by Daria White
Then the doorbell rang, and his heart skipped. Dottie would get the door on her way out, since he told her he wouldn’t need her services for the rest of the evening. Checking the steaks one more time, he shut off the burner.
Lance grabbed two plates from his cabinet. If he remembered, Chantelle liked ginger ale, so he retrieved a bottle from the bottom of his pantry.
“Smells good,” she said.
He turned with the bottle in his hand and stared. Without fail, she was wearing heels. They clicked as she approached his stainless steel stove. She hovered as she inspected the meal for the evening, and the corners of her mouth turned up.
Chantelle then removed her black blazer from her shoulders and draped it over the back of his chairs at the table. “No dessert?”
He pivoted to open his stainless steel refrigerator. Opening the left side for the freezer, he picked out two cartons of ice cream. “We have vanilla and chocolate?”
“Excellent choice. Always stick to the basics.”
He gestured for her to have a seat. “Dinner’s ready.”
“I can serve myself.”
“My way of apologizing again. I haven’t been very nice to you since you came back into town.”
“You were nice today.”
“Thank you.” He served her a plate of the smothered steaks, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables. He brought it over to her just as she wrung her hands together.
“This looks amazing. I’ll bet it tastes great too.” She picked up her fork. Chantelle bowed her head for a moment and then took a bite from her meal. She hummed in apparent satisfaction.
“You like it?” He asked.
“Amazing. When did you learn how to cook?”
Lance served his own plate and then took his seat across from her. “My grandmother gave me some pointers before she passed. It’s easier when Dottie is here, and I have to give her credit with the mashed potatoes and vegetables. I made the steaks.”
“I approve,” Chantelle said. “It reminds me of the cook-off our senior class did. What was it again? Chili?”
Lance chuckled, making sure he swallowed first so he wouldn’t choke. “That was you or Grant. Too much paprika.”
“Me?”
“Yes. We also had Jenny, Sophia, Brian, and… Who was that other boy? His head was always in a book.” He tilted his head as he tried to recall their former classmate. “I think that was… J… Javier!”
Chantelle nodded, but avoided eye contact. “That was him. He was the smartest boy I knew. Between reading and inventing something, he was always nice to me.”
Lance’s scalp prickled. “He had a crush on you.”
She raised her chin. “You don’t know that.”
Lance shook his head. “He did. I could tell.” He took another bite from his steak.
“He was sweet. I may have gone out with him if he’d asked.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
She nodded. “I would. There’s no harm in giving a person a chance.”
He stared at his plate. “I’ll remember that.”
Continuing with their meal, they ate in silence. Lance glanced at the clock on the wall. His limbs tingled as he attempted to relax. Was it the fact that she was sitting across from him? At least they were trying to patch things up.
“So how’s Andrea?” Chantelle asked.
“I haven’t talked to her today. I’ll call her later.”
“Is she nice?”
“What?”
“Tell me more about her. There’s this stereotype that celebrities are rude. They have this sense of entitlement because they made it in their careers that and everyone else is beneath them. What’s Andrea like?”
Lance scratched his chin. He couldn’t say. The times he spent with Andrea in public, she was generous with her fans. She took selfies when asked and gave out autographs. In restaurants, she was gracious to the waiters. She tipped well and gave smiles to admirers on the street. Was that for show? Did he know her as well as he thought he did?
“From what I’ve seen, yes. Andrea doesn’t mind showing kindness to her friends.” Lance swallowed another piece of the steak, tasting the mushrooms he had sautéed.
“I was hoping you would say that.”
“What about you?”
She took a sip from her glass of ginger ale. “What about me?”
“Anyone back in Chicago?” He couldn’t help it.
Chantelle shook her head. “No, I’ve been focused on my writing.”
“All work and no play, huh?” Lance didn’t know why he coaxed. A part of him didn’t care, but the other knew he would always be connected to her. Despite what happened, he wanted Chantelle happy.
She dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “There was someone a while back, but…”
“But what?”
She pointed to her face. “All he saw was this.”
Lance leaned back in his chair. “What happened?”
Chantelle rolled her eyes as if annoyed to think about it. “We dated for about six months, but he didn’t want to get to know the real me. At parties, he would show me off like a trophy wife. He was studying to be a doctor. He was in his last year of residency and he thought having me on his arm would gain attention. It did, but I’m not a trophy.”
“No, you’re not.” He leaned forward. “Chantelle, you’re gorgeous, but you’re not conceited. You don’t flaunt yourself to make people feel insecure. You inspire them and let them know beauty is only skin deep. Your heart’s pure. That’s what makes you beautiful.”
Her gaze softened towards him. Her lips parted, but she only took another sip from her glass of ginger ale. Chantelle placed her palms on the table and met his gaze. “Thank you, Lance.”
“You’re welcome. I meant it too.” He wiped his hands clean on his napkin. He scooted his chair back and stood to his feet. “Are you finished?”
“I can help with cleaning up.” She offered.
“No, you’re a guest,” he said.
She shook her head. “You cooked, so I can at least help with the dishes.”
Lance paced backwards and threw a towel at her. Chantelle caught it without batting an eye.
She smirked. “You wash. I dry?”
“You’re on.”
She helped him clear the table of the dishes, and then they stood next to each other at the sink. He had rolled his sleeves and passed the clean dishes to her. She dried them with the towel and placed them in the dish rack.
“Can I tell you something?” She asked.
“What’s that?” Lance passed her another plate.
“Great dinner.” She pointed to him with her free hand. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
He laughed. Water rushed out of the faucet as he rinsed another plate. “I’ll take the compliment, anyway.”
“Can I ask another question?”
“Shoot.”
Chantelle pointed to his face, but she didn’t touch him. “What made you grow this?”
“Don’t like it?”
“It’s... different. Not bad, though. It’s just...”
“Just what?” He passed her a glass.
Chantelle dried it but cleared her throat. “You’ve grown into a great man.” Then she stared up at him. “I’m happy for you.”
He shut the water off and stared at her. Chantelle’s eyes were soft. She’d grown too. Could he say that? Would she take it wrong? “I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
He shook his head. “No, not that.” He exhaled. “What I wanted to say was, you’ve come into your own. It looks good on you.”
SMASH! Chantelle shrieked. Lance didn’t notice the glass slip from her hand, but spotted the broken pieces on the floor.
“I’m sorry. I guess I lost my grip.” She covered her mouth.
“Don’t move.” Lance stared at her opened-toed shoes. “Did the glass hit you?”
“I don’t thi
nk so. Let me—” Her breath caught when he picked her up and sat her on the counter. “Lance, I’m okay.” She bent forward and checked her foot. “Nothing cut me.”
He inspected her foot to make sure. He heard her gasp when he touched her ankle, but he wouldn’t read into it. “Stay here.”
Lance walked over to the pantry and grabbed the broom. He swept the area clean, hearing the shards of glass scrape the floor.
Chantelle sat with her hands on her thighs. “You won’t let me help at all?”
He grasped the smooth broom handle as he swept. He tossed the broken pieces in the trash and returned the broom to the pantry. Then he stood in front of her. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m okay. Can I get down now?” Her hands gripped the edge of the counter.
Lance reached forward with his hands at her waist. He helped her as she stood to her feet. Her curls tickled his chin, but he swallowed.
“Thank you,” she said. Did her voice sound breathy?
“You’re welcome. That could have been worse.”
She looked up at him. “I... um... should probably call it a night. Thanks for dinner.”
Lance bobbed his head. He couldn’t speak with his pulse racing. Chantelle stepped away, grabbed her purse, and waved goodnight. Lance released a deep breath. He couldn’t be that close to her—not again.
Chapter 15
Lance paced his bedroom back and forth with his cell in hand. Should he call or FaceTime Andrea? He chose the latter and waited for her to pick up. Hair lifted on the back of his neck. He had nothing to be nervous about.
Tonight had only been to thank Chantelle. Yet, his thumb ran over his fingers, recalling how she felt in his arms. He’d been glad she didn’t hurt herself.
If only the wedding was over. Then he could get away from her—for good. Work could distract him, but it didn’t last long. There had been too many times in the office when she crossed his mind.
Lance groaned. Andrea. He needed to focus on Andrea. He loved her. He had made that clear when he proposed. It hadn’t been a simple decision. It hadn’t been one the first time either.
His heart palpitated when he proposed to Chantelle. They didn’t tell their parents, but went to the Justice of the Peace after he paid for the marriage license. Saving his money from cutting the grass in his neighborhood had paid off.
They had exchanged vows and checked into a hotel for the night. He had held Chantelle that night, placing his hand on top of hers on her belly. Then he heard her groans, only to turn on the light and see blood in the sheets. The ambulance ride to the hospital made sweat pool on his brow. Life had gone downhill from there.
Lance refocused. After four rings, Andrea answered. Her face free of makeup, he saw the dim light in the background. Recognizing her hotel room from before, he sat on his own bed.
“How are you?” He asked.
“Just about getting up.” She replied. “How are you?”
“I’m heading to bed. These time zones are the worst.”
“Tell me about it.”
He swallowed. “I fired June Myers.” Might as well get it over with. He had yet to tell his mother.
Andrea’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding. She’s the best.”
“She was taking over the wedding, Babe. It’s not what you or I want. It’s my mother pushing her ideas on us, and I’m not doing that anymore. This is our life we’re starting together, so we’re going to do it right. Our way.”
She rested her chin inside her palm. “Are we ready for this, Lance?”
He cocked his head to the side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Is your mother always going to be this involved in our lives?” Andrea asked.
He assured her. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Will she listen? I like your mom, but she can be... overbearing.”
“She’s been through a lot, but I’ll talk to her. I’ve let things slide for too long, so I’ll take care of it.”
She gave a slight smile. “Okay.”
“Are we okay, Andrea?”
She sighed. “You tell me.”
“I want you here, but I also want to respect your career. I’m not trying to pressure you, but we’re going to be merging our lives together.”
Andrea shut her eyes for a moment. “I’ve been used to doing everything on my own, Lance. I admired my mother’s career. She taught me everything I knew, but I didn’t want to ride on her coattail. I’m sorry for pushing you away. I know you care. That’s why I love you.”
Tension released from his body. “I love you too. I understand.”
“It’s not the same. You and your parents—”
“I grew up with domineering parents, Andrea. I didn’t have the love and support you had from your mother. Ever since I lost my sister, my parents have done everything to control my life.”
“How would I know that, Lance? That’s it, right there. You don’t tell me these things,” Andrea said.
He rubbed his forehead. “I never asked you either.”
“I hate that happened to your sister. I wish I could have met her. What was she like?”
Lance reclined in bed. He had her attention, so he would capitalize on it. “Funny. Smart. Athletic. One of the best people I knew.”
Andrea bobbed her head. “You must miss her a lot.”
“I do. I... uh... I miss you, Andrea.”
“I miss you too. But...”
He sat up. “But what?”
“Maybe we need to take some time.”
“Time? For what? You want to call off the wedding?”
She shook her head. “Not that, but I think we need to consider what we’re doing.”
Lance shut his eyes. This could only mean trouble. He didn’t believe in putting a relationship on hold or on pause. They were getting married, or they weren’t. “I have another option.”
“What?”
“Come to Delta Heights.”
“Lance, I—”
“Come to Delta Heights and help me finish planning this wedding. If not, I’ll know where your heart is.”
She only stared back at first, but her lips parted. “Okay.”
She agreed? Did he hear correctly? “Okay?”
“You’re right.”
He had to reassure her. “It’s not an ultimatum, but I think you need to be here.” It would be easier. If Andrea were here, it would blot out the nonsense he was thinking. He bit his lips. Not quite nonsense.
Chantelle being back in town wasn’t the worst thing in the world. They shared their favorite childhood memories. They teased each other, but there was too much history. Lance wouldn’t let his impulses take over. That happened once before, and it broke the hearts of those around him.
He had shared his past with Andrea. She knew of his first marriage, but he didn’t tell her who his ex was. Was now the right time?
“I’ll talk to my agent about my schedule,” she said.
“That’s all I’m asking.”
Andrea gave a slight smile.
***
Lance settled in his seat on the airplane ride to New York. He could have ridden first class as his father suggested, but what for? To show off? He didn’t mind meeting other passengers beside him. He even met a few kids on the trips whose parents let them bounce in their seats.
The flight attendants greeted the passengers as they boarded, and his eyes diverted to the overhead compartments. He loaded his laptop inside, wanting to at least take a nap before working on the last notes of his presentation. Lance rubbed his eyes, fighting off the sleepiness. He wanted to be in the air when he slept, preferring to be awake during takeoff.
A few people blocked the aisle as they shoved their bags in the compartments overhead. He stared at the set television screens in the back seats, while slots inside the fabric seats held magazines. Beverage carts squeaked in the background, along with laughter and chatter. Lance inhaled snack foods, fresh coffee, and the sharp scent of hand sanitizer.
>
He patted his phone in his pocket. Lance was sure his mother already knew about him firing June Myers. Despite her being in bed with a cold, his mother had called him six times to ask why. He didn’t answer.
Twisting the watch on his wrist, he hoped he could close this deal. Resting his head against the headrest, Lance closed his eyes. If only he could get away. He was only twenty-eight, but why did he feel exhausted?
He slept for most of the flight. Lance didn’t even take out his laptop, but relaxed. He rubbed his eyes as the older woman turned in her seat to stare. He must have closed his eyes before she settled in her seat next to him. Thankfully, he got in a nap first. Lance hoped another would follow.
“You look familiar,” the older woman said. She tapped her finger to her chin, her nails painted in red polish. Her fair skin glowed despite the crow’s feet around her eyes. Her cornflower blue eyes squinted as she gaped at Lance.
He extended his hand. “Lance Taylor.”
She accepted the gesture. “Victoria Cruise.” Then she pointed at him. “I’ve seen that face.” She reached for an in-flight magazine. Thumbing through the pages, her eyes bugged. “That’s where I know you from. You’re marrying the model! Andrea Williams!”
Lance looked around to see if anyone was listening. He cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And respectful.” Her eyes gleamed. “I knew you were a gentleman.”
Lance smiled. “Thank my parents. They raised me well.” He ignored the twinge in his chest.
“Are you excited about your big day?” Victoria asked.
Lance didn’t care to talk for the entire flight, but he wouldn’t be rude. “I am.” That’s what he told himself despite the headaches the wedding planning brought.
“It’ll be over before you know it. The ceremony itself is less than an hour depending on what you’re doing. Marriage is the key. That’s when the work begins.”
“I’ve heard that.” He saw the commitment in his parents. Even his best friend found love with Elise, and Grant shared occasionally on how they make it work. It wasn’t a cakewalk.
“Don’t worry. As long as you both are willing, you can make it work.” Victoria patted his hand. “I was married for thirty years before my husband passed. Colon cancer. We had our trials, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”