She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve seen mine, I can tell.”
“Yes, I have. You should remember to make your Facebook private. I enjoyed the posts on the day you made the soup the most, although the cooking lessons would be a close second.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to face him. When she opened them again, she surveyed the mess around her. It was going to take hours to clean up. Before she could face that task, though, there were a few things they needed to clear up. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a celebrity chef?
“You know about that?”
“To quote someone quite close to me, ‘I’ve known for months.’ Well, not months—days, actually. I saw you in the newspaper.”
“Damn. I hoped you hadn’t seen that. The publicist was meant to stop it going to print but the message didn’t quite get through to all the papers. I planned to tell you tonight, since filming is complete. That’s why I said it was a special occasion; I was going to tell you all about it and make you confess about the cooking.”
“I guess I beat you to it.”
“I guess so. Besides your tears, this is quite an enjoyable way to find out. You’ve absolutely obliterated the kitchen. We’ll be wiping up flour and cocoa for years.” He stood and reached his hand out to her. “Come on, we should get started. I’m tempted to take you to my house and get a cleaner to take care of this.”
“I’d spring for a cleaner, if I never had to see this mess again.”
“No, I should pay, since this is my fault. I asked for those pies, even though I knew you couldn’t have made them. I expected you to say no, or to buy some from the shop. I didn’t know you’d take on the challenge and bake them from scratch.”
“I tried to buy them! I left work early, so I’d have enough time, but the shop was closed when I got there, and I’d promised them to you. I had to cook or confess.”
“Well, this sure was one way to push yourself into a corner. How about you go have a shower and I’ll clean up as best I can? Then we’ll take our wine and get takeaway pizza at my house.”
“You’re going to let me see your place?”
“I am.” He pulled her closer and brushed the flour away from her mouth. “I plan to let you see a lot of things, since all our secrets are out in the open, now.”
She grinned, now excited to wash up and get away from the mess. “I’ll shower in record time.”
“Stand here another minute and let me look at you, all covered in white. You’re quite a sight.”
“I’d love to amuse you a bit longer, Henry Baxter, but there’s a piece of butter melting inside my bra.”
***
An hour later, they were safely in Henry’s car, loaded up with pizza and wine. Rachel had showered, packed a bag, and walked out of the apartment without a backward glance. Henry had swept up most of the mess on the floor and wiped down the benches before throwing the ingredients into the rubbish bin. A professional cleaner from the restaurant would fix the rest.
As they pulled into his driveway and the smell of pizza filled the car, Henry spoke into the darkness. “I didn’t lie when I said I worked at a club in the city—I was working at a club as a chef. It’s just that I own it.” He looked down at her, his apology showing plainly in his eyes. “I was also sworn to secrecy over the television contract. I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone until it was officially completed and approved. They’re paranoid about leaks on those shows.” He tweaked her chin and when she looked up at him, she could see a speck of white on her eyelash.
Probably more flour.
“I wouldn’t have told anyone.”
“I know that, but I couldn’t risk it. We’d just met and got engaged, remember?” He laughed then and gave her chin a squeeze.
She sniffed, pretending she was offended. “As your fiancée, I’d like to be kept in the loop next time your life decisions affect me.”
His face became serious and his hand dropped away and grasped hers. “This could affect you. If my profile is raised there’ll be a load of press interest. I don’t have first hand knowledge, of course, but everyone knows that magazines write articles that aren’t always true.” He squeezed her fingers. “A life with me could be a life with a constant succession of articles that comment on your appearance. How much weight you put on when you’re pregnant.” He grinned at the surprised look on her face. “Yes, I want lots of babies.”
“I want babies, too.”
“Glad we sorted that out. You know what I’m saying, though, right? There’ll be times when it is difficult and I know you hate any talk about appearances. They’re going to happen and we won’t be able to stop them.”
She sighed and leaned her head back against the seat. “I know. I’m going to have to learn to deal with it, I guess. It might take me a while, and I can’t guarantee I won’t tell the odd photographer to get lost. I could be a real problem for your image.”
“I doubt it. You’ll be the exact opposite. Someone who stands up for what they believe.” They sat in the car, each pondering what the future might bring. “So, you’re still keen to be my fiancée?”
Her mouth watered at the thought of spending time with him without any secrets between them. His mouth was so close to hers, and once again, he smelled like cookies. Living life married to Henry was a pleasant idea, and not just because she’d have a lifetime supply of fresh baked goods. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more right now. Well, besides this pizza.”
“Of course! Let’s go inside. I’ll come around and grab the food.”
He went around the car, took the pizza box, and helped Rachel out. It was then that she focussed her attention on the palatial home in front of her. “Wow.” She stared up at the lights twinkling on the second floor balcony. “There’s more you should have told me. This house is huge!”
“I know. It’s too big for me. I didn’t want you to overwhelm you with it until you were sure about us.”
“If I’d seen this earlier I’d have known you weren’t working in some nameless club in the city.”
He grinned an apology and led her to the front door and into his kitchen. His house could fit her apartment inside several times, from the section she could see. Henry pushed a plate toward her and poured her a glass of wine. She took a sip and watched him, concerned that he had another surprise in store for her. She’d convinced herself that she knew everything, but now she wasn’t so sure. He beckoned her to sit at the table, and she slid in opposite him.
“How about a toast?” he asked, raising his glass. “To us and total honesty from now on.”
They clinked glasses and Rachel took a sip. When she placed it on the table, she frowned. “I’m not sure that was the right toast. Is there more we haven’t discussed?”
“Not at all. I meant that we’d each been keeping secrets from each other—or so we thought.”
“Isn’t it interesting that we both knew the big secret the other was keeping? A psychologist would have a field day with a situation like this.”
“Perhaps they would. I’m glad all the stories are out in the open. Now we can relax.”
“Well, maybe.” She frowned. He hadn’t mentioned the photographs of them both. “There are photos of the two of us in Rosebud.”
“What? I hadn’t heard about that.”
“It could be time to get a new publicist,” she joked. “The one you have is pretty ordinary by all appearances. Lori found both articles two days apart in the local paper.”
“Was the article bad?”
“The worst. It went on and on about my hair and how you were punching above your weight.”
“Damn, they were right.” He grinned at her. “You better prepare for the phone calls to start. They’ll be keen to know who you are. I’d suggest telling them so they go away. Try not to overreact at all, it will only egg them on and make them pursue you.”
“They’ll pursue me?” her voice rose an octave. “What does that even mean? I thought only Hollywood stars got chas
ed down the street by photographers.”
He took her hand to reassure her. “I’m sure it will be fine. They might take a few photographs. I have no way to tell. They might leave you alone completely. They’ll do whatever will sell magazines and papers.”
“According to the paper, you’re about to be the next big thing on our television screens. The star of every Australian lounge room.”
“Yes, I heard.” His voice was sour and she had a guilty moment where she worried that her reaction might have ruined the excitement for him. She stood up and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him on the forehead before she spoke.
“I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I hope you will be.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Your soup posts were hilarious by the way, did I convince you of that? I’m looking forward to seeing the posts in real time, once I’m your online friend.” He laughed at the expression on her face. “Sit back down and eat up. I have big plans for you tonight. It’s the weekend, and I don’t have to be anywhere until Monday.”
“Ooh, now you’re tempting me. Big plans, eh?”
“Big plans.”
***
Henry cleaned up the kitchen and as he was washing the dishes, Rachel moved to stand behind him. She slipped her hands around his waist and teased him by rubbing herself against his back. He immediately dropped the cloth into the sink, dried his hands, and spun around to wrap her in his arms. His lips found hers, and they shared a soft kiss.
When they broke apart, Henry stood with his arms around her waist and his fingers clasped behind her back. “Are you going to manage with all the media attention? It could get crazy.”
“What choice do I have?”
He touched her face with his finger, “You always have a choice, Rachel. I waited to get physical with you so you’d have the ability to walk away if you wanted to.”
“You underestimate your attraction, Henry Baxter.” She smiled at him and slipped her hands around his neck. “It’s too late to walk away, now.”
He grinned and rubbed his nose against hers. They were pressed together and any moment now, romantic music should start up in the background. It was that kind of moment.
“The press can be awful. They’ll most likely mention your looks at every turn,” he said quietly. She sighed before answering.
“I know. I can’t say I’m happy about it, but it’s time I got over it, in all honesty.”
“Are you ready to tell me about it, yet?” his eyes were gentle and she could see she had an out if she chose not to tell him. He wasn’t applying any pressure; he just wanted to share her story.
She laid her head against his shoulder and thought about where to begin. “When I was in high school we had an end of year formal. Not in our final year but still enough to be a big deal. A nice guy from my class had invited me to go with him and I was excited to agree. We got dressed up, had a limousine pick us up—you know everything that goes along with those big school celebrations.” She sniffed as she spoke. “Half way through the night I went to get a drink and I heard his friends talking behind some decorations about how hot I was. They were making all kinds of crude remarks and all of them were about how good looking girls like me always put out, and how my date was sure to be getting some tonight.” His arms held her tighter as she went on. “I was horrified but not that surprised, I guess. I knew boys often talked like that when they got together. I went back to dancing and said didn’t mention it.
“On the way home, he started putting pressure on me, suggesting we go back to his house because his parents were out for the night. I insisted he take me home and he didn’t take it well. As I got out of the car he grabbed my dress and it tore. As I backed away he said that everything he’d been told about cute girls being good-to-go was false. That I’d ruined his night and he’d make sure everyone knew about it at school. I rushed inside and pretended to my parents that everything was okay.
“But my mum saw my dress and assumed the worst. I assured her nothing happened, but the next week at school she kicked up a big fuss and the boy was pulled into the office. I tried to explain to him that I’d told the truth that it was an accident but he refused to forgive me. For a whole year he made my life hell and got his friends to do the same. I ignored them mostly but I got so tired of hearing how pretty my hair was, or how tight my bum was, or that I’d make a pretty trophy wife one day. Everything they said sounded nice enough and my friends couldn’t understand why it upset me so much, but the teasing never let up. Every time they made a comment, it was a reminder of that awful night.”
She pulled away and looked up into his eyes. She could see sympathy reflected there and she tried hard to ignore the feelings telling this story always brought up for her. “They were minor taunts but they made me so angry for such an extended time that now when someone comments on my appearance I get all uptight about it. I’ve let a lot of good relationships go because a guy told me I was beautiful or complimented me on how I kept in shape. Stupid really.”
“Not stupid. After a whole year of it, I’m sure you’d heard enough of those words to last you a lifetime.”
“Yup, but a woman should be able to accept a compliment without having to end a relationship because of it.”
“True. We can practice so it feels less awful to you. Because,” he raised a finger and then raised his eyebrows to match, “you are stunningly beautiful. I’ve missed you so much these past two months.” He kissed her again and all the feelings she’d damped down for him over the months rose up to engulf her. She pulled him closer and his tongue slipped between her lips. She quivered with the anticipation of what was to come as his fingers tangled in her hair.
Then he said the words that broke her heart. “I’m so glad I listened to Lori that day we first met.”
“What?” she pulled away. “What did Lori say to you?”
“Remember, when she pulled me aside and threatened to kill me if I hurt you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, she did threaten to dismember me. She also warned me not to say mention how great you looked.” He touched her nose with his finger and grinned. “That was great advice. I’ll have to thank her when I see her.”
She pulled free of his arms and put a few feet between them. “She told you that? Why would she do that?”
“Because she could see I was a great guy, obviously.” He was still grinning, but her thunderous facial expression soon alerted him that he’d upset her. He took a step forward but she moved away. “Come on, Rachel. You just said you were going to let things like this go. It was before we even knew each other.”
“True.” She looked around for her handbag, “but it means our relationship started on a lie.” She turned to face him once she’d found her bag. “I asked you why you made that joke proposal to me and you said it was because of my question to the video guy, and because you were interested in me. But she warned you not to say anything else. You might have said something very different, otherwise. God, how stupid was I?” she said to herself as she pulled her phone out of her bag. “I have to go.”
“Wait, you were going to stay here tonight.”
“I was, but now I’m not. Don’t worry, I’ll get a taxi, you’ve been drinking.” He tried to take her arm but she pulled away and headed to the front door. “Don’t follow me Henry. I want to be alone.” She banged the door behind her and was relieved when he didn’t follow. In the darkness of his driveway she used her phone to book an Uber and it arrived a few minutes later. As she put her head against the seat and tried not to cry, she remembered the mess left in her apartment. That’s all it took to release the tears, as she recalled how hard she’d tried to impress Henry since they’d met. She’d thought all their secrets were out in the open, thought they were being honest with each other, at last. How typical that the secret he’d shared last was the one that had the ability to infuriate her.
By the time she arrived home, she had three missed calls fro
m Lori and four from Henry. She’d switched her phone to silent and stuffed it into her bag when the first one came through. In the quiet of her dining room she weakened and listened to the first message from Lori, eyes rolling the whole time. “Rachel, Henry called me. I’m going to keep calling, I know you have your phone with you.” Then she sighed. “Come on Rachel, you’re overreacting. Call me back straight away.”
Great. He even has her number. What else have they been discussing about me?
She turned the phone off and plugged it into the charger in the kitchen, wiping flour from the top of the power point. There was so much mess to deal with; both with Henry and the remains of her ill-fated cooking effort. Tomorrow was the perfect time to deal with all of that. Right now she was going to bed.
Her clothes dropped to the floor and she crawled between the covers and rolled herself into a ball. This plan hadn’t been executed well. Henry had stayed here plenty of times and though she couldn’t smell his aftershave the memories of being curled up here with him overwhelmed her. She sniffled into her pillow and clenched her eyes shut as she tried to go to sleep. This wasn’t the first time a relationship had ended in heartbreak because she’d reacted badly to something other people would see as minor.
She should be used to this feeling by now.
***
The sound of traffic woke her and it took her a minute to work out why. Normally she woke well before the first cars started moving past her apartment and she stretched out, wondering what time it was.
Shit! My phone’s turned off!
With a squeal, she dove out of bed, flinging back the covers and racing for the kitchen. The green shining numbers over the oven confirmed her worst fear; it was after nine o’clock and she was going to be late for her shift at the homeless shelter.
She grabbed the phone and headed to the bathroom, turning it on as she went. She had no desire to check any messages but she needed to call and let Sarah know she would be late.
Married This Year 2: Simmering Love Page 12