Chapter Thirty-eight

Megan waved to the plane taking Myra and Casey home. A quick glance at her watch told her she had a little over an hour before her plane was supposed to begin boarding. She turned to Carlos and shrugged.

“Feel like a coffee?” she offered.

He nodded quietly and followed. Megan made sure to fall into step beside him instead of in front of him. It was slightly difficult to keep up with his monstrous stride, but she managed.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” she asked, breaking the silence as they walked.

“I’m more of a listener.”

“How so?”

“I hear what everyone’s saying, but I keep it to myself.”

“Like what?”

He raised a brow at her. “If I told you, that would make me a talker, wouldn’t it?”

Megan laughed. “Well, I guess so.”

They ordered gourmet coffee from an airport shop and took seats at an empty table. Megan felt a shiver of deja vu run through her, remembering just a few days ago sitting in an airport with Dana, almost spilling her guts about Kevin.

“I’ll bet you hear a lot of things, huh?”

“Sure do.”

“Anything good?”

“You mean gossip.”

“Well, yeah.”

Carlos stirred his coffee. “The guys often confide in their bodyguards when they’re stressed. We’re like their therapists sometimes.”

Megan processed this information. “So does Kevin confide in you? I mean, um, does he tell you deeply personal things?”

“Such as?”

A pink hue began to creep up Megan’s neck, and she stared into her cup. When she finally raised her eyes to meet his, she could tell by the look on his face that he knew what she was asking.

“He’s talked to you about us,” she said. “About what’s between him and me?”

“It’s really none of my business, Megan.”

“But he has talked to you about it?”

She got a blank stare as an answer. Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.

“Damn you for being so stubborn,” she said, although she wasn’t really angry, and Carlos knew it.

“I just know that he cares about you a great deal,” he offered. “And that’s all I have to say about that.”

Megan giggled at his bad Forrest Gump impression and changed the subject.

Megan arrived at the hotel very frazzled and very nervous. The last time she’d been there, the shit had seriously hit the fan. She took tentative steps inside towards the front desk.

“Megan,” Clayton said, quickly coming around to hug her.

She set her bag down and wrapped her arms around him. He seemed tired and unsure of himself, and Megan instantly felt sorry for him.

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

Clayton stepped back and ran a hand over his weary face. “Not so good.”

“What happened?”

He shook his head. “Not down here. Let’s go up to the penthouse and I can tell you everything.”

He picked up her bag and she went after him. Guests stopped to shake his hand and tell him how sorry they were. By the time they reached the penthouse, Clayton looked like he was about to crack.

“You can stay here, there are two extra rooms, take your pick,” he said, absently waving a hand towards the hallway.

“Thank you.”

He motioned to the couch and she sat down, patiently waiting for him to explain.

“She went out to do some shopping. She loved to shop, but I suppose you already knew that. She was going to meet with some friends, but she never made it. Some jerk ran a red light and crashed right into the driver’s side. Her car flipped over and she ended up smashed up against a telephone pole.”

His voice began to tremble and Megan stood up to hug him.

“I’m sorry, Clayton, so sorry,” she said.

“I really loved her,” he said. “She was so vibrant, full of life, and so beautiful. I’ve never known anyone like her.”

Megan remained quiet. Clayton may have loved her mother, but she was unsure as to whether or not Charlene felt the same way.

“She loved you, Megan. I know that things weren’t good between you, but she loved you.”

This caught Megan off guard, and she jumped away.

“She sure had a funny way of showing it.”

Clayton took a deep breath. “Can’t you forgive her? After all, she’s dead now,” he said sharply.

Megan opened her mouth to say something back, but sighed and closed it.

“I don’t want to fight. What’s done is done. Maybe I can forgive her someday, but just not right away,” she said softly.

He nodded. “I’m sorry. This is just so unreal to me yet. I can’t believe she was just with me this morning, and now she’s not and never will be again.”

Said like that, it chilled Megan to the bone. Charlene had always been there, perhaps not physically in her life, but always there in the back of her mind. The realization that she would never speak to or see her mother again was enough to make her ill.

“Arrangements have been made for the funeral,” Clayton said, interrupting her thoughts. “Day after tomorrow.”

“She’ll be buried in your family’s plot, I suppose?” Megan asked, picturing an enormously lavish headstone in the Arnold family cemetary.

He shook his head, casting a strange look in her direction. “She wanted to be buried next to your father. Didn’t you know that?”

Megan nearly swallowed her tongue. “She did?”

“Yeah.”

Megan felt a sudden insistent pounding behind her eyes and sank down onto the couch.

“It’s late, I’m going to bed. Is there anything you need?” Clayton asked softly, wondering if he’d upset her.

“No, I’ll be fine, thanks. Oh, my friend Dana Allen will be arriving tomorrow.”

He nodded. “I’ll make sure the front desk has her name.” Then he left her in the living room.