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|  | Oh How The Years Go By - Chapter II - 02.11.08
« Thread Started on Feb 11, 2008, 2:52am » | ![[Quote]](http://s4.images.proboards.com/buttons/quote.gif) |
Reluctantly and with a heavy heart, the dark-haired man ended the phone call. He couldn’t allow his worry to paralyze him, he had to move and move quickly.
“Celia! Celia!” he yelled as he went to his walk-in closet, grabbed a few pair of pants and shirts and a carry-on suitcase. He couldn’t waste any time checking any luggage.
“Yes, Ridge,” the thirty-something Amer-Asian woman answered.
“Something’s wrong with Rick- -“
“What’s wrong?” she interrupted quickly.
“I’m not sure, but I’m going to find out and have to leave ASAP. Can you watch the kids?”
“Of course.”
“Are the kids here?”
“They just got in. Why don’t you go talk to them and I’ll take care of everything else,” Celia suggested.
“What would I do without you?” he asked, half-joking.
“Cease to exist. Now go.”
“Thanks,” Ridge responded as he left the master bedroom. Taking a deep breath and willing the worry out of his eyes, he proceeded down the hallway to the first bedroom. “May I come in?” he asked as he knocked.
“Hey, Dad. Come on in,” the blonde greeted him with a smile.
“Hi, Princess. How was your day?”
“Same old same.” Sensing her father’s visit was more than just a “how was your day” visit, she asked, “What’s up?”
“The New York City Brooke’s Bedroom boutique is having some inventory problems so I have to go check it out.”
“Sure you do,” she grinned.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. And if it just happens to be the store a few miles from Columbia, where your son happens to attend, then that’s all the better, huh?”
“You think you’re so smart?”
“Pretty smart,” she answered, lying on her grey and red comforter.
“I may stop and visit your brother.”
“Well if you can pull yourself away from the inventory problem and visit him, give him a hug for me, will ya? I miss him, too.”
How he loved this budding blonde beauty. “Listen to Celia, no wild parties, and help keep the troops in line.”
“Yes, sir.”
Needing to touch her, he walked over to the bed and stroked her hair as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
“Ditto,” Bridget Forrester responded.
“Ugh! You and Celia need to stop watching that movie. Haven’t you seen it enough?”
“I am Henry the Eighth- -“
“I guess that answers my question. Stay safe,” Ridge said, walking out the teen’s room.
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