Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever Afters Collection (Eight Fun, Romantic Novels by Eight Bestselling Authors)

Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever Afters Collection (Eight Fun, Romantic Novels by Eight Bestselling Authors) Page 19

by Violet Duke

  As Mama dished up the dessert, she said, “I’m so pleased Elizabeth came up with this idea of us women cooking together. So much better than just bringing different dishes to pass.” She nodded at the ladies. “Although, next time, it’ll be the men’s turn of course.”

  At this, even Tony had to really fight to keep from commenting aloud. “Think pizza,” he whispered in Rob’s ear when he passed him a bowl of tiramisu.

  Rob nodded. Yeah, everything good required some kind of work in return, didn’t it?

  When dinner finally ended, he walked Elizabeth to her car.

  “I’ll be done with my shift at ten-thirty as usual,” he told her. “Can I come and see you afterward?”

  She gazed at his mother’s house for a moment before turning those green eyes back on him. “I have some work I should finish,” she said. “I spent a lot of time here today, and it was great, but I didn’t get any writing done and my deadline’s in two weeks.”

  “Oh, okay,” he said, feeling a pang of disappointment in his gut, but what could he say? “Got any time tomorrow?”

  She shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Rob, but I really don’t. Your mom already knows I can’t come to dinner tomorrow night, since I’m meeting Maria-Louisa and the gang at seven, and before that I’m revising and then helping Gretchen make one of her trickier truffle parfaits.”

  Dammit. She was avoiding him. It must be because of someone else, namely the wily, torte-making Frenchman. Man, he was going to pulverize that guy tomorrow.

  “Are you and Jacques…involved?” he asked her directly, applauding himself on his immeasurably cool demeanor.

  But she looked at him as if he were demented. “What? No! What kind of a—I mean, where on earth would you—” Then she was utterly speechless for a minute. “Jacques and Gretchen are in love, Rob. They’re sorting that out tonight and I—well, I’m really sorry I jumped to c-conclusions about you and Gretchen yesterday. I misinterpreted what I saw, and I guess I g-got jealous, and it was all very foolish of me.” She stopped and regarded him with another of her regretful looks.

  He had to repeat one sentence, though, just to clarify. “Jacques and Gretchen are in love?”

  She nodded and the relief he felt was palpable. Thank God for small miracles, like other people’s irrational emotions.

  She glanced at her watch. “I know you’ve got to go, so I won’t keep you. Maybe we can meet up again in a few days, grab a cup of coffee or something.”

  A few days?

  He pulled her into his arms. She let him, but he could feel her holding herself back, not allowing herself to sink into his embrace. That restraint just about killed him. “What’s really going on here, Elizabeth? What have I done wrong?”

  She looked everywhere but at his face. “You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just…I-I’ve been thinking and…” She sighed in a way that indicated whatever she’d been thinking wasn’t good news for him. “You were upfront with m-me from the beginning, Rob. You told me, and you were really clear on this, that you w-wanted to go back to Chicago. That you didn’t want to stay in Wilmington Bay after our uncles got back from Europe. That’s still true, right?”

  He wasn’t exactly sure if it was still true but, since he had no idea what other options there were yet, he sort of nodded.

  She blinked a few times then gazed directly into his eyes. “See, here’s the problem. I’m in love with you, Rob.” She paused and let her words sink in. His heart soared for a split second. “But—” Never a good word to hear after an I Love You.

  “But what?” he managed to say over his hammering pulse.

  “B-But you and I want different things. We’re very different people, w-which I know isn’t a newsflash. And I’ve been getting really attached to having you around, even though I know in a few weeks you’ll be g-gone.” She put one soft hand on his cheek. “I don’t regret a single thing that’s happened between us. Not one thing that we’ve shared. But I think you were right from Day One. We’re friends. And, as much as I’d like it to be otherwise, that’s probably all we should be.”

  He opened his mouth to speak. He didn’t know what he could say in response, but that was a moot point because not a single damned syllable came out.

  “Remember how you said last month that before you left Wilmington Bay you’d tell your mother you broke up with me, you know, s-so I wouldn’t be the ‘bad guy’?” She gave him a weak smile. “I don’t think you should do that. I th-think you should tell her the truth. Tell her it’s my fault. Explain that I can’t handle a long-distance relationship, but that I want to stay good friends. And please tell her that I’ve loved being with her and your family nearly as much as I’ve loved being with you.”

  He swallowed hard but he still couldn’t talk. He bobbed his head a little, though, which she took as his answer.

  She kissed him lightly. “Thanks,” she said. Then she got in her car and drove away.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ROB SPENT THE next week feeling as though he’d lost a lot of yardage in the relationship game and had been benched indefinitely. He could see a bunch of action happening on the field with his teammates, but he wasn’t allowed to play. Elizabeth—head coach of their organization—had given him one helluva time out.

  Jacques and Gretchen, by contrast, were starters in every play. With their newfound relationship out in the open, they laughed like psychotic hyenas. They tangoed in Tutti-Frutti’s backroom. They sipped from each other’s milkshakes. They made a general nuisance of themselves with all their damn humming and smiling. Rob considered locking them up in the dry-storage pantry. On several occasions.

  They had it too easy, what with living in the same town and everything. There was no real challenge involved because—come on—if they had to deal with what he and Elizabeth had to deal with, they’d suffer under the intense pressure of indecision, too. Wouldn’t they?

  Sure they would.

  Still, for the first time in a long, long time, he didn’t feel like distracting his insecure self with social interactions and chatter. Not even in debates with himself. It hurt too much to watch Elizabeth breaking away from him, setting her sights on another man who could deliver what she needed.

  The fact that this new man hadn’t yet materialized was little consolation to him. A perfectly respectable, unattached Wilmington Bay male would appear in record time to snatch her away for good. And, because Rob had nothing permanent to offer her here, he couldn’t do a thing about it.

  But then the phone rang. Elizabeth.

  And, after days of moping, something finally happened that gave him a shred of hope.

  *

  THE PHONE RANG.

  Elizabeth picked it up only to hear Camden’s distraught voice on the other end of the line.

  “Darling, darling, please—before you kill me—let me explain,” he said.

  She was going to kill him. He was due in town two hours from now. Everyone had worked like maniacs to get the food ready for the shoot. “C-Camden—”

  “Oh, I know. You hate me. You never want to speak with me again let alone work with me on any big project. I’m a scourge amongst men. My presence is a blight upon your otherwise flawless writerly existence. I—”

  “Cut the dramatics, Cam. What happened this time, and where the hell are you?”

  He breathed heavy on the line. “Oh, my dear, I’ve made you swear. I am so screwed.”

  “You bet you are. My deadline is in eight—count them—eight days. You promised me you’d be here. Why aren’t you?” Worried she’d snap the receiver in half, she loosened her g
rip on the phone just a notch, but she didn’t even try to unclench her jaw. She was going to KILL him.

  “I’m in the hospital. I’m very, very sick.”

  Oh, God, please forgive me. She said a short prayer that his condition wasn’t terminal.

  “I have the measles,” he said. “My parents, darlings that they were, were hippies in the seventies who didn’t think you should ever trust the government or the establishment or any other ‘-ment.’ Not a bad philosophy. But they also didn’t believe in vaccinations. I just found out this morning what an unfortunate thing that was for me. I’m in San Diego. I’m highly contagious. I’m under quarantine and not allowed to go anywhere.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, Cam…”

  His voice softened. “I am so sorry, honey. I know you were counting on me. I can try to get released in a few days, but there’s no guarantee they’ll let me fly anywhere or that, even if I could, I’d be able to do everything we need to do in time. I can call your editor and explain and maybe—”

  “No. Look, you just concentrate on getting well. I—I’ll see what I can figure out here. Maybe I can find a local food photographer on short notice.” Well, this was doubtful, but she didn’t want Camden sitting and worrying in his hospital bed. “Otherwise, we can get the deadline extended a week or two. It’s just, I’ve never worked with anyone besides you, so…”

  “Whatever you decide to do, it’s fine with me. If you can get someone else to take the shots, he or she should get the credit in the book. If the editor will let you wait for me, I’ll make sure—no matter what—that I’m there. You just do what you need to do, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, pretty sure the world was on its way to disintegrating before her eyes. She hadn’t told Camden this of course, but her editor had been very firm on this deadline. With the cookbook’s release date being in mid-December, they were cutting it close as it was. If they were late getting the photos in, the book wouldn’t make it to production on time and its release would have to be delayed until another spot opened up.

  Jacques, Gretchen and Nick stared at her in fury, shock and horror respectively. She herself could barely see in color. One of them, she couldn’t tell who, whispered, “What are we going to do? I don’t know any professional photographers?”

  Another one said, “Who does?”

  To which the obvious person popped into her brain. The man who knew everyone and whom everyone knew in turn. The man she’d been avoiding for his own good…and for hers.

  “I’ll call Rob,” Elizabeth said.

  Ten minutes later, after explaining to him the dire predicament Cam and his measles had put them in, Rob was on the job.

  “I have just the photographer you need,” he said. “I’d trust this guy with my life, and I’ve already got him on payroll. Just give me a half hour to make some calls. We’ll get him up here in a few hours so don’t panic. Okay, Lizzy?”

  The way he said her old nickname, all warm and worried for her, made her broken heart pound for wanting him. He’d done almost the impossible and made her love that stupid name when it came flowing off his lips. He’d given her a wealth of new memories to associate with it. For once, she didn’t bother to correct him.

  “Thanks, Rob,” she said quietly.

  “Anything for you, babe,” he whispered before hanging up. “Anything for you.”

  Ah, if only that were true.

  *

  BY TWO P.M., a sprightly and very sharp-dressed young man came gliding into Jacques’s bakery where they were all gathered. His dark features were Hispanic in origin, but his clothes were pure Armani. Elizabeth heard Nick’s jagged intake of breath next to her.

  Gretchen detached from holding Jacques’s hand long enough to rap Elizabeth’s arm and whisper, “Get a load of that hottie.”

  Jacques scowled and pulled her back.

  Rob came rushing in a few paces behind the dapper dude, and said, “Everyone, this is my good friend Miguel. He’s been managing The Playbook for me while I’ve been up here, but he’s a wiz kid.” He grinned. “His current resume says he’s one of Illinois’s top style consultants, which is true, but I won’t let him work for anybody else. He’s studied business, fashion and, most importantly for us today, photography.”

  Elizabeth felt tears prick her eyes. If this Miguel guy had earned Rob’s loyalty and respect, they might just have a chance…not only of getting the photos taken, but also of getting them taken well.

  Miguel smiled at the group. “Happy to be here.” He waved and smiled politely through the introductions. Then he glanced around the bakery and specifically at Jacques’s perfectly formed éclairs. Immediately Miguel’s demeanor changed.

  “Boss Man,” he commanded of Rob, “we need to get the equipment from the car. Now. There’s lots of work to do.” And he began rustling around the room, giving orders, inspecting pastries, flicking on the special spotlights he brought, setting up his camera on the tripod.

  “I need a helper. Fast,” Miguel demanded and, before anyone else could so much as unbend a finger, Nick had pounced into position by his side.

  Miguel’s eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch as he got his first really good look at Nick. Elizabeth could feel the pheromones flying.

  Pretty soon photographs of the various desserts were being snapped faster than any of them could say “Tutti-Frutti,” which—incidentally—was closed midday, in honor of these special circumstances.

  Elizabeth saw Rob tap his buddy on the shoulder during a short break in the shooting. “Nice work, Miguel,” he said, edging out Nick for a moment, who was hanging on every word they said two yards away.

  Miguel huffed. “I don’t do nice work. I’m a perfectionist. I do exceptional work.”

  Rob laughed and caught Elizabeth’s eye for a moment before responding to him. “Okay, then. Exceptional work, Miguel.”

  “Oh, I know. I just gave myself another raise and trust me, Boss Man, I’m still a bargain.”

  The two men looked at each other affectionately for a second then Rob slapped him on the back and strode away. Nick pranced over to Miguel again where they resumed a discussion of either clothing or sports—Elizabeth kept losing track. But one thing she knew for certain: Nick wouldn’t be lamenting the loss of ex-lovers a moment longer.

  She wished she could say her love life looked remotely as promising.

  This past week had been the kind of torture she wouldn’t have cursed an enemy with (well, maybe Tara Welles), but she knew she couldn’t take back her words to Rob. Watching him stomp around the room now, so strong, so masculine, so confident…she realized he’d given her an extraordinary gift. Some of his freedom of speech had rubbed off on her, even if it had been only a tiny bit. She found she was finally able to say what she meant. That she could, at last, speak up for herself.

  And she desperately hoped something good of hers had rubbed off on him, if only so he wouldn’t forget her too quickly.

  *

  THE NEXT FEW days passed in a blur of activity. Rob returned to handling the ice cream parlor. Nick, Gretchen and Jacques took turns having their specialties featured. Other local cooks that Elizabeth had contacted, gladly provided delectable-looking samples of their creations to accompany the recipes selected to be in the book. She herself made several batches of sweets, including her mother’s cherry cheesecake from scratch, and had them photographed by Miguel.

  By the fifth and final day of the project, Nick and Miguel were an inseparable pair with plans to take their relationship to the next level.

  “Wisconsin has the Brewers, the Badgers, the Bucks, the Green Bay Packers—” N
ick began in his plea to get Miguel to consider a relocation to the Dairy State.

  “But Illinois has the Bears, the Sox, the Cubs, the Blackhawks and the Bulls,” Miguel said over him.

  “We used to have Brett Favre,” Nick said.

  “And we used to have Michael Jordan,” Miguel shot back, his tone taunting and more than a hint sarcastic.

  Nick squinted at him. “Chicago is a serious two-and-a-half hour drive away, Miguel. For me, it’s doable but, man, my family would kill me for ditching them.”

  “I’ve got Blackhawks season tickets,” Miguel said simply, no doubt having already heard Nick’s fantasies about hockey players. “Section 113. Against the glass.”

  Nick’s eyes grew wide. The clock ticked for three seconds. “I’m so there.”

  And with that Elizabeth realized how quickly and easily other people could solve their long-distance relationship problems if they were motivated to do so. Maybe songwriters through the ages had gotten it right:

  Love is all you need.

  Love will keep us together.

  Love will find away.

  Love is the answer.

  And, so, since nothing remotely that simple applied to her relationship with Rob, perhaps she’d overestimated the strength of not just his emotions, but also her own.

  Well, no. She was pretty darn sure she loved him. But sometimes, well, sometimes…Love just ain’t enough.

  While Nick was packing the following day and Miguel was gathering up the last of his equipment, Elizabeth snuck into the backdoor of Tutti-Frutti to grab some more order forms. They’d been so busy with the photo shoot that she hadn’t restocked in a week, and they should never be allowed to run low on Mocha Madness.

  Plus, she needed an ice cream treat herself. Today was August first and she’d just emailed her editor the text of her cookbook with the jpegs of the photos. And, for good measure, a hardcopy of everything was set to arrive in New York City via express mail the next morning, too.

  She snitched an ice cream sandwich and was just about to be her stealthiest and leave unnoticed when she heard a familiar female voice.

 

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