by Roni Loren
She shook her head and peered back at the door, burning a hole through it. Her grip tightened on his hand and she raised her other to push the bell. Some elaborate chiming song started up that reminded Lane of church bells, and a yipping dog joined in with the tune. Elle frowned. “They got a dog?”
“Sounds like it,” he said. “And sounds like it’s on fire.”
She smirked. “My dad always said dogs make too much mess. I guess Mom didn’t feel the same way.”
Clicking footsteps sounded on wood floors and Elle’s lips flattened into a line. The door swung open and a small ball of black fur and purple ribbons launched through the gap and barreled into the yard. A squirrel who’d been gathering pecans that’d fallen off one of the trees raced through the gaps in the iron fence with a slew of get-the-fuck-away-from-me noises.
“Dammit, Roux, get your butt back inside,” Nina yelled.
The dog barked at her and then spun in circles, trying to catch the ribbon that had come loose at her ear.
Lane smiled. That seemed like the dog’s version of Screw you, lady. I’m busy.
Nina sighed and gave Elle and Lane a cutting smile. “Sorry. Mom got a dog a few months ago because she’d heard they can be stress relieving, but Roux is a menace and doesn’t listen to anything anyone says. She already peed on the ring pillow for the wedding.”
Elle glanced back at the dog and smiled. “I like her already.”
Lane coughed, choking back the laugh that tried to come out.
Nina’s pretend smile dropped. “Really, Elle?”
Elle shrugged, coolly unapologetic.
“Fine,” Nina said through tight teeth. “Look, let’s just get this out of the way now. I know how you feel about me. You’ve made that crystal clear. But I’m asking you to please keep it away from Mom. As far as she knows, we’ve mended fences. Don’t let her think otherwise. She doesn’t need any drama.”
Elle’s jaw flexed and her hand gripped Lane’s painfully tight. “The only reason I’m here is for Mom. I can pretend as well as the rest of you. That’s what we do, right? It’s the McCray way.”
Nina glanced at Lane, her gaze wary.
“He already knows what the situation is,” Elle said, following Nina’s look. “Neither of us are here to cause drama.”
Lane nodded. “Elle’s here for your mom. I’m here for Elle.”
Nina’s shoulders lowered and she returned the nod. “All right, come on in.”
They stepped inside the foyer, the narrow entrance typical of a historic home, but all the finishes fine. Medium-tone, polished wood floors, pale cream walls, a beautiful oak staircase, and expensive artwork. A show home.
“Honey, was that the door?” The male voice echoed down the hallway as Lane shut the door behind him. Elle’s breath hitched.
A dark-haired man in khakis and a forest-green button down stepped into the hallway. The self-satisfied look on his face told Lane exactly who he was. Henry. The cheater. The asshole. Lane had to bite back his frown.
Nina cleared her throat. “Yep, it’s Elle and her…guest.”
“Elle.” Henry smiled and headed their way. Like he was happy to see her. Like they were old friends. Like this wasn’t ten kinds of fucked up.
“Henry.” Elle shifted closer to Lane and he released her hand so he could place his palm on her back instead. Her muscles rippled beneath his fingertips, but he had a feeling that was more anger than nerves.
Henry reached them and immediately leaned in to kiss Elle on the cheek. “So glad you could make it. I knew Nina would be able to smooth things over between you. It’s no good for sisters to fight.”
Lane was surprised Elle didn’t knee the guy right in the balls for daring to touch her. He had to stop himself from taking the dude by the collar and teaching him manners. But Elle smiled a smile dripping with acid. “Yes, sisters should be there for each other.”
Henry kept his smile as if Elle’s words hadn’t been laced with arsenic. He looked to Lane. “And who’s your friend? One of your interns?”
Lane’s teeth ground together. Yes, he was younger than Elle but not by that much. Henry was taking a dig at Elle’s age.
Elle leaned into Lane. “No. This is Lane, my fiancé.”
Henry’s eyes flashed at that, a brief break in the genial facade, but then his eyebrows went up with exaggerated surprise. “Your fiancé? Well, I guess it is possible to meet people when you live at a mental hospital.” He reached out to shake Lane’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Henry Blanchard. Hope you weren’t one of the patients.”
Henry gave a hearty chuckle, like that was a funny joke, and Lane gripped his hand firmly, barely resisting the urge to squeeze until the guy cried uncle. He didn’t want to give the dude the satisfaction of thinking he’d gotten to him on any level. “Lane Cannon. And no, I’m one of the therapists.”
“That’s convenient,” he said. “Free therapy. Good thinking, Elle.”
Henry moved to release the handshake, but Lane held on, making Henry’s gaze jerk back his way. Lane smiled with pointed pleasantness. “Henry, I know we don’t know each other, but I know enough. And I would recommend that while Elle and I are here this weekend that you speak to her respectfully, or you and I will have a problem. She is here for her mother because she is the bigger person. She is not here for whatever show you’re trying to put on right now. Worry about your wedding and your woman. Leave mine out of it.”
Lane released Henry’s hand.
Red splotches appeared on Henry’s cheeks and his attention flicked to Elle. “You’re going to let your meathead boyfriend threaten me in your family’s home? I didn’t say anything insulting to you.”
“Hmm,” Elle said, as if she were utterly bored and unimpressed with Henry’s tantrum. “You should probably go take a walk, Henry. It’s no good to get your blood pressure so high—you know, with your age and all.”
Henry’s face went redder.
She linked her fingers with Lane’s. “Sweetheart, why don’t I show you the back garden? It’s really lovely and peaceful, and I bet we’ll find my mom out there.”
“Sounds fantastic,” Lane said, sending her a warm smile as a bloom of pride went through him. Elle’s hard shell could be frustrating sometimes. But right now, seeing her so calm and collected in the face of this disgusting human being, he just wanted to forget that they were playing pretend and kiss her. The woman was tough as hell and elegant as fuck. He brought their linked hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles before they stepped around Henry and Nina and headed toward the back of the house.
Elle’s heart pounded a little faster than she would’ve liked, but she felt triumphant as she walked away from her sister and Henry. Henry had tried to play his normal games, the sugar-coated jabs, the said-with-a-laugh insults. It was the same stuff he’d done toward the end of their marriage. Back then, those kinds of jokes had cut her, made her bleed, made her insecurities rush to the surface. She’d since learned to be a pro in letting that kind of thing ping off of her, but she hadn’t realized how satisfying it would be to have someone else on her side. Just when she’d been ready to tell Henry off, Lane had stepped in with a brutally calm, don’t-fuck-with-her tone that had set Henry back on his well-heeled shoes.
And Lane had called her his woman. Not in so many words but the sentiment was there. Leave mine out of it. His.
This was a farce, but those few words had sent a ripple through her. In that moment, she’d wished them to be true. She didn’t need a man to take care of her. Or a family. She’d proven that. She could do whatever she needed to do on her own. But feeling that layer of protectiveness, that glimmer of belonging to a couple instead of fighting the battle on her own had felt good, like a relief.
“You okay?” Lane asked under his breath.
She glanced up at him as they walked and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks. You make him nervous. That was fun to watch.”
Lane grunted. “He needs to be nervous. I won’t stand by and let him insul
t you again. He needs to watch his manners or he’ll be introduced to the meathead side of me.”
She laughed and bit down on her lip so the sound wouldn’t travel. “You’re not a meathead.”
“I can be if a situation calls for it.”
She didn’t doubt it. Lane could be a gentle soul. It was what made him good with patients. But a guy didn’t survive on the streets like he had without knowing how to intimidate others and protect himself. If Henry had any sense, he’d take heed.
They reached the back of the house and Elle peered out the glass door. As she’d guessed, her mother was on the brick-paved back porch, drinking something from a frosty glass and reading a book. The dog had made it to the backyard and looked to be unsuccessfully stalking a butterfly. Despite her anxiety at seeing her mother, a smile touched Elle’s lips.
Her mom hadn’t been around much when Elle was growing up, but when she did take days off work, this was where she’d always retreat to, no matter what city they were in. The outdoors in the shade with a book. As a child, Elle had often taken the seat beside her and sipped on something colorful so she could feel grown up. Her mom would read to her from whatever book she was reading, quizzing Elle on what some of the bigger words meant.
Her mother had given Elle her work ethic. She’d also given her the love of reading and learning. Unfortunately, she’d skipped a lot of the other stuff in between. And when she’d needed her on her side the most, her mom had let her down.
She opened the back door and stepped out with Lane following behind. Her mother glanced up from her book, as elegant as ever with her white-blond hair in a side-swept bob, and her eyes lit with surprise. “Ellie.”
Elle stepped forward. “Hi, Mom.”
“Nina told me you were coming, but I wasn’t sure I believed her.” Her mom set her book down and swung her legs to the side of the lounge chair to get up. She was moving a little slower than the last time Elle had seen her, but she still looked strong. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
Elle went over to her mother and they shared a quick hug. A knot of emotion clogged Elle’s throat. She didn’t want to accept that her mom was sick. Cassandra McCray was the toughest woman she knew. She was supposed to be invincible. “I’m sorry I never called you back. I was busy and I didn’t realize anything was going on.”
Her mom leaned back, gripping Elle’s hands, and shook her head. “I understand. You’re just like me. Work always comes first. I didn’t want to leave a message and worry you.”
“Mom—”
“And you brought a friend,” she said, peeking over Elle’s shoulder at Lane. “Hello there.”
“Hi, Mrs. McCray.” Lane stepped over and put his hand out. “I’m Lane Cannon.”
Her mom shook Lane’s hand. “Cassandra McCray.” She eyed him up and down. “And you are what to my daughter? Friend? Boyfriend? Bodyguard?”
Elle shifted closer to Lane. “Fiancé.”
Her mom arched a brow, her skeptical face on full throttle. “Right. Your fiancé.” She gave a little laugh, like she was entertained by the idea. “Well, you always were an overachiever, Ellie. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”
Lane’s lips parted and his gaze skated to Elle. “Uh…”
But before Elle could process what her mother meant, her mom turned to her and smirked. “I knew you’d bring someone to drive Henry up the wall, but you didn’t need to go all the way to fiancé.” She patted Lane’s arm. “My daughter doesn’t think I pay attention, but I know her well enough to know she’ll never get married again. Henry and Nina will buy it, though, so it’ll be effective nonetheless.”
Elle stiffened. “I never said I wouldn’t get married again.”
Her mom shrugged. “You didn’t have to. You’re too smart to put yourself in that position twice. Plus, you’re the type of person who does better on her own. I thought that even before you married Henry. I was proven right.”
Elle crossed her arms, suddenly feeling like a petulant child. “So it’s my fault my marriage didn’t make it?”
“That’s not what I said.” She swept a hand out, dismissing the words. “I’m saying you are better on your own and you know that.” She turned to Lane. “So who are you really? Friend? Co-worker?”
“Fiancé,” Lane said smoothly. “And co-worker. And friend. But I understand where you’re coming from, Mrs. McCray.” He turned to Elle with a fond look. “Elle is brilliant, talented, and tough as nails. She definitely doesn’t need a man in her life.” He brushed her hair away from her face with a sweep of his hand, his green eyes holding her gaze without wavering. “But somehow, she’s let me into hers, and I feel like the luckiest guy around because of it. Our engagement is new but if she lets me, I will spend my life making sure she’s as happy as I feel every time I’m in the same room with her.”
The words were a lie delivered by a talented actor. Her brain knew that. But somehow the rest of her body didn’t get the message. Her chest compressed and her throat narrowed with that horrible feeling that preceded crying. No one had ever said something like that to her. Not even her ex when things were good. Tears stung her eyes. She needed to pretend back. That was what she told herself she was doing when she let the tears fall. Oscar-worthy acting. Sure.
“Oh, honey.” She pushed up on her toes and pressed her lips to Lane’s.
His hand slid to the back of her neck and he kept the kiss brief and chaste, but she felt the tenderness of it deep in her gut. He smiled down at her when he pulled away and wiped her tears with his thumbs. She couldn’t seem to look away from him.
Her mother cleared her throat, reminding Elle that they weren’t alone. She turned to look at her mom and found her with an unreadable expression. Her lips finally tipped up at the corners in a tentative smile. “Well, if that’s the case, then I’m sorry for making assumptions.”
That wasn’t her mother saying she believed them, but Elle sensed they had her questioning herself a bit. Mission accomplished. Too bad that mission had also left Elle’s heart pounding, her knees a little weak, and her mind scrambled.
Lane released Elle and shifted on his feet. “I should probably go and get our things out of the car.”
Elle had the knee-jerk instinct to grab his shirt sleeve and ask him to stay, but he was trying to give her alone time with her mother. Plus, she probably needed a few minutes away from him to get her head back together after his romantic faux speech and kiss. “That’s a good idea.”
“Do you need any help?” her mother asked.
“No, we didn’t bring much.”
“Okay, well, you two will be staying in Elle’s old bedroom. Second room on the left once you go up the stairs. Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks, Mrs. McCray.”
“Cassandra,” she corrected. “After all, we’ll soon be family, right?”
Lane smiled that disarming smile of his. “Of course, Cassandra.”
He gave Elle a quick kiss on the cheek, as if he just couldn’t bear to leave without another little peck, and then he headed out the side gate. Elle shook her head. The guy had said he was good at this, but she hadn’t expected he’d be quite this good. He was making her question the situation, even when he’d made it perfectly clear where they stood. How many times had he pulled off this kind of farce? The thought made her stomach hurt.
“He’s very good-looking,” her mother said as she grabbed her drink and sat back on the chaise.
“He is.”
She gave Elle a pointed look. “Is he smart enough to keep up with you?”
Elle stared down the path Lane had just tracked over, turning the question over in her head but already knowing the answer. “He is. He’s pretty brilliant, actually. And he’s great with the patients.”
“Money?” she asked, as if that were a completely acceptable question.
Elle fought not to roll her eyes. “He doesn’t need mine, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“So you’re really engag
ed?”
Elle sat on the other chaise with a tired sigh and poured herself a glass of lemonade. “Mom, how long are you going to grill me to avoid telling me what’s going on with you?”
Her mom’s lips pursed like her lemonade was too tart, and she turned to look at the bubbling bird fountain at the edge of the patio. “What’s there to know? It’s cancer.”
The word sent dark tendrils of anxiety over Elle’s nerve endings, but she didn’t let it show on her face. Her mother wouldn’t want sympathy. She’d kick her right off the porch. So Elle channeled her physician mode. “What are they recommending?”
“Double mastectomy.” She said the words with no emotion but her knuckles were white against the frosty glass. “They think they can get it all with that, but they won’t know for sure until they get in there. Now you can act like everyone else and tell me about all the advances and how my percentages for survival are good and that I shouldn’t be so terrified at the thought of the surgery.”
Elle frowned. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m not going to tell you any of that. This sucks. Your chances are good, but that doesn’t make any of this easier or less stressful. Do you like your doctors?”
“They’re a little too nice,” she said, sending her a wry smile. “Even when I bite their heads off, I can’t get a rise out of them.”
Elle smiled and sipped her drink. “I’ll put in a request for more ruthless doctors.”
“Please do. I’d feel so much better if they’d yell back at me instead of treating me like a dying woman.”
Elle’s heart sank. “You’re not dying, Mom.”
“Damn straight I’m not,” she said, some of the steel coming back into her voice. “I have a business to run. And now I need to be around for your wedding. Every wedding needs a bossy mother.”
Elle smirked. “Didn’t you already do that the first time?”
She flicked a dismissive hand in the air. “No. I was only learning that first time. If I’d been more on my game then, I would’ve never let you marry Henry in the first place.”
Elle leaned back in the chaise and stretched out her legs, the condensation from her glass dripping onto her slacks. “Yet, you’re letting Nina marry him.”