~*~
The realtor picked up Trent and Archie at their hotel. Randy was off by himself looking at apartments.
Blond, tan, pretty, Betsy Lucas was everything a man would find pleasantly distracting in a woman. “I have several listings to show you.” Her bare ring finger and her knowing smile marked her as available, but it was a plain expression, unlayered. Not Cora’s cut-the-bullshit and do-you-want-me multi-faceted smile.
Trent missed that smile. But he didn’t miss all the baggage that went along with it.
“This is a classic Beverly Hills bungalow,” Betsy said as she led Trent up the short front walk. The landscaping was tidy. Small bushes. Bright little flowers. “Great for a bachelor or a small family.”
It felt more like a home for someone’s grandmother. Cramped. Crowded. And not just outside.
“No room for my in-laws,” Archie said. “That’s a good thing.”
“Our starting lineup wouldn’t fit in the living room.” Trent dutifully followed his father and the realtor through the rest of the house.
“Two bedrooms and one bath may seem small, but with your schedule, you probably won’t be home much. And when you’re in town, there are so many great restaurants, you won’t want to cook or have your wife cook.” Betsy was aiming to please, but missing the mark.
Why not just say Trent was single and pathetic? And his father was marrying a woman who probably didn’t know how to cook?
The master bedroom was small and dark. No pink. No racy, how-to sex book on the bed.
“I can tell this one isn’t right for either of you.” Betsy read them well, and moved on. “Let’s see something else.”
“Trent.” Archie indicated he wanted to talk in the bedroom. “We have our first game tomorrow and your head’s not on straight. Why are we looking at homes?”
“We need a place to live.”
“In ten weeks! We’ve got a game to prep for.” When Trent turned to go, his father tugged him back. “Look, if you and Cora are having problems, I can talk to her. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”
It was the first time his father positively acknowledged Trent’s help.
“I know I fell apart when your mother died. She was everything to me.” He thrust his hands in his pockets. “I was a bad father before that and it only got worse. And then…” Archie attempted one of his mischievous grins. “And then when I stopped drinking you stopped paying attention to me. Which is why…sometimes…I pretend…”
Trent didn’t like where this conversation was headed.
“Gentlemen?” Betsy called.
“In a minute,” Archie hollered. He lowered his voice. “I could tell right away that Cora was a ball-buster. She saw right through my drunk act after Jack’s party.” When Trent sputtered, Archie raised a hand. “I was really drunk when I thought Mary Sue Ellen was dumping me. Believe me, I paid for that the next day.”
“Oh, boys.” Betsy’s footfalls sounded in the hall.
“A moment of privacy, please,” Archie shouted. He turned back to Trent. “Cora saw through me, but she didn’t look down on me for it. She saw through your Reverend act and she seemed to like you anyway, regardless of your win-loss record. A woman like that, who can see the heart of people, she can take a man far.”
“I’m not looking to hire her,” Trent said through gritted teeth. “She tarnished the Reverend’s image. How can I protect you without that?”
Archie opened his mouth to say something. Closed it again. And then said, “Why do you feel the need to protect me?”
“Because I made Mom a promise,” Trent said gruffly. “And now, everything I’ve worked for is at risk.”
“God bless your mother.” Archie swiped a hand over his face. “But son, what are you working for if not love? A reputation? You care too much about what people think and how much it matters. Nobody here cares about that. They care about what you actually do.”
His father knew nothing of the way the world worked.
“You think an interview in Play Girl helps the Reverend’s image more so than you having dated a woman who’s been around the block a time or two?” Archie shook his head. “You’re hopeless.” He headed toward the front of the house. “I’m going to call a cab, go back to the hotel, and call Mary Sue Ellen. I need a reminder of what true love really is, not what I sacrificed to get it.”
Trent didn’t think he’d ever known what true love really was.
He continued on alone with Betsy. The second house was a larger property in Westwood. The lawn was a bit grander, edged with palms. The architecture Mission-style. True California living. His father would complain it wasn’t on the beach.
“The living room is larger,” Betsy pointed out. “Great for entertaining.”
“The kitchen isn’t right.” It was large and white. No color whatsoever, not even a splash of pink.
“If you cook, this is a five-star kitchen.”
Did Cora cook?
He didn’t care. She’d slept with Mikey, a famous movie producer, Jack, and God knew who else. She’d win every round of Hollywood’s six degrees of separation.
The master bedroom (also not pink) opened to a private patio with a small fountain. “I’m not a reflective guy.” He turned away and walked out. He had to stop thinking about Cora. Tomorrow was their first game. The team could occupy every corner of his brain if he let it. Just not his heart. He didn’t need a heart to coach successfully.
Betsy drove him farther up the hill, where the views were spectacular and the prices stupendous. “You might like this more.”
She was a patient woman. A hard worker. A good woman who’d probably stand by her one and only.
But she wasn’t Cora.
The view from the rear of the house overlooked the valley. Smog may have rimmed Los Angeles, but you could see a blue strip of ocean in the distance. The living room was huge – larger than Evan’s. The bathrooms were the size of small bedrooms. The master suite had the best views in the house. You could lie in bed on Sunday mornings, drink coffee while looking toward the sea, and make slow love while the sun set.
“Five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a four car garage. This listing won’t last long at this price.”
Trent wandered out onto the patio. Would he have time to enjoy this place? The commute would be a bitch.
Would Cora like it?
She’d never see it.
It was a great house. Not a bit of pink anywhere.
“This one,” he said, swallowing the taste of regret.
Chapter 30
Someone pounded on Trent’s hotel room door at dawn of the Flash’s first pre-season game. He stumbled out of bed in his boxers and nearly let the door slam in his father’s beaming face.
Jesus. “Mary Sue Ellen, what a surprise. Come in.” He ran back to his bedroom for a T-shirt, tugging on a pair of jeans for good measure.
When he returned to the living room, the happy couple was snuggled on the couch. Trent fumbled with the coffeemaker. “Are your parents here?”
“No. Mary Sue Ellen just came in on the red eye.” Archie gushed, “Isn’t she beautiful?”
The petite blonde was her same perky self, and about five months pregnant with barely a baby bump showing. “We wanted you to be the first to know that we’re getting married.” She squealed the M-word.
“I knew that already.” Trent scratched at his beard stubble.
“No, son. We’re getting married today.” Archie rubbed her protruding belly. “I can’t wait to be the husband and father you’ve always dreamed of.”
“It’s gonna be perfect. I can squeeze into my weddin’ dress, but I just need someone to stand there with me.” She batted her baby blues at Trent. “I don’t suppose I could borrow you’re girlfriend.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.” The pronouncement felt as cold as his bare feet on the tile. “And I don’t have time to attend a wedding today.”
She gave a little gasp, and cocked her h
ead to one side. “But Archie said – ”
“Darlin’, could you find your way back to our room? I want to talk to Trent alone.” Archie handed Mary Sue Ellen a key, and walked her to the door.
Trent turned to the coffeemaker as if its gurgling meant the machine needed his attention. The percolating sounds didn’t cover the smooching behind him.
Finally, the door closed.
“Son, hard as it is for you to grasp, that young woman and I are in love.” He came up behind Trent and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s important that you be there. I may not have always done right, but I have a chance to start over with you as my best man. Mary Sue Ellen doesn’t mind my jaded past as long as I promise to love her to the end of my days.”
Trent hung his head. His father had found happiness and was trying to build a stable home for his family. “I’m not going to provide Mary Sue Ellen with her maid of honor.”
“Don’t you worry about that.”
Trent was afraid he knew who his father was going to call. He couldn’t tell him not to. Truth be told, he wanted to see Cora. If only to reassure himself that she was all right.
A few hours later, Trent realized Cora was fine without him. How could he have thought any differently?
She stood next to the glowing little bride, holding a small bouquet of violets Archie had selected. Her smile showed no strain, no hint of heartbreak. Her dress was royal purple and clung to her slender curves. He couldn’t help but imagine what Cora would look like pregnant – compact curves in a classy package. Wouldn’t catch her wearing his sweats and college jersey on the way to the delivery room.
And then the words his father was saying sunk in. They weren’t rehearsed or read for him to parrot back. They came from the heart. “I never thought I’d find someone again who understood me, but I have. People may look at us and see all our differences – our age, our upbringing, my fading looks and your shiny beauty. But your soul and mine were destined to be together. Those that we love will understand, see past the differences, and share in our love.”
And then Mary Sue Ellen said, “From the moment I saw you, I was drawn to you. I rejected the attraction. You rejected me. But our hearts called out to each other in a way that couldn’t be ignored. You made me see myself differently and view the world differently. I couldn’t be who I am today without you, my love.”
Trent exchanged a brief glance with Cora, suddenly wishing that he was speaking similar words to her – promising to love, honor, and cherish, despite differences and pasts and his selfish need to control everything around him to the point where he’d become an isolated lonely man. At least, when he wasn’t with her.
Holy shit. He loved Cora. It wasn’t the quiet love he’d shared with Rachel in the early years of their marriage. It was a loud, larger-than-life kind of feeling that made him want to let everyone know that this was his woman and he was her man.
He was so lost in the wonder of the newly discovered emotion, that they had to ask him twice to hand over the rings. The happy couple was pronounced man and wife. Trent and Cora were asked to witness the license, then she turned to go.
“Wait…uh…Cora.” Trent stumbled. “Our first game is tonight.”
“I know,” she said without turning. “Good luck.”
“Aren’t you coming?”
But she was already weaving her way through the crowded hallway.
“A woman like that needs chasing after,” Mary Sue Ellen said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Or she’ll get away for good.”
But Trent didn’t follow Cora. If it was love, he needed to choose the right time, the right place, and the right words of apology.
~*~
What did you pack when you were moving to Paris?
Shoes. Cora tucked Brutus in the crook of her arm and looked at her shoes. Trent had claimed to be fascinated with her shoes. He’d enjoyed slipping them off her feet.
All her shoes were at least six months old. She couldn’t show up for an internship in Paris with old shoes. Shoes were out.
Dresses. Cora slid several hangers with dresses across the closet pole. Old. Old. Old. She stopped on a vintage dress that she’d worn to visit Trent one night. They’d sat out by the pool. The air was chilly and he’d draped that hideous sports jacket of his over her shoulders.
Nope. No dresses.
Sweaters. It was almost September. She’d need sweaters in Paris. Except none were in this year’s colors. They were all last year’s bold reds and blacks. Flash colors.
Sweaters were out.
Jeans. They’d work. T-shirts. A scarf.
How was she going to design clothes when she’d lost her passion for wearing them?
Cora managed to fill a carry-on bag.
The doorbell rang. It was probably the car to take her to the airport.
She set Brutus down. He took the stairs one at a time. She followed with her suitcase.
It wasn’t the limo driver. It was her siblings.
“Stay,” Blue said.
“Please,” Amber added.
“I can’t. You’ll have to find some other way to locate the rest of the Rules.” Damn Daddy. Cora picked Brutus up, stroking his soft fur and trying not to think about what life would be like without him.
“We’ve already found one sibling. The private investigator produced a name this morning.” Blue looked Cora squarely in the eye. “Gemma.”
Cora felt sucker-punched. “What did she say when you told her?” She’d bet there’d been sarcasm and swearing involved.
“We didn’t tell her. You two have grown so close, we thought you should do it.” Blue went to the front door and opened it.
Gemma stepped in the foyer, a disdainful expression on her face. “I didn’t think you were throwing me a surprise birthday party, but if you were planning on firing me, I’d prefer you did it at the office.”
At least now Cora knew her bitchiness hadn’t come entirely from her mother. She studied Gemma’s face, searching for a physical resemblance to their father. It was there in Gemma’s wild, curly hair and the curve of her cheek.
What if Gemma was the little girl who hadn’t received Bridal Barbie for Christmas one year? She’d have every reason to hate Cora.
“That face,” Amber whispered. She stared at Cora, not Gemma. “Why the face?”
“I don’t make a face.” Cora looked at Gemma again. Gemma? Her sister? She didn’t think she’d be delivering happy news. She cleared her throat. “Gemma, did you ever receive Bridal Barbie for Christmas?”
“That’s a stupid question. What’s going on? I told you about the pink wall veto. My mom would never have allowed a toy with gender bias in my hands.” Gemma scowled.
Daddy most likely didn’t call Gemma his little princess.
Cora’s breath hitched. He should have.
“Cora…” Amber prompted.
Instead of breaking the news, Cora pressed a gentle kiss on the top of Brutus’ head and handed him to Gemma. “Take good care of him.”
~*~
Trent glanced around the arena, but Cora wasn’t watching his back or the team’s. Despite the way they’d parted, he would have felt better if she was present. Guys didn’t win the Final Four one season and coach against the Lakers the next. Doubt plagued him. Cora was good at assuaging doubt.
And it would be easier to break the news that he loved her if she returned to her role as the team’s life coach. In preparation for making that declaration, he’d bought her a gift this morning after the wedding. A gift that said they were made for each other.
It was the first game of the pre-season. They were playing at the Staples Center. Fans were fast filling the stadium. His team was warming up. The referees had introduced themselves. The only thing missing was Cora.
He perused the lower seats behind the bench once more.
“Looking for Cora?” Viv approached him. “That Rule is history.”
Trent forced his attention back to the court. Archie and the you
ng assistant coaches walked a perimeter around the team – talking, joking, reminding players of their role, trying to keep their minds off the legendary team they were about to play. Distraction. It’d been Cora’s idea. Who knew distractions could be a positive?
“I have to hand it to you.” Viv mirrored his position, arms crossed. “You cut bait long before I ever did with Jack. Winning is everything to him, just like sex is everything to Cora.”
He caught himself before he told her to shut up. “She’s not that one-dimensional. Cora cared about everyone, even someone as selfish as you.”
“Don’t kid yourself. She put Jack in hospice and strapped him to the bed.”
“You told Cora they had to strap him down. Don’t accuse her of something the doctor did.” Evan had told him that much. About other things, like how Cora was doing, his star player had been mum.
Viv waved away his argument. “You were lucky. Love isn’t worth the grief.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
It came to him then, the heartbreak he’d held at bay for days. He loved basketball and wanted to win, but he also loved Cora and wanted her by his side. He missed her headstrong attitude and her meddlesome ways. He missed her kindness and her strength. For a moment, he seemed suspended between the two loves. Then basketball was hip-checked aside. He loved Cora. He’d still love Cora long after his time in basketball was over.
“I’ve got to be strong,” he muttered, thinking ahead to the next time he’d see Cora – what he’d say, how he’d approach her skittish, standoffish manner toward relationships, how he’d apologize (over and over) for not realizing she was who she was and he loved her for it.
“I’d rather have my husband than be strong,” Viv said. “We both made mistakes where our hearts are concerned. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” He could tell by the wavering note in her voice that Viv didn’t really want him to accept.
“Thanks, but no thanks.” The game played out in his head like a series of chess moves. They could win! “As soon as this game’s over, I’m going to find Cora and tell her I love her.” It didn’t matter how many men or which ones she’d slept with. Those experiences had made her the person she was today. She’d been trying to tell him but his pride hadn’t allowed her words to sink in. He didn’t want some virgin with virginal sensibilities. He wanted Cora. By his side. In his life.
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 31