Sweet Talker

by Robin Bielman

  “Have a conversation?”

  She huffs, takes a moment to think about her next words. “You can’t just give Rylee gifts and think that makes your absence okay. And you can’t joke with me about it just because we both know I’m perfectly capable of handling things on my own.” She takes a deep breath. “Shit got real today and I’m not sure we’re on the same page.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Something happened that she’s not telling me. “I can’t be on the same page if you don’t tell me what happened.”

  “She was really upset you weren’t there today.”

  I open my mouth to once again apologize but she cuts me off.

  “So upset that she asked me if you weren’t at her party because you’d gone to heaven like her dad.”

  Misery crams its way down my throat, behind my ribs, and into my gut. It takes me a minute to respond. To move. When my body finally catches up to my brain, I wrap my arms around Pascale and hug her close. “Shit. I’m so sorry.”

  “It killed me, Ethan,” she whispers against my chest. “I love that little girl so much and it’s my job to protect her. Right now, I think that means—”

  “Do not run away from me again.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You left without giving me a chance ten years ago, Callie, and you’re about to hightail it again. I can’t begin to tell you how much it hurts me, too, that Rylee thought that. But don’t punish me because of one mistake. Don’t leave when things get uncomfortable. I can’t promise I won’t screw up again, but I can promise to try harder.”

  “That’s just it,” she says, pulling away. “I’m trying as hard as I can with her. I don’t think I can handle two new relationships at the same time. Not ones this important.”

  No. I’m not letting her walk away. If she wants a fight, I’ll give her a fight. I’ll also give her time because I sense right now, after the day she’s had, she needs a mental break. I wrap one arm around her shoulders and bring her close again. She doesn’t hesitate to lean on me.

  “Tell you what,” I say. “I’m going to go so you and Rylee and Paige can enjoy the rest of your night. I certainly didn’t come here to stress you out. And I’ll leave you alone the next couple of days, too. Take Monday off from the restaurant and when you come in on Tuesday we’ll talk more, okay?”

  “Ethan, I’m not sure—”

  “All I want to hear from you is ‘okay, Ethan.’”

  If I could see her face, she’d no doubt have her nose scrunched up in exasperation. “Okay, Ethan.”

  I kiss the top of her head and walk away, leaving my heart in her hands. I pray she doesn’t stomp on it a second time.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Pickle Jar

  Ethan

  Tuesday afternoon at exactly one o’clock, two things happen at once. I’m standing at the reception desk at Royal waiting for Pascale to stride through the door when a woman I’ve never seen before walks in instead. At the same time, my phone pings with a text—from the woman I haven’t stopped thinking about for even a second.

  “Hello,” the stranger says.

  “I’ll be right with you,” I tell her and step away to read the message from Pascale.

  Hi Ethan, rather than give you two weeks’ notice, I’ve hired you the best restaurant manager in LA. Her name is Lola and she should have just walked through your door. She’s worked for Wolfgang, Flay, and Nobu. She’s Ireland’s cousin and she owed me a favor.

  I clench my jaw. What the ever-loving hell?

  I think she’ll earn the top spot on your managers’ list in no time.

  Not a goddamn chance.

  I appreciate you giving me time to think and here’s what I came up with: work is your first love and your priority. And it should be. You’ve worked hard to get where you are and I’m incredibly proud of you. When you chose Vegas over Rylee and me, I didn’t think much of it at the time, but right or wrong, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since Saturday afternoon. So, I’ve made the decision to make a clean break and focus all of my attention on Rylee and me. I’m sorry. Love, Pascale

  Every muscle in my body is taut with an ache I’ve only felt one other time. That’s it? That’s all she has to say? And in a fucking text? No fucking way. At least this time she said something.

  I spin around. “Lola?”

  “Yes. Hi, Ethan, it’s nice to meet you.”

  “You, too. Unfortunately, I have an emergency to tend to. Think you’ll be okay on your own? Kitchen staff will be arriving any moment and I’ll be back before we open at five thirty.”

  “No problem.”

  “Great. Thanks.” If I didn’t trust Pascale with my life, there’s no way I’d leave this woman alone immediately after she walked in. Or maybe I would, given I can’t get out of here fast enough.

  I’m in my car and peeling out of the parking lot a minute later. I didn’t take Callie for a coward. And I didn’t think she’d take time and decide against us. I call her through the Bluetooth in the car. It goes to voice mail.

  “Hey, Callie. You’re right, I shouldn’t have gone to Vegas. I should have stayed home. With my family. And I’m not talking about my parents and brothers. I’m talking about you and Rylee. I’m on my way over. Please let’s talk. I…” love you “…I know we can make this work.”

  Disconnecting, I’m struck with the same unwelcome feeling I had after the incident with Sydney and the rock through the window at Royal. Am I still so in my own world that I’ve missed noticing what Pascale needs in hers? I can be selfish when it’s something I want. And I want Pascale more than anything. I definitely screwed up with the Vegas trip. I see that now. I should have realized how important my being present was given the loss Rylee has suffered.

  But that aside, maybe I’m not what Callie needs right now. Maybe she’s right and she and Rylee are better off without me complicating their lives.

  I squeeze the steering wheel. I love her enough to let her go, but not without a face-to-face. Not without telling her I’ll wait until she’s ready to have me, because I meant what I said. She is my family. She’s my next breath. All my sunrises and sunsets. The woman I was put on this earth to love, admire and learn from.

  It feels like it takes forever to get to her place, but it’s only been a half hour. The house is quiet when I knock on the front door. Please be home.

  I’m filled with relief when the door opens—until I see Paige, not Pascale. “Hi, Paige, is your sister here?”

  “Hi, Ethan. Umm…”

  I don’t have the patience for umm. I step around her into the house. Am I being a dick doing this? Yes. I don’t make a habit of barging into someone’s home. In my defense, I’m not acting on all cylinders at the moment. I’m in seek and find before I lose my mind mode.

  There’s no sign of my girls anywhere, the house a slight mess with clothes and shoes strewn around like maybe they made a quick getaway. Shit. Did they get away? I stride into the kitchen.

  “They’re not here,” Paige says from behind me.

  “Do you know when they’ll be back? Or where I can find them?” I keep the desperation out of my voice, the uncertain look on Paige’s face telling me she’s in a tough situation. Her loyalty lies with her sister, but here I am wanting info. I mentally run through where they might be. The park we met at once before. The beach. Santa Monica Pier. They can’t be far.

  A colorful drawing on the refrigerator catches my attention. It’s a child’s picture of a man, a woman, and a little girl standing on grass with what I think are chickens all around them. There’s a blue sky and clouds and lying on top of one of the clouds is another person.

  The sudden baseball-sized lump in my throat makes it difficult to breathe. I think that’s me, Pascale, Rylee…and her dad.

  I’m such an idiot. Correction, make that selfish idiot.

  I turn back to Paige. “I really need to see them,” I say, unable to keep the misery out of my voice thi
s time.

  “I promised Pascale—”

  “Please.” I have never begged for anything, but I will right now.

  She must see the anguish on my face because she says, “Only because I think she laa—isn’t thinking straight when it comes to you.”

  “She loves me?” Hope nudges misery to the side. There’s light at the end of this suffocating tunnel.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You almost did.”

  She waves me off. “Whatever. She’s not going to be happy I’m talking to you. I thought you were Trevor when I opened the door.”

  I raise my brows. Trevor? If I recall, that’s the name of the guy sitting with her on the stairs when she was locked out of her apartment.

  “We have finals coming up and are studying together,” she says like I’ve caught her up to no good.

  “Uh-huh.” Studying anatomy maybe, but Paige is over eighteen and free to make her own decisions. “So, your sister?” I ask in a tone that says I won’t say a word if you tell me what I need to know.

  Paige sits down at the kitchen table in defeat, where I do notice a textbook is open. “She and Rylee left for Hawaii this morning. She wanted to get away from everything and just be with Rylee so please don’t follow her. I think that would be a bad move.”

  I lean on the counter. Pascale left. Again. Not for good, I remind myself. But far enough to signal she wants to be left alone. There’s a tightness in my chest I wish wasn’t there. It sucks being pushed away.

  “Thanks, Paige.”

  “You’re not going to hop on your private jet or whatever and chase after her, are you?”

  “No.” Not yet anyway. I say goodbye and then sit in the privacy of my car to mull over what to do. I could use someone to talk to. Finn is out of town for games this week. Drew left yesterday for New York. Zander is a confirmed bachelor and will tell me there are plenty of other fish in the sea. That leaves one person who will tell it to me straight.

  Forty-five minutes later, I knock on my grandmother’s front door.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she says after opening the door.

  “Nice to see you, too.”

  “I thought you were Chloe.” She steps back to give me entry. “She’s coming over for a social media strategy session.”

  “This is the second time today I’ve been greeted with disappointment.” Good thing I have a healthy ego.

  “Could be that shirt. Yellow is not your color.”

  Yep. I came to the right place. FYI, my Dolce & Gabbana dress shirt is mustard. I take a seat across from Grandma Rosemary in her sitting room. Her Bel Air home has a room for everything, and I have fond memories of running around and playing hide-and-seek with my brothers when we were young. Our grandfather often joined in. Grandmother, not so much, but she always had our favorite ice cream for us afterward.

  My grandmother’s housekeeper, Louise, pops into the room looking equally disappointed at my presence. “Oh,” she says. “Should I bring coffee for three when Chloe gets here?”

  “Hi, Louise. That won’t be necessary. I’m not staying long.”

  “We missed you on Saturday,” Grandmother says after Louise exits around the corner.

  “That has something to do with why I’m here. I could use your wise advice.”

  She looks at me thoughtfully, discerning blue-gray eyes shining with adoration, and I’m grateful for the strong, supportive women I’ve had in my life. “As opposed to my foolish advice?” she teases.

  “We both know you’re no fool.”

  “What does my favorite grandson need help with?”

  I laugh. If anyone is her favorite it’s Drew. “I need your opinion on a situation with Pascale.” I go on to give her an abbreviated version of what’s transpired since Rylee’s birthday party. “Should I go get them?” The Neanderthal in me wants to jump on a plane yesterday and stake my claim in no uncertain terms. The gentleman in me realizes that could push Callie even further away. It’s not that I don’t respect her choice here. It’s that I thought we were a team. Maybe not officially, but she has to know how I feel, and leaving like she did is like a deep paper cut on every inch of my skin.

  Grandmother studies me further. “Only you can make that decision.”

  “That’s your sage advice?” I shift on the couch, crossing my leg over my knee. “I was hoping for something more tangible.”

  “Close your eyes,” she says. When I don’t immediately comply, she makes a circular gesture with her hand. Go on, do it.

  I close my eyes.

  “Now put yourself in Pascale’s place,” Grandmother says. “Walk in her shoes for a minute. And I mean a full sixty seconds. I’m timing you.”

  I’m good at visualization so before I know it, I’m in Callie’s point of view, watching Rylee play in the sand at the park, kick her little legs on the swing, run around with the chickens, draw pictures at the kitchen table, fall asleep tucked in bed with MoMo in her arms. The images play over and over. I picture this precious child with wildly curly hair and big blue eyes smiling and laughing. She reaches for me, arms extended, because she’s sad now. I don’t know why she’s unhappy, but she needs comforting and there is no one else to give it. I’m her person. Her guardian. Her parent. Her everything. She lives in my heart and head and rules my every decision.

  I quickly open my eyes. Pull my shirt collar away from my neck.

  “Well?” Grandmother asks.

  “Pascale is wholeheartedly committed to Rylee and I think…I think their new relationship merits time by themselves.” I can’t get in the way of that. Won’t put my needs above theirs.

  “Good, but don’t be a chickenshit either.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Have you told Pascale how you feel?”

  “She—”

  “Never presume a woman knows what you’re thinking. Have you used the actual words?”

  I put my leg down and rest my elbows atop my thighs. “How the hell do you do that?”

  Grandmother taps a finger to her temple. “Special powers. And I’ll take that as a ‘no’ and leave you with two more pieces of wisdom.”

  “Shoot.”

  “If your actions don’t hurt anyone and make you happy, then by all means, act.”

  Isn’t that the million-dollar question. I’m happiest with Callie and Rylee, but the new and improved Ethan Auprince is more concerned with what makes them happy.

  “And two, pickle jar.”

  “Did you say pickle jar?” Please don’t let this be some sort of body-part analogy. I’ll have to clean my ears with bleach.

  Grandmother rubs the pads of her fingers across her forehead with a little shake of her head. “Did you forget to clean your ears this morning?”

  Holy moly, I think ears, she says ears. “All good there.” For the moment. “What does it mean?”

  “It means every once in a while, pretend you can’t open the pickle jar.”

  “Meaning?” I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t concern my pickle. Thank God.

  “Meaning let Pascale know you need her. The macho act is fine and good, but true partners require each other’s strength.”

  “Got it.” I stand, kiss her cheek. “Thank you.” She is absolutely right. Pascale is my fortress, and I hope it’s not too late to tell her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  On the Run

  Pascale

  Five Days Later

  “Watch, Mommy!” Rylee says from the steps of the hotel’s swimming pool. I’m sitting a few feet away with my feet in the chlorinated water. There’s a warm tropical breeze that carries the scent of coconut oil and plumeria. White puffy clouds glide across the azure sky.

  “I’m watching,” I say. I haven’t taken my eyes off her but I’m wearing dark sunglasses so she wouldn’t know that.

  She ducks under the water and swims away from the stairs, does a half circle, and swims back, jumping up on the bottom step to suck in
a big gulp of air when finished.

  “That was the fastest one yet,” I say, indulging her desire to swim faster with each turn.

  Her answering grin fills me with joy. She comes to sit beside me, her little body right up against mine. Our tans have deepened. Our hair has lightened. We’re both wearing polka-dotted bathing suits.

  “You are o-fish-ally my favorite swimmer.”

  “You say that every day!”

  “It’s true every day. What should we get for lunch today?”

  “Fish tacos!”

  “Again?”

  She nods. I think she’s probably the only five-year-old who loves fish of all kinds. “Let’s go,” I say.

  We dry off, gather our things, slip on our flip-flops and pass lush greenery, a waterfall, and a few exotic birds on our way to the lobby.

  “Miss Nichols,” the concierge says. “We received some mail for you and Rylee.”

  I take the offered postcards with slight hesitation. Something tells me it isn’t my family sending us mail. “Thanks, Kai.” Rylee has skipped over to the koi pond to watch the fish, so I look at the letters in private. One postcard has a cartoon purple monkey on it, the other a cartoon beaver. I turn them over.

  Ethan has found us.

  Not that we’re hiding exactly. And given my sister told him we’d flown to Maui, I’m guessing it was easy for him to covertly learn which hotel. His family’s property is right next door and they probably have eyes and ears everywhere.

  That I chose to escape to a place filled with memories of Ethan isn’t lost on me.

  However, I made it clear in my text that he and I were over, didn’t I? It was shitty of me to message him like that, but I knew if I saw him in person my strength would crumble and my guts would abandon me and I wouldn’t test our bond by leaving. I’m angry he ignored my decision, yet not surprised. Ethan isn’t a man who gives up easily.

  I read Rylee’s postcard first.

  Dear Rylee,

  I saw this monkey and thought of you.

  Hope you’re having fun.

  Love,

  Ethan