by Karen Cimms
It was official. I was useless. “You’re not helping.”
“You’re a beautiful girl with a lot to offer. Why are you trying to be something you’re not?”
“I’m not,” I answered, dropping my head until my forehead rested on the table. Steel hands gripped the base of my skull, squeezing until all I wanted was a handful of aspirin, an icepack, and a dark room. “I’m trying to be what I am. I just don’t know what that is anymore.”
A chair scraped across the tile floor. I heard Diane moving about the kitchen, and listened as she poured us each more wine. I lifted my head, as she sat back down and tucked her feet under her.
“You’re a tremendous cook. That restaurant is as successful as it is because of you. You’re a terrific bartender too. Not only making drinks—to my dying day, I’ll swear no one can make a margarita like you—but you’re great with customers. They love you, and not just because you’re usually busting out of your sweater. It’s because you’re friendly and you listen, and you make everyone feel special. Of course the guys love to look at you, but that will be true whether you’re tapping kegs or keys on a computer. If you want to tone it down a bit, go ahead. Just be you. You’ll still be as beautiful as you always were, maybe just not as sparkly. But in here”—she pressed her finger to my heart—“you’ll always be the same sweet, wonderful glittery unicorn that you are.”
“Maybe.” I rubbed my fingers over my eyes. I probably looked like a raccoon by now. “But if all that were true, why is it I’m alone again while my knight in shining armor marries someone else?”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“Some of it is. I know how much the things I did upset him. The flirting, the way I look and act—”
“Bullshit! His circus, his monkeys. If he couldn’t trust you, that was his own fault. You gave him no reason to believe anything else.”
Twirling the stem of the wineglass between my fingers, I remembered the sharp bite of glass shards against my bare legs the afternoon that Chase had left. I felt just as helpless now as I did then, and a year later, I still didn’t understand what had triggered his outburst.
“Maybe not . . . I don’t know. I just figured he’d eventually work it out. I thought we had all the time in the world. I stupidly believed he loved me enough to fix it.”
She cocked her head. “I still believe he does. I think Callie is pushing, and he’s letting her. I refuse to believe he doesn’t love you anymore.”
The ache in my chest far outweighed the ache in my head. “I thought so too. But today, seeing them together . . .” I couldn’t finish. “I have to go.”
“Are you okay?” Diane followed me to the door.
“Not really.” I slipped my sunglasses on, covering my puffy, swollen eyes, wishing for a lot more to hide behind other than some tinted plastic. “But I will be.” I forced a smile. “That’s the best thing about this hard, candy-coated shell of mine. It’s supposed to protect me as well, right?”
“Rain—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” I squeezed her hand. “It’s not like I have a choice.”
Chapter Fifty
After leaving Diane’s, I picked up the kids at school and day care. I told them about Chase’s accident and promised he would be fine. When that didn’t reassure them, I let them call him. Callie answered, of course, but at least she let them speak to him.
Once Zac was in bed, I called my mother and told her I needed tomorrow off. Then I pulled out the phone book and began searching for attorneys in Somerville. As I was making dinner, I’d received another text from Preston, this one letting me know that since I still hadn’t responded to his “very generous” offer, or his attorney’s letter, the next communication I received would be delivered by the sheriff.
I was no attorney, but it seemed to me that Preston’s “generous” offer constituted some form of blackmail. I guess you could get away with that shit if you had enough money.
My instinct was to think cheap, but cheap wasn’t going to stop Preston. The only thing I had of value was the jewelry Chase had given me over the years. I took the box with my engagement ring and wedding band from the top drawer of my dresser, pulled the diamond ring from its velvet nest, and slipped it onto my finger. With a single, round solitaire that was close to a carat, my engagement ring had to be worth several thousand dollars by itself. Coupled with the wedding band, a circle of smaller diamonds, even more. Selling it would be like selling a piece of my heart, but what else could I do? The two thousand dollars I’d saved was a start, but knowing Preston, he’d drag this out until it cost me everything I had. And that wouldn’t take very long at all.
I could always flirt my way to an attorney who would help me, but I was living that life and look what it’d got me. I was alone, shouldering a secret too heavy for me to carry on my own, and too ashamed to share it with anyone else.
Instead, I’d find a woman attorney, one who might be more inclined to take me seriously and listen to what I had to say.
Other than television commercials, I had nothing to go on. I grabbed the phone book and found a few firms with recognizable names. If there was a woman listed as a partner, then I copied down her name and number, and added it to my list. When I had three potential lawyers, I searched the listings for jewelry stores, looking for the ones that purchased rings, but came up empty. My only other option was a pawn shop, but I’d watched enough episodes of Pawn Stars to know I wouldn’t be getting anything close to what my rings were worth. Besides, none of the pawn shops listed were in areas I’d be comfortable visiting on my own.
Damn, Preston.
Chase and Callie were getting married in three weeks, and I couldn’t even wallow in my pain. I hadn’t told Diane or Mom or anyone else what Preston was doing for fear it would get back to Chase. Not that either of them would’ve told him, but just saying the words out loud would’ve sent them out into the atmosphere, and that was a chance I wasn’t willing to take.
I was positive that Chase was Zac’s father, or as positive as I could be for someone who’d had sex with two different men two days apart. If I listened to my psychic side, then I was one hundred percent certain, but that wouldn’t hold up in a court of law. And if I was wrong, if Chase wasn’t Zac’s father, the truth would be devastating to both Zac and Chase.
I couldn’t have asked for a better father for my children, and Chase had taken on the role of Izzy’s father without my asking. He’d put up with her preteen angst over Callie with diplomacy and tact. He’d told her she could be angry or disappointed with him, but it would never change how much he loved her. He proved it over and over until finally, grudgingly, she had come around. It was the right thing for Izzy to do, and Chase was right in showing her what was important.
After brushing my teeth, checking the locks on the doors, and making sure the kids were asleep, I climbed into bed. Bone tired, but still I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. My brain wouldn’t allow me to rest. It kept going back to Chase. I needed to know he was okay. I dialed his cell phone. It rang twice, and then Callie answered, practically snarling.
“What?”
She knew it was me, obviously, so there was no need to answer. I hung up. It was almost ten. She must have taken his cell phone home with her.
I called the hospital and asked to be connected to his room.
Chase’s sleepy “Yeah?” made my heart skip a beat. How would I live the next fifty years without hearing this voice every day?
“Hey, you,” I whispered, not knowing why. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m sore.” He coughed, and I cringed at his moan of pain.
“I can tell. I just wanted to check in on you before I went to sleep. Make sure you were okay.”
“I’ll survive.”
“That’s good. I hope I didn’t cause you any problems this afternoon.” It was out of my mouth before I could stop myself.
“With what?”
“With Callie. I don’
t think she was too happy to see me.”
“It’s fine. She thought it was sweet that you stopped by.”
Sweet? That’s what she’d told him? She wasn’t only a bitch, she was a lying bitch. “That’s good,” I answered, practically choking on the words. “The kids were glad they got to talk to you.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You sound really tired. I should let you go.” But I don’t want to, ever. I don’t ever want to let you go.
“It’s okay. I keep falling asleep and waking up again. I hate hospitals. What time is it?”
“A little after ten.”
“Are you in bed?”
The drowsy, sleepy quality of his voice came off as sexy, even though I’m sure he was feeling anything but. I couldn’t help myself.
“I am. Want to know what I’m wearing?”
He made a noise that sounded like a laugh or a sigh, I wasn’t sure which.
“I’m not wearing anything,” I said.
“God, you’re killing me.”
“Please don’t say that.”
Definite sigh this time.
“I’m sorry. That was inappropriate. Look, I just wanted to make sure you were—”
“Rain—”
“I’m glad you’re okay. Please listen to the doctors, and don’t try to do anything you shouldn’t.” I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling him that I loved him.
“Rain—”
“Good night. I won’t bother you again.”
“Rain!”
I could tell that raising his voice caused him pain. It was hard, but I hung up.
This wouldn’t get any easier. I couldn’t see him or go anywhere near him. It was over, and it was time I faced it, as hard as it was.
I closed my eyes, but all I could see was an image of Chase holding Callie’s elbow. It should’ve helped to remind me that he was no longer mine. But it didn’t. All it did was help me cry myself to sleep.
Chapter Fifty-One
November
The charcoal-gray sweater dress, black tights, and black boots I wore to the attorney’s office were relatively conservative for me, yet practically the entire time I was speaking, the lawyer stared at my chest. I’d tried to get an appointment with his associate, but she was in court and didn’t have any appointments available until Friday. So here I was, sitting across from Tobias Minehart.
“This is an unusual set of circumstances, Mrs. Holgate.”
I winced at the formal address and would have asked him to call me by my given name had he not already been looking at me like an appetizer. It might be best to remain on formal terms.
“Had you been married before the child was born, your ex-husband would automatically be considered the child’s putative father, but that’s not the case here. In addition, since the child isn’t yet five years old, his paternity can be more easily called into question. If he turns five before the gentleman makes his assertion, the court would most likely refuse to consider his petition. Since your son’s birthday is more than six months away, and I’m certain that if the man who believes himself to be your son’s biological father is as well off as you say he is, he keeps his attorney on retainer. I’m not familiar with Alastair Barclay personally, but I’m sure he won’t allow his client to wait too long to file his petition To be honest, the only reason he hasn’t served you with papers yet is that I think Mr. Jamison is enjoying a game of cat and mouse with you, and you are the very attractive mouse holding his cheese.”
Between the Magic 8-Ball he toyed with, the leering looks he gave me, and now essentially referring to me as vermin—even attractive vermin—I could tell that Mr. Minehart wasn’t my best choice.
Even his smile was smarmy. “By your own admission, the child’s father could be either man. I’m afraid in this instance, your gut doesn’t have a say, even if you are”—he hooked his fingers into quote marks—“‘kind of psychic.’”
This guy was a tool, but I was desperate. “Let’s just say I know in my heart that Zac is my ex-husband’s son.”
“You said you had relations with each man within days of each other, correct?”
I nodded, avoiding eye contact since I already knew what I’d find there.
“Then how can you be so sure?”
“Mother’s intuition?”
My snippiness went unnoticed. “And also, if this other man is as wealthy as you think he is, if his paternity is proved, he would have to contribute to your son’s support. That could be a big help to you, Mrs. Holgate. You’re now divorced from the boy’s supposed father. If he turns out not to be his father after all, what harm is there?”
Nope. I was done here. I grabbed my coat and settled my bag over my shoulder.
“There would be a lot of harm, Mr. Minehart. First of all, a little boy would have his world torn apart. He’d no longer know who to trust, least of all me. Then there would be my husband—ex-husband—who would be devastated by this. He knows about the other man. He’s always known that this was a possibility, but we decided to move forward. As a family. To have this all come rushing back now would crush him. For Preston to suddenly decide he wants to be a part of my son’s life isn’t acceptable. I can’t stand for it, and I won’t. And with your attitude, Mr. Minehart, I can see you aren’t a person I’d be able to trust with such an important issue. Thank you for your time.”
I stormed out of the office, nearly plowing into a woman carrying a stack of files. At the bank of elevators, I punched the button for the parking garage hard enough to snap a fingernail. I wanted to scream, but that might only prove that I was some sort of kook. Instead, I stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with the couple who stepped on after I did, and rode down in silence. The doors opened and I stepped out onto the third floor, into a dark cavernous space and stalked toward my car, keys clutched in my hand, only to find I had left the headlights on.
The battery was dead.
Karma must have been lurking nearby—that evil bitch—just waiting to kick the shit out of me. Again.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Late November
It was the week before the wedding. Every time I’d think about it my mouth went dry and my pulse ratcheted up. Nerves, I guess. Cold feet. But despite all that, I was looking forward to the upcoming weekend. Izzy had landed the lead in the local ballet company’s production of The Nutcracker. She would dance the part of Clara in two of the four performances, and she was over the moon.
“I can’t possibly go to either show, let alone both,” Callie had said when I told her I was buying tickets for both performances. She motioned to the wedding scrapbook she toted around with her everywhere she went, and the scores of receipts, clippings, and seating charts spread out on her kitchen table. “The wedding is next weekend. Do you have any idea how much I still have to do?”
I didn’t understand the need for a seating chart. My friends should be able to sit wherever the hell they pleased. How would Callie know where to put them? Of course I also suggested a buffet, which was a lot easier and a hell of a lot cheaper, but I was vetoed. As far as I was concerned, Izzy dancing in the Nutcracker was more important than who sat next to whom.
“I get it. That’s fine. But I’m sure a couple hours on Friday night won’t make much difference.”
She crossed her arms in front of her. “You act as if it’s my wedding, not our wedding.”
I bit back a laugh. That’s exactly what it was. I’d made it clear on more than one occasion that I didn’t want a big wedding, and certainly not one requiring seating charts and matching linen. But I didn’t want to argue. To be honest, I really didn’t care. I’d numbed myself to the entire production.
“That’s fine,” I heard my lips saying mechanically. “I’ll go by myself.”
She came up behind me, slipping her arms around my waist before I could leave the room.
“I’m sorry. There’s just so much to do yet.” She wiggled her fingers beneath my shirt, then began sliding her hand into t
he front of my jeans.
I plucked it out and picked up my jacket. “Then I guess you better get busy.”
“Where are you going?”
“Down to Mondo’s. I promised Wally and Dennis I’d meet them for a beer.”
“Are you coming back?”
“Nah, not tonight.” I struggled trying to fit my cast into the sleeve of my jacket. “I’m beat.” I leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her forehead.
“You’re mad.” Now she was pouting as well.
“I’m not mad.” I forced a smile. “I’m just tired.”
“Then stay here. You don’t need to go out. We can go to bed.” She grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me toward her. “Don’t you want to go to bed?”
I pulled her hand from my shirt gently. “I’m stopping for one quick beer, then I’m going home and going to bed. You just said you have a lot to do. Now I won’t be here to bother you.”
She pushed her lower lip out. I don’t know if she thought it was cute, but I found it irritating. “Fine. You go have fun with the boys, and I’ll work extra hard tonight so that we can both go to Izzy’s show Friday night.”
“You don’t have to.” At this point, I didn’t want her company.
“No no no, of course I want to be there. We’ll go Friday. Then on Sunday, we can finish up the seating chart.”
“I just told you I’m going Friday and Sunday.”
She let out an exasperated puff. “Why do you need to go both days?”
“Because I am.” I kissed her again. “Good night.”
We’d had this discussion-slash-argument on more occasions than I cared to remember. At least she’d stopped trying to remind me that Izzy wasn’t my daughter or my responsibility. She’d been skating on thin ice with that, and she’d finally realized it was a make-or-break deal with her on the losing end.
Callie was so busy texting during the drive to the high school that she didn’t notice my lack of conversation. I assumed she was dealing with more wedding stuff, and I didn’t want to hear about it, so I didn’t ask.