Making the First Move

by Reese Ryan

  I flatten my palm against my forehead, trying to alleviate the throbbing pain over my right eye. “I don’t want to lose him. But maybe this is a sign. We still haven’t resolved the long-distance issue. Why should I put myself through this shit if in the end, it won’t work out anyway?”

  “If that makes you feel better about throwing away what you guys have, then go ahead, tell yourself that,” Jamie says.

  I can feel her irritation with me rising. After all, if I can be so judgmental about Raine’s past, have I ever really forgiven her for all of her infractions?

  “I think what Jamie means is you should give this some thought. Take as long as you need to think about it. Then make a decision you won’t regret,” Mimi says. “We’re behind you either way.”

  “We want you to be happy,” Jamie says after a brief pause. “You deserve that, whether you believe it or not.”

  “I know,” I whisper. “And I want to be. I do.”

  “Does Raine make you happy?” Mimi inquires.

  The thought of our past few months together lifts the corners of my mouth. “He does.”

  “Then don’t let his past ruin it,” Mimi says. “We’re not talking about a fugitive or a philanderer who’s still up to his same tricks. Raine’s entire life is a testimony that he wants to rectify his mistakes.”

  “You said you felt sorry for him because he’s still torturing himself over what happened. So why are you still punishing him for it?” Jamie says. “He can’t change what happened, and neither can you.”

  “I know and I wish I could let it go, but I don’t know if I can ever look at him again without thinking about it.” Tears roll down my cheeks.

  “Then focus on loving the person he’s become, rather than judging him for a mistake he made fifteen years ago,” Jamie says.

  “I’m not judging him!”

  “Yes, you are.” Mimi says. “You do that. Judge people. Everything has to fit into your neat little expectations, meet your perfect little standards. When it doesn’t...when we don’t make the choices you want us to, you’re disappointed in us.”

  “That’s not true!” I insist, arms crossed, lips pursed into a frown. I adjust my collar to alleviate the uncomfortable heat spreading up my neck.

  “Yes, it is,” Jamie says. “You’ve spent your entire life trying to meet Dad’s expectations for you. And you do the same thing to anyone who gets close to you.”

  I don’t bother denying it. Instead I pout in silence, hoping the enumeration of my faults is complete. It isn’t.

  “You’ve dated some shitheads in the past, but there were some pretty decent guys in there, too,” Jamie continues. “They never stood a chance. No man can meet your expectations.”

  “There is no perfect guy, Mel. Believe me. I’ve looked.” Mimi forces a laugh.

  “Maybe being a good man isn’t good enough. I need to be able to trust him, to know he’d never do anything to hurt me.”

  “I know you’ve been hurt and that you’re scared.” Mimi’s voice is soothing, patient. “Life is scary sometimes. It can also be pretty damned amazing. But you’ll never experience those amazing moments if you’re too scared to let someone else in.”

  “What if I do and it’s a mistake? What then?”

  “Making a decision we might later regret doesn’t make us bad people. It makes us human. Being so terrified of making the wrong decision that we let someone else make it for us, that’s not living at all.”

  My eyes sting. I bite my lip and massage the base of my neck. “I know you’re right. I’m just scared.”

  “Don’t let fear stand in the way of what you really want. Weigh your options. Listen to your heart. Then make a decision,” Jamie says matter-of-factly. “Whatever you decide, we’re behind you.”

  I say good-bye, then crawl into bed, exhausted, and take a good long nap.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  My hands are trembling as I approach the host station at Lola’s. “I’m meeting Raine Mason for dinner.”

  “Right this way, ma’am,” the young, shiny blonde says.

  I hate being called “ma’am.” It makes me feel like an ancient relic, ready to be put out to pasture. The girl is barely twenty years old. Her razor-straight, ultra-white teeth and perfectly shaped breasts exacerbate my feelings of inadequacy.

  She leads me to a quiet corner of the restaurant, where Raine sits in a booth. I wonder if he requested a discreet table in case I’ve come here to make a scene.

  Raine stands and kisses my cheek. “Thanks for coming.”

  I nod and force a smile, attempting to allay the uneasiness between us. Butterflies flutter in my stomach, my knees are a bit wobbly and I’m unsure of where to place my hands.

  “You look beautiful.” Raine pulls out my chair.

  “Thanks.” Once seated, I smooth my hands over the slim wool gabardine pants I’ve only recently been able to fit. For once, stress has caused me not to eat. My tan angora sweater falls slightly off my shoulders.

  “Should I order a bottle of wine?” Raine asks.

  “Wine would be great.”

  The edges of his mouth lift slightly. There’s a subtle look of hopefulness in his eyes.

  He orders a bottle of Chianti and we get a couple of salads. The perfect food for uncomfortable conversations. There are things to be cut, dressed and shoved around a plate.

  We exchange small talk over our salads. We’ve known each other for nearly two years and dated for about five months. Yet in some ways I feel like I’m on a first date playing “get to know you.” Except the stakes are much higher. Raine isn’t some random guy. I care very much for him.

  Finally the server brings Raine’s tantalizing steak and my wild salmon. After a few bites he puts down his utensils and meets my gaze.

  “It was never my intention to hurt or deceive you. I wanted to forget who I was and what I’d done. Just for a little while. But I can’t escape what happened that night. It’s a part of me.” He absently traces the scar behind his ear. “Being with you was an escape from all those memories. When things got serious between us, I knew I had to tell you. But everything was going so well...I didn’t want to ruin it.”

  “I’m sorry about everything that’s happened.” I place my hand on his. “Living with this must be extremely difficult. That’s what your bad dreams are about, isn’t it?”

  He nods. “It’s been fifteen years and I still have nightmares. Not as often, but they’re still there.”

  “I care deeply for you,” I say. “You know that, right?”

  “I do.” He squeezes my hand. “And you know that I’m in love with you.”

  I shift in my seat and place my hands in my lap. “I do. But can you see what a disadvantage I’m at? You know me. You know my family. I don’t really know anything about you. Except that you’re not who I thought you were.”

  “Maybe you didn’t know my full birth name or the kind of person I was as a stupid, punk kid. But you know me. I’ve never lied to you about who I am. I am Raine Mason—the man you’ve known for the past two years. I’m not the person I was then.”

  “I know you’re a good person, Raine. But try to understand how I feel. What if I came to you and said, ‘By the way, I used to be a Hollywood madam’? Would you just smile and say, ‘Pass the bread’? I don’t think so. You’d have a really hard time dealing with it.”

  Raine sits back in his chair and takes a deep breath. He raises his hands in defeat. “Okay, I would have a hard time dealing with it. But I would get past it. I wouldn’t give up on us and I wouldn’t judge you based on who you were then.” He looks across the table at me intently.

  “I haven’t given up on us,” I say quietly. “I just need time to deal with this. You waited a year to make your move. Can’t I have a couple of weeks to think
about this?”

  He places a hand over his mouth, an attempt to hide a reluctant smile. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me since that night. I don’t want to lose you.” Raine squeezes my hand.

  “Now you’re exaggerating,” I say. “What you’ve accomplished with Focused for Life is amazing.”

  “And I’m very proud of what we’ve done,” Raine says. “But there’s been this hole in my life that, ’til you, nothing ever seemed to fill. Do you know what I mean?”

  Sighing, I nod. I’ve spent the past five years consumed with work, trying to distract myself from the pain of my father’s death and from the failure of my relationship with Jax. “Yes.”

  “I know. Your dad.” He squeezes my hand. “Whenever you talk about him, I can see this inconsolable grief.”

  “Maybe that’s what we saw in each other. A broken soul in need of fixing.” I gently retract my hand from his and resume eating.

  “You don’t believe that,” Raine says. I shrug and take another bite. “You’re the one person in my life who doesn’t need fixing. At the office and with my family, I’m the one who always has to quell the drama and mend fences. With you, I can relax and just be myself.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You mean the self you’ve become?” It isn’t really a question and I regret saying it nearly as soon as the words leave my mouth.

  “The self I was always meant to be,” he says firmly. “‘Beau Montgomery’ represented the name and life my parents chose for me. Now I’m the man I always wanted to be. I wish to God it hadn’t taken an unspeakable tragedy to turn my life around. But I can’t change my past, Melanie. At least I’m living my life on my terms based on my choices, not the life someone else laid out for me.”

  I put my fork down and fall back against the chair, like I’ve been struck by a blow to the stomach. My forehead and cheeks are hot, my throat tightens and my lungs constrict.

  I want to retaliate with some smart-ass retort and go storming out of the restaurant. But I can’t, because...Raine is right. The life and career I’ve chosen isn’t about what I want at all. It’s about what my father wanted. About what he thought was best for me.

  Dad wanted a son who would open an executive search firm with his last name over the door and create a legacy for him. He never got his precious son, so I was the next best thing. And the only one gullible enough to willingly play along with his plan for my life.

  Mimi and Jamie were strong enough to stand up for themselves. They’d made their own choices, with or without Dad’s approval. Why couldn’t I do the same?

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that—”

  “I asked for honesty. You’re being honest.” I pick up my fork. “Besides, we both know you’re not wrong. I’ve dedicated my entire life to a career I didn’t even choose for myself. I mean, I’m good at what I do and I enjoy my job, for the most part. But it isn’t what I wanted to do with my life. It’s what Dad wanted for me, what he wanted for himself.” I put the fork down again and sigh, resting my forehead in my hand. “Guess that makes me the biggest sucker of all.”

  “That isn’t true. You’re an amazing daughter. You just wanted to make your father proud of you, and that’s great. But it’s time to think about you. What makes you happy?”

  “Being at the museum,” I say. “I could live there and never get tired of the place.”

  “I thought so.” He nods. “Sounds like that’s your dream career.”

  “I’m so far in now. The thought of starting all over with a career in art history and museum studies is...terrifying.” I sigh and take a sip of Chianti.

  A reassuring smile spreads across his handsome face. God, I love that smile. He squeezes my hand and leans forward. “I know it is. It’s also your dream. And if that’s what you want, go for it. If you don’t, deep down you’ll always regret it.”

  “I’ll think about it.” He doesn’t look convinced. “I promise.” I smile sweetly before changing the subject. After investing ten years and a pricey MBA in my current career, the idea of chucking it all and starting over in a museum or gallery fills me with equal parts of elation and trepidation. I can only handle one crisis at a time. “So, how long are you going to be in town?”

  He shrugs. “I left things open. I don’t have to be back for another week. Why?” His eyes search mine.

  “If you aren’t busy tomorrow, why don’t you join us for family dinner?”

  “I’d love to come, but are you sure? They probably hate me now.” Raine picks up his fork and cuts his steak.

  “My sisters don’t hate you,” I assure him. “And Mom is blissfully unaware of any this, so let’s just keep it that way.”

  Lines crease Raine’s forehead. His jaw tightens. “I don’t want to lie to your mother.”

  “We’re not lying to her. We’re just not telling her. See the difference?” I wave my fork at him. He cringes.

  “Yeah,” he says. “But will she?” He stabs a piece of his medium-well steak, puts it into his mouth and chews.

  Without answering, I pick up my glass and drain the remainder of my Chianti. It is a question best left unanswered.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I didn’t give Raine a definitive answer last night and I don’t know what the fate of our relationship will be. We enjoyed a lovely meal then he walked me home, apologized for cutting the evening short and said he had business to attend to. He promised to meet me at Mom’s and kissed me good night at my front door before disappearing behind the steel elevator doors.

  I pull into Mom’s driveway an hour before dinner. When I called late last night to tell her I was bringing Raine to dinner, she was excited. She also asked if Jamie, Mimi and I could come an hour early because she needed to talk to us.

  Mimi, who lives a block from my mother, walks up to the house as I arrive. I get out of the car and give her a hug.

  “Do you have any idea what this is about?” Her breath rises as steam in the frosty air. She rubs her mittened hands together. “I don’t like this. Mom sounded so serious.”

  I drape an arm around my sister. “You’re a worrier, like Mom. You automatically think something’s wrong. She’s fine. I’m sure she just wants to tell us something in private before the boys arrive.” I try to convince both of us. “Relax.”

  Mimi nods. “You’re right. I’m probably being silly.”

  Mom answers the door in a green silk chartreuse blouse and a pair of gray slacks. “How’re my babies today?” She leans in and gives each of us a kiss on the cheek. She takes our coats as if we are first-time visitors. As if the walls aren’t filled with dents and cracks from things we’ve toppled over, and the wooden floors aren’t peppered with scratches from our roller skates and Barbie cars.

  “Thanks, Mom.” I sit on the bench to take off my boots.

  She drops my slippers in front of me. I slide my feet into them and follow her to the kitchen, looking around to see if there’s any reason to be alarmed by this impromptu meeting.

  “Is everything okay, Ma?” I open the refrigerator and pull out a pitcher of orange juice. Before I can turn around, she hands me a glass.

  “Everything’s fine, honey. Stop worrying like your sister.” She nods her head in the direction of Mimi, who’s lurking just inside the kitchen door. “I just wanted a few minutes alone with my girls, that’s all.”

  I glance back at Mimi and raise an eyebrow, an unspoken, “See, I told you so.” Mimi shrugs.

  “What can we do while we wait for Jamie?” I ask. “I’m sure she’ll be here in a minute.”

  “She will,” Mom says. “Poor thing had to pull an extra shift at the bar last night. She’s probably trying to get as much sleep as she can. But in the meantime, you girls can start peeling the potatoes for me.”

  Mom pulls out
the huge stainless steel bowl we’ve had since I was a teenager. She hands us both paring knives and then heads back into the dining room.

  Mom usually gives this job to Marcus. Mimi narrows her eyes at me.

  “Marcus will be happy he’s not on potato peeling duty today,” I whisper. We both laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Jamie bursts through the kitchen door, still half-asleep. “What did I miss?”

  “Nothing,” I say. “How are you? You look like hell.”

  “Well, fuck you very much,” Jamie says with a huff.

  I stand and hug her, laughing. “Sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant you look tired. Mom says you pulled an extra shift. Everything okay?”

  “I feel like shit.” Jamie falls into the kitchen chair and lays her head down on her arms, folded into a makeshift pillow. “I’ve worked doubles lots of times before. I don’t know, maybe I’m getting old, but I don’t feel so great this time.”

  “You are getting old.” Mimi pokes Jamie in her side. “What, do you think you’re Peter Pan or something?”

  Jamie rolls her forehead onto her forearms and grunts. “Shut. Up.”

  Mimi and I are laughing and Jamie is trying to zone us out when Mom comes back into the kitchen.

  “There you are, my darling!” My mother puts her arms around Jamie and kisses the top of her head. “I’m so glad you’re here. How are you?”

  Jamie manages a smile. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

  Mom rubs Jamie’s back. “Well, I’m glad you could make it. Now that we’re all here, why don’t you girls follow me into the study.” Mom disappears through the kitchen door, leaving us in the kitchen exchanging worried glances.

  We never go into the study. That was my father’s room.

  The study? Mimi mouths, afraid to say the words aloud.

  “Fuck! This is serious.” Jamie wipes sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand. “What do you think is going on?”

  “I don’t know.” My heart beats quickly. “But we’re about to find out.”