by Liz Talley
“That she is.”
“Hmm” was all Evan managed.
The waiter arrived. “Is everything satisfactory?”
Evan issued a dry laugh. “The wine and appetizer are fine. The rest of it, we’re still deciding.”
Daphne looked down at her half of the uneaten crab cake and wondered how to handle such a situation. She had no idea if Evan was angry or if he even liked her enough to continue the evening. If he thought he was embarrassed and at a loss, he didn’t have to look far to find someone who felt the exact same way. Still, she liked him and had hoped that he might be a possibility. Lord knew she needed something good on the horizon of her personal life.
“Shall I come back?” the waiter asked.
Daphne looked at Evan, hoping he wasn’t going to ask for the check. “I am ready. If you are, Evan.”
Evan hesitated for a few seconds before looking up from his menu. His gaze caught and held hers, and she could see all his emotions whirling within the depths. She was fairly certain hers carried the same combination of doubt and hope. Finally, he nodded. “I think I am, too.”
Inwardly, Daphne sighed with relief. At least her first date wouldn’t end up like something in a Cosmopolitan dating article titled “He Thought He Was Going to Dinner With My Daughter! OMG!”
After they both ordered a steak, the waiter left. Evan drew in a deep breath and blew it out. “You know, this is a strange situation, but it would have been even worse if I had asked via email and your daughter had shown up. At least it’s with you.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”
“It is. The moment I saw you, I was into you. Of course, I thought we already had a relationship, so I was prepared to like you.” He gave her a smile that smoothed the wrinkles inside her. “That’s probably a bit too much to think about.”
Daphne gave him a soft smile. “It’s not. I am happy that when you met me, the real me, you liked me enough to ask me out. I don’t know why Ellery did what she did. She’s going through some things right now, and we’re not really on the best terms. But the truth is I’m very happy to be here with you.”
His gaze reflected pleasure at her words. “Okay, so since we truly don’t know that much about each other after all, I guess we get to do this whole first-date thing the way it was intended. So, baby . . . what’s your sign?”
Daphne managed a laugh. “My birthday is next month. I’m turning forty, by the way. I’m approaching over the hill, so if you want to ask for those steaks to go, I’ll understand.”
“I don’t eat cold steak, so you’re stuck with me on this date. Besides, you look maybe thirty-one or thirty-two years old. If that.”
“But I didn’t get carded,” she said.
“Well, it’s a classy restaurant. They would never do something so lowbrow,” he said with another grin.
“And if they had carded me?”
“Then they can see, quite obviously, that you look too young to drink.”
“Good answer.” She laughed.
The early discomfort began to melt, and for the next hour and a half, they chatted about everything from the upcoming holidays to places they’d traveled to favorite actors. By the time the check came, Daphne had almost forgotten about the odd circumstance that had brought them here. She’d had such a good time, enjoyed his charm and humor, and felt nice, warm fuzzies when she thought about the possibility of a good night kiss. It was a good first date.
Until Ellery walked by.
And saw them.
They were just about to slide from the booth and leave when Ellery walked by with two of her friends from work. They’d obviously just gotten off because they were dressed to sell.
Daphne opened her mouth to say hello but snapped it closed when she saw the coldness in her daughter’s eyes. Total disdain layered with surprise, likely at seeing her mother with Evan, shone within the depths. Then her daughter turned her head and kept walking, giving her own mother a direct cut.
The hurt was like an ice pick plunged into the depths of Daphne’s heart.
She must have made a noise, because Evan, who was smart enough to figure out the dynamics on display, stood and assisted her from the booth, taking her elbow and then tucking her close in a semihug that normally would have been the beginning of something flirty and intimate, but instead felt more like someone tossing her a life jacket in a sudden storm.
“Let’s just go,” he said, his voice tender.
He felt sorry for her.
It was in that moment that anger planted itself in her soul. Or perhaps the seeds were already there, sown by too many years of making the most of every situation, smoothing everyone else’s ruffled feathers, and pretending her feelings weren’t the most important. She’d spent last weekend lying for her daughter after she abandoned her own damned party. Then she’d spent the week getting terse emails and texts from her “assistant,” who no longer saw the value in working from her mother’s home and refused to discuss anything more personal than hotel accommodations for the tour. The week had been strained, and Daphne’s nerves felt like taut piano wire awaiting the first strike.
She wanted to march over to her daughter, who sat with her friends, smiling at the waiter in that charming manner that rendered her the best service, and ask her how she was paying for dinner at an expensive restaurant when she had crushing credit card debt. Or ask her why she had lied to Evan and strung him along on a relationship that couldn’t exist. Or . . . or . . .
She shouldn’t. It was striking low and being petty.
But then she looked again at the sympathy in Evan’s eyes.
“Let me just say hello to my daughter,” she said before she could think better of it.
Straightening her shoulders, she plastered a smile on her face and walked toward their table.
“Hi, Mrs. Witt,” Rachel said. The rather plain girl had come to the party last weekend, but Daphne hadn’t spoken to her beyond a polite hello and “Pass the chardonnay.” The other woman had been there, too, but Daphne couldn’t recall her name.
“Hello, girls. I saw you pass by and thought I would say hello,” Daphne said.
Ellery studied the menu and didn’t look up.
“This is Fiona. I don’t think you met her last weekend. She works at Selber’s at the makeup counter. This is Ellery’s mom.” Rachel looked at Ellery, her face reflecting confusion at Ellery ignoring her.
“Rachel, are you having the wedding-cake martini?” Ellery said, not bothering to acknowledge Daphne. Her slight was as plain as the font on the menu.
A worm of ire coiled round Daphne’s wounded heart. “Yes, you should all have that one. It was delicious. Well, I should get back to my date. Just wanted to say hello. Nice to meet you, Fiona. Have fun!”
Daphne hadn’t had a martini, but they didn’t have to know that.
“I’m sure he’ll be the one having fun later. Or is he too old for you?” Ellery looked up at her with cold blue eyes.
Any other time, Daphne would have shattered at the one person she adored treating her with such disdain, but anger at her daughter overshadowed the pain. Daphne looked over her shoulder at the handsome man waiting apprehensively near the exit. “Oh no. I like them all ages, and that one will do nicely. I guess I should thank you, darling, for doing all the legwork for me.”
Then she spun on the heel of her boot and walked away as calmly as she could manage. Beneath her frozen facade was a tumultuous tsunami of emotion, but she wasn’t letting anyone in that restaurant know, especially not Ellery.
“You’re welcome, whore,” Ellery called.
A clattering of forks, a clink of glasses, the hum of low conversation all faded to silence. This time it was as if an arrow had thumped into her back, skewering her, making her steps almost falter. But she didn’t acknowledge the insult hurled at her. No. Daphne refused to give her daughter the satisfaction. She kept walking because if she could just reach the man standing near the foyer with a befuddled a
nd irritated look on his face, she would be okay. Just ten steps. Eight. Five. Two.
“Is everything okay, madam?” the maître d’ asked, stepping in front of her, glancing over her shoulder to where Ellery sat with her friends.
“Everything’s fine, but I think my daughter has had too much to drink. You probably shouldn’t serve her any more alcohol.” She looked at Evan, begging herself not to crack. “Shall we?”
His expression was dark, his gaze unfathomable, but he took her elbow once again, tucked her in close, and grabbed a mint. “Let’s roll.”
When they stepped outside, Daphne started to tremble. “I’m so sorry I caused a scene. I shouldn’t have gone over there.” At those words, her teeth began to chatter.
Evan pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. The pimply valet drivers darted around them like planes circling a landing field. She pressed her cheek to his jacket and tried not to cry. A single tear escaped, a rebellious droplet determined to betray her mask of control.
“It’s okay, Daphne. She had no right to say that.”
Evan couldn’t know that Daphne had slept with Ellery’s ex-boyfriend or that her daughter had caught her with Clay, shirt half-unbuttoned and lips swollen from his kisses. Daphne giving in to her insecurities (and renewed sex drive) had created a huge fracture across the bridge of ice she and Ellery had skated on for the past few months. Or maybe that bridge was missing pieces. Perhaps it was completely gone.
Her daughter had just called her a whore in the middle of a restaurant.
That bridge was definitely gone.
“Thank you,” she whispered against a cashmere scarf that smelled like English Leather. She knew it wasn’t English Leather because what man under the age of fifty wore English Leather, but it was similar to what her grandfather had worn—familiar, warm, but not exactly grandfatherly.
Evan released her and handed the claim ticket to one of the valets buzzing around them. “Let’s get out of here.”
Daphne had never agreed with a suggestion more.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dear Evan,
By this time I’m sure you know that I am not the creator of Dixie Doodle and am instead the assistant who answers fan mail. I have no good reason for doing what I did other than I liked you, and your emails gave me something to look forward to at the end of each day. My life hasn’t been going according to plan, and it was sheer selfishness and weakness that made me do what I did. You made me feel normal at a time that is anything but in my life. I sincerely apologize. You’re a very nice man and deserve the truth.
With that being said, if you’re going to date my mother, you should ask her about what led me to call her that terrible word. I am sorry about doing it in a public setting, but I stick to my belief that she is indeed a whore.
Most sincerely,
Ellery Witt
Ellery pressed the send button and glanced at her friends, who had gone back to talking about the upcoming holiday work schedule that had been released. The waiter had politely but firmly refused to serve her anything other than iced tea, which was rather odd, but she figured Daphne had something to do with that. Or perhaps she’d been cut off before she’d begun because of her outburst.
She supposed she deserved as much.
She, Rachel, and Fiona had decided to grab appetizers and martinis after a long day, and Fiona had suggested Sutton’s Steakhouse because she was on the prowl and wanted a few wingmen to fly with her in the adjoining bar later. Ellery had wanted to go home and pull on jammies, but she knew Josh was studying and would be home late. So she reluctantly agreed to the peer pressure exerted by her coworkers.
When she’d seen her mother sitting with Evan, it was like gasoline being poured onto smoldering ashes. Swoosh! Her thoughts tripped over each other. What the hell? Evan had a connection with her. Not Daphne. Yeah, he didn’t know that, but that didn’t matter. Ellery was the person he’d shared his troubles and dreams with. Not Daphne. Her mother didn’t get to have him. Not after what she’d done.
Ellery had pressed her fingernails into her palms and forced herself to remain calm. After her initial reaction of sheer rage, she’d felt a bit of relief. Evan and her mother would have figured everything out by now. Now at least everything was out in the open. But then her mother had approached their table. Ellery had tried not to be provoked, but when she’d looked up at her mother, the glint in Daphne’s eyes paired with Evan standing in the background looking concerned had made Ellery so angry that those horrible words flew out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
But she meant them. Or at least she meant the whore part.
“I can’t believe Susan got both Black Friday and every Saturday in December off. What kind of bullshit is that?” Fiona drawled, sipping her martini and spearing another olive from their cheese board. “Ellery, snap out of it. Your mom’s gone, and the maître d’ has stopped shooting us dirty looks.”
Ellery looked at Fiona. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”
Rachel shot a sympathetic smile at her. “That was a little dramatic, but don’t worry, we’ll still hang with you. Come on, stop moping. You’re a tough cookie, Elle.”
Was she? She didn’t feel that way. She felt more like a cookie that crumbled at the slightest pressure, leaving pieces of herself behind. Beneath her bluster was a blister, rubbed raw and never healing. How did one heal a blister? Oh yeah, they stuck to the stupid plan and stopped wearing things that made the blister. “Yeah, well, sometimes tough cookies crumble. It’s been a suck-ass year so far.”
“Says she with this on her finger,” Fiona teased, picking up Ellery’s hand so her diamond engagement ring caught the light above and looked extra bling-y. The classic, princess-cut diamond seemed to be mocking her because her one night with Josh had yielded no sex or intimacy. After the movie, he’d followed her upstairs, tucked her into bed, and avoided any attempt to talk him into staying in bed with her. He’d gone to study. She’d spent the rest of the week as she’d spent the others—alone and stir crazy—trying to stick to her plan of not complaining and giving Josh the room he needed.
And trying not to think about stupid Gage and the number she’d copied from her hand onto hotel stationery and slid into her wallet. The paper she was supposed to tear up and toss.
But didn’t.
“Ha,” Ellery said, pulling her hand away. “That’s the only good thing about this year.”
“You graduated,” Rachel pointed out with a sigh. “I can’t wait until I have a diploma.”
“Stop changing your major and you will,” Fiona said good-naturedly. Then she glanced over at Ellery. “I know you’re pissed at your mom for whatever reason, but who was that hottie hotster with her?”
Ellery shrugged. “Just some guy. She’s dating again. Obviously.”
“Is that why you’re mad?” Rachel asked.
“No,” Ellery said, looking off, wishing like hell she could talk her waiter into a drink. She needed one. Or five. She waved at their waiter. He ignored her. “I’m not mad she’s dating.”
“Then why call her a whore?” Rachel asked.
Ellery leveled a glare at her friend. “I told y’all I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“But talking about things that bother you with your friends is how you get past it,” Rachel said, sipping her vodka tonic and giving Ellery an earnest look.
But they weren’t her friends. Not really. But then again, maybe they were. The girls who’d always been there for her seemed to have moved on with their lives. In fact, Madison had sent her a text saying she wasn’t ready to talk to Ellery yet for bailing on the weekend like a “spoiled child.” Maybe it was true that she was still a spoiled child, but Ellery preferred to think of her fleeing to Dallas as self-preservation. It wasn’t like the party didn’t go on without her. She knew it had because her mother had texted her pictures designed, no doubt, to make her feel guilty. Ellery did feel guilty, but she also knew that if she had
stayed, something bad would have happened. She might have said something she couldn’t take back.
Then again, she wasn’t certain she could fix what her earlier words had done.
Whore. God, such an ugly word.
“Fine. My mother slept with a younger guy, someone almost my age, and then there’s just a lot of other stuff. Stuff with my dad. With Josh. With my future. Is that what you wanted to know? That my life is falling apart, and the one person I should be able to turn to is my mom, but she’s, like, way over there on the other side, and I can’t even begin to figure out how to reach her or if I even care to. Because I’m pissed at her. And at my dad. And at myself for the decisions I’ve been making lately.”
Rachel and Fiona probably hadn’t expected her to unload that much crap, but, hey, Rachel asked.
Her work friends glanced at each other and looked uneasy. Fiona leaned forward and placed her hand on Ellery’s. “You know, that really sucks.”
“Yeah,” Rachel said. “I mean, I knew you were sort of down about Josh studying so much, and then your mom said you got sick on Saturday. I didn’t know you were feeling this way.”
Ellery hadn’t expected her admission to feel . . . so freeing. “Yeah, I have been trying to have a good attitude about things, but sometimes it’s hard.”
“We all have stuff we hide from everyone,” Fiona said, signaling to the waiter, who veered their direction. “I’m so damned tired of every person I date being such a loser. And I still live with my parents. How’s that for sad?”
The waiter arrived. “Anything else, ladies?”
“Yeah, I’ll have another one of these, and my friend Ellery, who is not inebriated, needs a drink.”
The waiter made a frowny face. “But—”
Fiona gave him a hard look. “Nope. Her mother is being a bitch, and she needs a drink. So bring her one of these.”
The waiter glanced over at Ellery.
“Please,” Ellery said.
“Fine,” he said, gliding away.
“I slept with a guy last week, and I don’t even know his name. Like not even his first name. We were over at my friend Sally’s, and we drank a lot, and somehow I ended up in the bathroom with him. No clue what his name was. Thing is, I only did it because he told me my eyes were pretty.” Rachel drained the last of her drink and thumped it on the table. “And I think I’m getting a C in Bio Chem. So, yeah, we all got stuff that we would rather not show others.”
