by Nina Crespo
“Let’s talk about something else—like how you’re going to follow the doctor’s instructions from now on.”
“Sweetheart. I know you’re a grown woman, and I don’t mean to pry, but…” Her mom closed her eyes a moment and released a breath. “I’m concerned. At the meeting tonight, I overheard people talking about all the online videos there are of the man you’re seeing.”
“It’s no big deal.” Alexa patted her mother’s hand. Even though he hadn’t danced professionally in a few years, there were still videos circulating of Raphael the Dream Maker shirtless or in a G-string. She’d Googled him out of curiosity. “Mom, he danced as a male entertainer with the Hot Body Hunks. There’s all kinds of video and pictures on the internet featuring the group. They’re popular here and in Miami.”
“They were talking about the one of you and him.” Her mother gave her a look. “He was lying naked on top of you on a hay bale in a barn someplace.”
Whoa. She hadn’t searched for video or pictures from the Bash. Alexa briefly dropped her gaze. So what? A sexy video of her and Rafe existed. “We weren’t naked. We were on stage during a party at a local nightclub he owns. What we did wasn’t illegal.”
“So it’s true. This is serious.” A hint of red tinged her mother’s light brown cheeks. “You don’t understand what you’re doing.”
“This conversation is upsetting you. We’re changing the subject.”
“What’s upsetting is that you won’t hear me out.”
“Okay. Okay. But let’s do this tomorrow. After you get some rest.”
“No.” Her mother shook her head. “There’s something I should have told you years ago.”
Her mom was harboring some secret from years ago? About what? Was whatever she was holding in adding to her mom’s stress? “I’m listening.”
“When your father and I got together…”
Her father? Where was this going?
“His family didn’t approve.”
Alexa released a pent-up breath. Good. She knew this story. No curveballs ahead. “You and Dad already told me about it. They believed you two were too young to get married, and that he needed to be more established in building his company.”
“That’s not entirely the reason.” Her mother held her hand. “Almost everyone in your father’s family are business owners. When we met, I was just some country girl from North Carolina who worked at the dry cleaners. They didn’t see me as their equal. His mother objected the loudest, but your father stood his ground and married me anyway.”
Alexa propped a knee on the bed. Both sets of her grandparents had died when she was young, but she did remember Grandma Jewell being cold and distant at times. “So, Dad stood up for love. Good for him.”
“Not always. Shortly after we were married, friends of his family invited us to their home for a cookout. I was taught that you didn’t show up to someone’s home empty-handed. So I made a peach pie and took it with us to the party.”
Made? Her mother didn’t cook. “You mean you baked it, right? Like you went to the store, got a frozen one, and baked it in the oven.”
“No. It was not frozen from the store. I actually can make a peach pie from scratch.” A small smile softened her mother’s exasperated expression. “My mother taught me. Anyway, when we arrived, I handed it to the hostess. She laughed. She thought it was hilarious that I had showed up with something so quaint. Then she told all the women at the party, and they laughed too. They didn’t even have the grace to snicker about it behind my back.”
“I don’t get it. Why did they think the pie was funny?”
“Because to me, a cookout meant my uncle manning the grill in the backyard while the kids ran around and the grown-ups sat on folding chairs on the porch trading stories and swatting mosquitoes. To your father’s friends, it meant a catered meal served under a tent by servers in formal uniforms. Peach pie wasn’t on the menu.” Hurt filled her mother’s eyes as if she were speaking of something that happened last week, not over thirty years ago.
“So what happened to it?”
“I don’t know.” Her mom smoothed a stray hair from her forehead. “And I didn’t ask. I was so humiliated, I didn’t even want my dish back. Your father hadn’t noticed what was going on, but when I got home, he could tell I was upset. I was so embarrassed that I didn’t want to tell him, but he pried it out of me. The next day he drove back and got the dish.”
Pride swelled in Alexa. “And I bet he told the hostess off, too. Didn’t he?”
“He may have had a few words with her.” Her mom chuckled, but her smile quickly faded. “But the point of my story is…he shouldn’t have had to defend me. I should have known what was expected. From that day on, I studied every etiquette book I could get my hands on. I watched what other women did at social functions. I learned how to fit in, so you wouldn’t have to. You’re the real deal, Alexa. You were born into this world, and I made sure you knew every important detail of it. It’s a privilege you shouldn’t casually throw away over enjoyment.”
“By enjoyment, you mean Rafe.” Compassion for what happened to her mother years ago mingled with frustration. “If he and I were together, he’d find his own way forward, just like you did. He’s a business owner.”
“With a past as a stripper that anyone can dig up online and wave in your face. No one has pictures or videos of my peach pie blunder.” Her mother gripped her arm. “You have to face reality, Alexa. What about your reputation in the business world? There’s a double standard that hangs over you as a woman that doesn’t apply to a man in the same position. People are judging you harshly for being with him. If you stay with him, you’ll have to contend with his past every moment you’re together. Defend your decision to be with him at every turn. Is that really what you want?”
Chapter Nineteen
Alone in her office suite, Alexa closed her eyes against the glare of the computer screen. She’d stepped in for her father during his absence, shouldering her work and his so he could spend time with her mother. NorthStar’s chief of operations was fully capable of leading the company, but as the CEO’s daughter, her taking a more active role was expected.
Alexa switched off her computer. She was also staying with her parents in one of the guest rooms. Her father thought it was good for her mother to have her around. It wasn’t terrible. Her father rose early to have coffee with her and discuss company business before she left for work. At night, her mom even insisted on bringing her a cup of chamomile tea to help her sleep.
But she missed Rafe. She hadn’t seen him since she’d dropped off his phone, a week ago, the night her mother had been taken to the hospital. He’d been handling an issue, and she’d been in a hurry to get back to her mom. Their interaction with each other had been brief.
She also missed their special routine. They shared breakfast in the morning. She usually swiped his coffee because she was too lazy to pour her own and his always tasted better. Sometimes they took lunch breaks together—real ones with food and no sex involved. When he came to bed after working at the club, she’d snuggle up with him. Hearing his heartbeat, that was one of the things she’d really missed over the past few days. It was solid and strong. Being in his arms was like her own private island refuge.
But now it was time to start weaning herself off of him and getting used to being on her own again. After all, once she moved to Seattle, it was unlikely she’d ever see him again anyway. Maybe it was best to slow things down so it wouldn’t hurt so badly when the time came. And hanging around her parents more had also eased her mother’s worries and given them some much needed mother-daughter bonding time. She’d even convinced her mom to step down from a couple of her committees and focus on her health.
Her father was also more relaxed. He’d mentioned the other day how he could get used to staying home and not having a set schedule, but he had too much to do at NorthStar. Although her father hadn’t said anything directly to cause it, guilt was overwhelming her. When s
he and Brad were together, it was a given that they would take on more responsibility, paving the way for her father to retire in a few years. But now, her father had put his retirement on hold. If she stayed, though, her father could still plan for it.
In the car, she turned on her radio as she sped out of the parking lot and turned right into light evening traffic. On a reflex she almost took a left, heading for D.C. and Club Escapade. She and Rafe had talked on the phone briefly yesterday. He’d accepted her reasons for not spending time with him. But she couldn’t keep stalling. If she was taking a self-imposed break from Rafe, she needed to tell him it was over so they could say their goodbyes to each other. Sadness pinged inside of her like a slow, nagging drip. What if she wasn’t leaving in eleven days? Would they continue to see each other? No. He’d said he was only interested in a short-term relationship, and it didn’t make sense to even think about having more time with him. She was still moving to Seattle. Right?
The interstate exit that would lead to her house loomed ahead. Alexa took it. She needed a moment in her own space to think and to finish some light packing. The movers were coming to pick up her stuff the beginning of next week.
After a short drive, she pulled into her quiet gated community. A few turns later, she approached her house.
External lights that automatically switched on every night illuminated the porch and the green recycling container outside of the garage.
She hadn’t left it there. Homeowner association rules mandated all trash and recycling bins were stored out of sight. Brad. He’d left it out. She’d probably find a notice in the mailbox that they were on the HOA shit list for breaking a rule. Thanks a lot, Brad.
When they’d briefly spoken a few days ago, he’d said he was stopping at the house again to pick up more of his clothes. He was pretty much living out of a suitcase, but that wasn’t her fault. As per the agreement they’d struck months ago through his parents, he planned on keeping the house but wouldn’t occupy it until after she’d left.
At least this time, unlike before her going away party, he’d let her know he was going in the house, but that entire conversation was probably just another excuse for him to talk to her.
The man gave her a headache. During the past week, he kept showing up at inopportune times in her office, and she kept sending him away. Why couldn’t she just be free of him?
As she pulled into the driveway, Alexa pressed the remote clipped to her visor.
His black Saab was parked inside.
He was there? Alexa got out, picked up two soggy advertisement papers wrapped in plastic near the edge of the lawn, then rolled the container past his car into the far corner.
She came through the garage entrance and walked down the hall. As soon as she entered the kitchen, the pungent scent of scorched garlic greeted her. She smacked into empty cardboard boxes with used tape hanging off of them sitting on the floor.
Plates and glasses were stacked on the counter. A skillet from one of the cartons, now dirty, sat on the stove.
What the hell? She dropped her work satchel and purse on the counter.
Brad drifted into the kitchen wearing a white shirt and gray sweat shorts, eating broccoli from a bowl. “You came home.”
“You unpacked my things?”
“I had to. How was I supposed to cook? What did you expect me to eat off of?”
“Cook? Eat?” The fact that he actually had the nerve to look confused almost robbed her of words. “You aren’t supposed to be here at all, but you could have used these…” She whipped open the top and bottom cabinets with dishes, pots, and pans.
“Oh. I just thought you packed everything.”
“I have enough stuff of my own. I left yours behind. I can’t believe you did this.” Alexa closed her eyes a moment and took a breath. Maybe she was just overly tired, and Brad was a hallucination. She opened her eyes. Nope. He was there, standing in her kitchen. “Besides screwing everything up, what are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
“Not until after I leave for Seattle.”
“But since I came back early, I need a place to stay. I’ve tried to talk to you about it.”
“Tried? You didn’t say a word to me about staying here, and why are you back early, anyway? Where’s Karma?”
As he laid the bowl on the counter, he visibly swallowed. “Karma and I are no longer together. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I’m here for you, Alexa. I came back for you.”
A derisive snort blew past her lips. “You are so full of shit.”
“It’s true, and if you would just stop being mad at me for a minute, we could talk about what led to us breaking our engagement.”
“We did not break our engagement. You broke our engagement when you ran away with another woman on the day we were supposed to get married and left me and my family to deal with the fallout.”
“I was wrong. I screwed up, but we can have a second chance, if you’ll just forgive me.” As he lowered his eyes to the ground, he came off like a kid who’d skipped school or stolen his parents’ car. Not a man who had upset people’s lives.
And what was even sadder, when they were together she’d fallen for his boyish act so many times and let him slide…but not this time. He hadn’t said he was sorry. Did he even realize the amount of pain and trouble he’d caused? “You have to want to be forgiven, Brad, and you don’t. And as far as second chances, we’re over. I’ve moved on.”
“To who—that stripper you’re sleeping with?” As he spat out the words, the boyish mask of innocence covering his face disappeared. “Being with him to get back at me just makes you look desperate.”
Was that comment meant to shame her? To hurt her more than he already had? What he’d just said barely deserved an answer. She stepped up to him. “I’m with Rafe because I enjoy spending time with him. What’s desperate is you expecting me to want you back.”
He reared back slightly. “You’ve never been unreasonable. This is because of him. You’ve changed.”
“Yes, I have.” Satisfaction flourished in the midst of her annoyance. She snatched her bags from the counter. “This conversation is over. Get out.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I’ve paid the mortgage and every damn bill, including ones from our wedding, on my own. You don’t get to show up out of the blue and move in when you please. You can come back when I’m gone. I want you out of here. Now.”
“There’s plenty of space. Why can’t I just stay in one of the guest rooms?”
“Because if you ignore what I’m saying, you face the very real probability that I’ll suffocate you in your sleep.”
Without a backward glance, she strode out of the kitchen and went up the stairs.
The bed in the master bedroom was unmade, and the bathroom was a mess. He’d clearly gotten comfortable beyond just the kitchen.
Alexa grabbed clothes from the walk-in closet and rummaged through the dresser drawers for underwear and Rafe’s black sweatshirt. After grabbing the rest of her things, she went to the first of three guest bedrooms at the other end of the hall, closed the door, then undressed and put on the shirt she’d inadvertently slipped into her bag.
Outside the bedroom, doors opened and slammed shut.
Rafe would be proud of her. She’d stood her ground with Brad. Alexa dug her cell out of her purse and typed in a text. Brad showed up at the house.
Seconds later, her phone rang.
Rafe. She answered. “Hey.”
“Are you okay? What happened? Do I need to come by and beat his ass?”
His serious tone sobered her up. She sat on the bed. “No. I’m fine. I already kicked him out. Sorry. I didn’t mean to get you all stirred up.”
“No. It’s not you. I didn’t mean to overreact. There’s just a ton of shit going on here. The renovations in Escapade West started today.” He paused. “I know you have things to take care of, and that’s why we haven’t been together, but damn, Alexa,
I want to see you.”
She closed her eyes, hugged an arm around herself, and breathed in the scent of the fabric softener Rafe used, imagining it was him embracing her. Maybe it wasn’t time for her to take a self-imposed break from him. At least, not yet. “Tomorrow, maybe?”
“Tomorrow is good. I better get back to the floor.” He paused. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.” More than she could imagine.
Alexa disconnected from the call, then went downstairs with her laptop.
Brad was gone, but he’d left a mess behind in the kitchen. A small, blue velvet jewelry box sat on a stack of clean plates on the counter.
A note was under the box written in Brad’s handwriting. This belongs to you. I hope someday that you’ll consider wearing it again.
Hadn’t he heard a word she’d said to him earlier? Was he insane, or did he really think there was a chance she’d take him back? She flipped open the box.
The three-carat solitaire engagement ring he’d given her nearly a year ago twinkled in the light. A rush of nostalgia hit. The diamond had been taken from a piece of jewelry his great-grandmother had owned, and she’d been so honored to wear it. So many times, she’d found herself staring at the ring on her finger, daydreaming about the day she’d marry her best friend and the man she’d loved.
Alexa took the ring out of the box and put it on. A mix of emotions she couldn’t sort out hit her all at once along with so many memories. Like how, at the spur of the moment, Brad would take her hand and stroke over the ring. Each time he’d done it had felt like he was promising to love her forever. Only he hadn’t. Even if she could fall back in love with him, the trust was gone. Her mom had questioned if she could be with Rafe because of his past. Well, she knew without a doubt that she couldn’t reconcile her past with Brad. His unfaithfulness would loom over their relationship forever.
Alexa held up her hand. As beautiful as the ring was, it looked out of place.
Dirty pots and dishes, piled in the sink, shifted. A glass shattered.
Irritation burned away memories of the past. Brad was good at leaving messes behind, and this was her last time cleaning up after him. Alexa put the ring back in the box, stuck it in the utility drawer in front of her, and tore up the note. Like she told Brad, it was over between them. She was moving on.