by Gina Gordon
Maggie was right. There were great things ahead of him. He was certain of it.
He drove aimlessly through the city streets. Instead of driving home, he drove uptown toward Liv's bakery. It was time to step up his game. An in-person appearance was in order. One visit couldn't be considered stalking…could it?
Which is what he should have done from the beginning. He should have told her that night and gone to her condo and asked her to trust him. He didn't blame her for storming off. Why should she trust a man who blatantly deceived her in order to get what he thought he wanted?
The corner office. The promotion. He didn't want any of that. And why he thought he needed it to find a job in art was beyond him. Maybe self-doubt. He wanted to make it so that no one could pass him up.
He turned the corner onto Eglinton and had to bypass police tape. Shock and horror gripped him as he stared at the burned-out building that used to be Liv's bakery. He drove by rubbernecking, unable to tear his gaze away from the scene. Burnt. Completely burnt. What if she was in there? What is she didn't get out in time? Liv!
A car horn jerked him out of his trance and Jake hit his brakes hard, almost ramming into the car in front of him. He swerved around, violent curses from the other driver penetrating the windows, but he didn't care. He drove like a crazy person, weaving in and out of traffic. He wasted no time and parked on the street in front of Liv's building. The doorman immediately recognized him and buzzed him through.
He raced past the desk with a “thanks, man” and pushed the elevator button a good ten times before one appeared. The ride to the top of the building felt like the steady climb on a roller coaster, his stomach tightening with every floor that ticked off on the digital screen. And when he stepped off, a rush of adrenaline washed over him. He knocked on her door. Then a little louder. No answer. What if she was in the hospital? What if…
He didn't want to think of that.
He turned, unsure of his next move, until he remembered the door across from the elevator. Patti and Brett's door. It was worth a shot.
He could hear the frantic worry seeping from his knuckles at his incessant knocking. But he didn't care. He needed answers.
Brett opened the door and smiled.
“Is she okay?” Jake blurted.
Brett's face wrinkled in confusion.
“Liv? Is she okay? The bakery. The fire? I—”
Brett reached over and gripped his shoulder. “She's fine, dude.”
Relief. He hadn't realized his heart was beating so fast. So fast and so hard it might have jumped right out of his chest if he had to wait a minute longer for an answer. He settled, and registered where he was. The unfamiliar condo, the wrong number on the door. He couldn't even recall how he'd gotten here.
“Come in,” Brett said. “You look like you could use a beer.”
Jake entered the condo and Brett closed the door behind him. He gestured to the couch. “Have a seat.”
Brett sauntered to the kitchen, his boots heavy against the floor. Although he had noticed his tattoos the night at Mclean's, he hadn't realized just how many, or rather how covered, his body was. His white tank top revealed more ink than skin.
To the right, an unfinished canvas sat on an easel, paint and accessories on a table beside it. Bright art hung on all the walls and modest furniture was positioned around the space. Oversized windows in the kitchen allowed the sunlight to enter, basking the entire area in natural light.
“Baby, who was at the—” Patti entered the living room and immediately her lip curled up in a sneer. She crossed her arms over her chest and widened her stance. “What are you doing here?”
“He's just checking up on Liv.” Brett had come back with two beers and handed one over.
Jake nodded his gratitude. Although he couldn't bear the thought of putting anything in his queasy stomach.
“I just drove by the bakery.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I didn't know. I thought maybe she was hurt, or…” He couldn't even speak the words.
“She's fine.” Patti softened, a sympathetic expression settling on her face.
Jake took the seat on the couch closest to the door. They sat in silence. He drummed his fingers against the bottle, and Brett sipped from his own in the chair across from him. Patti had perched on the arm of the couch. As far away from Jake as possible.
“Look, I just wanted to make sure she was all right. I'll get out of—”
“I remember where I know you from,” Brett said.
Jake tightened. Brett knew him?
“I recognized you that night at McLean's but couldn't place you.” Looking at the canvas, maybe they had met once before at a gallery. “I saw your picture.”
“What pic—” Liv had shown Brett the photo he left for her.
“She didn't bring it over,” he said, as if respecting the intimacy of such a picture. “I was over there and it was on the bed.”
The bed? What the hell was he doing in her bedroom?
“I've been to your fundraiser at the DownTown. I've heard you raise a shitload of money each year.”
He did. And that was the main thing. Not his art. His love of art was secondary. His goal was to raise as much money as he could, because one day there would be a cure for Alzheimer's.
“You should think about doing more fundraisers. I'd be happy to donate some pieces, and I know a lot of people who'd be willing to donate as well.”
“I do get a lot of guests with money to burn.”
“I don't mind donating, it's just the appearances I don't like. All that champagne and small talk.”
“My bread and butter.” Jake smiled. It used to be. He had no idea where he was going career-wise. But maybe Brett had a point. Maybe there was more he could do. Art for charity? He had only been thinking about himself and his fundraiser. The PR machine churned in his brain.
“What picture are we talking about?” Patti asked. By the tone of her voice, she obviously didn't enjoy being left out of the conversation.
“A picture of Liv,” Brett answered.
“I don't doubt her photo would be beautiful. She's always been photogenic.” Patti slipped off the edge of the couch and into the end seat. She turned to face Jake, her hate-on diminished. “Jake, what happened?”
Brett shot her a distasteful look. “None of our business, Pats.”
“Yes it is.” She raised her voice now. “He knows how we are.”
How was it that they didn't know what had happened? He was there that night at McLean's when they all agreed that there were no secrets between them. “She didn't tell you?”
“She told Brett of all people…” Patti shot Brett an annoyed look. “But she didn't tell me. Then she took off. Hasn't talked to anyone. She's not answering her phone.”
“I've been calling, too, but I didn't expect her to answer.” Was it pathetic to hope that she hadn't returned his calls because she didn't get them? That she was out of cell phone range?
“You don't know where she is?”
“She went home to see her family,” Patti said. “I called her mom an hour ago. At least we know she's safe.”
“Is she coming back?”
“Eventually.” Patti curled up tighter on the couch. “She'll never stay there permanently. They drive her crazy.”
She had fled. He couldn't take all of the credit for her disappearance. The burned building was evidence enough that things hadn't gone well for her since the book launch.
“I screwed up.” Jake placed his beer on the table beside him then sat back against the couch. “I lied. I pursued her for all the wrong reasons.” He looked over at Patti. She had to know how sorry he was. She had to understand why he did it. “But, I didn't know my boss was her father… I never would have taken her to meet him… You have to believe that. I never expected to fall in love with her, either.”
Patti let out a long, slow breath. Her eyes darted over to Brett on the chair, then she pulled at her brown hair that was tied up on top of her
head. “Does she know that you love her?”
Jake shook his head. In hindsight, it should have been the first thing out of his mouth when he chased after her in the ballroom. But he didn't, because he was a jerk-off.
He needed a plan. He needed help. He needed Liv back in his life, because now that he'd found her, he couldn't live with the possibility of never feeling complete.
“With all the lies flying around, I guess we should be as honest as possible,” Patti said. “I think I speak for Brett and Austin as well when I say, there's only one thing we have to say to you.”
Her eyes were blank. No longer sympathetic or filled with anger. He looked over at Brett, who held the same indifferent expression. Jake braced himself for the inevitable. The get-the-hell-out-and-never-call-our-friend-again speech. He rubbed his sweaty palms along his pant leg. If Patti said don't bother, he would have to listen. What kind of woman would date a man her best friends hated?
Jake tensed in anticipation of Patti's words. But they weren't the words he was expecting.
She leaned in and smiled. “How are you going to get Liv back?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Liv stepped up to the doorway of her childhood home. The black paint was chipped and the stained glass had faded years ago. She hadn't been home in at least a few months. She should make more of an effort to visit, especially given the age of her grandparents. They wouldn't be around forever.
Apparently, her mother arranged for the entire family to visit during her stay, which was exactly what she didn't need after having her heart and soul ripped from her body.
Composing herself, she opened the door and stepped inside. Immediately, she was overwhelmed by the familiar smells. The most powerful was the smell of her grandmother's tomato sauce. The second was the unmistakable scent of Febreze. Placing her keys on her usual hook, Liv dropped her bag and headed for the kitchen.
“I'm home.”
“Oh, there she is. My sweetheart.” Walking as fast as her old lady legs could take her, Evelyn Crawford grabbed Liv and pulled her in for a huge hug.
“Hey, Gram.”
“How are you holding up?” Ruth Crawford turned around from the stove and looked just as concerned. No matter how old Liv got, her mother would always worry. “What is going on with the bakery?”
“Everything is going to be fine.”
“I wish you would have let me come down there.” Her mother laid her hand on her hip. “I should have just jumped in my car and—”
“Mom? Can we talk about this later?”
Ruth nodded then turned away. She knew enough not to push.
Once released from her grandmother's death grip, Liv walked to the stove and gave her mother a hug from behind while she stirred the sauce. “Hi, Mom.”
She wondered if her mother had kept in touch with her father and just never told her. Did she know where he lived and what he was doing with his life? Regardless, now was not the time to discuss the issue.
“I hope you're just stirring the sauce and didn't have a hand in making it.”
Ruth slapped her arm before she said, “Shut your trap. Grandma made it.” Unless it was frozen or came from a box, like a cake mix, cooking just wasn't Ruth Crawford's forte. “Is my food really that bad?”
Liv looked over her shoulder at her grandmother. Neither could contain their laughter.
“Thank you, Mother, Daughter, way to be supportive.”
“Oh, come on, Mom. You know for a fact that if take-out and Gram's freezer care packages didn't exist, I would have been a malnourished child.”
“Well just nominate me for the worst mother award.” Ruth threw the towel at her daughter then returned to the stove.
“Where's Papa?” Liv asked.
“Where do you think?” Her grandmother rolled her eyes.
Liv walked through the kitchen into the family room.
Joe Crawford sat in his usual spot, remote control in hand, staring at the television. He was her favorite person in the world. “Hi, Papa.”
“My Olivia.” Bending down to give him a kiss, she smiled. He was the only man in the world who ever made her feel special. He was the only man until…
He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. Plopping herself on the couch beside him, Liv glanced at the television to see what was going on.
“What's going on with—”
“Who's winning?” she interrupted. She wasn't ready to get into the details. She could barely register them herself.
Her grandfather eyed her with concern but was a smart man and changed the subject. “The wrong team. How was the drive?”
“Good. Not too much traffic.”
He turned from the television and looked at her. On the drive up, she had given her situation a lot of thought. Could she ever forgive Jake? Could she get her business up and running again? Could she have both the business she had always dreamed of and a relationship? There was only one person who could advise her, and he was sitting right beside her.
“Papa? When you had your shoeshine place, did you like it?”
In the late forties, her grandfather had been an entrepreneur. He owned a shoeshine shop—or rather, he had been a bookie who ran his business out of a shoeshine shop.
“Of course I did. I had a great time.”
“If you could go back, if you had the choice that you could have everything you had in your life but still get to keep it, would you?”
“If it meant that I could provide for my family and have a secure retirement and, of course, be legitimate, I would definitely keep it. But your grandmother and mother were more important.”
Just as she suspected. “You gave up your dream.”
“It brought me you, didn't it?” A crack sounded from the television. They both looked up at the noisy commercial. “Bullshit!”
“Come on, Papa,” she coaxed. “Be honest.”
“All right.” He turned his attention from the television and repositioned himself on the chair. “Of course I missed it. Of course leaving it behind took away a part of my life, but I was fully willing to give it all up. Not all dreams are practical; some are just meant to be dreams. A memory that keeps us going when we need a reminder that good things do happen, even if only for a little while.”
For the first time, she saw regret in his eyes, but not the kind of regret that kept a person up at night. “Thank you.”
He patted her hand. “What's this all about?”
“Nothing.”
“You will reopen that bakery, Liv. It's your dream. You have the opportunity to keep your dream going. I won't let you hide from it.”
Liv sighed. Even if she didn't have a man, she would never be alone. She had Austin, Patti, and Brett. She had a family who loved her.
She wasn't sure what kind of conclusions she was trying to draw by visiting. She had been thinking a lot about the definition of a real man. Despite his own dreams, family and the ones he loved were the most important things.
She knew this visit was a form of hiding out. At least in part. She'd purposely turned off her phone.
Three days later, she grew restless.
She had questions that only her mother could understand. And she still hadn't drummed up the courage to ask.
From her perch on the couch, she stared at the television in her lazy outfit, pajamas.
She wondered if Jake had anything to do with her lack of motivation. Normally, Liv would have jumped on the opportunity to start fresh. Rethink her battle plan and forge ahead with a renewed sense of vigor.
The shuffle of feet caught her attention. Liv's mother walked into the den, pulling her robe tighter to her body. She sat on her grandfather's chair and clasped her hands in her lap. Her short hair was flat on one side.
“Did the TV wake you?”
“Not at all. I just couldn't sleep.”
“You and me both.” Her waking hours had increased exponentially since the night of the book launch.
“What is the status of t
he bakery?”
“I met with the fire investigator before I drove up. He should have the report ready by the end of the week. That's all the insurance company is waiting for and then they can proceed.”
“Do you have enough money?”
“Insurance should pay for all the renovations. I'll be fine.” As a last resort, Liv knew she could count on her mother. But she didn't want to steal her retirement money. Plus with two elderly parents to take care of, money was going to be a necessity at some point.
“I know you'll be fine. You always come out on top.” Her mother leaned forward and rested her hand on her foot over the blanket. “Something else is bothering you.”
She wanted to talk. She needed to talk. Too much was going on in her life to keep it bottled up. Not to mention she needed answers about her father. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for. But now that the time was finally here, she didn't know if she wanted the answers.
“Everything has gone to shit.” Her eyes watered, and this time she couldn't stop the tears from falling.
Her mother squeezed her foot.
Liv let out a shaky breath and unleashed her demons. “My business is gone. Nancy betrayed me.” Her mother recoiled. “She tried to sabotage me. She got my business loan denied. She ruined my newspaper ad, and…it's possible she could have started the fire.”
Her mother gasped and clutched at her chest. “Why on earth would she do such a thing?”
“She was jealous. She didn't want me to steal her business.”
Her mother scoffed and mumbled something under her breath.
“But that's not the worst part.”
Her mother tensed, and Liv knew exactly what she was thinking. What could possibly be worse than your business burning and your mentor betraying you?
“I met him.” She looked her mother in the eye.
Confusion flashed across her face then turned to recognition when her eyes grew wide and her mouth formed into an “o.” There was no need for an explanation.
“I see.” Ruth sat back in her chair and let out a soft breath. Had she been dreading this day for almost twenty years? Was she trying to protect her from more sadness and heartache? “Where did you run into your father?”