by Kris Jayne
“About thirty seconds. I’m parked in your driveway.”
Jeff laughed. They were on the same page. They just had to give each other a chance. A moment later, his pixie-like fiancée came swooping into his house.
“That was fast, Miss Taryn. We’re watching cartoons.” Olivia sprawled on the family room floor, still donning her plaid-panted American Girl pajamas.
“I feel overdressed for a lazy day. Maybe I can get one of your dad’s T-shirts to wear.” Jeff looked at Taryn’s printed wrap dress, which she wore over leggings with mid-calf boots. She looked just fine to him, but he loved it when she wore his T-shirts. Usually, they swam on her, coming down close to her knees. Of course, usually she needed to wear his T-shirts because she found herself in his bedroom with nothing on. That’s what he liked. Jeff redirected his thoughts. She wasn’t here to get naked.
“I think I have something you can wear over your leggings,” he said.
“Thanks,” Taryn said and dropped into an armchair in the living room, unzipping her boots and revealing a toned leg. T-shirt, Jeff reminded himself and walked down the hall to the master bedroom. When he returned, Taryn sat cross-legged on the floor, her dress carefully draped over her thighs.
“Still need this?” he said and tossed her the shirt.
“Yes. I’ll go change.”
“Do that. I’m making popcorn.”
The rest of the afternoon was, in fact, lazy. They watched Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, which Olivia loved almost as much as Frozen, munched on snacks, and then went scavenging in the pantry for the makings of dinner. Jeff hadn’t gone shopping, and the cupboard had grown bare.
“I think I saw some ground beef in the freezer. We can thaw that real quick and make spaghetti,” Taryn said, handing Jeff a jar of sauce.
“Spa-ghett-i!” Olivia whooped. “Can we use the twisty noodles instead of regular spaghetti?”
“If you can find the twisted noodles,” Taryn replied and turned to Jeff. “I’ll cook. Why don’t you go get some work done?”
Jeff grabbed the chance to step away before dinner and pour through at least one of the legal documents on his to-do list. Choosing between the two, he chickened out and went with good news first, reviewing the deal that would change his life forever.
Nick had sent him a summary to read before their meeting on Monday. In the end, his portion would be fifteen million dollars up front with two additional payments, each of eight million dollars, paid out over the next two years. He and Paul had equal shares. Brad has a lesser share and would walk away with about twelve million dollars total.
As he read the document, Jeff’s heart hammered in his chest. He wouldn’t have to stay on past the first six months of transition, and the deal didn’t tie his payments to any benchmarks. They would be cash—not stock—which potentially meant less value. That didn’t matter to him. He was about to be completely, independently wealthy.
Jeff called Paul.
“Did you read the files that Nick sent?” Paul asked.
“Yes. Is this the deal we want?”
“Yes.”
“Are you as freaked out as I am?” Jeff pressed his fingers to his temples.
“Not really. What freaks you out?”
“I like my life. Lately, I have had some problems, but it’s nothing that more money will fix. What if this completely screws up my world?”
“You’re in control of that, man. If you want, you don’t have to change anything. You can keep living the same way—but with more money in the bank.”
“You know that’s not true. The minute the deal hits the papers people will know, and it’ll change everything. I’ll need to move to a more secure neighborhood. Olivia will change schools.”
Paul laughed. “Leave it to you to worry about being too rich. It’s a risk I’m more than willing to take.”
“It’s not like I’m going to turn it down. It’s everything we’ve worked for. I’m just—” Jeff didn’t know what the issue was. He was excited. Exhilarated, even. But at the same time, he had this nagging sensation. Doom? Guilt? He wasn’t sure.
“You’ll get used to it. You’ll recalibrate. Think of everything you’ll be able to do for Olivia and your parents. Think of all the fun you and Taryn will have traveling. You’re a good person, so you’ll do good with what you have. I’m not worried.”
“You’re right. I need to outline what I’m going to do with the money. I want to set up a trust for Olivia. Give some money to my parents. Set aside our retirement. Oh, and we have our next venture. I think as long as it’s this mass of money, I’ll worry that it could be gone like that.” Jeff snapped his fingers.
“Man, you’re so well-meaningly paranoid, that’ll never happen. Take a deep breath and chill out. We’ll talk to Nick on Monday, get clear on everything, and go from there.”
“Sixty days, huh?”
“That’s about how long to close the sale from this point. Moveo will do their due diligence, sign the final papers, and bing, bang, boom.”
“Let’s hope it’s not an explosion.”
“Don’t be an Eeyore, Jeff. Be happy!”
“I’m happy.”
“You sound thrilled. How are things going with the wedding?”
“We have some details to finish, but Taryn’s on top of it. Planning this kind of thing is right in her wheelhouse. I do what I’m told, so it’s working out.”
Jeff marveled at Taryn’s organizational mastery—immensely grateful he didn’t have to do more.
“That’s the ticket. Women and weddings. They plan these things their whole lives. Stay out of the way. I guess this is a lot different from your last wedding.”
“Well, I planned the last one in about three weeks. My parents wanted to get it done before Shannon started showing. We were under the gun.”
“The shotgun, huh?”
“Yep. God, that day is a blur.” Jeff rubbed his left temple.
“Weddings are always a blur. I barely remember mine, and I wasn’t even drunk.”
“You remember Shannon.”
“When one of the guests dirty dances with the bride’s dad, talks about sex acts with the mother of the bride, then nearly gets into a fight with the bride’s sister and passes out, it’s the stuff of legend.”
“For what it’s worth, Shannon felt terrible about the whole thing the next day. She was horrified. She had this bad habit of feeling like she didn’t fit in and then acting out to make sure she didn’t.”
Jeff hated making excuses for Shannon, but he knew what a difficult childhood she had—abandoned, abused, and resented. It didn’t always look like it from the outside, but he knew that she tried to rise above how she’d grown up. Paul wouldn’t likely believe it.
“You think she’s less self-destructive now?”
“It’s possible. Most people can’t go on living like that forever. They get tired. Shannon definitely looks tired. She doesn’t have anyone to look out for her.”
Paul groaned. “Do still have feelings for her?”
“Not romantic ones, if that’s what you mean. It’s more like she’s my kid sister,” Jeff explained.
He knew it wasn’t his fault that Shannon’s life was a mess, but he also couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t entirely Shannon’s fault either. Shannon never felt that anyone loved her, and while he didn’t love her romantically, he felt affection for her. She could be a sweet person when she wasn’t letting her anger and fear run her life. Jeff still hoped to be a positive force in her life.
“She’s not your responsibility to save, Jeff. You have a daughter. You’re going to have another wife. You better make sure that whatever you feel for her doesn’t ruin that.”
“I don’t feel anything for her, and I’m not going to let her interfere with my relationship,” Jeff vowed. “I need to go. Taryn’s here making dinner.”
“Good. Have dinner with your family and enjoy it,” Paul commanded.
Jeff signed off and headed to the
kitchen. Olivia knelt on one of the kitchen chairs, lining up the silverware with the napkins she’s set next to each plate. Taryn lifted the pasta insert from the large pot of boiling water and poured the fusilli into a serving bowl.
Borrowing trouble. That’s what his father would call getting anxious about something as unbelievably wonderful as having your career pay you off with tens of millions of dollars. His life was in front of him.
Chapter Seventeen
Over the next few weeks, Jeff had more therapy sessions with Dr. Baker—with Shannon, with Taryn, and with both women together.
Shannon settled into her new life in Dallas. To help her, Jeff had given her a little more money to get some things for her place. Shannon wanted to insist that it was a loan. Jeff told her not to worry about it. What surprised him most was Taryn’s lack of objection.
“If it keeps her calm and less likely to cause trouble, then I guess it’s fine.” Maybe the counseling worked. Jeff hoped they’d be paid back for their efforts—not in cash, but in peace. There might be worse things in life than being in family therapy with your fiancée and your ex-wife, but Jeff couldn’t think of anything.
Making things worse, he had to put on a brave, smiling face for Olivia. They weren’t quite ready tell her, and so now he felt like he was keeping secrets from his daughter. Plus, he and his partners had arrived at an agreement, in principle, with Moveo. No final signatures yet, but the deal was in motion.
Of the three major stressors in his life, two were progressing in his favor. The one that wasn’t going so well was the wedding planning with Taryn. He still hadn’t looked at the photography portfolios so they could pick a photographer and go get their engagement photos taken. Every time he sat down to start, some fire would crop up, and he’d have to be the one to put it out.
As he drove to his favorite café to meet Taryn for lunch, he felt like a convict going before the judge for sentencing. He knew he was guilty. It was just a matter of what Taryn thought his punishment would be. All he could hope for was her understanding and a smidge of leniency.
When he arrived, Taryn sat in a rounded corner booth. Sunlight through the window lit up her hair as her head bent over her iPad. Leaning on one elbow, Taryn wove her other hand around her neck. She massaged her nape with her fingers, then ran them through her hair, which she pulled to one side. Her beauty still surprised him. Jeff approached the table, and Taryn finally looked up.
“Have a seat, handsome.”
“Thank you, beautiful. What are you looking at?”
“Wedding photo gallery for a photographer I’ve used locally before for events,” Taryn answered. “I want to pin down the photographer today.”
Jeff saluted and sat down. “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry I haven’t gone through everything like you asked me.”
“I’m cutting you slack.”
“Thank you. I wasn’t sure if I was going before a firing squad today.” Jeff chuckled. Taryn rolled her eyes.
“I’m comparing them to the ones from Alexa’s photographer friend. They have very different styles. This one is more traditional photos with a few candids. The other one has fewer posed pictures and more photos that play with light and contrast. It’s artsier.”
Jeff slid closer to her to get a better view.
“I like this one. I’ve had a chance to look at a few of the other guy’s wedding albums online. There seemed to be a lot of traditional pictures missing. I didn’t think about it until you just said it, but that’s what it was—fewer posed pictures.”
“Yeah, but then you get more interesting shots of people in the flow of the event. I don’t see ever wanting to go back and see my relatives arranged like a police lineup.”
“I don’t know. I guess these look like the pictures I’d expect from a wedding.”
“Is that positive or negative in your book?” Taryn asked.
“Generally positive. I’m an engineer by training, so if it matches my expectations and it’s built to standard, it’s golden. Seeing everyone grouped together is how we know who was there.”
Taryn tilted her head and tapped the screen to bring up another portfolio. “Look at these. I have the other guy’s website pulled up on this other tab.”
Jeff examined it. The pictures were nice. The people in them were smiling and celebrating. He paged through the set, and one caught his eye.
It wasn’t a bride and groom, but an older couple who were sitting out the dancing and drinking. She had her shoes off and her feet in the man’s lap. He rubbed one of her feet. Their lovestruck faces stopped Jeff in his tracks. Her eyes were slightly closed as if she were sleepy, but her smile was wide. Her body flowed into the chair with total relaxation. He had a sly smile on his face and mischief in his eyes like he’d just told her a dirty joke. They had to be married and probably for a very long time.
“I like these.”
Taryn grinned. “Me too. I’d like the album to be more personalized and interesting.”
“Fine with me—as long as we get a couple of standard shots.”
“Deal. I’ve narrowed the invitations down to two. I hope that’s okay.”
Other than Taryn and both of their mothers, all of whom scrapbook, Jeff figured they would end up in the trash, so it didn’t matter to him. He didn’t say this out loud. When he got engaged, his father warned him: Never diminish the details of the wedding in front of Taryn. It all mattered. It might not seem like it does, but it does. Jeff trusted his dad on that.
“That’s fine. Let me see the two options.”
Taryn pulled two thick packets from her handbag. Both had paper thick like cream. One had elegant script, and the other bore a more modern serif typeface. Frankly, that one was easier to read.
“I like this one. It’s cleaner than the other one. It suits our style more.” Jeff leaned back, thinking he was done so he could order his food.
“What about the wording?” Taryn handed him a sheaf of papers.
“The wording?”
“Yes. Do we list my parents’ names, both of our parents’ names, or just our names? We can also say our names plus ‘together with their parents.’ And then how do we phrase the invite, ‘request the honor of your presence,’ or ‘the pleasure of your company?’ We have to agree on the phrasing before we go to print,” Taryn instructed.
“How about you list off the options, and I’ll give them a ‘yea’ or a ‘nay?’” Jeff suggested.
“Sure, let me go through everything for a second. Order lunch.”
“What do you want?”
“The chicken salad sandwich and tomato soup.”
Jeff ordered their lunch, and after a few minutes, Taryn pelted him with invitation questions. He never knew there were so many decisions in order to say, “Hey, we’re getting married. Let us know if you’re showing up.” Now, there were “save the date” cards. Isn’t that why you had the invitation?
By the end of lunch, Taryn had called the stationery store and ordered their invitations. She emailed them the precise wording of the invitation, RSVP card, reception card, and enclosures for the hotel and the venue. Jeff stretched his arms up and rotated his neck from side to side.
“That was a workout.”
“I know. It’s a lot of little decisions, and that drives you crazy. A lot of it probably doesn’t even make a difference.”
Taryn shuffled all her materials into a stack off to the side. Jeff put his arm around her and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
“If it all adds up to a good time in Napa, I’m fine with it.”
“Well, still, you’re being a good sport with all the planning. Speaking of which, have we made any plans for Valentine’s Day?”
Jeff froze. Dammit. No. He’d forgotten that was coming up this weekend.
“Don’t worry,” Taryn laughed. “You look like you’re caught in the crossfire. The only reason I’m asking is that a work thing came up, and I may need to cover event set up for another manager. I’d have to get packed to leave
early Monday. I wanted to ask in case you were thinking of doing anything elaborate or going somewhere.”
“No. I’m pretty much the crappy boyfriend who has forgotten Valentine’s. Why don’t we do dinner? I’ll make reservations,” Jeff proposed, wondering if any restaurant would still have reservations open.
“Don’t worry about it, okay? I doubt we’d get a decent reservation at this point. You come over, and I’ll cook.”
“Thanks. I thought I might be in trouble. I’ll see if my parents can keep Olivia.”
Taryn stroked his cheek and smiled at him. He squeezed around her shoulders and felt her stiffen. “What is it?”
Taryn pointed. Shannon had scurried in and gone to the takeout counter. Jeff thought there was no way Shannon would see them unless she looked around the whole restaurant. They could pretend not to see her and make her be the one to have to announce her presence and approach them. Already fatigued from decision-making, it was soon too late to decide an approach.
Shannon turned and saw them, and saw them seeing her. Damn. His ex-wife took a step in their direction, halted briefly, then proceeded over to their table.
“Hey. I’m just getting some lunch. I came here the other day with Jeff, and it was good,” Shannon explained without being asked. She twisted her keychain in her fingers. “I don’t know that many places.”
“Yeah, no, it’s good.” Jeff had no idea what he was saying. “Why don’t you sit down?”
He certainly had no idea why those words came out of his mouth. It seemed like the polite thing to say when you run into someone, and you know they’re going to be eating alone. He tried not to look at Taryn for fear of meeting the death rays shooting from her eyes.
“Yes, come sit with us—unless you have somewhere to be.” Taryn kicked Jeff’s foot.
“Really? Thanks. I didn’t want to eat by myself. I was going to get takeout and eat in the car.”
Jeff signaled the waiter that there was one more as Shannon slid into the other side of the circular booth, next to Taryn.
“How’s work going?” Jeff asked.
“Good. I’m thinking about doing something else though. Maybe waitressing. There’s a restaurant near my apartment with a help wanted sign. I can make better money waiting tables, depending on the hours and the tips.”