She turned toward the sofa and chairs as her first guest walked out.
The hour passed in a blur. Finola kept to her notes when she could, but there were a couple of times everyone got off on a tangent. She went with the conversation, then returned them all to the point of the segment. Without audience feedback, she had no idea how the show was being received, but she told herself she knew what she was doing and to trust her gut. When the camera light went off at four minutes to the top of the hour, she felt as if she’d run five marathons.
The skinny producer was back. He stared at her in disbelief.
“That was incredible. Really honest and raw without being maudlin. The psychologist was perfect. I don’t, as a rule, like shrinks, but she knew her stuff. If the other shows are this good, you’ve got a winning series, Finola.”
“Thank you.”
She walked back to her temporary dressing room. People congratulated her, but as she didn’t know who they were the praise wasn’t all that meaningful. She missed her regular crew where she knew what they were thinking by the looks on their faces.
When she picked up her phone, she saw dozens of texts. She scrolled through them until she found one from Rochelle.
You kicked ass, lady! I’m incredibly proud of you and I had nothing to do with it. LOL. Miss you.
There were warm congratulations from her sisters and an unexpected text from Nigel.
Thanks for not making me the asshole.
Finola changed into jeans and a T-shirt. She planned to walk around the city for a couple of hours before returning to her hotel room to put the final touches on tomorrow’s show. The guests were confirmed, so all she had to do was review her notes.
She slipped on sunglasses and made her way outside. No one had any idea who she was and if they did, they didn’t care. She blended in with the pedestrians, heading north, toward the Peninsula Hotel.
The midday air was warming up rapidly. By five it would be close to eighty. The sky was blue and the hustle and bustle oddly comforting.
She’d come a long way, she thought. She’d been reduced to emotional rubble and she’d built herself back up, stronger this time. On the way, she’d lost her marriage and her innocence, but she’d learned a lot and she liked to think she was a better person for it. If only there had been an easier way. If only she could have read a self-help book instead. Except life didn’t work that way. Most people avoided the difficult and painful until it was forced upon them. Most people learned by going through the trial, not just reading about it. Most people didn’t realize the cost until it was too late.
* * *
Zennie told herself there was no reason to be nervous. Friends were allowed on the Sunday morning runs and she’d invited a friend. So while she hadn’t technically violated the rules, she still felt guilty.
Cassie arrived at the Woodley Park/Lake Balboa loop parking lot right after her.
“Hey,” Cassie called as she got out of her car. “I’m glad we’re meeting early. It’s going to get hot today and you know I hate sweating. How are you feeling?”
“Good.” Zennie hugged her. “The pregnancy thing might be getting easier.”
“I’m happy to hear that. Now what’s up?”
“What do you mean?”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “You’re obviously hiding something. It’s not gonna be that you’re pregnant, so what is it?”
“I invited Clark to join us.”
DeeDee drove up just then, giving Zennie a thirty-second reprieve that lasted until Cassie yelled, “Zennie invited a boy.”
“And in your delicate condition,” DeeDee said with a laugh. “Is this a new boy or an old boy?”
“That is the strangest question.”
“An old boy.” Cassie grinned. “Cla-ark.” She drew the name out in a singsong tone.
“The zoo guy? He broke up with you a couple of months ago, didn’t he?”
“Note to self,” Zennie muttered. “Say less to you two. Yes, we broke up, then he got in touch with me and suggested we hang out as friends. So we are. I’m also friends with C.J. and you never say anything about her.”
“You hanging out with a woman isn’t as interesting,” DeeDee said. “So is it serious?”
“We’re just friends.”
Cassie and DeeDee exchanged a look. “If you say so,” Cassie said as Clark pulled up.
“Be nice,” Zennie told her girlfriends. “Please, I beg you. Don’t say anything...”
“Embarrassing?” Cassie asked. “Or mention the fact that, while you and your two sisters all got dumped the same weekend, you’re the only one back together with the guy?”
Zennie groaned. “Yes, saying that would be a problem.”
Cassie and DeeDee shared a high five.
Zennie knew that however much they teased her, they wouldn’t embarrass her. They cared about her and would be there for her. Unlike Gina who had disappeared from her life. And although Zennie didn’t like to think about it, while her mother had come around, her father hadn’t. Oh, he’d said all the right things, but things between them were different.
The rejection hurt her, but she knew there was nothing to do about it. She’d confronted him and told him what she thought. What he did with that was up to him. Funny how getting pregnant had helped her see who she could trust and who she couldn’t.
Clark joined them, looking especially cute in shorts and a T-shirt. Zennie introduced him and they all shook hands.
“Just so we’re clear,” he said cheerfully, “I expect you all to leave me in the dust and I’m okay with that. Strong women don’t intimidate me.”
“Oooh, good answer,” Cassie said. “But we’re not really running that fast these days. Someone is in a delicate condition. We make allowances because we love her.”
Zennie knew her friend was just being herself, but somehow the words caught her off guard with their heartfelt support. She fought against tears, telling herself the stupid hormones would not control her life.
“Let’s get this over with,” DeeDee said. “Because when we’re done here, I want to go to The Cheesecake Factory. They have a Sunday brunch and I want that giant Belgian waffle they have. And a mimosa.”
“When you go, you go big,” Cassie said.
“I can’t help it. That’s just who I am.”
“Shall we?”
Zennie jogged to the path, then set the slow warm-up pace. They quickly sorted themselves into two pairs of two, with Clark next to her.
“This is nice,” he said. “Thanks for asking me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“We should probably get all our talking done now because in about fifteen minutes I’m going to be out of breath.”
She smiled. “You’ll do fine.”
He glanced at her and grinned. “I’m doing my best, Zennie.”
He was, she thought happily. And so far, it was really good.
* * *
Ali loved Daniel’s kitchen. It was big, there was tons of counter space and while she’d never had real feelings for a range before, she was pretty sure she could do three full minutes on why this Viking range was amazing.
She happily unpacked the groceries she’d picked up on her way home from work. That night she was going to get wild and try chicken marsala. The recipe she’d found online looked easy enough. She would serve it with mashed potatoes and the fresh green beans she’d bought.
Since she and Daniel had taken things to the next level, she’d found herself wanting to cook more. Nesting, she assumed. Staking out her place in their couplehood by doing kitchen things. It was old-fashioned and traditional and she honestly couldn’t help herself. Besides, cooking dinner made her happy.
She’d chosen a nice bottle of wine and had even picked up some frosted cookies for dessert. Tonight was going to be special, she thought w
ith a smile. Tonight, over chicken marsala and mashed potatoes, she was going to tell Daniel she loved him.
It was time, or possibly past time. She’d suspected her feelings for a while, but had been waiting to be sure. Her confrontation with Glen had made everything clear. Daniel was the right guy and she loved him and she wanted him to know.
After collecting everything she would need, she pounded the chicken breasts flat, then went to work on peeling the potatoes, her cast and broken arm barely slowing her down. She’d just finished that when Daniel got home.
She heard the sound of the garage door and had to laugh as her stomach immediately started fluttering. What that man did to her. She washed her hands and hurried to meet him, only to come to a stop when she saw his serious expression.
“What?” she asked, in the hallway by the kitchen. “What happened?”
When he didn’t answer right away, she knew something was wrong. She could see it in the tense set of his mouth and the way his shoulders were tight.
“Daniel, you’re scaring me.”
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
The blunt words hit her like a two-by-four, knocking the air out of her and nearly sending her to her knees. She had to grab the wall to stay on her feet.
“What?”
He looked away. “Glen came by to see me this afternoon. He said he made a mistake when he ended things with you. He said he was sorry and that he wanted another chance with you.” He returned his attention to her, his gaze stricken. “He’s still in love with you.”
“He’s not.”
“Ali, I saw him, I talked to him. He’s broken. You two were together a long time. You were going to get married. You have a history with him and—”
Disbelief and anger and pain battled for dominance. “No,” she said loudly. “No. Stop talking. Just stop.”
She sucked in air as she tried to make sense of everything. She’d just seen Glen. Yes, he’d talked about them getting back together, but he hadn’t been serious. He didn’t like that she was with Daniel.
She snapped up her head. “This is not what you think. Glen is playing both of us. He came to see me, as well, and I made it incredibly clear that he and I are done. He was a mistake and while I’m willing to be polite for your sake, in a perfect world I would never see him again.”
She moved toward him, stopping when they were only a couple of feet apart.
“Daniel, I swear, I can’t decide if you’re the nicest guy on the planet or a complete moron. You know I don’t care about him. You’ve been amazing to me. You’ve been there for me, you’ve been a friend and a lover and you said you were in love with me. Wasn’t any of that real?”
“Of course it was real,” he said with a growl. “I gave you all I have.”
“Then why would you let me go?”
“Because I want you to be happy.”
“But I’m happy with you. We’re happy together. I’m cooking you chicken marsala so that I can—” Realization dawned. He didn’t know. She’d never said the words back and he didn’t know. While he could hope for the best, he could very well be thinking she assumed he was her rebound guy.
“Oh, Daniel, I’m sorry.” She closed the distance between them and took his hands in hers. “I was making dinner because I wanted tonight to be special when I told you I loved you.”
She stared into his dark eyes. “I love you. I waited to say it because I wanted to be sure. Because Glen was such a mistake. I love you, Daniel. I think we’re great together but not if you won’t fight for me. Not if you’re willing to just walk away.”
“I would only walk away if that was what you wanted.”
He hauled her against him and held her so tight, her ribs hurt.
“I thought you weren’t sure,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “I’ve loved you for nearly two years, but this is all new to you. I wanted to give you time and space. I was okay with you not saying anything back until today when Glen showed up. He made it sound like you wanted to get back together with him.”
She raised herself up on tiptoe and kissed him. “Never. Never, never, never. I swear. I love you, Daniel.”
He kissed her back, stealing her breath in the best way possible.
“I love you,” she repeated between kisses.
“I love you, too.”
After a few minutes, they managed to catch their breath. He brushed the hair off her face.
“You’re cooking?”
“Yes, and I bought wine and dessert and the whole thing. It was going to be very romantic.”
“It still can be.”
She smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
They went into the kitchen where he admired everything she’d bought, then excused himself to wash up. When she was alone, Ali took a second to point out to herself that honesty was always the best policy and that in the future she would say what she was thinking. Daniel could take it.
She’d just put the chicken in the frying pan when Daniel returned.
“Ready for me to set the table?” he asked.
“That would be nice.”
He got out plates and flatware, then opened the wine. When it was time, he mashed the potatoes while she put everything else into serving pieces. It was only when they carried everything into the dining room that she saw the small blue Tiffany ring box sitting by her place setting.
The platter of chicken marsala started to slip from her hands.
“We can’t have that,” he said, grabbing it from her and putting down.
Ali stared from the box to him and back. “You, ah, bought me a necklace?”
He led her over to her chair. Once she was seated, he knelt in front of her and took her hands in his.
“Ali, I love you. I’m a traditional kind of guy. I want a wife and kids and a dog and a house.” He smiled. “And a kitten.”
Her heart beat so fast, it sounded like hummingbird wings. “You already have a house.”
“I do and it’s a nice one. I hope you like it.”
“Yes. A lot.”
His gaze locked with hers. “I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. I want us to grow old together. Ali, will you marry me?”
Yes. Yes! Only... “What about your parents? It’s going to be weird. You have to admit it will be weird.”
“They know and they’re fine with it. They liked you before and are happy to have you in the family. Speaking of parents, I talked to your mom. She gave me her blessing.”
“She’s sleeping with Parker Crane.”
“The guy on TV?”
“That’s the one. I can’t explain it but there it is. Apparently the affair is quite torrid. I don’t like to think about it.”
“Good. Any other concerns?”
“Glen will make comments.”
Daniel’s grin was smug. “Let him. I got the girl. Marry me, Ali. I will spend the rest of my life loving you.”
She flung her arms around him. “Yes, Daniel. Happily. For always.” Because this time was right.
He opened the box and showed her a diamond solitaire the size of a bus. She nearly fell off the chair.
“No,” she whispered, even as she slid the ring on her finger. “Oh, wow. Just wow. It’s stunning.”
“So are you.”
He kissed her then, and kissing turned to other things, and it was a very long time before they ever got around to dinner.
Chapter Thirty
The Encino house sold quickly. Finola and Nigel weren’t asking for the moon, pricewise, and the place was in excellent condition. The new buyers were a young family—she was a TV writer and he was a stay-at-home dad. They bought most of the furniture and what they didn’t want, Nigel took.
Finola left the escrow office after signing the papers and drove directly to th
e house to look around one last time. She pulled into her spot in the garage and then walked inside.
She felt strange looking at familiar sofas and the dining room set, knowing they weren’t going to be hers anymore. All the personal items were gone. She and Nigel had split up the artwork. She’d packed up her pictures and a few bits of memorabilia and put them in a small storage unit in Burbank.
She’d sorted through her clothes and had culled those down to the very basics. She would be buying a new wardrobe once she was settled in New York. The rest of her clothes and shoes and accessories, she’d donated to a women’s shelter.
She walked into what had been her office and looked around. The desk was still there, but everything else was gone. She studied the empty places on the wall, the view of the pool and the small cracks from the last earthquake.
She pressed her hand against the drywall, as if she could feel the cracks or somehow mend them. Little ones were okay but if they got too big, if they expanded, there was trouble. That was what had happened to her and Nigel, she thought sadly. Small cracks had led to something much worse. She’d been so busy living her life, she hadn’t noticed and now it was all gone—the house, her marriage, the very way she had defined herself.
The job in New York had come through. She’d rented a midtown studio apartment for a ridiculous amount of money but it had a huge walk-in closet and an in-unit washer-dryer. Both a rarity in Manhattan. She’d negotiated keeping some of her LA staff and had lured Rochelle away from her late-night gig. Associate producer on a national show was a big deal and Finola knew they would make a good team.
She went upstairs to the master bedroom. The bed was gone, but the dresser and nightstands remained. She closed her eyes, remembering how things had been with Nigel. How they’d laughed and talked and made love in this room. She thought about how she’d assumed that by now she would be five or six months pregnant. She’d expected her life to change, and it had—just not in the direction she’d hoped. She’d lost her husband and her marriage. Maybe they were never going to be forever, but she hadn’t known.
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