“Right.” She nods eagerly.
Finally, we arrive in the lingerie department. She shoots me a glance. “You, uh, don’t have to hang out here if you don’t want.”
I can’t help my grin. “This is my favorite department.”
She huffs a laugh and shakes her head. “Fine.” She quickly chooses a pair of pajamas, some panties, and a couple of basic bras. I note the size, and when she disappears into a change room, I browse through sexier offerings. She should have something prettier than basic beige. Nothing wrong with basic beige, but I like imagining Lacey in…well, lace. Pink lace would look good on her.
She returns a while later with a load of clothing in her arms. “These all work,” she says. “Let’s pay.”
I add the pink lace bra and matching panties to the pile. Her eyebrows fly up.
“Just go with it.”
Once we have a couple of shopping bags in our hands, I nod to the shoe department. “I like your Chucks, but you might need a pair of sandals or something.”
“Right.”
We soon have her outfitted with footwear. “Okay. Where next? Do you need to buy makeup or stuff?”
She laughs. “I do need a few things.”
“There’s a Sephora here.”
Her eyes widen. “I love Sephora.” She sighs. “But it’s expensive. I can just go to a drugstore. And I do need toothpaste and shampoo.”
“We can do both.”
She sucks her bottom lip briefly as we stroll through the mall, and I can tell she’s uncomfortable. I slide my fingers around her hand and squeeze. “Hey. We’re doing each other favors, right?” She lifts her gaze to meet my eyes. “You’re going to help me out at the party on Saturday. I’m getting something out of this too.”
She nods slowly. “My life sucks.”
I smile and stop, tugging her hand so she faces me. “I know. Right now it does. But it’s all going to be fine.”
The corners of her mouth lift in response. “Yeah.”
We hit the Sephora and even though I’d rather hang out with the other dudes sitting in leather armchairs outside the store, I go in with Lacey. Mercifully she’s quick in getting the things she needs and then we’re out of the mall. I spotted a CVS on our way here, so we make one more stop, grabbing a few grocery items too, and then we’re on our way home.
Home.
The sky is a clear blue above the ocean and I see Lacey look longingly at the beach as we get out of the car.
“Let’s go,” I say, once we’ve carried in our purchases.
She blinks. “Go where?”
“Down to the water. You know you want to.”
“You have to go to work.”
“Yeah. But I can take a few minutes to walk on the beach.”
She toes off her Chucks and she’s gone, out the patio doors and running across the sand, her skirt billowing around her, hair flying in the gentle wind. I laugh as I lock the door and follow her, leaving my sandals on my patio.
Her joy fills me with a soft warmth, her laughter floating back to me on the breeze as she reaches the water and comes to a halt. She doesn’t move when a wave washes over her feet, foaming around her ankles.
“Look! I’m in the ocean!” She holds her arms out and turns her face up to the sun.
“Yeah.” I grin. “Pretty awesome, huh?”
“I love it!” Another wave splashes higher, and she squeals and dances out of the water. “It’s cold, though!”
I grew up in Canada where my dad played hockey in Montreal until I was about six. Then he bought into a major junior team in Drummondville, Quebec, so we moved there. I played hockey in Moncton, New Brunswick, got drafted by the Pittsburgh Penguins and I played there after a couple of seasons in Wilkes-Barre. Grandpa and Chelsea have lived here a long time though, and I’ve visited them so many times I guess I’ve come to take the sun and the palm trees and the ocean for granted. Seeing Lacey’s enjoyment of her first time at the ocean fills me with pleasure. I feel like making her happy and seeing her smile is gratifying. Contagious.
Chapter 11
Lacey
“My life doesn’t suck.”
I say it out loud to myself, after I’m back at the condo and Théo has left for his office.
This may not be something I ever expected, but I’m lying here on a beautiful patio where I’ve been sunbathing in my bikini, looking out at the Pacific Ocean with the sun on my bare skin. I can pretend I have no problems—no bookies chasing me, no brother who’s in debt trying to pimp me out, no negative bank balance, and no unemployment.
It’s been so long since I had this feeling…just being able to relax and not worry about bills and debts and other people.
I could get a job here. I will do that. I at least can make some money so Théo doesn’t have to buy my clothes.
I don’t have a car, and this city is the kind of place you need a car, I think. But I’ll figure that out. I’ll figure it all out and then…and then…I’ll be fine.
The ocean shifts and sparkles in the distance. Sailboats bob across the water. Thin white clouds streak the bright sky, and the voices of some guys playing volleyball down the beach carry to me on the fresh breeze.
My life doesn’t suck.
The water mesmerizes me. It’s so huge and endless, the waves constant. I feel like I could sit and stare at it forever and maybe the solutions to all my problems would come to me.
Ha.
I can live in this moment, though. I’ve been doing that for so long, because worrying about my mom and Chris and what was going to happen and how we’d get out of debt was too much to bear, so I’m pretty good at it.
My thoughts turn to Théo. I’ve slept with him the last two nights, but “sleeping with him” is not a euphemism for sex. Dammit.
I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to have sex with a man I just met the way I do with Théo. I haven’t had a lot of men in my life. I had a boyfriend in high school, and I went out with a few guys after graduation, but my mom got sick when I was about twenty-one and my life was consumed by working three jobs at times to pay her medical bills, looking after her, and keeping Chris out of trouble.
There’s something about Théo…he’s a man. That probably sounds weird; he’s twenty-eight, only four years older than me, not exactly ancient, but he has such a mature air about him, something solid and honest and real. He not only has a job, it’s an important job. He has his life figured out and knows what he wants and where he’s going, whereas I have no clue.
Maybe it’s time for me to do that. To figure out what I want from life and go after it.
Théo said he’d be home around six, so I decide I’ll have dinner ready for him, like a good wife. I’m afraid I’m probably going to be a terrible wife, but it seems like the least I can do for him after all he’s done for me. And yeah, he’s getting something out of this too, but right now it feels a little lopsided.
I’m in the kitchen snooping through cupboards when I hear the front door open. I turn with a big smile, expecting Théo early. “Hiiiii!”
A woman stands inside the door.
I freeze.
We stare at each other.
Uh…“Hi?” I offer. I’m acutely aware that I am wearing only a tiny red bikini.
She tilts her head and the way she does it reminds me of Théo. She’s lovely…glossy, layered dark hair brushes her shoulders. She reminds me of Tina Fey. Except when she speaks she has a French accent. “Hello. I’m sorry. I didn’t know Théo had someone staying with him.”
She says Théo’s name differently—Tay-oh. Not Thee-oh, like everyone else has been saying. Even he himself pronounced it Thee-oh.
“You’re Aline, aren’t you.”
Her eyes widen. “Yes. Aline Gagnon.”
Her French pronunciation of her name delights me and I smile.
“And you are…?”
“Oh! I’m Lacey. Lacey Olson.” I pause, thinking about whether I should call myself Lacey Wynn. But we haven’t had time to think about that, even if our marriage was real, and besides…Théo’s mom’s name isn’t Wynn. Curious. “I’m, uh…”
Aline presses her fingers to her mouth and takes a step forward. “Are you Théo’s girlfriend?”
“Weeeell.” This isn’t how I imagined meeting his mom, but might as well do this. “I’m his wife.”
Aline gasps.
“I’m sorry.” Now I move toward her, my hands out, wishing I had on more clothes. “I know this is a shock. This isn’t how we wanted to tell you.”
She blinks rapidly, her lips parted. “His wife. You’re…married?” She takes in a shaky breath. “He didn’t tell us…”
“I know. I’m sorry. But it happened really fast, sort of a last-minute decision because he was leaving Las Vegas and—”
“Oh.” She covers her mouth and nose with both hands now, her eyes shiny. “Mon dieu, mon fils est marié!”
I have no idea what she just said, but she’s about to cry and I don’t know if she’s happy or distraught. “We were going to tell you, uh, this weekend when we see you. I’m really sorry! Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay! My son got married to a woman I don’t even know, without even telling us.” She pauses. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re a lovely person. You are beautiful.” She studies me, her expression still pained. “I’m just shocked. And…and hurt. And disappointed.” Her eyes tear up again. “I missed my son’s wedding.”
I nibble my bottom lip. “You didn’t miss much. It was very quick. But it was all we needed,” I add hastily.
She swipes fingertips beneath her eyes and takes a breath. “I apologize for becoming so emotional.”
“No, it’s fine! I totally understand.” Jesus. This isn’t good. Théo’s mom hates me. As if they don’t have enough tension in their family, now I’ve added to it. I clasp and twist my hands together. I’ve caused Théo more problems than I’m helping him with. He’s going to hate me too.
Oh shit, now I’m tearing up. My bottom lip quivers.
“Oh, don’t you cry too! I’m sorry!” Aline flies toward me, arms outstretched. “Please.”
She wraps me up in an unexpected hug. Momentarily I stiffen, then cautiously hug her back. “You are my belle-fille.” She draws back and smiles. “That is daughter-in-law. Translated literally, it is beautiful girl, or beautiful daughter. And that is what you are.”
I suck in a shaky breath. Okay, maybe she doesn’t hate me.
“I’m so happy for Théo that he has found someone. Someone to love. He can be difficult to love.”
“I don’t think so,” I reply honestly. I mean, I’m not in love with him, but he’s not that bad.
She beams.
“He can be a little rigid and picky, but—”
Aline laughs. “You do know him.” She releases me and steps back. “I brought some food for dinner. I didn’t know you were here, obviously.” She goes back to the door and picks up a couple of shopping bags. “It’s just a few things.”
I take one of the bags and move to set it on the counter. “You’ve done so much to help Théo get settled in. He really appreciates it.”
She waves a hand. “I’m so happy he’s living close now.” She purses her lips. “I fear Théo doesn’t feel the same about his family.”
“He will.” I nod firmly. “I know there are bad feelings, but family is family.”
Aline tilts her head, again reminding me of Théo. “Just so,” she murmurs. “What about your family? Were they at the wedding?”
“I don’t have much family. My mom passed away a few years ago.”
“Oh! C’est terrible. Pauvre enfant.” Her eyes soften.
“Uh…”
“I apologize again. I don’t speak French very often, but when I get emotional, I slip back into it. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks. It was a difficult time. I never knew my father, and my twin brother, Chris, is…well, I’m not sure where he is.”
She frowns. “You have quarreled?”
“Sort of.”
“As have Théo and his brother.” She grimaces.
“So I understand.”
“Well. We won’t get into that. Tell Théo I was here.”
“I will. I’m sure he’ll be sorry he missed you. And sorry about not telling you sooner that we got married.”
Her mouth firms. “I now am angry.” She notices my face, and her mouth softens. “Un petit peu. Not at you. We’ll see you Saturday evening. Tell Théo seven o’clock.”
“I will. Thank you again for all you’ve done.”
I see her to the door where she gives me another quick hug and leaves.
I sag against the wall and close my eyes. Fuuuuuck.
Which is worse…Théo’s mom hating me? Or Théo’s mom happy for us…because what will happen when our “marriage” ends?
* * *
—
I have dinner ready when Théo arrives home, which was easy because of the roasted chicken Aline brought over. There were also side dishes of mashed potatoes, gravy, and vegetables, along with some fresh rolls that would be good for chicken sandwiches tomorrow with the leftovers.
“Wow, smells good in here,” Théo says as he enters the kitchen.
“Dinner’s ready!”
“Awesome. I’m going to go change. Be right back.”
He went to work dressed in casual pants and a button-down shirt, but he returns wearing the black athletic shorts he’d had on this morning and a T-shirt. I’ve changed into a new pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
“Where’d you get this chicken?” he asks as we sit down to eat.
“Well. Funny story.” I cut a piece of white meat. “Your mom stopped by with it.”
He freezes, fork halfway to his mouth. “Say what now?”
My smile is big and tight. “Yeah. She brought over food, not knowing I was here. Let’s just say it was a bit of a shock for her.”
“No shit.” He drops his fork onto his plate and stares at me. “You…told her?”
“Yep. She got a little…upset.” I eye him warily. “I think she wanted to be at your wedding. Of course, doesn’t every mom? So I totally understand.”
“Shit.”
“But it’s okay,” I continue quickly. “I think she was coming around to the idea.”
“Shit.”
“I know.” I sigh. “She seems really nice.”
“Yeah.”
“I apologized.” I fill him in on the conversation in detail.
“I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“And she said to come at seven o’clock on Saturday.”
“Perfect.” His tone is dry. “I wonder if she’s telling everyone else or waiting to surprise them too.”
I set my fork down and drop my head. “You regret this, don’t you?”
He doesn’t reply right away, and I peek up at him.
He moves his head side to side. “No.”
Our eyes meet and that smoldering heat is back, burning over my skin, settling low inside me. My short breaths lift my breasts and Théo’s gaze slowly drops there, lingers, then glides back up and lands on my mouth. My lungs burn and my lips part.
“I don’t regret it,” he says gruffly, breaking eye contact and staring at his plate. “But it’s probably a bad idea for us to actually get involved.”
I blink. Then I frown. “What?”
“I know there’s this”—he waves a hand back and forth—“attraction between us, but I’ve go
t a lot on my plate right now. I’ve got a family that’s nuttier than squirrel shit. I’ve got a new job where people are already talking about how I only got the job because I’m the owner’s grandson. I’ve got a million things to learn and just about as many decisions to make. I have to do this.” His hands curl into fists and his voice is fierce. “I can’t get distracted from what I need to do.”
The heat scorching my body intensifies to mortification. I told him I wanted to sleep with him. Jesus. Why did I say that? But then, he’d asked if it would be okay to act on the lust we were both clearly feeling. “You’ve changed your mind,” I say coolly. “When we were driving here yesterday, you seemed pretty into it.”
If we both wanted it…would it be okay to act on that?
Well, I already said I’m not opposed to sleeping with you.
Oh my Gaga. I close my eyes. Why did I say that?
“That was a mistake.” He rubs the back of his neck and looks away. “You make me do crazy things.”
My eyes fly open wide. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
His head snaps back around, eyebrows pulling down over his nose. “What?”
“You can’t do that.” I slide off my stool and stand, planting my hands on my hips and glaring at him. “Shifting blame like that. Be a man, for God’s sake. Take responsibility for your own actions. I haven’t made you do anything.”
His eyebrows fly up into his hairline. “No! That’s not what I meant.”
“So this is a business deal after all.” Bitterness edges my voice.
“No. I told you. We’re friends helping each other out.”
“Friends.” My throat squeezes up. I shake my head. He wants to be friends. How can he ignore this growing, sizzling lust? Or maybe it is just me.
FML.
“Okay,” I finally manage to say, sounding sane and calm even though my chest hurts and my stomach cramps. I think I sound sane. “Friends. Got it. You’re right. That’s what we should do.” I take a calmative breath and perch on the stool again. I stare at what’s left of my dinner. Ugh.
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