Later that afternoon, Danielle made it to the hotel, and we left for the nursing home to find some clothes for Mom’s burial. As we walked down a long, linoleum hallway inside the secure memory care unit, panic set in, and I wondered if I would get through the day without breaking down. My thoughts were a troubled montage of death certificates, insurance policies, and Mom’s final bills. All of it was eerily reminiscent of what I’d had to deal with in the wake of Jean-Pierre’s death.
Her small, utilitarian room contained a dresser, a shabby recliner, and a single bed covered with a vintage quilt. One wall was plastered with family photos. It was all I could do to keep from weeping.
Is this what my life will come down to? Living alone in one room, surrounded by nothing but memories?
Mom had given away all of her “nice” clothes, so after searching through her closet, we chose her favorite vintage golf outfit—a white polo shirt tipped with green, a coordinating yellow and green skort, and a pair of tasseled shoes. Clearing out the rest of her things would have to wait until after the funeral arrangements were made.
That task accomplished, we drove back to our hotel, stopping at Target on the way to buy a phone charger, wine, and tampons. Once we were back in our suite, I plugged in my phone and changed out of my travel clothes into yoga pants and a faded t-shirt before collapsing onto the living room sofa. Dani sat beside me and clasped my hand.
“I’m not sure I could’ve handled this by myself,” I told her. “I’m so grateful you’re here.”
She wiped her eyes.
“It’s so sad, although we knew what was coming,” she said. “Not like the shock of losing Daddy, but it’s still hard to accept that Grandma is gone.”
I nodded my agreement, even though a part of me was relieved that her long ordeal was over. During the past few years, I’d witnessed her slow decline, watching as she forgot how to read, watch television, or even brush her hair. In truth, I’d lost my mother long ago. All that remained of the vibrant woman who’d taught me to love both jazz and good food was an empty shell.
“We should eat something before we both fall asleep. Let’s order room service,” I suggested, “and go to bed early. I’ve been awake since two thirty Eastern Time.”
Dani found a menu and called in our orders—a mushroom burger for me, while she opted for the grilled chicken sandwich. While we waited, I sank deeper into the sofa, retrieved my phone, and played back Ian’s messages from yesterday.
I sent a link to your e-ticket for Paris, but I haven’t heard from you. Please tell me you haven’t changed your mind after what happened at the beach house. Monica and I were finished long ago.
Three hours later, he called again.
I’m concerned that something is terribly wrong. Please return my call, otherwise I’ll likely stay up all night and worry. Tell me you won’t give up on the idea of us.
He sounded frantic. Maybe I’d overreacted, and he’d been telling the truth about Monica. I slumped in my seat, staring down at my phone screen.
Should I call to say I was sorry for lashing out? Although I ached to hear his voice, something was holding me back. We were still living almost 3,000 miles apart with all the challenges of an undefined relationship that neither of us was prepared for. I supposed I could fly to L.A. for a weekend of frantic sex and assurances that all was well, but then what? For a desirable man like Ian, temptation was never far away. I understood that, but I didn’t want to worry over him from afar.
I never told him that I love him. Would things have turned out differently if I had?
My eyes brimmed with sudden, unexpected tears. I could barely admit the truth to myself. How was I going to tell Ian that I’d broken all the rules I had insisted on?
Dani flopped into a faux-leather club chair and fixed her eyes on me. “What did he say?” she probed.
“That he’s sorry about what happened, and he’s worried that something is wrong.”
She gave me a long, searching look, rolled her eyes, and sighed.
“I wasn’t going to tell you, but now I think you ought to know.”
“Tell me what?” My heart raced. I wasn’t the least bit certain I wanted to hear what she had to say, especially if it was incriminating information about him and Monica.
“Ian called me this morning when I was waiting for my flight.”
“He what?”
“He was flipping out because he hadn’t heard from you. He thought you were trying to break up with him.”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head from side to side. I was convinced there was more to her story than she was letting on, and I intended to find out all of it.
“What else did he say?” I demanded.
Her eyes met mine briefly. She sighed again before muttering, “He told me you’re the person he’s been searching for his whole life.”
My throat tightened as I fought back fresh tears. Oh, fuck. Had I messed things up beyond repair?
“He actually said that to you?” I stammered. Why would he tell Dani, who barely tolerated him, and not me? He must’ve been desperate to have called her in the first place.
She nodded.
“It’s no secret that I’ve had some…doubts about Ian. I expected him to be a shallow, self-serving prick, and I’m still not sure. But unless he’s the greatest actor of all time, which I seriously doubt…” She cut her eyes at me. “…I think he was being truthful.”
I stared at her, openmouthed.
“And there’s one other thing,” she continued. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see him, so please don’t get upset.” She sighed. “I told him where we are.”
My heart thudded out of control. “Is he coming here?”
“I don’t know. I had to hang up when they called my flight.”
I took a few deep breaths to slow my pounding heart before I called Ian’s cell phone and listened. An involuntary shiver of lust rippled down my spine at the sound of his recorded voice.
Ian here. Either I can’t answer the phone, or I don’t want to. Leave a message after the tone and have a lovely day.
I ended the call and sent him a text, hoping for a quick response.
I’m so sorry I didn’t call you back sooner. My mother died and I’m in Washington for her memorial service.
After an hour, when he hadn’t called or texted back, I sat shivering in the air-conditioned room, wondering what to do. An iceberg had lodged itself in the pit of my stomach. If only I’d stuck to my original plan of no attachments and no expectations, I wouldn’t have inflicted such emotional misery on myself.
Put on your big girl panties, Shelby. You’ve been through worse than this. You shared some good times together and had amazing sex, but that was all you said you wanted. You never expected it to last, so why has this hit you so hard?
I knew the answer, and it scared the crap out of me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ian
Was it possible to lose someone who was never really mine to begin with?
The following morning, I had breakfast on my private balcony, but found the egg white omelet tasteless and overcooked. Even the extra-crispy hash browns didn’t tempt me, or the turkey bacon I stupidly substituted for the real thing. I finally settled for dry toast and tea. Ensconced in a luxury hotel, free of Sutherland’s Ghosts, and contemplating the possibility of a major movie role should have made me deliriously happy. Instead, I was cheerless. Disillusioned and fed up. What was the point of it all without someone to share my life?
Shelby was going to cut me loose. I could feel it as surely as the warmth of the California sun on my face. And I had no idea of what to do when she wouldn’t communicate.
In truth, I couldn’t blame her for being a bit wary, especially after what I’d told her about my previous life. It wasn’t a pretty story with a happily-ever-after ending. At the time, I thought it would be best to come clean about the man I’d been, so she wouldn’t be blindsided by old stories that resurfaced i
n the tabloids. Now I was second-guessing that decision.
Monica’s convincing lies had aroused her suspicions even more. I’d done all I could in a few short weeks to demonstrate my reliability and trustworthiness, but it hadn’t been enough to overcome the stigma of my bad boy past. To make matters worse, I’d almost stepped over the line with my ex, so perhaps I wasn’t quite the changed man I claimed to be.
Why in the bloody hell hadn’t I changed my phone passcode? One simple action on my part would have avoided this cock-up, and I’d have stayed in Shelby’s good graces, if not her bed.
I considered turning on the classic film channel and tuning out for a few hours, before I came to my senses. Dissolving into self-pity while watching old movies wasn’t going to end my growing desperation. Instead, I sat on the living room sofa, gathered what was left of my courage, scrolled through my texts to find the one from Danielle, and called her.
“Your mother hasn’t returned my calls and texts,” I started off. “I know she’s upset, but this is not like her. Is she all right?”
As I expected, she held back nothing.
“Give me one good reason I should help you. All you’ve done is gotten her hopes up before you hurt her.”
I could visualize Danielle fingering the little dagger she kept tucked away, while considering clever ways to gut me.
“Why don’t you leave her alone?”
“What do you mean, ‘gotten her hopes up?’”
A deep sigh conveyed her annoyance at my obvious idiocy.
“I’m her daughter, so I know what she feels even when she doesn’t say it. She hoped you might be for real instead of some callous jerk who had no intention of sticking around.” Then she brought out the big guns. “And sleeping with your ex, Ian? That’s so tacky.”
Danielle’s harsh response was sharper than her knife blade. I struggled to respond.
“I’m not guilty of the accusation. I swear to you. I love and respect your mother too much to intentionally hurt her.”
“You love her?” She bit off the words and spat them back at me, her tone bitter and unyielding. “Whatever that means to someone like you.”
“Dani, please.” If I had to beg, I was more than willing to do it. “Don’t I at least deserve a chance to make things right? She can send me away if she wants, but I need to talk to her first.”
“I don’t believe you have my mother’s best interests at heart,” she countered.
“Why don’t we let Shelby make that decision?”
My request was met with silence.
“Let me ask you,” I went on, hoping I didn’t come off as unhinged as I felt. “What if you met the right person at precisely the wrong time? What would you do…if you found someone you’d been searching for your entire life?”
Another cynical sigh wafted my way and I heard some rustling.
“Listen,” she commanded. “What you’ve told me had better be sincere, and not some lines recycled from a movie script.”
That one’s going to leave a mark.
“I’ve got to go. They’re calling my flight. I’ll text you her hotel information once I’m on the plane.” In the background, I detected the muffled squawk of a boarding announcement. “Don’t make me regret this,” she added.
“Hotel information? What’s happened?”
“I’m on my way to meet her in Vancouver, Washington. Grandma passed away.”
Another death, coming so close on the heels of her husband’s passing. A second memorial service to plan. Seized by a sudden urge to forget everything else and go to her, I paused briefly to consider the ramifications. Shelby hadn’t asked me to be there, and I wasn’t entirely sure she would want me. In my mind, however, there wasn’t any choice. Provided she let me in the door, I’d be the one to give her comfort and help her through her loss, a gesture that would prove beyond all doubt how I felt about her.
I used my phone to book a late afternoon flight to Portland, the nearest major airport to my destination, not knowing how I’d be received. I sent Madeline a text telling her I’d be out of town for a few days. Afterward, I called my manager and begged off my scheduled meeting with Bill Lyons. The movie business would have to wait until I took care of some personal issues.
For the foreseeable future, real life demanded top billing. At that thought, a crushing weight lifted from my chest, leaving me a bit light-headed. I sank into the couch cushions, feeling both relieved and apprehensive. I would survive, with or without the movie role, but I wasn’t certain how I’d go on without Shelby in my life.
Sam would find work for me, although I’d sooner starve than slog through another wretched television production, working strictly for the paycheck. From now on I’d insist on quality, even if the job didn’t pay well, and trust that I hadn’t become compromised beyond redemption.
More than anything, I hoped Shelby hadn’t given up on the two of us. I’d have to find a way to prove that I was the man she needed, because heaven knew I needed her.
***
The in-flight movie was a well-meaning but dreary survival/romance starring two actors, both appealing on their own, who had no on-screen chemistry. I suspected both had overlooked the mediocre script in the quest for box office gold, an all-too-common temptation in my business. I stopped watching midway through and was on the verge of dozing off in my aisle seat when I was approached by an overly solicitous flight attendant, eager to point out the amenities available in first class.
She wore a slightly quizzical expression that suggested some familiarity with my face. I guessed her to be in her mid-thirties, slim and attractive, with glowing, unblemished skin and long dark hair held back in a clip.
She leaned in a little, close enough for me to catch a flash of white lace underneath her crisp uniform shirt. “Say, aren’t you Ian James?”
“Who?” I responded, feigning ignorance.
She wagged a finger at me while offering a grin. I couldn’t help but smile back, giving myself away.
“You can’t fool me. I watched all seven seasons of Time Traveler. Are you sure I can’t get you a blanket or a pillow?” she asked, keeping her voice low. “Or anything else?”
Admittedly, I was a bit flattered by her attention and the obvious come-on, but the thought of thrashing around in bed with a stranger only made me tired. During another time in my life, I might’ve asked for her phone number or her hotel room key, engaged in quick, impersonal sex, then parted ways without the least bit of remorse. Times had changed and, I hoped, so had I.
“No, thank you. I’m going to put on my sleep mask and get some rest.”
“Are you going to Portland on business, or for fun?” Her eyes caught mine for an instant, long enough for me to read her intention, loud and clear.
“Neither, I’m afraid. I’m on my way to a funeral. My friend’s mum.”
“Oh.” Her voice was clouded in disappointment as she backed away. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
It seemed a bit odd referring to Shelby as my friend, but wasn’t she? My friend, lover, and confidant. Isn’t that what I’d wanted from the beginning, even though I’d tried to convince myself otherwise? Was it too much to expect that I could love someone enough to build a life together? Not the shallow commitment that Monica and I had, but a deep, lasting relationship with a woman who would want me for myself, no matter how flawed and stodgy I might be. Someone who knew a little something about loyalty and what it takes for two people to stay together. Shelby had a great capacity for love and understanding; I heard it in her voice every time she mentioned Jean-Pierre.
When my flight landed and I retrieved my bags, I hailed a taxi and gave the driver my destination address, an extended stay hotel across the Washington state line in nearby Vancouver. After I checked in and got my key card, I texted Danielle.
I’m in the lobby. What’s your room number?
Then, I waited impatiently for a response while my rain parka dripped water onto the hardwood floor. When she texted back, I
sprinted to the elevator.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Shelby
The knock on our door was soft but persistent, followed by a deep male voice, instantly recognizable despite the phony accent.
“Room service, y’all.”
Ian. My pulse quickened at the thought of being near him again. Maybe I was foolish to think about the possibility of a future, when we were two people brought together by loneliness and despair, both of us too emotionally wounded to ask for what we needed. Despite my doubts and misplaced speculation, however, the terrifying truth was I wanted him, regardless of what he might’ve done.
I’m the one he’s been waiting for his whole life.
Each time I thought about what he said to Danielle, my heart lifted. Who Ian had been in the past wasn’t nearly as important as his self-awareness and willingness to change, I’d decided. And he had changed, I believed it beyond all doubt. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t convince myself that he’d slept with Monica, not after what Dani had told me.
“I’ll get it,” I said, leaping up before she had time to get off the sofa, and almost tripping over the coffee table in my eagerness to get to him. I opened the door to find him flashing a nervous smile. When he absently raked back what was left of his hair with one hand, the familiar gesture made my heart jump in my chest. I flung both arms around his neck before his lips met mine in a brief, awkward kiss, while Danielle looked on.
“That was a lovely welcome, I wasn’t entirely sure you’d open the door. I’m a bit damp,” he added apologetically, before shrugging out of his wet raincoat.
“Come inside,” I urged. “Let me take your coat.” I handed off the parka to Danielle, who hadn’t uttered a word.
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