“If I had a penny every time a guy asked me that!”
“You’d have exactly one penny?” came the dry comment from behind her and she elbowed him playfully in the stomach.
“Okay, so first lesson in flipping. One, make sure the underside is fully dry and by dry I mean cooked. You don’t want any sticky uncooked bits because then you’ll try to flip and it’ll curl over like a calzone. Not nice.” She demonstrated by swirling the pancake around, ensuring it moved all the way.
“Got it. Dry bottom. Next,” he said obediently.
“So you loosen it like this, then flip a little bit like so … ” She flipped her wrist, watching the pancake somersault through the air and land with a light pat back on the pan. “And voilà. A perfectly flipped pancake.”
Leaning back, she felt the grumble of his tummy and grabbing a dish from the side served the pancake onto a plate. “Here you go. You can get started on that while I finish up the rest,” She moved aside as he reached for it, spreading chocolate sauce on top and tucking in greedily.
Within seconds, it was gone and he was staring at her wide-eyed.
“So how was it?”
“Amazing. You, Miss George, are a very talented woman,” he murmured leaning across and lightly brushing his lips over hers, the faint taste of chocolate spread, making it even tastier.
“So you’re not disappointed that I’m no Mary Poppins or Maria from The Sound of Music?”
“Nah. If I wanted Theo to sing and play guitar, I’d have paid for lessons. And who wants a nanny who flies through the air and makes cleaning up a game,” he said, eyes sparkling.
She flew through the rest, flipping pancakes like there was no tomorrow, depositing one after the other on the plate. Directing him to bring the plates and cutlery, she perched happily on the edge of a chair, enjoying the novelty of the domestic bliss as he poured her coffee and she rationed out the pancakes.
“Seriously, Rania. These are amazing. I haven’t tasted anything like this in ages!” The sigh of pleasure from his lips as he forked in another mouthful pleased her inner domestic goddess.
“It’s probably because these are English pancakes. Little bit different from the ones over here,” she said, spreading some chocolate sauce on hers and cutting it with the fork. “So … ” she began, pointing the fork at him, “You said you grew up here then back to the UK. Then what? Why come back?”
“That’s easy. Work. If you want to work in film, then LA is the place to be. I challenge you to find anyone working in British film or TV who wouldn’t rather be here.”
He had a point. Not that she knew many — or really any — people in the British TV or film industry since her mother passed away. They hadn’t been too concerned with keeping in touch with her after the fabulous Dana George died. Which was just fine with her.
“Of course it probably helped that I knew people here already. In this business it’s very much who you know to get a foot in the door. If they like you, they keep you; if they don’t, then you’re out” he told her, reaching for his coffee.
“Sounds horrible. So the Trenton name is something of Hollywood royalty around here?”
He smiled, the small dimple appearing in his cheek. “It wasn’t among the paparazzi and newspapers till me but, in the industry itself, yeah the Trenton name means something.”
Popping a plump strawberry into her mouth, she sighed as the sweet juices danced along her palate, freezing as he wiped away a stray droplet of juice on the side of her lip with his thumb. Her insides jitterbugged at the contact and she wondered how long etiquette demanded they stay down stairs before they could lose themselves in each other’s arms again. Not that she had ever been one of those forward girls to suggest something like that but she did have her fantasies.
“What about you?”
“What about me?” Using the best avoidance tactic she knew at this point, she began shoveling pancake into her mouth, pointing at it and shrugging as if that explained everything.
Leaning back, he eyed her steadily and she took a sip of her coffee, the pancake suddenly feeling very dry. She didn’t like that look. The look that pierced the well-secured barriers she had erected.
“You seem pretty cosmopolitan. How come you’ve never been to the States before?”
Putting her fork down, she knew she’d have to face the music at one point or another. Wiping at her lips with a napkin, she looked up. “I never came to the States simply because there was no one to take me. Then, as I got older, I had the shop to run.”
“But you traveled by train and ship across Europe?”
“When I was in my teens. My mother was a bit more, um, relaxed about stuff like that then I guess some other parents would be.”
He nodded, even though she highly doubted he’d understood. It’d taken her twenty-eight years to get to this point alone and she still hadn’t completely grasped it.
“But I was fine with it. I stayed with friends and stuff. No biggie.” Odd, if it was no big deal, then why did she feel she had a lump the size of a boulder lodged in her throat …
“Like Belle, you mean?”
She nodded, coughing to try and dislodge the lump. “Yeah, like Belle. She was an old friend of my mum’s and I stayed with her the most. You know, in between staying at other people’s houses. She wasn’t married or had any kids, just the shop so I think she was happy for me to come around. Especially after my mum died.”
Not to mention Belle was the rock that she could hold onto while the steamship that was her mother crashed into every storm in her path.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but you mentioned that you didn’t know your dad growing up. Did you have any contact after your mum passed away?” She knew he was just curious but it was strange talking about this after such a long time.
Taking in a deep breath, she knew it was now or never. Feeling as if she was standing on a precipice, looking down to the rocks below, she knew it was her choice. Jump and tell him or be pushed and risk him finding out himself later.
“No I didn’t because I had no idea how to get in contact with him. Another reason I never came to Hollywood was because I wanted to get as far away as possible from anything to do with the film industry.”
His eyebrows shot up and she bit her lip, unsure whether to carry on. No point doing this by half. She’d dug her own grave; she may as well lie down in it too.
“I was — what I call — a casting couch baby. My mum was an actress. Well, a wannabe actress at any rate and she came to the States to land that dream role. She told me that she met my dad, who was a director and they had this grand summer passion. He wasn’t married or anything, but when the time came to cast roles in his latest project, she wasn’t the lead. She wasn’t even given a role. So she took off, only finding out after that she was pregnant. I think she let him know, maybe to get another role; who knows.
“My mother was not a person you’d call very maternal. She’d travel all over Europe, leaving me with friends growing up, coming back all glamorous on the arm of a different man each time. When I got older I used to visit her, but she told me she wasn’t getting the roles if I hung around. I don’t think she ever did any more than a few commercials or bit parts. Oh and I’ll tell you the best bit. When I was a teenager, she told me it was a shame I didn’t take after her pale English rose beauty, that my olive skin and brown hair and eyes weren’t fashionable and would I consider getting contacts.”
Gulping back a breath, not even realizing the tears had been silently pouring down her cheeks until she’d stopped and Nick had scooped her up, nestling her head under his and wrapping his arms tightly around her, he rocked her gently as he would Theo.
“Yeah, I can see why that would turn you off coming here. But not all of Hollywood is like that. Just a suggestion; did you ever think to co
ntact your dad to get his side of the story?” he whispered against her hair.
Wiping at her tears, she pulled back, knowing she must look a real mess. “That’d be hard to do, as I don’t even know his name. Besides, hiring a private detective costs money.” She nestled back into the warmth of his arms. So now he knew about her messed-up background and he hadn’t ran a mile. Maybe there was something to this truth thing.
“But, if you could, I mean if you had the means somehow, would you do it?” he persisted.
She stilled. What was he saying? That he’d pay for a detective or comb the streets of Hollywood himself for her long-lost father, who may not even still be alive?
“Honestly, I don’t know. My mother never used to speak badly of him. Just that he missed out on working with the greatest actress ever. I guess she meant her, though from the lack of roles she had, I’m not too sure how delusional she was about her talent.” She caught herself as she realized how horrible that sounded. “I didn’t mean it like that. But as they say, the proof is in the pudding and if she was so great, how come she never got any starring roles.”
He stayed silent at her rhetorical question, as if lost in his own thoughts. “What film did she cast for?” His eyes locked on something in the distance and she could practically hear the cogs turning.
“Honestly, I can’t remember the name off the top of my head. But I do know it was something about a desert princess and how she rescued a man and how her father disapproved.”
“And you were born in the 1980s, so the film would have been released about that time?”
“I guess.” Her stomach dipped as she realized the direction he was going with the conversation. “Nick … ”
“Yes.” His eyes were dark in thought as he smiled faintly down at her. She could almost see his mind fixing the puzzle pieces into place. Thinking about it now, it seemed so simple. She’d never needed a private detective; she just needed to apply some logic to the situation. But now she was at the first step, she could honestly say she wasn’t sure where she wanted to go next.
Suppose her father was like Dana and they were two peas in a pod. It had taken her all of her teen years and adult life to accept she had been a disappointment to her mother; not because of her, but because it was just Dana being Dana. Maybe her dad was like that, too. If so, she didn’t have any energy left to try to understand him.
At least she had Nick and Theo. An ugly thought raised its head as it reminded her that two weeks were almost up and then it was back to England and reality. What then? Shaking her head, she refused to think about that now.
“Nick … Let’s go and explore.” There, that was a more proactive course of action instead of sitting here indulging in her own pity party. Although she was more than happy to sit here forever in his arms, she needed to get out into the sunshine.
“Sure thing. Anywhere especially you want to go?” He’d sat back, gratefully dropping the subject.
“How about somewhere off the beaten path, not crowded by tourists?”
She could tell she’d surprised him, his gaze quizzical as he looked at her. If someone had flown all the way to London and then asked her show them the non-touristy parts of the city, she would probably think them odd, too.
“Okay, if you want. There’s this great park that I used to go to as a kid. Some tourists go there but it’s mostly just locals and their dogs. Want to go?”
She nodded, scrambling off his lap. “I’ll just grab my bag while you, er … ”
“Get dressed?” he suggested.
Well, they were going out in public after all, so dressing was probably was a good idea. Casting one last lingering look over him before turning to pick up the plates, she couldn’t help but tease him. “If you must, you must. I’ll clear up here.”
His hands rested gently on her hips and he turned her around, kissing her gently on her upturned nose with a murmured “be back in a sec.” He darted up the stairs, leaving Rania to grasp onto the kitchen counter as her legs turned to jelly beneath her.
• • •
The park was exactly as he remembered. The wide grassy open spaces, the skate park, the play area. He could picture himself sitting on the swings, urging his dad to push him higher and higher. Another image shot through his mind of taking a fall from his skateboard, trying to impress some girl.
Funny, he’d never brought Lila here. Probably because she’d tell him that was in the past and it was time to move on. Move on and up. He’d moved so on and up that he had forgotten about this place until Rania said she wanted to go somewhere away from the tourist spots. That was exactly the same reason he’d picked this place as a kid. Away from the crowds, it used to be himself and his family. He was glad his parents had settled back in the UK now, indulging in their dream of owning a boat. Not a yacht, as he offered to help them invest in; just a good old fashioned canal boat. As his father pointed out, you can’t ride the rollercoaster all your life. Sometimes you need to get off and smell the roses. Or the canal water, in his parents’ case.
Her hand gripped his tighter as they walked over the wooden bridge and he looked down. God, she was beautiful. The sun bounced off her hair as it flowed free in the breeze. If he hadn’t known better, hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have guessed she’d been crying earlier; the radiant smile not giving anything away.
His gut churned as she remembered what she’d told him. He didn’t believe in speaking ill of the dead, but if that woman were alive today he could happily have throttled her after what she put Rania through. No child should ever have to live like that.
He remembered how happy his own childhood had been. The information about her father had been interesting. He knew what film she was talking about and knew that it had won an Oscar, which would explain why the man in that picture hanging in the restaurant had one. Not to mention how alike he and Rania had looked.
He hadn’t had a chance to look up the man’s name on the internet, not wanting to break Rania’s trust after her less-than-enthusiastic response to his offer to find her dad. If he were in her shoes, he might not want to find his only remaining parent especially after the behavior of the previous one. That was, if the guy was even alive. Or if he was alive and didn’t want anything to do with Rania.
No, that wouldn’t happen; he shook his head at the thought. He’d find that out before … before what? Introducing them, like some B-rate reunion movie. What did he think she’d do? Cry and thank him for getting her back with her father. Or, knowing his firebrand, maybe hate his guts if her old man proved to be as bad as her mother.
“Penny for your thoughts?” She’d stopped and was now looking up at him, her shades hiding her gloriously colored eyes. “You were frowning and looking so serious, I wondered what was up.”
“Nothing. Just remembering the younger Nick. I haven’t been back here in years,” he told her, pulling her into a hug, resting his head on top of hers.
“Why not? Or had you just out grown it?” He loved her open, honest questions. Never prying, just plain old-fashioned curiosity.
“No, I didn’t outgrow it. When I came back from the UK, I’d just been hired to do a high budget commercial, I was working all the hours I could and then I met Lila.”
“Lila didn’t like the park?” Her relaxed tone was at odds with the tenseness of her body.
“The only open green space Lila knew was the Country Club golf club,” he said, feeling none of the old bitterness rise up.
“So, she was the spoiled daughter of a big director and you were, what? The boy from the poor family who rode in and stole her away on his big bad ass bike?!” Her tone incredulous at the idea.
“Pretty much?”
“Pretty much to which bit?”
“Both.”
She pulled away, her glasses having slid down her nose making her look like an old school tea
cher as she stared up at him. “You owned a bike?”
“Yes. Why? Don’t I look like a bike riding man? Oh wait, I forgot. You thought I was a red Jaguar driving man.” He couldn’t resist the taunt as he reminded her of her comment when he picked her up at the airport.
“That’s mean to bring that up. That was before … ” She paused, and he felt his heart kick up a notch, needing to hear what she was going to say next.
“Before … ” He said, urging her on.
“Before … you know. This!” she cried, waving her hand around at the air between them.
“Ah, so now you know me better. I’m not a red Jag guy at all. And I’ll let you in on a little secret. I never really liked bikes either, always been a car kind of guy. The sports variety kind. But not in red,” he finished, pleased with the way her mouth rose up in a smile.
“So now I know. Nick the younger didn’t like motorbikes. Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.” She turned, intertwining her fingers into his leading him toward the play area. The sound of children’s laughter floated on the breeze and he sensed her pause as she looked at a mother cooing at her young baby.
She would make a great mother. The thought came so far out of left field that now he was the one stopping. What the heck …
• • •
She felt her breath catch at the sight of the mother and young baby. Thinking, not so much of what she lost through her relationship with her own mother; she’d dealt with that years ago.
No, it was the empty void in her heart that started to ache as she watched the baby giggle as his mother cooed down at him. It was what she always wanted.
She knew Ben wasn’t the one even as he tried to ask her to marry him, knowing that if she did it would be the biggest mistake of her life. He had tried to persuade her, telling her that it was because of her mother. Possibly, but she knew now that wasn’t the case. She knew because when she was with Nick, who with his Hollywood connections, was the last person she should be around, that feeling didn’t come.
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