by Beth Ciotta
“I wish you the happiness I had.”
Just thinking about it choked Luke up. Sam’s years with Paula had been the happiest of his cousin’s life. What’s more, the wish had been sincere.
Luke had climbed into bed with Rae, knowing he’d turned a corner in his life. There was no going back. He’d had a hard time getting his mind to shut down. A lot of unsettled issues. The thing with her mom. The beef with Geoffrey, something Luke still wasn’t clear on. Sugar Tots would require a lot of Rae’s time and Luke would be taking on new challenges at the Shack. They’d have to settle into a new routine, somehow juggle their professional and personal lives. He knew he had to attack his dyslexia in a new way. Learning to conquer rather than cover. He wanted to be able to read stories to his kid without stumbling. He wanted to handle the books and inventory at the Shack without having to rely on Dev or Anna.
He wanted to make Rae proud.
Luke drifted off fully expecting to wake up in a panic.
He woke up with Rae in his arms. He woke up content. “How long have you been awake?” he asked.
“A while.”
“Why are you smiling?”
“I’m happy. I don’t remember ever being this happy.”
Luke kissed her forehead. “I’m glad.” He glanced at the bedside clock. “Damn. It’s late. What time did Harper say that film crew would be at Moose-a-lotta?”
“Noon.”
“We best get cracking. You shower and dress and I’ll start breakfast. Craving anything special?”
She smiled and his heart jerked. God, he loved that.
“Pancakes,” she said. “With lots of butter and a ton of maple syrup.”
“You got it, Champ.”
She scrunched her brow. “Why do you call me that?”
“Because when life knocks you down, you get back in there swinging. Sam was right. You’re a warrior at heart, Rae. I admire you for that.”
“Thank you, Luke.” She flushed then and bit her lower lip. “I hope I don’t get knocked out today in that interview. I’ve never done well in the spotlight.”
“You’ll be fine. Harper’s going to coach you beforehand and you’ll have a huge cheering section watching from the sidelines. This mess will be behind us before you know it.”
She nodded and swung out of bed. “That’s incentive enough to kick this Champ in the butt. Meet you downstairs. I won’t be long.”
“You look cute in my T-shirt,” he said as she padded toward the bathroom.
She grinned. “I may never wear my pjs again.”
“Speaking of,” Luke said as he pulled on a pair of sweats. “I slid by the Pine and Periwinkle late last night like we talked about and I gathered all of your things.” He nodded across the room. “Your laptop and suitcases are over there. Be warned. I’m not a neat packer.”
She did a one-eighty and hustled over, thanking him with a brush of her lips. “I don’t care about neat.”
He thought about his overall housekeeping skills. “Remember you said that.”
Twenty minutes later, Luke was adding a sixth flapjack to a serving plate when he heard a knock on the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Wary of paparazzi, he peeked out a window before answering and was surprised to see his mom and dad standing on his front porch.
Frowning, he swung open the door. “You okay?”
“What kind of greeting is that?” Jerome asked while guiding Kaye inside just ahead of him.
“We wanted to meet Rae before this afternoon’s filming,” Kaye said as she shook off a chill. “To wish her luck.”
“To tell her the family’s behind her one hundred percent.”
Luke dragged a hand through his hair, his chest swelling with emotion. “That’s great. That’s … I appreciate it,” he said while taking his parents’ coats and scarves. “I just wish you would have called first.”
“Why?”
“So I could have prepared Rae. She’s nervous about meeting you.”
“Why?” Kaye asked.
While hanging the coats on the tree stand, Luke heard Rae galloping down the stairs. Damn.
“Luke! Help! Fashion crisis. I should know what color looks best on TV but I can’t remember. I don’t know which blouse would be best. I need…” She skidded to a stop in a skirt and her bra. “… your opinion.” Red-faced, she crushed the two shirts she’d been holding at her side to her chest. “Hi.”
Suppressing a smile, Luke placed his hand at the small of her back. “Rae, I’d like you to meet my parents. Jerome and Kaye Monroe.”
Juggling the crumpled shirts to strategically hide her bra, she offered a hand in greeting. “Pleased to meet you. So sorry for my … disarray.”
“I read somewhere that you should avoid pastels,” Jerome said. “I’d go with that purple shirt.”
“It’s not purple,” Kaye said. “It’s eggplant and it does go nicely with your red hair, Rae.”
Luke nodded. “I like the purple.”
“Your mom’s right,” Rae said. “It’s more eggplant. I do have a couple of other choices.”
“If you’d like a woman’s opinion, dear, I’d be happy to help.”
Rae smiled, looking a little flustered but pleased. “Okay. Thank you.” She backed away, still clutching the shirts to her chest until Kaye spun her and shielded her with her body as they climbed the steps.
Luke cleared his throat. “You’re staring, Dad.”
“Lovely girl.”
“Yes, she is. Inside and out.”
“Those pancakes I smell?”
Luke blinked at a man who’d lost several pounds over the last few months due to treatments and a loss of appetite. “You hungry?”
Jerome unbuttoned his wool coat. “I am.”
If this was the sign of the day to come, Luke thought, we’re in for a great one.
* * *
Rae knew there would be paparazzi on top of the film crew. She expected a few reporters, some local, some freelance. But she wasn’t quite prepared for the circus that awaited. At least three TV news trucks were parked along the street. Photographers were huddled outside of Moose-a-lotta, smoking cigarettes, drinking coffee, and trying to keep warm on a day when the temperature had yet to clear the teens. Then there were the curiosity seekers.
“Harper said it was pretty intense when she called a few minutes ago,” Rae said. “but she didn’t mention spectators. I don’t understand. It’s not like I’m famous.”
“But your mother is,” Luke said. “And this war she’s got going with you made national gossip rags.”
“You’re being interviewed by Shawna Frost of Vermont Today,” Kaye said. “She’s a celebrity in these parts. Maybe the crowd is here for her, dear.”
Rae swiveled and smiled at the woman who’d gone out of her way all morning to make Rae feel comfortable. “I’m really glad you and Mr. Monroe came with us although I’m sorry if it proves embarrassing in any way.”
“Mr. Monroe makes me feel old,” Luke’s dad said. “Jerome or Jerry please. And it would take a lot to embarrass us. Our family has its own skeletons, trust me.” He leaned forward then, gestured to the circus. “What’s with the moose?”
“That’s Gram,” Luke said.
“What?”
“On special occasions, she appears as Millie Moose,” Rae said. “The mascot of Moose-a-lotta. You didn’t know?”
“I did not.” He shook his head. “My mother the moose. Beautiful.” He squeezed Luke’s shoulder. “Maybe you should swing around to the alley, son. We’ll take Rae in through the kitchen.”
Luke looked at Rae. “Your call.”
She peered through the windshield, blew out a breath. “I don’t want to run from this and I don’t want to make it any more of a show than it already is. Let’s just do it.”
“The direct approach,” Jerome said. “I like your style, Rae.”
“Me, too,” Luke said. He squeezed her thigh and smiled. “Just remember everything Harper told you.” He plu
cked up his own phone then. “Yeah, Dev? We’re about a block and a half away. Looks a little dicey out here and we’re coming in the front. Think you and Jayce could lend a hand? Thanks.”
“Lend a hand with what?” Rae asked.
“Keeping you safe.” Luke held her gaze a meaningful moment then rolled his SUV toward the action.
“It’s kind of exciting,” Kaye said.
“My mother would eat this up,” Rae said. She got a weird feeling the moment the words left her mouth. A bad feeling. But Luke had already parked and suddenly she was in the thick of it. Rae was bombarded by the paparazzi. If she hadn’t spied Dev and Jayce and Sam moving her way, she might have panicked. Along with Luke and his parents, the men shielded her as best they could. While several cameramen snapped away, questions flew at her from every which way.
“Is it true that you’re engaged to a bartender, Ms. Deveraux? Is this the man?”
“What do you think of your mother’s latest—”
“Why China—”
“Are these your bodyguards? Why—”
“Miss Rachel! Miss Rachel!”
A small voice broke through the chaos. Rae scanned the crowd and saw one of her former students waving madly. She immediately broke from her protective pack and stooped in front of the small girl. Jill McBride. “Jilly! How are you sweetie?”
“Mommy says you’re going to make our school be open again.”
“Yes, I am.” She glanced up at Mrs. McBride, a single mother who relied heavily on affordable day care. “Hopefully by the end of the month.”
The woman smiled down at Rae then winced when photographers swarmed.
Rae shielded mother and child and cautioned the paparazzi in her most patient tone. “No pictures of minors please.” To her relief they backed off, only to regroup as Luke and family steered her into Moose-a-lotta. Once inside all she’d have to deal with was crew from Vermont Today.
But then she felt a shift in energy and focus. She heard excited squeals.
“Is that—”
“It is.”
“It’s her!”
“Can I have your autograph, Miss Deveraux?”
And they didn’t mean Rae.
It couldn’t be but it was. Sick to her stomach, Rae turned and saw Olivia striding her way. Flanked by professional bodyguards, wearing an ankle-length fur coat and huge dark sunglasses, the has-been starlet looked like an older version of Jennifer Lopez.
She was in Rae’s face in three seconds flat. “You thought you could avoid me by ignoring my calls?”
“Back off,” Luke said.
“Easy,” Dev said.
“After all I’ve done for you and this is how you treat me? If you think I’m one of those Hollywood mothers who’s going to turn a blind eye to her kid’s mental meltdown then think again.”
Mental meltdown?
Suddenly Harper was at her side, whispering in her ear. “Don’t respond in anger. Say nothing.” Then she turned to Sam. “Get this inside.” Then to the swarm of photographers. “Gentlemen of the press…”
Harper’s words disintegrated into an indistinguishable buzz as Luke hustled Rae into the café.
Unfortunately, Olivia followed. “You ungrateful, sneaky bitch!”
“Whoa,” Luke said. “That’s enough.”
“You’re as bad as she is,” Olivia said to Luke. “You came into my home, my home, pretending to be some mercenary from China.”
Squeezing Rae’s hand, Luke calmly stared down her mother. “I didn’t pretend to be anyone. And I’m asking you nicely, Ms. Deveraux, please leave and don’t come back.”
Olivia barked a laugh. “What? Are you in love with my daughter? Do you actually think she has feelings for you? A bartender? She’s an heiress, pretty boy. Wake up and smell the coffee.”
“Stop,” Rae ordered.
“That’s enough, Ms. Deveraux,” Jerome said. He glared at her bodyguards. “Dev, call Sheriff Stone.”
“Does your boyfriend know about your boy toys?” Olivia pressed.
Rae palmed her forehead. “What?”
“Are the cameras rolling?” she heard someone ask.
“No cameras.” Suddenly Harper was back in the mix, demanding control.
Rae tried to concentrate on Harper. On Luke. But she was keenly aware of an audience. Although the paparazzi and several reporters had been shut out, Rae was surrounded by the crew of Vermont Today, the members of the Cupcake Lovers and, most keenly, Luke’s family.
“No wonder you refused to join me for several Christmas and New Year’s celebrations,” Olivia said as she reached into her ginormous designer purse. “You were too busy boffing boy toys. In my home,” she emphasized while presenting Rae with several photographs.
The low buzz in Rae’s ears had intensified to a roar. She flipped though the compromising photos—appalled. “This isn’t me,” she said in a choked whisper.
“And if that wasn’t bad enough, you came on to Geoffrey! My husband. Your stepfather! Don’t deny it. The one Christmas party you attended with me and you drank too much. Geoffrey drove you home and you made a play.”
“No,” Rae said. “That was last Christmas and it wasn’t like that. Geoffrey came on to me. I refused. I—”
“You,” Olivia said, “are a pathological liar.”
Meanwhile Luke had taken the ugly photos from her limp fingers. “Not me,” she said, dying inside as she saw the hurt in his eyes.
“You thought you were her one and only, Bartender Boy?” Olivia asked. “Days after she’d been with you she was screwing random men in my home. The pictures prove it.”
“No comment,” Harper said.
“My face, my room, not me,” Rae said, feeling weirdly disconnected from her body.
“Photos are easily manipulated,” Jayce said, taking the pictures from Luke.
“We’re done with this,” Jerome said. “Devlin? Jayce?”
Rae was vaguely aware of Dev, Jayce, and Sam ushering Olivia and her muscle from the café. Somewhat sensitive to the shock and curiosity emanating from the Cupcake Lovers. But mostly Rae was keenly and painfully aware of a moment of doubt in Luke’s eyes. A moment in which he wondered if she’d screwed around, an intoxicated one-night stand like the one she’d had with him. A moment when he wondered if the baby was really his.
That moment shattered Rae’s spirit far more than Olivia ever could. That moment closed her in and down.
THIRTY-THREE
Valentine’s Day.
To think it used to be one of Luke’s favorite days of the year. This time last year, he had three girlfriends. Pretty much his status quo. He’d lavished attention on all three. Flowers, candy, and a card. Champagne. He’d juggled three separate dates beautifully, devoted equal attention to all three ladies.
Luke Monroe had a lotta love to give.
Today, he had nothing. Just a big freaking hole in his chest where his heart used to be.
He’d screwed up. A split second of doubt had ruined a lifetime of happiness.
Rae had shut him out.
That damned stipulation.
“If even one of us is unhappy in this exclusive relationship … It only takes one to end it.”
She hadn’t ended it. Not officially. But she wouldn’t see him. Wouldn’t even speak to him. It sure as hell felt like the end because Luke couldn’t see his way past the damage he’d inflicted. Rae had told him from the start that she rarely shared her feelings, rarely trusted, because she was always disappointed in the end.
She’d trusted Luke. Granted, for reasons he didn’t fully understand, she’d withheld details regarding a sexual confrontation with her stepfather. But she had shared her carefully guarded feelings pertaining to her inability to trust. Her lack of genuine, meaningful relationships. Her lonely childhood. The hurt she’d experienced as an unwanted child and her hopeful efforts to somehow bond with her mother.
In addition to bearing her soul to Luke, she’d confided portions of her hardships w
ith his family and with the Cupcake Lovers. She’d been ready to share a carefully worded version on television, all in an effort to quell a negative force and to do a lot of good.
Luke had shattered that trust with a split second of doubt. Those damned photos had done him in. Rae’s face, that sweet, beautiful face … and those other men. Jealously had ripped through him like a wildfire, incinerating logical thought. He’d reverted to that moment when he’d felt used, when he’d confronted her in Bel Air, when she’d blown him off and thrown back shots of tequila in that bar. He’d allowed her mother’s insults to attack his confidence.
The bartender and the heiress.
“Dammit.”
Luke stumbled from his fridge to his recliner, beer bottle in hand. Several empty bottles cluttered the counter and the cocktail table. He’d started drinking late last night with Adam and Kane. He’d told them he was going to crash when they left around one in the morning. He’d lied.
Just as he dropped into his recliner, someone pounded on his door.
Luke ignored it. It wasn’t Rae. Rae wouldn’t pound. Or maybe she would. Maybe she was ready to tear him a new one. He’d welcome her fury to silence any day.
Bleary-eyed, Luke dragged his drunk ass to the door.
Not Rae.
Fuck.
He could ignore them, but they’d only break down his door.
He twisted the knob, falling back as his dad, Dev, Jayce, and Sam shoved in.
His dad glared at the bottle in Luke’s hand then glared at Luke. “It’s eight in the morning, son. Little early to hit the bottle.”
“He’s still on a tear from last night,” Dev said. He nabbed the bottle from Luke. “Adam called me this morning, worried about your state of mind.”
“Why haven’t you answered our calls?” Sam asked.
“Have you seen Rae?” Luke asked.
“She’s staying with Casey,” Sam said. “Harper spent time with her last night, devising a plan. Damage control. It’s what Harper does, Luke, and she’s good at it.”