Chapter Eleven
An hour later, standing in her kitchen, Bia took out her angst on the green, red and napa cabbage, shredding it for the coleslaw and trying not to get sucked into a black hole of doubt.
The grocery store rendezvous with Joanna had been a huge reality check for Bia. The problem with being a realist was that she refused to delude herself. She and Joanna were two completely different breeds of women. And if Aiden didn’t want Joanna...
Bia blinked away the nagging thought and reread the recipe, which called for slicing carrots into ultrathin matchsticks. She focused on making each cut as precise and uniform as she could.
She was good at things like this—checking newspaper stories for grammar and fact. Following recipes and slicing vegetables into precise matchstick pieces. Logical things. Things that took precision and concentration. These were the things she had control over. This was her comfort zone, and that’s where she was confident. But she had no more desire to put herself out there on the dating scene, head-to-head with women like Joanna and this Lisa English—whoever she was—than she wanted to get up onstage and try to outsing Christina Aguilera.
Joanna and Lisa were the type of women Aiden was attracted to. Beautiful, fashionable, trophy girlfriend material. That’s exactly what they were. What the heck was wrong with Aiden?
Bia stopped cutting, realization creeping over her.
Aiden dated these women until they fell for him. Was he only into the thrill of the chase? He pursued women until they wanted him and then he got the heck out of Dodge...as fast as he could. It had even happened with Tracey after they’d gotten married.
Huh.
The symptoms sure did seem to fit the disease.
Maybe the chance meeting with Joanna was a good reminder that Bia needed to not get carried away. Even though kissing Aiden felt pretty darn right, she needed to take off the lurve goggles and see the situation for what it really was.
But for some reason, that didn’t sit right with her, either.
* * *
Bia had just put the salmon in the oven when Maya arrived. She remembered what Maya had said that first day she had come to interview her: that Bia had already met the love of her life. That he was in her life, and all she needed to do was appreciate what was right in front of her.
Against Bia’s better judgment, the completely senseless heart of her that she never allowed to have a voice was speaking up loud and clear: somehow, some way she wished that person could be Aiden.
Who else could it be?
And here she was talking to herself as if she believed in Maya’s woo-woo proclamations.
All she had to lose was her heart. But before she could do that, she needed to know that she and the baby were safe. That she wasn’t making another colossal mistake.
Maya greeted Bia with a big warm hug and what looked like a box of chocolates.
“Come in!” said Bia.
“I can’t even begin to tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to this evening,” Maya said. “These are for you.”
Bia gratefully accepted the chocolates. “These will make a fabulous dessert. Thank you.”
“I hope I’m not late,” Maya said. “I came straight from work. But it took longer than I thought it would to close up shop for the day. I suppose I could have let the staff do it, but we’re still getting used to each other.”
“I’m sure that will happen in no time,” Bia said. “But you’re not late. I just put the salmon in the oven. Would you mind coming into the kitchen? I’m still working on another dish for dinner.”
Bia noticed the way that Maya glanced around as she walked toward the kitchen. She seemed to be taking in all the details of her house. It was the first time Maya had ever been there. She tried to see the place through Maya’s eyes: the living room with the big, overstuffed red sofa; the rustic plank wood coffee table with several magazines fanned out, a grouping of candles and a silk orchid plant that looked real; an entertainment center with a flat-screen TV. It was all her own furniture that she’d moved in from her apartment after her father had passed away. The only thing of his that remained was his old recliner, which was in dire need of reupholstering, and some of the paintings and family photos that still hung on the wall. While she’d done her best to make the house that she’d grown up in her own, she couldn’t bring herself to part with those remnants of the past.
“You have such a nice home,” Maya said.
“Thank you. I grew up in this house. Lived here all my life except for the years I was away at college and in my apartment when I came back to take the reporting job at the paper.”
Maya walked over to the fireplace and picked up a frame that contained one of the few family portraits they’d had taken before Brenda, Bia’s adoptive mom, had died.
“How old were you here?” Maya asked.
“I was three.”
“Look at you with your red curls. You’re such a beautiful child. You still are.”
Bia smiled her thanks at the motherly comment.
She paused in the doorway, watching Maya set down the picture and glance around again, seemingly taking everything in.
“I’m just trying to imagine you as a three-year-old running around this house.”
“Do you have any regrets?” Bia asked. “I mean, I know you were in no position to care for a child, especially since your family wasn’t very supportive of your situation, but...”
As the words left her mouth, it struck Bia as odd that a family that had prided itself on passing a business down from one generation to another would be so willing to give up one of their own. Maybe they thought Maya would have other children.
Oh, well.
That was a long time ago, and Bia could read the sorrow in Maya’s eyes.
“If I could do it over again, I would do it differently,” she said. “But I’m a firm believer in not staining the present with regrets over the past.” She took a deep breath, exhaled and smiled. “I always knew that I would see you again. I always clung to that belief. Now look at us. Here we are.”
“Yes. Here we are.”
This was her mother.
Her mother. Even though it had taken a while to wrap her mind around the fact that her father had kept the truth about her birth from her for all those years, he had been instrumental in bringing the two of them together.
As they made their way into the kitchen, Bia thought about how sometimes you had to look past the first impression to realize the beauty in something that at first glance might seem devastating.
“I just realized I’ve never asked you where you live,” Bia said as she busied herself measuring out ingredients for the coleslaw dressing.
“I have a small studio on the second floor of the shop.”
Bia glanced up from her recipe. “I didn’t even realize that the shop had a second story.”
“It’s more of a renovated attic space. But I have a nice full bathroom and a place to sleep. Actually, it’s quite cozy. The best part is, I can’t beat the commute.”
The two of them laughed at Maya’s joke, then exchanged stories and snippets of information, bringing each other up-to-date with their lives with broad brushstrokes covering the missing years. She really was happy to have this time with Maya...her mother.
The reality of it made her catch her breath each time she thought about Maya being her mother. At least, for the most part, it kept her mind off the Joanna incident. Occasionally, her mind would drift back to their conversation in the grocery store, but Bia would force herself to think about something else. She thought she was doing a pretty good job keeping a sunny disposition.
Still, somehow Maya seemed to see through the facade. “Is everything all right?”
Bia tossed the cabbage in the dressing. “Of course. Why do yo
u ask?”
“You just don’t seem like yourself tonight. Are you feeling all right?”
Bia nodded. “I guess I’m just a little bit tired. We just put this week’s edition of the paper to bed last night. It always takes a lot out of me to get that done.”
“Please let me help you with the rest of dinner,” said Maya.
“It’s a very simple meal,” Bia said. “It’s almost done. So, just have a seat and relax. You must be tired, too, after being on your feet all day.”
“Well, if you won’t let me help you with the cooking, while you do that, I’ll set the table for you.”
“That would be fabulous. And would you please put on the kettle for some herbal tea? I’d love some with dinner, but would you like a glass of wine?”
“Tea sounds perfect.”
Bia showed Maya the drawer with the silverware and pointed out a basket of cloth napkins.
“Is Aiden joining us tonight?”
Bia inhaled sharply. The mention of his name had caused her stomach to do a little somersault. Oh, that wasn’t good. She needed to stop doing things like that. She needed to stop remembering the feel of his lips on hers and the way his hands had taken possession of her body.
“No, he’s working tonight. It’s just you and me.”
“Are you missing him?” Maya asked. “Is that why you seem a little blue?”
Bia threw a quick glance over her shoulder at Maya, who was fishing the silverware out of the drawer.
“Well, no. I wouldn’t say that exactly.”
Maya walked up and placed a hand on Bia’s shoulder and gave a little squeeze.
Bia made a conscious effort to relax. “I think my hormones are knocking me for a loop. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was at the grocery store after I got off work, and I ran into an old girlfriend of Aiden’s.”
Maya looked at her quizzically. “Did she upset you?”
“Yes, but it’s not her fault.”
“What did she do?”
Nothing. She didn’t do anything. How did she tell Maya that the only thing the woman was guilty of was being gorgeous and dating Aiden?
Bia knew she was being ridiculous without even saying the words. It was the hormones. Was it the hormones that were bothering her? Or was it the fact that she wasn’t telling the truth? Right now she wanted nothing more than to talk to Maya.
“May I confide in you?” Bia asked.
* * *
“This engagement isn’t real. Aiden has agreed to do this to help me out.”
Bia explained everything to Maya—how Aiden had spontaneously jumped to her rescue, and, while it was a quick fix for the moment, it had left them in a precarious position. It left Bia vulnerable to the media discovering that she was carrying Hugh’s baby.
“We just need to give it some time. Until I’m sure that the tabloid reporters have gone away and aren’t planning any more sneak attacks. We’ve talked about keeping this up until they decide what to do about the movie that Hugh was supposed to be in. Whether they will still shoot in Celebration or if they put the project on hold. Until then it seems pretty certain that the XYZ correspondents will be lurking.”
Maya didn’t look as surprised as Bia thought she might upon hearing the news. She simply nodded and drew some water for the kettle, ignited the burner on the gas range and set the water to boil.
Bia took down her grandmother’s china teapot and two cups and set them on a tray. She put four teaspoons of loose tea leaves into the pot.
“The two of you have been putting on a convincing show,” Maya said as she set the table. “From the ring all the way down to the way he looks at you. The energy is right between the two of you. Whether you realize it or not, there is something special here. He’s in love with you. Everyone can see it’s so. Why are you making this so difficult?”
Bia flinched at the unexpected question.
“What makes you so sure that this energy, as you put it, is right? And what makes you think I am the one who is making this difficult?”
“Because I sense that you are the one who is holding back. How can you expect things to work out if you won’t allow him to love you?”
“It’s not that easy. I wish it were.”
“Falling in love can be the easiest or the most difficult thing in the world. It all depends on what you make of it.”
The teakettle whistled, and Maya got up to pour the boiling water into the teapot. As she stood over the steeping pot, she said, “You don’t like to be out of control, do you?”
“Does anyone?” asked Bia. “I’m sure if a person could choose to be in control of her life and feelings or not, she would choose to be. Right?”
Maya brought the tray over to the table.
“Anytime a person falls in love, she feels vulnerable and out of control. It’s much easier if you just go with it. Don’t fight it.”
Maya sat down across the table from Bia and poured tea into each of the cups.
“I wish it were that easy,” Bia said.
“It’s only as hard as you make it,” said Maya. “You have to trust Aiden. You have to trust yourself.”
“I guess that’s the problem. Trust and I...we have a rather complicated relationship.”
“Has he given you any reason not to trust him?” Maya asked.
Bia thought back to that night so long ago—the night of the bachelor party—and all the times in between that they’d talked about it. All the years she’d so desperately wanted to pin the blame on someone other than Duane. If she could, then maybe that meant that she hadn’t been the one who’d made the mistake. But Aiden was right. The only one to blame was Duane.
“I used to think so,” Bia said. “But no. Aiden has been nothing but wonderful to me. He’s the one who came up with this plan to protect me. My problem is, I don’t want it to ruin our friendship.”
Maya sipped her tea thoughtfully. “Why would it?”
Bia told her about her newfound theory. That Aiden was only intrigued by the thrill of the chase.
“And you say this because he has dated a lot of women?”
Bia nodded. “A lot of beautiful women.”
“You do realize that he ended things with each of them because they weren’t the right women for him? Otherwise he would be married and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Well, he was married once,” Bia said.
Maya’s brows shot up. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. They got a divorce. He won’t talk about it. They were married for a couple of years after college, when Aiden was living in Los Angeles.”
“He will tell you in good time. Especially after the two of you are married.”
“I don’t think this will end in marriage,” Bia said. “He made an impulsive action. I appreciate it, but I won’t hold him to it.”
Maya gave her a look like she wasn’t convinced.
“You need to talk to him about it,” Maya said. “Just be open about how you feel.”
How could she be honest with him when she wasn’t sure she could even be honest with herself about how she felt?
Thank goodness the stove’s timer dinged, indicating that the salmon was finished and that line of the conversation was over. Bia got up to take the fish out of the oven.
While Bia was plating the meal, Maya didn’t push the issue any further. That was a good thing, because Bia didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
Still, she thought, as she retrieved the slaw from the refrigerator, it was nice to have Maya in her life. Someone to talk to. Despite all the years they’d been apart and the short time that they’d known each other, she felt incredibly connected to Maya. For that, Bia was gratefu
l.
As Bia set a plate in front of Maya, her mother smiled up at her. A feeling of gratitude washed over Bia in an unexpected wave.
“We’ve been talking about me all night,” Bia said as she took her seat across the table from Maya. “It’s your turn.”
Maya gave a reticent one-shoulder shrug, dipping her head at Bia’s suggestion. “There’s not much else to say. I’ve told you most everything.”
Maya took a bite of salmon and chewed it.
“You told me everything?”
Maya swallowed her bite and looked at Bia as if she was contemplating something. “This is delicious, by the way.”
“Thank you, but don’t change the subject,” Bia said. “We’re talking about you.”
“There might be one thing that I haven’t told you. A turn of events that has happened just since I’ve been in Celebration.”
Bia leaned forward. “Is this about a man?”
Maya’s left eyebrow arched and a sly smile spread across her face. “Maybe.”
“There’s no maybe about it,” Bia said. “Either there’s a man or there’s not. Which is it?”
“Okay, so it’s about a man. I’m just not sure how he figures. He scares me a little.”
Bia’s eyes widened. “As in fearing for your safety or he makes you feel vulnerable?”
“I don’t know. Okay, I guess he doesn’t make me fear for my safety, but I don’t know him. He knows me, though. He sent me a message before the store opened saying he’d been to the shop in St. Michel. He’s in town on business and...”
Bia propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her palm. “And?”
Maya answered her with another shrug.
“All right, Ms. You-Have-to-Be-Willing-to-Be-Vulnerable, I believe it’s time you practice what you preach.”
Maya laughed. “It’s so much easier to give advice than it is to practice it.”
Bia looked up at the ceiling. “Finally, my mother understands me.”
They both laughed, and Maya told Bia about Charles, about how he had stopped by the shop on opening day and about how she had run out on him at the pub.
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