.

“No,” I grit out. “She’s disillusioned into thinking he’s the one for her.” I scrub my palm down my face. “He doesn’t deserve her.”

“Wow,” Krissy says with a surprised laugh. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Told you,” Carson says to her with a wide grin. “She’s the one for him.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” I argue. “We barely know each other.”

Carson and Krissy exchange a knowing look.

“I’m serious,” I say, shaking my head.

“Eat your pie,” Krissy sasses. “Then, we’re going to discuss how you’re going to get our girl back.”

Great.

Now she’s our girl.

And why did my heart twist inside my chest at that proclamation?

“How is he?” I ask Regina as I sign in at the front desk.

“Smiley’s good. Question is, how are you, Mr. Jet Setter?”

“Been busy with work. Hurricane Rodrigo derailed our plans a little.” Understatement of the year.

“I heard that hurricane beat up Mexico quite a bit. Your momma and family okay?”

“Perfect,” I tell her with a forced smile, not at all ready to get into the drama that was this past week.

Regina guides me down the hallways that smell like ammonia mixed with pine. We reach Dad’s room and push inside. He’s sitting in his usual spot in his wheelchair, staring out the window up at the sky.

“Mr. Zaragoza,” Regina says. “Your boy’s here to see you.”

Dad doesn’t turn to look. He doesn’t do much these days. I walk over to him and squat down in front of him. Regina gives me a wink before leaving the room to give us our privacy. I take Dad’s hand, but his attention is still fixated on the sky.

“Missed you,” I tell him. “Sorry I didn’t come here first. The Klein were cooking and I went to go see them.”

No response.

I’m still not used to that after all these months. Dad was my best friend. My confidant. My everything. He took my dream and made it his own. We did this together. Every step of the way.

“ Mamá is doing well,” I say, hoping to pique his interest. “The hotel took some storm damage, but she’ll figure it out. She always does.”

Dad keeps staring outside. I let my gaze roam over my father.

He’s still young. His black hair only has a few streaks of gray.

He’s lost some of his muscle mass over the past few months, but you can tell he’s still a strong man.

It’s his mind that’s a mess. The stroke fucked him up.

I miss our talks, but he hasn’t said a word since the stroke.

I know he’s in there because I can see it in his eyes.

“I met a girl.”

He turns his head and those dark eyes latch onto mine. They’re sharp and intelligent and loving like always. My heart thunders in my chest. I wish I knew how to fix him.

“Of course hearing about a girl would get your attention, Dad,” I tease.

“Still so much a romantic.” Before the stroke, he was riding my ass about saving a little room in my heart for love too.

A career isn’t everything. “She’s great.

” I can’t help but smile thinking about her. “And a total psychopath.”

His dark eyes twinkle with barely contained delight.

“Don’t act so pleased about her being crazy, man,” I say with a chuckle. “She’s mean. Yells at me a lot.” I can’t wipe the stupid smile off my face. “We live far apart, though. Long-distance relationships never work.”

He, of all people, knows this.

The room grows silent and all I can hear is the steady sound of our breathing.

“I wish I could figure out a way to keep this girl,” I say out loud, not just for him but for myself. “She’s worth finding a way. Beautiful. Smart as hell. Funny without even trying.”

When I look up, my dad is smiling. Well, a half smile anyway. His smiles used to light up his whole face. Now it’s rare and only partially reflects his happiness. A single tear rolls down his cheek. I take his hand and squeeze it.

“I love you, Dad. You know that, right? You gave up so much for me, including Mamá , and I will never forget that. You’re my best friend.”

His hand clutches mine.

“Oh, so I’m chopped liver,” I joke. “You want to hear more about the girl. Fine. I’ll tell you all about the Sheridan Reid. About how her hair is smooth like silk but her tongue is sharp as a whip. She’s really bossy, you know.”

Dad continues to smile as tears keep rolling down his face.

I tell him all about her. Regina comes in to feed him some supper.

She hooks me up with some pudding. Then I continue on telling them about Sher.

Once Regina is gone, I pull out my phone and look her up.

All I can find are pictures of her for her company, RT Corp.

Her dad is an older version of her, but not as stiff looking.

In every photo, Sheridan’s back is board straight and she doesn’t smile.

I saw her smile plenty. I knew it was something special, but seeing these photos makes me realize just how rare it was for her to let go and be free.

When I don’t find much on her, I look up Damian Birch.

He does, in fact, have an entire show about revamping yachts.

It’s pretty interesting and one day I want to watch some of the episodes.

I end up finding his Instagram and getting swept up in the pictures there.

He’s uploaded a lot from Mexico. There’s even one of my butt in my yellow trunks with the hashtag yummypilot.

He has a ton of followers but one stands up on top from Estefania.

She put a bunch of hearts and tagged SherBearHennessy.

I follow the new tag over to what appears to be Sheridan’s Instagram.

Her Instagram is loaded down with recent pictures of her dad’s wedding.

He stands with an older woman close to his age at an altar.

Sher is the bridesmaid beside them. She’s beautiful in a yellow dress that hugs her curves in all the right places.

The best part of the picture is how she adoringly stares at her father as though he’s her whole world.

I look up at my dad who’s watching me with rapt interest. Chuckling, I show Dad the picture.

He half smiles again. I scroll through more pictures and find one with this David shithead.

As soon as I see him, my stomach turns. He’s old like her dad and has a smugness about him that gets on my nerves.

It’s as though he knows he’s rich and successful and good-looking for an old fucker, and that gives him a right to the prettiest girl in the room.

My girl.

“That’s the asshole who she thinks she belongs to. Her dad’s best friend,” I explain to my dad. “What a prick.”

I shake my head and scroll through more pictures.

The ones at the wedding are the most candid ones she’s posted on her Instagram.

There’s a whole lot of books in front of windows with a coffee mug.

They all look similar to me but with different books.

Girls are so strange. When I get past the fifty or so pictures of books, I find ones of her at company functions and professional ones.

This David fuck is in several and she looks at him like he has all the answers to life’s mysteries.

But she doesn’t smile like she smiles at me. He’s so wrong for her.

Like the stalker I am, I scroll all the way back to the first picture on her Instagram.

It’s one of her about nine years old sitting at the piano with her mom.

The woman is frail and clearly sick. Both of them are looking down at the keys, but they’re smiling all the same.

I recognize that smile. Her mom is wearing a smile of wonder and love.

I’ve seen that one on Sheridan’s face many times—times I was responsible for.

The caption on this picture says, “Hold onto what you love and don’t let it go. ”

“Ve, hijo.” Go, son.

I dart my gaze up to my dad and frown. He can’t talk. The stroke ensured that. Did I imagine that? His dark eyes shine with determination and his half grin is unwavering.

“Enough dicking around?” I ask with a laugh. “I hear you loud and clear, Dad. I’m going to get the girl one way or another. It feels like we’re meant to be as crazy as that sounds.”

Another tear rolls down his cheek. I stand up to hug him. Underneath the smells of a nursing home, I can smell my father. Sunshine and warmth and happiness and a little spice. Such a familiar scent that makes my heart thunder.

“Thanks for the advice, Dad,” I tell him, kissing his wet cheek. “Love you.”

He doesn’t have to say the words because I feel them in my soul.

Dad has loved me with every ounce of his being since the day I came kicking and screaming into this world.

His love has never wavered. He’s been a steady rock in my life, building me up step by step so I could reach for my goals that just so happened to be high in the sky.

I owe him for everything. I owe him for the man I’ve become.

Which is exactly why I need to make him proud.

“I’m going to get the girl. See you soon, Dad.”