Raindrops on Roses: Book One of the Favorite Things Trilogy

by Millenia Black

  Knowing each other well had once felt like a blessing—now it was a curse.

  Although Michael wasn't a fan of sharing a whole heck of a lot with anyone, even his closest friend, as they touched down at PBI, he realized it was time to give the situation a voice. Time for some sound advice.

  I'll reach out to Jason, he decided. Let's see what he has to say...

  •~•

  When they got home from the airport, Amber set about airing out the apartment. The "old weekend air" as she called it, had to go. They then got busy unpacking. Both had a full workday on tap.

  "Mom says hi," she told him, reading a text. "And 'Tell Michael I'm jealous,'" she added, laughing out loud. "But don't worry—if that's her way of fishing for an invite next time we go, she can forget it."

  Michael shook his head, chuckling. "Tell her I said hi back." Then he slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower. He always felt the need to shower immediately whenever he traveled. Being locked up on a plane marinating in the germs of hundreds of people was downright nauseating and he never felt normal again until he'd had a shower.

  She liked the bracelet, he thought, smiling. Priscilla had sent a thank-you text and he pictured it now as he stepped into the shower stall, closed his eyes and let the jet spray soak his hair.

  She's changing my whole life.

  And God, how he couldn't wait to see her again! He'd exercised what felt like Herculean restraint and refrained from calling or texting her while he and Amber had been away, and he didn't want to rush into it now. Even if it contradicted his true feelings, he liked the idea of beginning to take things slowly, just in case he'd come on too strong.

  So he decided to wait out the morning and text her at lunchtime, in the hopes that her invitation would still stand. His heart actually swelled with anticipation and he had to shake his head, admitting to himself that he'd give the world to be driving across that causeway again.

  •~•

  Amber was in the bedroom unpacking and on the phone catching up with her cousin Elaine, when she suddenly heard Michael...humming in the shower?

  Michael hums? she thought, frowning.

  She hadn't yet told anyone about the changes going on in their relationship and she certainly didn't plan to start now. So the conversation with Elaine ended up being a huge distraction and Amber told her she had to go, they'd talk more later.

  She knew Michal had tried his best over the weekend, but it had done nothing to relieve the intuition in her gut. He was absolutely different. He wasn't being Michael anymore.

  There had been several moments, even right after they'd made love, when she almost called him on it, but then bitched up and didn't dare. It felt like a very dangerous thing to do. What would he say? What devastating words might come out of his mouth? No way, she'd thought. It was too much of a risk. And she wasn't yet ready to go there with one insecure question.

  As she busied herself sorting their clothes for the laundry and trying to make out the song he was humming, she heard his phone buzz and vibrate over on the nightstand. Amber's head shot up. Someone was texting him.

  He doesn’t usually get work texts, she thought. They call.

  For a moment she was very still. The shower was running and the urge to go and read the message gripped her full strength. But it was something she'd never done before. Ever.

  Don't do it, her conscience warned. Don't cross that line. Sort the clothes and leave it alone, Amber.

  She sensed that once she went in that direction, everything would change in the one way she feared most. But when the phone buzzed again, her curiosity intensified and sent her right over the edge.

  Dropping the blouse she'd been half-clutching, Amber rounded the bed for Michael's nightstand. His wallet and phone lay right there near the base of the lamp. She stared at the phone, hesitant for only a moment before she grabbed it and opened the message.

  It was from a Priscilla Bauer.

  The Bauers. Must be about work after all, she thought. Wait, no. They worked for Veronica Bauer. So who's Priscilla again?

  Glancing toward the bathroom where the shower ran on safely in the background, Amber read the text:

  Not sure what time ur back but hope u make it safely  ~ CillaB.

  Well, this doesn't sound very professional, Amber thought, reading it again. This looks pretty personal...and familiar.

  Her palms suddenly grew moist and panic gripped her. But the whole planet shifted out from under her as she opened the next one. Because that’s when it hit her—firmly—that Michael was absolutely cheating!

  Missing u. Lots. Call when u land. ~ CillaB.

  Priscilla Bauer?! Amber's mind raved. Who the hell is this Priscilla fucking Bauer telling Michael she misses him?

  As she stood there staring down at the phone in her hand, her memory kicked in, and the vile and gut-wrenching text she was looking at seared into her brain.

  CNN. She remembered seeing clips of the grandchildren on coverage of the funeral service.

  So that's why he had to go to that goddamn funeral without me—he's been having an affair with Veronica Bauer's granddaughter!

  "Oh my God." Amber's head went from side-to-side as her heart rate spiked into the unknown. "No, no, no, no, no," she whispered fiercely. Her worst fears lay right there, scorching the palm of her hand. She had suspected it, but the reality was like a dagger to the heart.

  Wiping away her tears, outrage set in. He was her goddamn boyfriend, wasn't he? Well, he owed her a fucking explanation!

  Amber spun around and charged into the bathroom. She pushed the door open with such force it slammed up against the wall and Michael jumped back in shock. "All this time, you've been cheating on me?!" she yelled.

  "What?"

  "Priscilla Bauer!" she shouted. "Priscilla! Bauer! You’re messing around with her?" She held up his phone. "I saw the text message! 'Missing you lots. Call when you land.' Tell me that means you're not cheating, Michael."

  Looking a bit shell-shocked, Michael reached over and turned off the taps.

  "Say something, damn it!" she shouted, because his silence was deafening. She could feel a blackness rising in her heart.

  Michael said nothing as he calmly stepped from the shower, dried off and wrapped a towel around himself. Walking over to her, he took her by the hands. "Am. I'm sorry. But just calm down a minute and let me explain." Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and said, "I've been trying to find the right time for this...the right way to tell you. I guess this happened to force me to do it now. Today. This is it."

  Amber saw red. I knew it!

  Leading her out into the bedroom, Michael sat her down on the bed as if she'd break if he weren’t gentle. "This isn't the way I wanted you to find this out," he began. "I wanted to tell you about this myself."

  I knew it!

  He looked very, very sad but held her gaze as he spoke. "Yes, it's true," he continued, "I am seeing someone else and I'm gonna be moving out, Amber. It's time to end our relationship."

  And that got the room spinning. Amber felt oxygen seeping from her brain. Blood freezing in her veins. This can't be happening, she thought. This was not happening.

  Stunned into silence, all she could do was sit there staring at him. Damn it! Why didn't I just leave that fucking text alone?

  "Michael..." It was barely a whisper. Somehow her rage had vanished, leaving an intense devastation in its wake. She felt like something was breaking. "When did you stop loving me?" she asked him wide-eyed. "What did I do?"

  "Nothing," he said quickly. "You haven't done anything, I promise. This is not your fault."

  "Then why? Something must've gone wrong between us? How long have you been seeing this girl? When did all this start?"

  He shook his head. "I don't see any point in going into that, but I definitely don't want you feeling like it's your fault, Am, because it's not. Sometimes people grow apart. It happens all the time."

  "Grow apart? I've devoted my whole life to you
, to this relationship. I've never been with anyone else since I met you. I've never wanted to be with anyone else! I've been faithful to you since high school, Michael! Since high school!"

  He bowed his head and looked away. "Amber. Look. I'm sorry. I feel really bad about hurting you—believe me, I really do." He paused. "But listen: we're still young people! You're gorgeous and you'll meet someone else. I guarantee it. You won't have a problem moving on."

  Just not with you, she thought. 'Cause you've had your fill.

  Devastated by his words, she started crying. "I can't believe you," she heaved. "I've loved you more than anything for the last ten years...and this is what I get in return?"

  "Amber—"

  She slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me. Do not touch me. I can't believe you! I can't believe you're willing to throw us away for a piece of rich-bitch ass. How could you do this to me? How could you?" she sobbed. "We're supposed to get married—I fucking moved in with you!" She'd never felt so humiliated, so cast aside in all her life.

  Michael sat there shaking his head with his arms folded, saying nothing more as Amber cried and cried.

  Tense minutes ticked by.

  Finally, he got up from the bed and moved about the room getting dressed.

  Amber didn't move.

  "I have to get to work," he said, tucking in his shirt. "We'll talk more later, and we'll get things settled." He paused. "But I think I should pack a bag and check into a hotel tonight."

  She couldn't take anymore. "No, Michael, please..." She flew over to him. "Please, don't do this," she pleaded. "Please. You're making a huge mistake. Huge. Please don't dump what we have—don't dump me. Give us another chance to get back what we've had all these years."

  She may as well have been down on her knees.

  Michael sighed, looking beaten. "Am, we're not the same people we've been all these years. We've had our moment; we've had our time. Look, I feel guilty enough as it is. You're killing me here..."

  "No, you're killing me! You can't just leave me like this. You can't. Listen—we can just go on as if this never even happened. I'll never bring it up again, okay? But I can't bear the thought of you moving out on me." She grabbed his arms. "Don't you know you are my life? I'll just die, okay? This will kill me. I know it will."

  Having nothing left, not even her pride, Amber dropped down to the floor in tears.

  Michael stood there a long time, hands on his hips, listening to her cry. When she began to dry heave, he got down on the floor and gently pulled her into his arms. "Okay. Shh, shh," he said. "Hey. Calm down, babe, it's okay. You're right—maybe I haven't really thought this all the way through." He sighed. "We are a lot to walk away from. Shh. It's okay now. I'm sorry. Please stop crying, Am...I'm not going anywhere."

  He sat there holding her, stroking her head until her breathing returned to normal. "I have to go in now, but I'll try to wrap things up early, okay? I have a couple meetings but I'll try to get home as soon as I can. We'll talk more later, all right?"

  She nodded, too embarrassed to speak as he helped her up off the floor.

  The begging.

  Having to beg him to stay had wounded her deep down inside. And she knew she would never be quite the same again.

  •~•

  Once Michael had gone and she was feeling more like herself, Amber picked up the phone and called her mother. Her chest was in a knot and all she could think was, When did this happen? When had he started seeing Priscilla Bauer?

  As the phone rang, she resisted an overwhelming urge to bite her nails for comfort like she did when she was a kid. Chewing them had always been one of her favorite things to do when she got upset.

  "Hello?" said Julie Holland. Her deep, smoke-rich tone had always comforted Amber.

  "Mom," she said, trying to keep her voice even, "you won't believe what just happened to me."

  "What happened, honey? What's wrong?"

  "Michael's cheating." Amber trembled as she said the words. "With Priscilla Bauer...the granddaughter of Veronica Bauer."

  "The actress?"

  "Yes."

  "Oh, my God."

  "Okay??"

  "Wha...well..." Julie stuttered. "Are you certain? I mean, how do you know?"

  "I saw a text from her right on his phone," she croaked, "and I immediately confronted him about it and he admitted it. He didn't even try to deny it."

  "Holy."

  "I know. And it gets worse."

  "Worse?" her mom barked. "What can be worse than that?"

  "I'll tell you. He told me that we were finished and he was gonna move out tonight." Amber heard her mom gasped. "Yeah. He said he'd been planning to tell me, but he's been waiting for the right time."

  "Oh, my God. Amby. I don't believe what I'm hearing. Michael? Moving out? Boy, I didn't see that one coming at all...am I just out of touch?"

  "Apparently. Because your 'prince Michael' started screwing around on me after all these years." Amber fought back tears. "Here I am cooking for him—goddamn homemade lasagnas and casseroles by hand—doing his laundry, loving him, fucking him, doing everything you're supposed to do, to keep your guy happy—and it's not enough."

  "Amby, don't fall apart over this," her mother pleaded. "Just listen to me now. The only way you can make sure this goes away—and I mean make sure—is to make sure it goes away. You wanna know something about men? They just blow in the wind, honey. That's all they really do. And sometimes we women have to manufacture a wind to blow them in the right direction and make them do right by us." Julie Holland paused. "You’ll have to dry those tears, sweetheart. You'll have to get tough and fight to keep your man."

  "Well, I fought today. And it looks like I got through to him; I begged him to change his mind about leaving. He said he'd come back home and we could talk more later..."

  "Well, that's good," her mother said. "But listen, if he was really serious about leaving—it won't be enough. You want to start a family right? You'll have to tell him you’re already pregnant."

  There was silence as Amber processed that. "But, Mom, I’m not pregnant."

  Julie laughed. "Sweetheart—I said to tell him you were. You're on the pill, right? You'll have to stop taking them immediately. Get pregnant. Yesterday. You and Michael belong together."

  "I'll stop taking the pill, but I don't wanna lie to him about being pregnant, Mom. I don't want to be one of those girls."

  "Did you or did you not just tell me you had to beg him to stay with you? I'd say that calls for a lie or two, Am. Especially if it's only a temporary lie."

  Amber was still hesitant. "You really think that'll work, though? You don't think he'll be suspicious? I never flat out lie to Michael, he'll see right through me."

  "Not if you play it just right. Make yourself believable. You can do it! Besides, once you stop the pill, I'm sure you'll get pregnant soon enough." Julie Holland then fell into a hacking jag before she could continue. "Now, just relax," she croaked, "and work not to lose him, because we both know they don't sell Michael Frosts on Amazon. You can't afford to let some other girl get him, Amber—you two have way too much history. So use it to your advantage and blow him back in the right direction."

  "All right," Amber said, still unsure. "I guess I’ll try it. I'll find the right time to make it work. This is my life we're talking about, after all. My life." And I may even need a plan B.

  "Good girl," said Julie. "Now, let me know what happens when you tell him you're pregnant." She chuckled shrewdly. "He'd better hear wedding bells if he knows what's good for him. We can't just let him trade you in for a new model, Amby." She sucked her teeth. "Damn him! I swear men can be such fucking idiots."

  • CHAPTER TEN •

  Priscilla was sitting in their grandmother's home office helping Douglas sort through stacks of paperwork and files that spanned over forty years of their grandparents' Favorite Things business enterprise.

  "Hey," said Doug, handing her a photograph. "Ever seen this before?"


  He had found a black and white snapshot taken at the grand opening of Hôtel Blue Satin in Paris, the first of the three hotels their grandparents had built together.

  Priscilla sat staring at the photograph. It was of her grandmother and Raquel Welch, smiling together under the royal blue awning of the hotel's entrance. "You should blow it up and feature it in the lobbies," she told him. "Guests would love this."