by C. C. Snow
“I doubt it,” I said. It wasn’t that I didn’t want what Jake had with Cora or what my parents had, but it was like trying to find the Holy Grail. “What you and Cora have is rare.”
“True. I’m a lucky bastard. But there’s someone out there for you. You have to keep looking.”
“What the hell do you think I have been doing? It’s not like I’ve been living the life of a monk.”
“Jesus, Troy. I don’t mean fucking. And you’re half the problem, you know.”
“I beg your pardon?” I drew myself up in affront. It seemed everyone had decided it was Criticize-Troy month.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I just meant you choose women who are…” Jake finished the sentence with an indecipherable shrug and a lift of his brow.
“What, Jake? Beautiful? Charming?” I supplied, my tone rife with sarcasm.
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, but they’re also shallow and I don’t know…empty.”
The eerie similarity of his words to Elle’s made me stop in my tracks. “You think I only date bimbos too?”
“Too? Who else has my brilliant insight?” he asked, interest sparking in his eyes.
Cursing his acute hearing, I ignored his question, reluctant to talk about my encounter with her. “Well, do you?”
“I would never call them bimbos. Both Mom and Cora would have my head on a platter if I said anything unflattering about any member of their sex. But…” He dragged the word out. “You do tend to date women who are merely out to have a good time.”
I groaned. “Why do all married people think they are relationship gurus? And what’s wrong with wanting to have some fun? You used to be the same,” I retorted.
He shot me a disgusted look. “Yes, before I met Cora. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to have fun, but don’t you want more?”
“How do you know one of the them wouldn’t turn into my soul mate?” I demanded, feeling contrary.
His eyes speaking volumes, Jake made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “Troy, have you dated anyone whom you looked forward to having a conversation with?” He put his hand up to cut off my response. “I don’t mean sex talk either. I mean an honest-to-God, meaningful conversation.”
Remembering the dinner with Anya Van Houten, I made a face. All she blathered on about was her career and the gossip surrounding her co-stars. She might have ruined Bond movies for me forever.
Jake put his hand on my shoulder. “Not every woman is like Veronika, little brother.”
Whenever he called me “little brother,” I knew he was speaking from the heart. I looked away from his pitying gaze, pretending to look at the rolling hills. “I know that.”
“Do you?”
The soft question made my gut clench.
Veronika had been a world-class actress—not as a vocation, but as a state-of-being. We met at a fundraiser event benefiting a local children’s hospital. By coincidence we had both attended without dates. It was only much, much later that I discovered she had already been in a committed relationship long before she met me, but she had been looking for greener pastures—namely someone with deeper pockets.
After her, there had been a long line of women, many of whom had been more interested in my wealth and status than in me, but I had been using them just as much as they were using me.
My brother would say that it was a self-fulfilling prophecy. If I continued to seek out the same type of women, I should expect the same results.
And maybe he was right.
I hated it when he was right.
Chapter 4
“Any luck?”
At Ethan’s sleepy voice, I closed my laptop and looked at him. He ran his fingers through his wispy, brown hair. His sensitive face was tight with worry and I felt a spurt of affection.
“No. I left my résumé at a few places, but I haven’t heard anything. Laura and Daniel contacted me, but they could only offer me a few lunch shifts. You know the tips won’t be enough to pay the bills.” It had been two weeks since I lost my job and finding a new one had been harder than I expected.
Ethan sat down next to me on the couch and squeezed my shoulders. “Oh, honey. I wish my place were hiring.” He worked at an ultra-modern restaurant in Wicker Park and I would love to work there, but there was very low turnover.
“I know. I’m sure something will turn up soon. In the meantime, I’m going to ask Wayne to give me more hours at the coffee shop.”
“That’s a good idea.” He leaned over and tapped my laptop with his knuckles. “Have you thought about applying for other kinds of jobs? You do have a college degree.”
“In Italian literature,” I said with a derisive twist of my lips. I wished I had been practical and majored in business or economics, but I had chosen with my heart and not my mind. Yet another reminder that it was a mistake to make decisions based on my emotions. “Being able to discuss Petrarch and Boccaccio is not exactly a coveted skill. Nobody is going to hire me for my expertise on Renaissance writers.” The only time my degree had helped was when I interviewed at Italian restaurants.
“Any company would be lucky to have you.” His unflagging loyalty made me smile. “And you won’t know unless you try.”
“Thanks, I’ll take a look,” I said.
“I still can’t believe that asshole fired you.” Ire sparked in Ethan’s eyes.
I stood up and stretched my back, working out the kinks from being hunched over my laptop. “Believe it. At least something good came out of it. Sylvia told me Tony hasn’t been as obnoxious since I left. I’m sure he will realize any day now that I’m not going to sue him, but I know the women appreciate the break from his sexual advances.”
“Too bad you couldn’t sue that rich guy and his girlfriend for getting you fired. I’m sure you’d be able to live off the settlement for years.”
My pulse jumped at the mention of Troy Weston. Every time I thought of him, which was far too often, I felt bombarded by desire. And every time I thought about what he said, I felt utterly exposed. Because he read me far too well—better than I could.
Uncomfortable with the direction of my thoughts, I laughed tightly. “I don’t think so, Ethan. People like him have lawyers on staff that put sharks to shame.”
“So true.” Sighing, he reached out to take my hand. “If you can’t find anything, I think I have enough to cover the rent for a couple of months.”
Tears threatened and I leaned down to hug him. Meeting Ethan had been the best thing that ever happened to me. I normally had a difficult time connecting with people except for on the most superficial of levels, but he and I were kindred spirits. I always had the fanciful thought that wounded souls recognized each other. “Thanks. I have some savings I can tap into, but I appreciate the offer. I love you, Ethan.”
“Love you too, honey.”
I let him go and forced a smile. “I’m going to go to the café early. Maybe I’ll catch Wayne in a good mood and he’ll let me work an extra shift today.”
“Okay. There’s a private party at the restaurant tonight so I’ll probably be coming back pretty late. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He got up to go to our small kitchenette.
I went into my room and changed out of my leggings and sweatshirt into khakis and a black button-down shirt, my unofficial uniform for the coffee shop. I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror hanging over my door and grimaced. Until he had pointed it out, I didn’t realize I had been hiding my body, but the veil had been lifted from my eyes.
I spun around and looked over my shoulder. The seat of my pants hung loosely, hiding the round curves of my backside. The shirt was a size too big and easily concealed the fullness of my breasts and the nip of my waist.
Whoever he was, he did a real number on you, sweetheart. You’re so afraid of your own sexuality, you hide behind baggy clothes and a bad attitude. You can’t even take a simple compliment without blowing up.
Firming my jaw, I walked to my closet and grabb
ed a belt. I tucked my shirt and wrapped the leather around my waist. When I saw my reflection again, I nodded with satisfaction. I wouldn’t be winning any fashion awards, but at least I didn’t look as dowdy.
My mom would flip out if she saw me like this. Her philosophy was that no woman should leave the house looking less than perfect. The image of Graziella’s face scrunched up in horror made me snicker.
Tying my waist-long hair into a ponytail, I picked up my backpack and walked out of my room. “Bye, Ethan,” I called out.
“Bye, honey.”
I walked to the El and hopped onto the train taking me the Loop where I’d have to transfer to another line. Café du Soleil was an upscale coffee house tailoring to the wealthy professionals in the Lincoln Park neighborhood. I enjoyed working there, especially on the weekends when the clientele wasn’t in a manic rush to get to work.
As soon as I walked in, I knew it was an unusually busy day because the line was out the door and Wayne had beads of sweat on his forehead. Benson, the barista on duty, was frenziedly trying to fulfill orders.
When my boss caught sight of me, his eyes lit up and he jerked his head, indicating that I should get my ass behind the counter. I wasn’t due to clock in for another thirty minutes, but I wasn’t about to argue with him, considering I’d soon be begging him for more hours.
Hurriedly tossing my bag and jacket in the back, I pulled on an apron and washed my hands. As soon as I walked out of the staff room, Wayne put me to work manning the cash register. For the next twenty minutes, the three of us worked as a unit to get the customers out the door.
And then the rush was suddenly over. It was always a mystery to me how people seemed to crave their caffeine fixes in waves. One minute we’d be slammed and the next the café was empty.
“Oh thank God you showed up early,” Benson said as his shoulders sagged. “I didn’t know where the hell they all came from.”
“There’s some sort of trade show down the street.” Wayne shook his head, lowering his grey brows until they met in the middle. “You would think after all these years, I would have checked the calendar before I made the schedule for the week.” He patted my shoulder. “Thanks for pitching in, Elle.”
Deciding there was no better time than the present, I opened my mouth to ask him for more shifts when he looked over my shoulder and rushed to the door. Turning around, I recognized one of our regular customers pushing a stroller toward the entrance.
Wayne held the door open and smiled broadly. “Morning, Cora.”
“Morning, Wayne. Hi, guys,” She smiled and nodded at Benson and me.
“Hi, Cora,” Benson and I said in unison.
About a month ago, Cora and her very handsome husband had started coming to Café du Soleil every weekday and occasionally on the weekends. I could never manage to suppress a pang of envy when I looked at them because it was so evident they adored each other. I knew in my bones that thirty years from now, they would be just like the older couple who celebrated their anniversary at Portofino’s.
I could tell from the huge diamond on her finger that Cora was wealthy, but I never sensed a hint of hauteur from her. She always seemed very approachable and down-to-earth.
I thought she was one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, not only because of her outward appearance, but also because of the air of serene contentment encircling her. She reminded me of the women in Renaissance paintings—soft and sweet, but with an underlying feminine toughness. She was only a couple of years older than I was, but she seemed to know exactly what was important in her life.
I, on the other hand, felt like I was bumbling blindfolded in the dark. At twenty-six, I never imagined I would still be drifting aimlessly.
Guiding the stroller carefully around the shelves of pre-packaged coffee, Cora stopped in front of the pastry display to look at the selection. She rubbed her belly and I realized she was pregnant. I was no expert, but I’d guess she was early in her second trimester. It would explain why she only ordered decaf.
“Hi, Aiden,” I said, leaning over the counter to wave at the dark-haired little boy. At a little under two, he was enchanting. He was a rubber stamp of his father, but had inherited his mother’s lips.
“Hi,” he said in a piping voice. He grinned sunnily and I stared at his blue-green eyes in fascination. I had noted their unique color before, but I couldn’t help comparing them to another pair of aquamarine eyes I had seen recently.
He twisted his head to look up at his mom, held up his chubby arms, and demanded, “Out.” He kicked his corduroy-clad legs excitedly in case his mom didn’t understand him.
“Aiden, what do you say when you want something?”
“Pwease.”
I smiled at the adorable exchange between mother and son.
“Okay, but you have to promise to stay by Mommy’s side,” Cora said.
“Kay.”
Smiling, Cora leaned down to unclip his harness and Aiden wiggled out of his seat. She set him on his feet and held his hand. He swiveled his head, taking in his surroundings with interest.
“What will you have today, Cora?” Wayne asked as he walked behind the counter.
I ceded my spot behind the cash register, knowing he would want to take care of his favorite customer. Deciding to use the downtime to replenish the condiment bar, I took out cartons of milk and creamer and walked to the small stand at the window. I was unscrewing the top of the dispenser when I heard Cora cry out.
“Aiden, stop!” She sounded clearly distraught.
I spun around and took the situation in at a glance.
Aiden had pulled away from his mother and was careening toward the door, which must have been left open by a customer. I turned my head and realized the little boy’s attention was solely on the black-and-white Border Collie crossing the street.
My heart jumped in my mouth, thinking about him toddling into moving traffic. The terror on Cora’s face told me she was thinking the same thing. She was chasing him, but she was moving too slowly and wasn’t going to catch him in time.
Acting on instinct, I sprinted toward him, barely reaching him before he stepped out of the store, and scooped him up into my arms. “Gotcha,” I said.
Startled, he gazed at me with big, round eyes. Then it sunk in that he had been thwarted from following the dog and his face scrunched up.
Frantic to circumvent his tears, I asked quickly, “Aiden, have you ever played airplane?”
Moist blue-green eyes brightened. “Pwane?” Any trace of disappointment had disappeared at the mention of the new game.
I looked over his shoulder to meet Cora’s light brown eyes. Her face was parchment white from her son’s near-catastrophic adventure. I could tell she wanted to hold him tightly and started to hand him over to her, but Aiden was having none of it.
“No.” Little hands pressed on my cheeks to get my attention. “Pwane. Pwease.”
My eyes returned to Cora, asking for permission. She inclined her head and gave me a wobbly, but grateful smile.
“Okay, Aiden, but I think you need to tell your mommy you’re sorry. You promised to stay by her side, remember?” I said, not sure how much the toddler would understand, but the immediate remorse in his eyes let me know he comprehended his mistake. What a bright kid.
He turned around and blew his mom a kiss. “Sowwy, Mommy.” Task completed, he patted my cheek again, demanding his reward.
“Okay, kiddo. Hang on tight.” Carefully adjusting my grip, I wrapped my arms under his belly and started to move him through the air, always making sure I stayed in the open area. Thankfully, there were only a few patrons sitting in the back of the café this morning and from the smiles on their faces, they didn’t mind Aiden’s squeals of delight.
Feeling fatigue invade my muscles, I stopped and lowered him to the ground gently. He was a small, but sturdy package.
“Pwane.” He looked up at me beseechingly and I had to force myself not to give in. Charm was embedded in t
his kid’s DNA and I worried for the female population twenty years from now.
I tousled his hair. “Maybe later, kiddo. How about you go to your mommy and I’ll come see you during my break, okay?”
With a nod, he ran to Cora, who was sitting on one of the couches. Her color had returned, but I noticed her eyes had not left her son the entire time. She picked him up and cuddled him as he startled to babble at her. She looked at me and mouthed, “Thank you.”
I smiled and returned to the condiment bar, but someone had already finished refilling all the dispensers. I walked back to the counter and Benson held out a paper cup to me.
“Looks like you deserve this.”
“Caramel latte?” I asked, taking the hot drink from him.
“Of course.” He grinned.
I took a sip and sighed with contentment as the sweet concoction hit my senses. “Thanks, Ben. You make the best lattes.”
“No need to butter me up.” He chuckled and started to brew a new batch of coffee.
“Good reflexes, Elle,” Wayne said.
“Thanks.” I set my cup on the counter and asked, “Wayne, do you think you can give me a few more shifts?”
Gaze sharpening, he folded his arms over his wide chest. “What happened?” At moments like these, I clearly saw the former cop in his demeanor.
I explained about how I lost my job at Portofino’s. “So I was hoping you could schedule me for more hours until I get back on my feet.”
Wayne sighed and rubbed his bald head. “I can give you an additional shift or two, but not many more than that, Elle.” He frowned sympathetically. “I already made the schedules for the next few weeks and it wouldn’t be fair to take away hours from the others. I’m making the schedule for next month in a couple of weeks. Come see me then if you need more hours.”
Trying to not let my disappointment show, I said, “Thanks, Wayne. A few more shifts will help.” But not much.
Another big group came into the shop and we were busy fulfilling their orders. As soon as there was a lull, I asked to take my break early. I had made a promise to Aiden and I wanted to honor it before Cora and he left.