Romeo for Hire

by Ali Parker

  “What are you doing here, Leslie?” I asked softly.

  “We should talk.”

  She opened her mouth to speak again, but with my glance at Paisley, she got the message. Her lips fell together, and she nodded.

  “Hey, Pea,” I called. “Look who’s here.”

  “Leslie!”

  Paisley sprinted across the room and threw her arms around Leslie’s waist. Leslie smiled and smoothed Paisley’s hair down her back.

  “How are you?” Leslie asked. “Having fun with your dad this morning?”

  “Yeah! We’re going to the zoo.”

  “That sounds awesome,” Leslie said.

  “Hey, Pea.” I cleared my throat. “Why don’t you run upstairs and get dressed, okay? Pack up some toys to take with us and brush your teeth.”

  “Okay.”

  “It takes her forever to brush her teeth. The kiddo actually enjoys it.” I laughed.

  “Great.”

  Leslie followed me into the kitchen and slowly lowered herself onto a chair. I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I leaned against the counter and waited for her to speak.

  “Look,” she finally said. “I’m not here to yell at you, okay? You can relax.”

  My shoulders sagged. A soft laugh escaped my lips. “Was it that obvious?”

  “Yeah.” She chuckled. “You looked ready for a fight.”

  “No fight,” I said. “Just a well-deserved verbal laceration.”

  She smiled and looked down at her hands. The few times I’d been around Leslie, I’d never seen her shy or nervous. She was the boldest person I knew. It was beyond unnerving to see her so docile.

  “Candice would kill me if she knew I was here,” Leslie finally said. “But after last night, I got your address from Kason.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this has to stop.” She sighed. “This back and forth. The lies and secrets. The betrayal and drama. God, it’s enough already.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Well, what are you planning to do about it?” she demanded.

  It was the one question I couldn’t answer. Without knowing where Candice was, I had no idea where to begin.

  My face fell as I stared into Leslie’s eyes. She seemed to understand my pain because she sighed again and got to her feet. Walking over to me, she held my gaze with an unflinching determination I’d only ever seen in her sister’s eyes.

  “Do you love her?”

  I scoffed. “There’s the bold Leslie I’ve come to know.”

  “I’m not kidding here, Ryan. Do you love her?”

  “Yes. Of course, I love her.”

  Leslie smiled and nodded. Motioning for me to follow her, she moved back to the table and sat down.

  “She’s in Seattle,” Leslie said. “I talked to her this morning, and she has no idea what really happened between you and our dear mother. All she knows is that Mom gave you money.”

  “Tried,” I snapped. “She tried to give me money. I didn’t take it, Leslie. You can ask Deborah yourself.”

  “Oh, I already did.” Leslie hissed. “And now I won’t be speaking to her again for the rest of my natural born life.”

  Leslie’s sudden anger surprised me, if only because it wasn’t directed toward me. I’d expected so much worse when Candice’s sister appeared at my door.

  “My mother has a way of inserting herself into our lives,” Leslie said, still fuming. “She pushes and she pushes until she gets her way. But this time, we won’t let her. She’s not going to ruin things between you and Candice, okay? We cannot let that happen.”

  “Did you tell Candice the truth?” I demanded. “When you talked to her?”

  Leslie shook her head. “No.” She sighed. “She didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. Right now, she’s too pissed off to think straight. That’s why she took off last night.”

  “Why Seattle?” I mused. “What’s there?”

  “Nothing that I know of,” Leslie said. “It was probably just the first flight she found.”

  I nodded and looked away. It made sense. The way Candice flew into the back of that limo told me all I needed to know about her desire to escape.

  “You have to go.”

  Blinking, I looked back at Leslie with a frown. She couldn’t be serious. If Candice was that mad, then me showing up in Seattle would only hurt her more.

  “She won’t listen to anyone else right now,” Leslie added. “You’re the only person who can make her see the truth.”

  “She hates me.”

  “She loves you.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Do you really believe that one bad night can erase her feelings for you?” Leslie cocked her head to the side and smiled sadly. There was so much sympathy in her eyes that I had to look away. “She loves you, Ryan. Hold on to that, and for fuck’s sake, go get her back.”

  Sitting in my kitchen, getting a pep talk from Candice’s sister, I suddenly knew what I had to do. I’d given up too easily last night. After she didn’t answer my calls, I just stopped trying when I should have chased her down at the airport.

  “Where is she staying?” I asked, already rising to my feet.

  “She wouldn’t tell me.” Leslie sighed. “Like I said, she’s pissed.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll find her.”

  Leslie smiled and watched as I raced across the room to grab my phone. Calling Max, I arranged for Paisley to stay with him while I was gone. By the time she came back downstairs, everything was set.

  “Are you coming to the zoo, Leslie?” Paisley asked.

  My heart sank. “Not this time,” I said.

  “Why not?” Paisley whined.

  “Because it has to be a quick visit this time,” I said. “You and I are going to run by the zoo for a little while before I take you over to Uncle Max’s this afternoon.”

  “But Uncle Max is working.”

  “He’ll be home by then.”

  Paisley frowned. “Do you have to work?”

  I hesitated, not knowing how to explain everything to her. Leslie cleared her throat and got to her feet. Crouching down in front of Paisley, her eyes widened like she had a secret.

  “You’ve seen princess movies, right?” Leslie asked.

  “Like Frozen?” she asked.

  “Kind of.” Leslie nodded. “You know how sometimes the princes have to chase after the princesses?”

  Paisley nodded, excited by Leslie’s storytelling tone.

  “Well.” Leslie grinned over at me. “Your daddy has to go chase his princess now.”

  “Candice?” Paisley asked, bouncing on her toes.

  “Yup,” I said. “Exactly.”

  Chapter 64

  Candice

  Mount Rainier rose up in front of me as rain fell in sheets against my window. The hotel my cab driver had chosen was the nicest place I’d ever stayed. Since I usually traveled for work, I was accustomed to staying in nice places equipped with spacious meeting rooms but very little personal amenities. This hotel was the opposite.

  My suite comprised of three rooms. The living room and kitchen combo area led to the bedroom with an open bathroom plan that led to a second bedroom. Outside sat a huge balcony that overlooked downtown Seattle. It was encased in glass that could be opened with the press of a single button. This morning, the rain was coming down too hard to raise the glass, so I simply sat beneath its protection as the drops hammered above me.

  From there, I could see the mountain in the distance. Even with the rain obscuring my view, it was so beautiful. I’d never been one for hiking, but I found myself wishing I was. The idea of being out there in the middle of that beauty made my heart race.

  A knock on the door echoed through the room, barely audible above the rain still thundering around me.

  “Room service!” someone called out.

  With a groan, I got to my feet and crossed the room. I pulled open the door and plastered on my best, fake smile before s
tanding aside to let the woman by.

  She smiled at me and rolled the room service cart over the threshold. Arranging it on the kitchen table, she nodded at me once before darting back into the hall.

  “Thank you!” I called after her, but she was already gone, eager to continue her shift.

  As the door fell closed behind her, I stared at the wood now separating us, wondering what the rest of her day would be like. I didn’t know this woman, yet I was intrigued by her urgency. What was she doing with her day that could possibly be that important?

  Just thinking about it sent me reeling. My own job, clear across the country, was waiting for me. The Smart Cosmetics building was probably buzzing with energy, despite it being a Sunday. After the banquet, I knew my employees would all be filled with a fervor that was unquenchable. It was why I loved my company. And also why I hated it.

  Falling onto a chair, I lifted the lid off the room service tray. My omelet and coffee were set neatly beside a parfait and a rolled-up napkin. Trying to distract myself, I unrolled the napkin and pulled out a fork. I stabbed my omelet and ripped off a piece, popping it in my mouth before my thoughts could overwhelm me.

  Back home, my world was still turning.

  People were working their asses off, preparing for the second half of the summer line while I lounged in a Seattle hotel.

  My marketing team was busy designing new ad campaigns alongside some of the best, most intelligent ad executives in the country.

  My new photographer was shooting the models I’d carefully selected to show off our latest round of skincare treatments.

  Back home, everything was a well-oiled machine, but here in Seattle, it was nothing but blissful freedom. And I never wanted to leave.

  The rain stopped a few hours later, letting subtle rays of sunlight shoot through the clouds. It wasn’t much, not at all what I knew New York to be like in the middle of June, but it was better than the rain. I donned a rain jacket I’d purchased at the gift shop and ventured out into the city.

  Seattle had the same vibrant energy as New York with none of the urgency. People didn’t run you over to get where they needed to go. Instead, they stepped aside and nodded as you passed. Everywhere I went, I met a smiling face. Not a single person was on a cell phone.

  It felt surreal as I made my way to a marketplace like I’d suddenly stepped into an alternate universe. I didn’t know if it was my imagination or if I was so desperate for something better that I dreamed up things that weren’t real, but I decided right then that I loved Seattle more than I could ever love New York.

  While I wound a path through shops and carts, stopping occasionally to buy a small trinket, I let my mind wander.

  With the safety of Seattle to comfort me, I let Ryan creep back into my thoughts. I saw his green eyes and closed my own, fighting back the tears that sprang immediately to my eyes. It hadn’t been a full day since I’d seen him, but I missed him.

  My longing for him was stronger than anything else I felt, so when my eye caught a pair of lovers on the side of the street, I couldn’t help but stop.

  The lovers weren’t real as I’d first thought. They were trapped inside a beautiful painting that was so lifelike, I felt like I could close my eyes and step inside. Moving closer, I let my eyes roam over the brushstrokes, taking in every detail of their precision.

  Whoever the artist was, his talent was evident.

  The first painting and every other were incredible. They were all of lovers. Different men with different women. Men with men. Women with women. Lovers tangled around each other. Some merely staring into each other’s eyes. Others naked and in the throes of passion.

  As I looked on, my chest grew heavy.

  I missed Ryan even more. Looking away, I felt my longing fade to anger as I remembered why I had come to Seattle in the first place.

  The thought had barely entered my mind when my phone rang in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw my mother’s face blinking up at me. The picture I’d chosen for her contact was one I’d taken myself. In it, she was smiling, her gray eyes sparkling in the late afternoon sun.

  Out of habit, I answered. And I immediately regretted it.

  “Where are you?” she asked before saying hello.

  “I’m sure you could figure that out if you tried hard enough,” I said. “You have enough people in your pocket to find out where my credit cards are being used.”

  “I would never do that,” Mom said. “I value your privacy more than that, Candice.”

  “Ha!”

  Pressing the phone harder against my ear, I closed my eyes and tilted my chin upward. The rain had stopped, but the air around me was still damp. I welcomed it, letting it remind me that while I could still hear my mother’s voice, she couldn’t reach me here.

  “Running away is no way to solve your problems,” Mom was saying. My anger was so strong that it buzzed like an angry bee in my ear. I barely heard a word she said. “You need to come home before you lose this company.”

  That got my attention.

  “Lose my company?” I scoffed. “I was a hit at the banquet, and you know it. There’s no way in hell the board can oust me now.”

  “You’re right,” Mom conceded. “But you need to capitalize on this good grace, Candice. The board is in your corner. Come home and make things happen.”

  “Weren’t you the one who told me to step back from the company?” I accused.

  Mom hesitated. I smirked at the sky, waiting to hear what retort she would come up with next.

  “All I want is what’s best for you,” Mom finally said. “And clearly, you aren’t going to step away from Smart Cosmetics anytime soon, so the only thing I can do is help you be successful.”

  “I already am,” I snapped, “and I got that way without you.”

  “Really?” She laughed with derision. “As far as I can tell, your only success lately has been Ryan and that … well, we both know who orchestrated that.”

  My heart seemed to freeze inside my chest. It was as if my anger had become so overwhelmingly powerful that nothing could stop it from pouring over. My lips pressed so tightly together, I thought I might bruise them. It was all I could do to hang up without dropping my phone against the concrete.

  Mom’s voice was still hissing through the phone when I pressed the red button. In an instant, peaceful silence enveloped me. Just like that, she was gone, but her words were not.

  They echoed in my ears, making me wish I could rip out my own eardrums.

  “Hello there.” A voice said beside me. Turning my head just enough, I saw an older man smiling at me toothily. “I saw you admiring the art.”

  “Art?” I blinked. For a second, I had forgotten where I was. It wasn’t until he gestured toward the paintings that I remembered how taken I’d been with them only minutes before. Looking at them now, I couldn’t help but hate them all.

  “What do you think of them?” the man asked politely.

  “They’re okay.” I looked away.

  “Oh, now.” He laughed. “You must have more of an opinion than that. You were looking at this one here, right?”

  He pointed to the painting I’d first noticed, the one that had reminded me of Ryan. I stared at it blankly, unable to process even the colors.

  “They’re mine,” the man finally said with a nervous chuckle. “I sell them on the street when the weather’s nice enough.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. How could I admit that I suddenly found myself wanting to rip every single one of his canvases to shreds?

  “So.” He cleared his throat. “What do you think?”

  “Why do you paint lovers?” I asked, surprising even myself. “Every painting is the same. All couples. All in love.”

  The man smiled as if he knew something I didn’t. I shuffled my feet and waited for his answer, but I was certain I wouldn’t like it when it came.

  “Because,” he said simply, “love is the most powerful inspiration there is. Without it, what�
��s the point of anything?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I think a lot of things can be inspiring. Love, sure. And friendship. Pain. Betrayal. Anger.”

  The man’s face fell but only slightly. He quickly recovered himself and moved to grab a painting from beneath his table. Holding it up for me to see, he raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

  “Look at this one,” he said. “What do you see?”

  I studied the painting but saw nothing of importance. Every cell in my body told me to run, to put this man and his paintings behind me and forget all about them.

  “I see a man,” I said. “Holding a woman. Her head is on his shoulder and he’s—”

  I froze as I saw the single tear that was painted just so against the man’s cheek. It looked as if it were meant to be falling.

  “Do you see the pain in his eyes?” the artist asked. “The anguish?”

  “Yes.”

  “But there’s something else there too,” he said. His voice was full of excitement as he spoke. “It’s love. He’s in pain and so is she, but their love is what fuels everything. Without it, there would be nothing but pain, and what kind of life is that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You see,” he said, “that’s why I paint lovers. Entire universes exist within the eyes of two lovers. Nothing else provides the same level of intensity, the same kind of fire.”

  My own fire was burning hotter than ever inside my chest. So, when I turned away from the artist and said, “Love doesn’t exist. It’s just a lie we tell ourselves to feel better,” I didn’t feel even the tiniest shred of guilt.

  Chapter 65

  Ryan

  The plane hit the tarmac with a jostling bump. My head pressed hard against my seat as I finally unclenched my fingers from the armrests.

  I’d always hated to fly. Ever since I was a little kid, Max would have to hold my hand during takeoff and landing. With my eyes squeezed closed, I would hold my breath and wait for the turbulence to end. As an adult, I was a little better, but I still hated to fly alone.