“Shh. Don’t mention the S word, unless it’s spring.”
“Come over around noon. It’s potluck, so bring something edible.”
“Beer is edible.”
Cal flashed a smile. “Yes, it is.”
Rebecca closed the door behind her and stepped into the gloaming. It would be another few weeks before Daylight Savings Time extended the sunshine hours, and she shivered in the cool evening air. She set her purse on the hood of her car and donned her sweater, glad that springtime had begun to encroach on winter, and fished inside her purse for her keys.
Aha! There you are. She grabbed a key, but it wasn’t attached to her key ring. She stared at the offending item and tossed it back into her purse as if it had burned her.
The key to Sean’s house. She’d never given it back.
“Damn it.” She blinked back quick tears and hunted again for her keys, found them in one of the zippered pockets, and unlocked the car door with a click. She turned on the engine and the heat, shivering now from more than the cold.
Angry with herself for being so emotional, she laid her head against the headrest and focused on reigning in her misery and the nausea that roiled in her stomach. Sean didn’t want her but, she reminded herself, Nate still did.
A few weeks after the breakup with Sean, Rebecca ran into Nate at the grocery store. She admitted that she’d just had her heart broken—though she didn’t divulge the culprit—and had no desire to date. “No problem,” Nate had said, his kind eyes full of sympathy. “Let me be your friend.” And he’d done his level best to be just that, never once stepping over the line.
Rebecca wished she felt something more for Nate than mere friendship. He was a good man, a kind man. He had his faults, but who didn’t? God knew she was no picnic. She had hoped that spending time with Nate would help her forget Sean, or at least ease the ache, but she soon admitted no man alive could do that for her.
Sean owned her heart and she didn’t know how to get it back.
She turned into the strip mall parking lot and turned her car toward the restaurant at the end of the building. Although early, just six on a Monday night, most of the spaces in front of Caravicci’s Pizzeria were filled. She parked beneath a streetlamp near the middle of a row and allowed herself a moment to regroup before going inside. She smeared on some lip gloss and frowned at her hair in the rearview mirror. Medusa lives. Not her best look.
She spotted Nate’s cruiser parked in a darkened area at the back of the lot. She hadn’t noticed it when she first pulled in. Odd, too, that he parked back there. She glanced at the dashboard clock to be sure she wasn’t late.
Purse in hand, she marched down the aisle toward Caravicci’s, sparing a glance at the alley on the side of the building where Maddie and TJ had first seen their three-legged dog, Pirate. Hard to believe that had happened almost a whole year ago, soon after Maddie had hired Caleb to remodel her kitchen. And look at Maddie and Caleb now, planning a wedding. She marveled at the life changes that could occur in such a short space of time.
She stepped into Caravicci’s and breathed in the tantalizing odors of pizza sauce and fresh-baked dough, garlic, and oregano. The place swarmed with families taking advantage of the Monday night two-for-one special. The video games in the back hid beneath three layers of kids waiting their turn, and a clean-cut guy, who looked like his day job might be as an accountant, sat on a stool in the front corner of the restaurant strumming a plugged-in Gibson twelve-string and singing a Tim McGraw song into a microphone. The dinging of the video games and kids’ chatter made it tough to hear him, but he crooned on, in spite of the distractions. Rebecca wondered when it might occur to him to increase the volume on his amp.
Nate stood up from a booth across the restaurant and waved, a smile splitting his face. Rebecca returned his smile and wave, and walked his way. She felt eyes on her and glanced to her right.
Sean.
Burning heat exploded and raced to her nerve endings when her gaze met his. He looked from her to Nate and back to her, smiled and nodded hello, and returned his attention to the blonde sitting across from him.
Rebecca swallowed hard. The background noise receded to a buzz in her ears. She couldn’t peel her gaze from Sean, and watched him laugh at something the woman said. The woman flipped her hair, sleek as glass, over her shoulders.
And Sean had no right to look so handsome, damn him, and sexy in his expensive suit, Hermes tie loosened at his throat making him look like a professional man glad to find an end to his workday—which, of course, he was. She thought of how his five o’clock shadow would feel against her skin. And his hair needed a trim. She curled her fingers into her palms and berated herself.
With an effort, Rebecca returned her attention to Nate and forced a bright smile. She strode the rest of the distance to him and returned his hug, a quick squeeze, offered her cheek for a kiss, tossed her purse into the booth, and slid in after it.
“This place is nuts, huh?” Nate sipped his beer and shook his head, smiling. “Caravicci really knows what he’s doing. I heard he’s opening a place in town, too. Something fancy.”
“Dante’s Bistro. I can’t wait.”
“I like this place.” Nate glanced around. “It’s friendly in here.”
Rebecca’s eyes strayed to Sean and the blonde. “It sure is,” she said.
The woman turned her head enough for Rebecca to see her face. Well, it just figured. Emma, the Nordic goddess. Apparently, Sean decided to overlook her status as a Justin Bieber fan girl in favor of her blonde hair and big boobs. And she was a law student, so add brains to the appealing palette, and it was no wonder he’d given in to temptation. Rebecca frowned and cut her eyes back to Nate. Misery pitched in her belly. It appeared both she and Sean had fallen back to old habits.
A waitress came by and took Rebecca’s drink order. Nate declined a second beer, opting instead for water. After the delivery of Rebecca’s sweet tea, they ordered garlic knots and pizza—Pepperoni Power rather than Dante’s Inferno because Nate couldn’t tolerate the hot peppers on the latter.
Rebecca employed all of her willpower to give Nate her full attention. When she couldn’t stand it anymore and her hungry eyes strayed to Sean’s table, he and Emma were gone, replaced by a plump family of four, all dressed in jeans and red Tshirts emblazoned with the Caravicci’s Pizzeria logo that screamed their devotion to Dante’s culinary skills. They sat together, but separate, each one basking in the glow of a cell phone, fingers tap-tap-tapping away. Modern family night.
Her mind wandered to Sean and Emma. Where were they now? What were they doing? Had they gone back to her house, or his? She gulped and pushed the thought away. The mental imagery made it tough to breathe.
Nate rested his hand on her arm. “Hey, you okay?”
“What? Yes. Sorry.” Rebecca shook her head and smiled. “I guess I’m tired. Worn down from the day, you know?”
After finishing their meal, they paid the bill and left the restaurant, Rebecca noting that neither the noise level nor patronage seemed to have diminished. Nate walked her to her car and waited while she got her keys from her purse and opened the driver’s side door.
“Hey. What happened to your cruiser?” Rebecca pointed to where the black sheriff’s car had been.
“What?” Nate glanced around. “I’m off tonight. I drove my truck.”
“Oh.” Rebecca shrugged. “I thought it was weird that you parked all the way at the back of the lot in the dark.”
“You sure it was a sheriff’s vehicle?”
Rebecca nodded. “Why would a cop park in the dark like that?”
“Maybe he was filling out paperwork, or maybe he followed someone here he thought might be DUI and wanted to watch for them to come out of the restaurant, make sure they weren’t drunk. It could have been something like that.”
“That makes sense, I guess. Listen, thanks for dinner. I’ll treat next time.”
“I’ll call you later in the week. If you�
�re free, maybe we can take in a movie or something this weekend.”
Nate waited for Rebecca to back from the parking space before he marched off toward his truck. She waved as she drove past him, tamping down guilt. She knew Nate hoped for more from their relationship than simple friendship, no matter how patient he was willing to be. She wanted to feel more for him and regretted that she didn’t, but hoped with time she would. Prayed she would, because that would mean she was over Sean.
She arrived home and readied for bed, settling under the covers with a book. With a burning desperation, she wanted to avoid thinking of Sean and his Nordic goddess, but her imagination flared and the words in her book blurred as her mind brewed carnal images she wished it wouldn’t.
Why can’t I get past this? He obviously has.
She tossed the book aside and nibbled her thumb.
It was an incomplete goodbye.
Maybe that was it. Maybe she couldn’t let go because she still had all this stuff, these feelings locked up inside her. Maybe she needed to just toss it all out there, like dumping trash. She was like Lindsay. She carried baggage with Sean’s name on it and she had to cut it loose.
Renewed energy pulsed through her. She threw the covers off and jumped from the bed. She marched to the kitchen and emptied her purse on the counter, pushing items aside to find the key to Sean’s house. She took the key, an envelope, a pen, and a notepad back to the bedroom where she settled on the bed and spent the next hour pouring her heart onto paper—all of which she balled up, only to try again.
—And again.
—And again.
By midnight she had said everything she needed to say in at least twenty different ways. She had yelled and screamed and pleaded and cried and bitched and whined and offered witty observations and blistering insults, all in writing. Her heart bled onto the pages in blue ink.
Exhausted, she stared at the mess. What now?
Inspiration struck, and she gathered all the balled up pieces of paper and carried them to the fireplace. She tossed them in, struck a match, and knelt before the hearth where she and Sean had made love while the ice storm ravaged the world outside. She sparked flame to paper, watched it catch and burn, stared as the fire consumed its hosts and nothing lingered but the blackened remains.
As far as identifying and delivering into action a metaphor for her relationship with Sean, she figured she’d never do better than that.
She shuffled down the hall to the bedroom. After hours of draining her mind and heart with pen to paper, in the end the note she tucked into the envelope with the key to be returned to Sean contained only two sentences.
Her heart battered her chest, and the nausea that had become a normal part of her waking life since they stopped seeing each other sickened her belly, but she felt more in control of herself and her emotions now.
She put the key and note in the envelope and put the envelope, unsealed, in her purse. She’d return it in the morning.
***
Rebecca woke with a start when her cell phone rang. She reached her hand to the nightstand and fumbled for the phone.
“Mm. Hello?”
“Hey, little britches. Everything okay?”
Rebecca yawned and stretched. “Hi, Daddy. Everything’s fine. What’s—”
“Well, Christ on a cracker, girl, you scared the holy hell out of me. You know what time it is?”
“I—”
“It’s nine o’clock in the a.m. That’s what time it is. You’re always here by seven-thirty.” His accusatory tone caused Rebecca’s eyes to roll back in her head. “Last time you were this late—well, hell. You’ve never been this late. You sure you’re okay? You sick or something?”
“No, Daddy. I just overslept, that’s all.”
“You’re always here by seven-thirty,” he said again.
Rebecca’s laugh snorted through her nose. “Geez. Okay, listen. I have to shower and I’ve got a quick stop to make on my way in. I’ll be there by ten-thirty.”
His labored breathing filled a few seconds of airtime before he said, “You have a man there?”
“Oh, my god.” Rebecca’s laughter filled the room. “You’re killing me, Daddy. No. I’m all alone. I overslept. I’ll see you in an hour-and-a-half.”
Big Will’s sigh of relief almost deafened her. “Okay. See you soon.”
Still laughing, Rebecca clicked off the call. What would he have done if she had told him yes, she did have a man in her bed? The thought kept her amused for some time.
By nine-forty-five she was turning her car onto Dogwood Street. She slowed the Civic when she neared Sean’s house, her heartbeat threatening to punch a hole through her chest. She parked on the street and stared at the house, a blue Victorian with a white picket fence and an explosion of colorful flora in the yard. Edie’s handiwork expressed itself in abundance, and this just the first week of March. The place would probably look like a botanical garden in another month.
Sean’s Silverado sat in the driveway. The garage door was closed so she couldn’t check for the Shelby. Even if the Mustang was parked in there, he might have walked to work, and this late in the morning he was unlikely to be home. She’d let herself into the house and take her chances. She’d seal the key in the envelope with the note and leave it on his kitchen counter by the coffeemaker. He’d be sure to see it there. Neat and sweet, over in a flash.
She stepped into the house and paused in the entryway, every nerve stretched taut as she listened to reassure herself that Sean wasn’t home. She glanced up the stairs, to the dining room off to the left, around the staircase in front of her and down the hallway to the kitchen and den.
Quiet as a tomb.
She looked into the room on her right. Intended as a living room, Sean had turned it into a home office. The first time she came to the house, she suggested he build out the wide doorway and install French doors. He’d liked the idea, and she’d offered to do the work free of charge. He’d pay for materials, of course. He’d laughed until he realized she was serious and more than capable of doing the job herself.
She wiped her sweaty hands on her denim-clad thighs, glanced up the stairs again and moved on quiet feet across the gleaming hardwoods into the office. She’d never be in his house again after this, unless for some family thing. He probably wouldn’t mind if she took a quick look around—not to pry, just to get a better feel for what made him tick.
Geez, yeah, okay, on second thought, he probably would mind.
Too bad. Not her fault he wasn’t home.
A bookcase covered one whole wall. Rebecca perused the titles, wrinkled her nose.
Law books. Row after row of law books. Really, Sean? Dry, dusty, law books? No fiction? No John Grisham? Ah, there. Okay. A hardbound copy of The Firm. She smiled and shook her head. So predictable. She took it off the shelf and read the personal note signed by the author on the front page.
The credenza behind Sean’s desk drew her eye. She put the book back in its place and redirected her attention. Every available space on the credenza had a framed family photo on it.
She took her time studying the photographs. There were several photos of Edie and Papa Ron, one of Papa Ron and Jack, another of Edie and Brenna. She saw what she assumed was Brenna’s high school graduation photo, marveled at her friend’s beauty, and moved on to a photo of Jack and Sean looking so similar it was almost eerie. Rebecca lifted a frame holding a picture of Maddie and Jack—engagement photo, maybe?—both of them smiling wide, eyes bright and happy. And now Jack was gone, and Maddie was marrying Caleb.
Rebecca’s fingers touched the glass covering the photo. “Did you really give Maddie advice after you died?” she whispered to Jack. She set the photo back in its place and turned to leave.
Sean’s desk, though covered with stuff, appeared organized. A neat stack of file folders sat in front of his closed laptop. One lay askew, and she began to push it into alignment, but curiosity stayed her hand and she opened the folder instead. She
expected legal documents, but found newspaper clippings and printed articles from the web.
Guilt trickled through her but she ignored it, choosing instead to peruse the contents of the folder. If Sean didn’t want anyone to read it he shouldn’t leave it sitting out. It took a few minutes of reading for her to understand the significance of the collection. The articles focused on three people whose lives were forever changed by a drunk driver. Georgio Manetti, the impaired driver, was behind the wheel because one month prior to the fatal accident his high-priced lawyer found a legal loophole that kept him out of jail for a similar crime. His lawyer was described by the New York Times as “superstar defense attorney, Sean P. Kinkaid, who continues to rake in the wins for the prestigious Manhattan law offices of Brunner, Houser, Mickelson, et al.”
She thumbed through the other folders, recognized the name of the victims from the clipped articles—Stanley Boyd, age forty-two, died in the head-on collision that injured his daughter, ten-year-old Hayley Boyd. Hayley would heal from her physical injuries, but she and her mother Bridget were left without a father and husband.
Rebecca’s CPA’s eyes scanned the documents. She blew out a low whistling breath. Sean had set up a blind trust for young Hayley Boyd and her mother, a fund that covered all of the girl’s medical expenses and more. Her college tuition was paid ten times over. Bridget Boyd would never worry about finding a job or how to pay bills.
She flipped through the pages, her brain calculating. Where had the money come from? Her eyes widened when the documents and accounts clicked into place.
“My god,” she breathed, staring at the bank statements and financial reports. Sean Kinkaid had more money than Croesus.
The other folders varied in scope, but most dealt with family law, and all, Rebecca saw, Sean had slated as pro bono. How did the man make so much money when it appeared he worked for free?
She gnawed her thumb and stared at the folders. It was wrong to keep poking through his stuff. None of this was any of her business. Looking through more of his personal documents would be nothing short of immoral. Unethical. So, so wrong.
Love to Believe: Fireflies ~ Book 2 Page 18