There was no time for a quickie. The moment the photographer had finished shooting the wedding party, the cocktail hour started, as waiters passed out flutes of bubbly champagne. The festivities had moved inside to a gorgeous reception room with a baby grand piano and floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the water. The decor reflected the bride’s and groom’s passion for games and animals with the name cards at place settings stamped with Mr. Monopoly, and the centerpiece flowers boasting a wooden cutout of a hound dog.
Chris tapped a fork against a glass, cleared his throat and stood next to his new wife by the head table. “First of all, thank you so much for coming. I’m pretty sure I’m the luckiest guy in the world simply because I have this woman as my wife. To also see so many friends and family here makes the occasion all the better, even though I’d have married her anywhere—in a box, on a boat, in the rain, on a train,” he said, then paused to look at McKenna. She rolled her eyes playfully. “What? It’s true,” he said to her, but loud enough for everyone to hear. He faced the guests again. “Anyway, I’m going to keep this short and sweet, and turn the microphone over to the best man and the maid-of-honor. And since I’m a ladies first kind of a guy, we’ll start with Julia. Take it away.”
Julia crossed the few feet to Chris and took the microphone, then turned to the crowd. “It’s truly an honor to be here and to be able to say a few words about my favorite person in the world and her favorite person in the world,” she said, stopping to gesture at Chris.
“Hey! You’re still a favorite,” McKenna called out.
Julia waved her off playfully. “I’m still a little surprised though as to why Chaucer isn’t here to give a toast. Do you all know Chaucer?” she asked the crowd. Most of them shook their heads. “Let me tell you a story. Chaucer is our friend’s Siamese cat, and he was something of a matchmaker for Chris and McKenna. He’s one of those dastardly Siamese cats who likes to make his mark in the world. But, lest everyone think cat pee is a bad thing all the time, there are the rare cases where cat pee brings two people together. Because when Chaucer peed on McKenna’s camera many months ago, she brought it to the electronics store to find a replacement. And who would she happen to meet there but this man,” Julia said patting Chris on the shoulder. “And Chris, being an industrious and resourceful fellow, and naturally, being completely smitten with McKenna from the second he saw her, gamely offered to repair her camera,” she said, a smile breaking across her face as she told the story. From across the crowd of glittering lights and gorgeously arrayed tables, she spotted Clay, his eyes fixed on her. Suddenly she felt as if the whole room had disappeared and she was talking only to him. Sharing a love story with her man. “Of course, it wasn’t always easy, and McKenna had a bit of a stubborn side about some things.”
“I’ll say,” Chris chimed in, as he draped an arm around his wife and planted a sweet kiss on her cheek, earning a collective aww from the guests.
“But here we are, despite the stubbornness from my big sis, because she realized what a good thing she had in front of her, and that giving up her stubborn ways was worth it.” She locked eyes with Clay once more, and the lightness of the speech drained away, replaced instead by the deeper possibility of whether she could give up the things she held too tightly. She’d never truly considered it until that moment, but was there a chance she was being stubborn, too, by clutching her secrets and her shame in her hands? She’d always considered her troubles to be completely solo problems, but they were growing far less solitary given Charlie’s encroachment on her personal territory lately, from his heated asides about McKenna to sending his heavy with the runny nose to her salon that morning.
But she didn’t want to think about Skunk or any of them right now. She wouldn’t let them mar this day.
With a quick swallow, she soldiered on. “And, as anyone can see, they are perfect for each other, from their shared love of karaoke, to their steadfast belief that California is the only suitable place to live, to their affection for games, from Candyland all the way to Halo and Qbert. Because ultimately, isn’t that part and parcel of what makes a love last through the years? Common interests and passion, whether it’s for adventure,” she said, and now she was talking only to the man across the room, “or a good crime flick. Or even just the same, how shall we say, preferences,” she said, taking a beat to enjoy the way he fought back a naughty grin. “I like to think those little things are also big things. And Chris and McKenna have all of that. So, here’s to the bride and groom.” She held up her champagne glass.
As Chris’s brother began his toast seconds later, she threaded her way through the guests and clinked glasses with Clay. “Cheers.”
“That was a beautiful speech,” he said, his deep brown eyes searching hers.
“I meant every word.”
“Every word?” He raised an eyebrow as he took a drink.
“Every single one.”
* * *
After the first dance, McKenna tugged her friends to the floor when Jill belted out a karaoke version of Matchbox Twenty’s “Overjoyed.” Julia felt the soprano’s voice literally vibrate through the reception hall, her Broadway belt glittering with energy and strength as she wowed the crowd. “She’s totally going to win a Tony for Best Actress in a Musical, isn’t she?” Julia said to Clay, with chills on her arms as a result of Jill’s talent.
“Honestly, I don’t see how she can’t. She brings down the house every single night in Crash the Moon.”
Once Jill stepped off the stage, the music shifted back to the sound system and Billie Holiday’s jazzy voice warbled through the speakers. “My sister loves the old standards. Sinatra, Holiday, the King,” she said by way of explanation.
“As do I,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor as “All or Nothing At All” piped overhead.
Clay’s hands found their way to her hips, settling in comfortably as she roped her arms around his neck, her fingertips brushing against his soft, thick hair. The song played as other couples danced, and they swayed past Jill and Davis, and Chris and McKenna. Julia kept her gaze on Clay, loving the intensity in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, because it felt so much better to be patently honest with him than to deny what she felt. She’d flopped back and forth between shooing her feelings out the door and acting upon them. She didn’t want the back and forth anymore.
“So am I.”
They twirled in lazy circles, as the words and music filled the room.
“All or nothing at all. Half a love never appealed to me. If your heart never could yield to me then I’d rather have nothing at all.”
The words pulsed around Julia like living, breathing creatures, then slipped into all the crevices of her hardened heart. They reminded her that halfway was the worst way. She’d tried so desperately to pack herself in ice, to feel nothing at all those nights at Charlie’s games, but instead she’d felt everything. She felt the shame of Dillon’s betrayal, the anger at being Charlie’s pawn, and the cruel distance she had kept with the man she was falling for. She’d always thought she was protecting her family and friends by keeping her own secrets, but the events of this morning outside the salon were a cold reminder that blindfolding them to her problems might not work forever. Whether she liked it or not, she might very well need help. Clay had offered to listen, to sort through things. She knew he couldn’t snap a finger and make her debt magically disappear, but maybe he could at least be there for her as she raced to meet Charlie’s moving target of a deadline.
“Clay,” she began nervously, and already she could hear the potholes in her own voice. She’d have an easier time speaking with marbles in her mouth than saying this.
“Yes?” he asked, tugging her closer, warming her skin with his body.
All or nothing at all. If it’s love there is no in-between.
Billie Holiday whispered in her ear, urging her on, reminding her to be strong. “You know when you asked me that night at my apartmen
t what was going on?”
“Yes,” he said, like a gentle invitation for her to keep speaking. She could do this. She could tell him. After all, he’d flown all the way across the country. He’d opened his heart to her, taking chances left and right that she’d barely earned. He wanted her honesty more than anything else, and though she might scare him all the way back to New York when she told him, she also knew he wasn’t a man who trafficked in fear. This man could take on anyone.
“I’m ready to tell you,” she said, the words tumbling on top of each other, jostling to break free.
“Tell me,” he said, gripping her hips harder as his eyes widened. He stopped dancing, grasped her hand, and guided her outside of the reception hall.
Once outside, she shivered. The evening had settled in, bringing with it the California chill from the bay. He took off his suit jacket, and slipped it over her shoulders. The gesture emboldened her.
“You remember that guy who came up to me outside my apartment?” Her stomach nosedived as she began. “When I lied about who you were?”
“Yes. Of course.”
She inhaled sharply, letting the cool air fill her chest, hoping it would settle her flip-flopping insides. “I lied because I was scared. Because I was trying to protect you. Which I know sounds silly, because you’re this big, strong man,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm lightly. “But I don’t want him or anyone going after you because I care about you.”
“Why would he or anyone go after me?”
This was the hardest part. When she told him why. The words threatened to lodge in her chest, refusing to come out, but she shucked off the red-hot shame. “My ex? The one who’s gone—I told you about him that night in your bath?”
His features tightened, and his brow furrowed. “Yeah. Where is he?”
“I still don’t know. The IRS is looking for him, and I haven’t a clue. He left the country, and he left with $100,000 stolen from the mob. He claimed the money was a loan for me to expand my bar, so when he took off, the mob boss came to collect. With me.”
Clay’s mouth hung open.
She never thought this polished, confident man would be speechless, but that’s what she’d done to him because he’d gone mute from the shock. Seconds ticked by, then a full minute, it seemed. He scrubbed a hand across his jaw as if he were thinking, trying to process what she’d said.
“I know it’s probably not something you hear too often. Hi, sweetie. I’m wanted by the mob.”
“No,” he said, managing a brief, dry laugh. “Don’t hear that very often at all.”
“So when Stevie came by he needed me to go to a game.”
“Game?”
“I play poker for this guy, Charlie. Stevie is his enforcer. I’m Charlie’s ringer. He makes me play in rigged poker games to win back the money Dillon stole.”
Clay stepped away, looking unsteady on his feet and ashen. “Are you serious?”
She nodded. “Completely. I’m really amazingly good at poker. Always have been. And I win most of the time. And now I hate playing because I’m forced to play for him to pay off a debt that isn’t even mine.”
“That’s a fucking mess, Julia,” he said, his voice a raw scrape. And it scared her.
He was going to run now, wasn’t he? Nobody wanted this kind of mess in their lives. He probably didn’t believe her, either. Probably thought she was lying to him like Sabrina had done, and figured she was going to ask him for money too. Crap. She had to fix this.
She moved closer. “Did I scare you off?”
“No. I’m just . . . I just . . . I didn’t think that was the issue.”
“What did you think it was?”
“I honestly don’t know. But that’s some crazy stuff, Julia,” he said, and she detected a note of skepticism.
She cycled through things to do or say to prove herself. “I want you to trust me and I know you have every reason not to trust me. You also have to know I’m not asking you for money. I’ve never asked anyone for money. If I were going to I would ask my sister, but I have kept her and everyone I love out of this because it’s my problem. I want you to believe me. Do you believe me?”
His lips parted and he paused briefly then said yes. But she needed him to believe it with every ounce of his being.
“No. I want you to believe me with the same certainty that you want to fuck me,” she said, pushing hard on his chest now. Flames of anger licked her chest. She’d opened her deepest, darkest secret and she didn’t want a shred of doubt.
He held up his hands as if he were backing off from her. “Fine. I believe you.”
“The expression in your eyes tells me otherwise. You asked me to open up to you. I’m baring my fucking heart to you. Charlie gave me a deadline, and he’s threatening my bar and my co-worker, and he showed up this morning at my hair salon, and he’s circling me,” she said, holding her hands out wide. She flashed onto something he’d told her once about a friend of his. “I am mad and I am terrified. I’m not asking you for money. I’m asking you to believe me, and you need to believe me completely. So call your friend.”
He crinkled his nose as if her words didn’t compute. “My friend?”
“The lawyer who runs people down for you? You said he tracked down intel on people you weren’t sure about.”
“Yeah, my friend Cam. He can get the goods on anyone.”
Julia dug into her small satin clutch purse and grabbed her phone. She thrust it at him. “Call him. The guy is Charlie Stravinski, he owns Mr. Pong’s restaurant in China Town,” she said, rattling off the address. “He also owns Charlie’s Limos. I’m sure your friend can verify who he is. That’s the guy who owns me.”
“Julia,” he said softly, his voice strained, and that sound was terribly familiar. It felt lethal. It was the sound of his voice when he ran. It was the way he’d spoken to her on the street. She tensed all over, and she wished she could unwind the last fifteen minutes of honesty, zip them up and toss them in a body bag into the ocean. She should have continued leaving him in the blissfully ignorant state that made him jet out to San Francisco to see her. He’d been falling for her; she could see it, feel it, sense it. Now she’d shattered what they could have had. Whoever said honesty was the best policy didn’t have the mob on her tail.
He breathed out hard, pressed his lips together, and seemed to be debating. “Julia,” he said again, his expression softer. “You don’t have to prove it. I came out here because I trust you, and if we’re going to be together the way we want, the way I want, the way you want, I’m not going to ask you to prove who some guy is.”
But she needed him to know she wasn’t making up Charlie. “It’s important to me that you know this for certain and not just because I said so. I need to have proven myself to you. Call your friend, give him the info, and you’ll know I’m not lying. I have a price tag on my head.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was almost too crazy to believe, but the truth was messy. Lies were ironclad. They added up too neatly. Lies were padded so thick they became airtight and couldn’t breathe. The truth was frayed, like the tattered end of a rope. The truth was full of holes that were evidence of its veracity. Still, he could tell proof was vitally important to her, so he pulled his own phone from his pocket and dialed Cam.
“Hey man, can you run a quick check on someone for me?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely for you,” his friend said in his gregarious voice.
Clay gave him the basic details. “Just let me know what kind of business he’s running. Doable?”
“This is easy. I’m in front of my laptop right now, and will run a few quick searches. That is, if my lady friend doesn’t come back and try to distract me.”
Clay smiled briefly. “Have fun with Tess. But take care of me too.”
“You bastard, you owe me so much. I love it when you owe me. I love running down shit for you because it gives me one more thing to add to my totals. There’s only one other person I do this for f
ree for,” Cam said, his voice stretching across the country like a big old Texas-style hug.
“Who’s that?”
“I’m not saying but she’s a lot prettier than you.”
“I should hope so.”
He hung up, and returned to Julia. She looked different than she had before. She’d always been tough, strong, a woman of the world. Now she looked empty, as if she’d shed all her emotions and replaced them with cool blankness. He reached for her, gripping her arms gently but firmly as he kept his eyes fixed on her. “That story is crazy, and I hate what he did to you and I hate that anyone wants to hurt you, and here’s the thing—I won’t let them now. You know that, right? You’re with me, and that means I’m here to help you. You tried to protect me and that was the most adorable, sweetest, sexiest thing anyone has ever done, but you don’t have to because that’s my job. Got that?”
She said nothing, just stared hard at him. She was shutting down, and he was having none of that. Not after she’d finally opened up. “I’m not running,” he said firmly, refusing to let her look away. “I’m here for you. I’m here with you, and I want to help you. That’s what I do. That’s what I want to do for you.”
“Why?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Why?” he said, his voice louder. He was going to have to make this abundantly clear. “Because I flew here to see you. Because you are under my skin. Because this fucking bastard left you with a shit ton of problems and if I ever find him I will make sure he pays. And because you have the mafia after you.”
“That doesn’t scare you? Make you want to run?” She shot him a challenging stare, almost as if she were daring him to walk away.
“No,” he said crisply.
There wasn’t a chance in hell that was happening. He straightened his spine, planted his feet wide, making it clear in every way that he was staying. “It makes me want to stay.”
“Why do you want to help me?”
He shook his head in frustration, but deep down he understood why she was behaving like this. She’d admitted something terribly private, and self-preservation was familiar ground for her.
After This Night Page 6