“Lacy?”
I freeze, recognizing my sister’s voice. Rebecca is older by five years and at twenty-six she’s already taken her rightful place at my father’s right hand side at his law firm. The role suits her well and it has been her life-long dream to become my father’s protégé and then successor.
I turn around slowly and Rebecca’s eyes widen. “Lacy. Hi.”
She tries smiling but given our last encounter I don’t feel like returning it.
“Rebecca,” I greet coldly. I mentally start planning an escape route, noting that the exit is on the other side of the store. Dammit.
“So you’re back,” she states, shifting on her feet rather awkwardly. It isn’t often that my darling sister looks uncomfortable, but seeing me clearly ruffles her feathers. “You should’ve called. We could’ve fetched you from the airport.”
I snort. “Yeah, like mom and dad would have welcomed me with open arms. As you can see, I’m still alive and kicking and doing just fine on my own. You can report that back to mom and dad.”
“They’ve been worried sick, Lace, and they’ve missed you.” Lies. All of it. Complete and utter bullshit. If they missed me then why didn’t they bother trying to find out where I was?
“Great,” I reply with sarcasm, “remind me to nominate them for the ‘Parent of The Year’ award this year.”
“Don’t be like that,” she pleads. “They had time to think about what they did, and I can tell you they are genuinely sorry.”
Sorry my ass. I bet they have no idea Rebecca is pleading their case. I shouldn’t be surprised. Rebecca is the ‘fixer’ in our family. Too bad this is one thing I have no interest in having fixed. Her face softens and she gives me her best someone kicked my puppy expression. I know this tactic well, which is exactly why it is ineffective.
“They wanted me to invite you to dinner,” she adds when she realizes I’m not going to reply. “We missed your birthday and they’d like to make up for it.”
“I already had a birthday party. I don’t need another one.”
I’d spent my twenty-first birthday exactly how I’d wanted to and with people I’d come to care about, people who cared about me too. Cassandra threw me a surprise bash, which ended with a larger-than-life bonfire on the beach under a blanket of stars. It was perfect.
I didn’t need more, especially not some ridiculous party with people who commented about seeing me in diapers as a baby. Or worse, with people who had heard about my very public humiliation. No thanks. Chewing off a limb sounds more appealing.
“Will you at least think about it?”
My sister is begging. That’s new. Maybe she’s being sincere. Then again, she was being sincere when she sided with my parents the night they told me what a disgrace I was to the family name. I don’t trust her.
“Fine,” I sigh. I hate the way her face lights up with hope but I’m not going to pay it any mind. I’m simply going to leave the bookstore and not give this conversation a second thought.
“Great! Can we do lunch sometime?”
“I’m really busy.” The lie falls from the lips without much effort. “I’ll have to let you know when I have time to squeeze you in.”
“Oh,” her face drops slightly, “what are you busy with?”
I contemplate telling her, but then decide against it. The less she knows about my life, the less she will have to tell my parents.
With a final, and strategic glance down at my watch, I say, “Oh that reminds me, I have a brunch, and I’m going to be late. So if you’ll excuse me…”
‘Of course, I’ll let you go. I hope you’ll call me soon.”
“Yeah, sure. Bye.”
My steps quicken into a brisk walk. I have no intention of calling her, or anyone else in my family. I’m not about to hurl myself into an awkward situation with the people who have all but shunned me. Seeing Jason again after this time is bad enough.
CHAPTER 3
LACY
It’s late afternoon and I’m curled up on the sofa with a new book. My phone has been ringing incessantly since I arrived home from the bookstore and clearly my mother couldn’t take a hint. I was expecting this, but not so soon after my run-in with Rebecca. My bet would be that she called my parents before I even had the chance to leave the store.
When my phone goes off a seventh time – yes, seventh – I glare at the screen and eventually throw my arms up in defeat. My mother won’t give up until she speaks to me.
I slide my finger across the screen and press it to my ear. My only option is to pretend I have no idea who’s calling.
“Hello?”
“Lacy.” My name comes out of my mother’s mouth with a swoosh. “I’ve been trying to call for over an hour.”
“I’m sorry mother, I’ve been busy.” My voice is hard, and cold as steel. Indifference is my only form of defense. It always has been.
“Too busy to let us know you’re back home,” she huffs. Anger surges through my body, wrapping around the very center of me. Answering the call was clearly a mistake, and I fight my natural inclination to cut the call. Manners be damned.
“Is there a reason you called?” I ask, my tone thick with irritation.
“Yes,” my mother half-snaps. “Your sister spoke to you about a dinner for your birthday. We’ll be having it next Wednesday at seven.”
And just like that I have been summoned. I remind myself that all the obscenities running through my mind belong to nineteen-year-old Lacy, and not grown up Lacy.
“Are you inviting me or telling me to be there?”
My mother’s heavy sigh comes through the phone before she replies, “I’d like you to be there, of course. We haven’t seen you and it’s time you came home.”
I bite my tongue, stopping my harsh words in their tracks before saying something I’d regret. The house I’d grown up in was just that. A house. It had never been home to me, and became even less so after my whole Jason debacle. Cape Town and the friends I’d made there felt more like home than anywhere else I‘d ever been.
The truth is, seeing my family isn’t rating high on my ‘To-Do’ list, especially when I know we’ll avoid talking about why I’ve been gone for the past two years. While I’m not looking for some kind of confrontation, some kind of apology would be nice. Then again, I doubt my family is capable of that, purely because they have a hard time admitting to being wrong.
I give it some thought and know deep, deep down it’s just another ploy to show all my parents’ friends that we are still the ‘picturesque’ family we’ve always pretended to be. In the end though, I know I’ll say yes, only because hiding forever isn’t an option for me.
“Fine,” I concede. “Just tell me what time I have to be there and what I have to wear.”
I wait for a gasp or some form of sound that shows my mother’s excitement to see me again, but I know better than to hope for things that would never be. I harden my spine and dispel of any disappointment I might feel.
“Very well,” my mother says, “Wednesday at seven sharp. Wear something tasteful and elegant. We wouldn’t want another scandal just because you can’t resist wearing something revealing.”
That stings. It also proves why my expectations have dropped to below zero where my parents are concerned.
I clench my teeth momentarily, irritation running rampant through my veins. “Great. I’ll see you then.”
I click ‘end’ before my mother can get another word in and resist the hankering to hurl my phone across the room. Only my mother can evoke such a strong desire to break something.
Thankfully I have a few days before I have to face her and my father so I can prepare myself. It also gives me some time to find the perfect dress that will undoubtedly piss my mother off. Since I’m no longer forced to behave a certain way in their presence, even if they expect it, I decide to embrace my inner rebel and do the unexpected.
CHAPTER 4
LACY
I sit in front of my computer
and wait for Cassandra to answer my Skype call. It’s early evening where she is, and I’m anxious to talk to her after a few days of silence. When the call finally connects I smile at the sight of my friend. She’s wearing her pink silk robe, her hair’s a mess and her face is flushed.
I lift an eyebrow, and cross my arms over my chest.
“Am I interrupting something?” I ask with an amused tone.
Her cheeks darken in color and she looks down for a moment before meeting my eyes.
“No,” she clears her throat, “you’re not. I, uh, just got out the shower.”
A tall, lean, half-naked body walks behind her, and I can barely make out who it is. But I have an idea.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, sitting upright. “Did you just have sex with Kyle?” I whisper his name and gape at Cassandra. She throws her hands in the air, defeated and caught out.
“Okay, fine,” she huffs, “you caught me. I was…busy.”
“Nuh-uh,” I say, shaking my head, “you have to give me more than that. Spill it sister. I’ve been waiting months for this to happen!”
Kyle’s body appears in the camera and he spins Cassandra around in her chair. He presses his lips to hers in a feverish kiss and I have to look away. It’s intimate, too intimate, and makes me feel like I’m intruding. When she moans I clear my throat, drawing their attention to the fact that they aren’t really alone. Kyle is the first to break the kiss, and then he turns to me.
“Hi, Lace.”
He waves, giving me that surfer boy smile, and disappears from the screen again before I can respond.
Cassandra fans her face, mouthing the words “Oh my God,” and then attempts to fix herself up.
“I see you finally decided to take my advice,” I say, feeling smug. She’d been teasing Kyle, playing hot and cold with him, for much of the time I’d spent in Cape Town. I’m glad she finally listened.
“Several times,” she quips, fluffing her bed hair, “but he’s still here and I doubt he’d like to hear what I think about his very big…foot.”
My jaw drops as she proceeds to show me just how gifted Kyle is, and when she laughs I can’t help but join in.
“Anyway, what’s new with you? Any more run-ins with the Brady Bunch?”
More like The Adams Family, I think.
“I have been summoned. My mother is throwing me a birthday party next Wednesday.”
Cassandra responds with an exaggerated eye-roll, and then says, “Wear your most provocative dress, and be sure to piss mommy and daddy dearest off.”
A giggle slips from my mouth. “That’s the plan.”
“So,” Cassandra begins, “any other news on the Jason front? Have you seen him again?”
Hearing her say his name reminds me just how much I’ve been thinking about him, despite the fact that I haven’t had any unfortunate run-ins with him again.
“No, but - ”
My sentence is cut off when the doorbell rings. I tell Cassandra I’ll be right back, and cross the short distance to the door. When I open it, I’m greeted by a young messenger boy, judging by his pimple-ridden skin, with shoulder length blonde hair, dressed in a red and yellow uniform. He’s holding a large bouquet of big, purple flowers.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
“Miss. Forbes?”
I frown. “Yes?”
“I have a delivery for you.”
He hands me a clipboard, and I sign before accepting the flowers.
He smiles, tells me to enjoy my day, and then walks away. I shut my door and walk to my desk.
“Ooh,” Cassandra chimes, “those are pretty! Who sent them?”
“I have no idea,” I reply, opening the card. The envelope is embossed with my name, and on the inside is a card with a neat black script.
Dinner on the roof. 7pm. Tonight.
P.S I’m not asking.
“Well?” Cassandra presses. I almost tell her I don’t know who sent it, since there are no initials and no signature, but only one man would ask me to dinner as a demand.
“Jason,” I sigh, feeling my brows knit. It’s so out of the blue.
“What does it say?”
I place the card on my desk, and lay the flowers down before looking at my computer screen again.
“It’s a dinner invitation for tonight.”
“Are you going to accept?”
I don’t have to think about my answer. “No.”
I see Cassandra regarding me, and I know the look in her eye.
“You’re not even going to think about it?”
I stare at her incredulously. “Are you serious, Cass? Weren’t you the one drying up my tears not so long ago while I was trying to get over him?”
This earns me another eye roll.
“Having dinner doesn’t mean you’re going to invite him back into your panties. I mean, aren’t you the least bit curious as to why he’s asked you to dinner? Or what he’s been doing with his life for all this time?”
Her questions are fair, and if I’m being honest it’s the second one that has me the most curious. But I know sitting down to a meal with him is asking for trouble. I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do.
“I can see those wheels turning,” Cassandra remarks, “and I can already tell you’re overanalyzing it. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Uh, hello, what have you done with my best friend? The one who wanted to castrate Jason and feed him his own testicles for hurting me?”
“I’m still here Lace,” her face softens, “and I’m not saying you need to sleep with the guy again. I’m merely suggesting that you see this as a chance to get the closure you didn’t get when you came here. It might be what you need to move on, and finally close that chapter.”
“But I have closed it,” I retort, knowing it’s not the complete truth.
It’s Cassandra’s turn to look cynical. “Lacey Forbes, you’re a terrible liar, and I wouldn’t be encouraging you to do this if I didn’t think it could be good for you. You deserve to start over, but you can’t move forward if you’re always looking over your shoulder, babe.”
I know she’s right. I’m just not ready to admit it yet.
“I think you should wear your sexiest dress, and show up,” she adds. “I bet he’s not expecting you to show up.”
I shake my head. I hate giving in, but he definitely won’t be expecting me to show up. It might be my only way to really move on and close that chapter, like Cassandra seems to think. I check the clock on the wall, and see that I have an hour to get ready.
Cassandra gives me a triumphant grin. “You’re going?”
“Yes,” I groan, “I’m going.”
“Wear that tight little red dress I bought you for your birthday. Jason won’t know what hit him.”
***
I open the door that leads to the roof and look around. When I round the corner I see Jason leaning against the wall, looking over the city. To his left is a small table set for two, candles lit. There’s a three-man ensemble a little way from the table, each playing a string instrument. It’s all very clichéd, and very Jason. He was always a charmer. I see that hasn’t changed.
The click of my heels gives me away and Jason turns to find me. His piercing blue eyes travel down my body and I fight the shiver wanting to crawl up my spine. I won’t be affected by him or his sea blue eyes or his pink pouty lips or his sexy smirk.
Granted, I’m wearing a tight red dress that will without a doubt get his attention, but its purpose is to show him what he no longer has. What he gave up. Everything I am without him.
“You came,” he says, walking towards me.
“I have no idea why,” I reply honestly.
He chuckles. “I see you haven’t lost your feisty attitude.”
I remain quiet, unwilling to give in to his charismatic banter.
He leads me to the table and I take a moment to gather my thoughts. I look out at the horizon, marveling at the way the city lights blend with the s
tarry evening sky. It’s a beautiful landscape, and it makes it feel more romantic than it should.
I don’t want to be romanced. I’m here to close a chapter of my life, not reopen one and keep writing it. Our story, however brief, ended, and I want to walk away from him knowing it’s time. Time to let go and really start over.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Jason says. He takes the seat opposite me, and leans back into his chair. We stay silent for a moment, each of us staring at the other in silence. I feel vulnerable under his gaze. Like he can see through the walls I’ve worked so hard to put up.
I break the moment and shift in my seat, hating how unsure I unexpectedly feel.
A waiter appears out of nowhere and places trays on our table. He removes the silver domes, revealing an assortment of hors d’oeuvres. They range from mushroom-polenta diamonds, Spanish ham with olives and oranges, and stuffed piquillo peppers with goat cheese, to tuna nicoise crostini’s and grilled scallops wrapped in prosciutto. It smells delicious.
“Your favorites,” Jason murmurs, his eyes fixed firmly on me from across the table.
Yes. They are indeed in my favorites. A small part of me hates that he remembered.
“Why did you ask me to dinner?” I decide to cut straight to the point before he has the chance to woo me. He has the ability to charm clothes of a mannequin, and the last thing I want is for him to do the same to me. That’s why nipping it in the bud is the only option I will allow myself to consider.
I used to be weak when it came to this man, but now’s the time to prove that I have changed, that I’m no longer the weak helpless girl who blindly gave her heart to someone who was unavailable.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he replies. He diverts his gaze and I realize that he may be feeling as vulnerable as I do.
“I needed to see you,” he continues, “I’ve been going crazy not knowing where you’ve been.”
Silence descends and I process what he’s saying. I get the distinct impression that he said more than he meant to.
“Cape Town,” I reply. “I was in Cape Town.”
All of Me (All of Me #1) Page 2