The Cliff House

by RaeAnne Thayne

  “You look nice,” he said when she stepped away.

  “Thanks. I was going to say the same thing to you. Are you heading to a football thing?”

  The high school team he coached hadn’t opened its season yet but she knew Shane often got together socially with his staff.

  He shifted. “No, actually. I’ve, uh, got a date.”

  A date.

  The news seemed to wallop her from out of nowhere, as if he’d picked up one of Mari’s boogie boards from the pool storage and whacked her over the head with it.

  He dated. She knew he did. She had even tried to set him up with friends of hers, with little success. Since he’d moved into the guesthouse, though, she hadn’t been aware of him going out. She should have expected it, though.

  She did her best to try for a casual tone. “Oh. With whom?”

  “The new French teacher at the high school. Mademoiselle Martin.”

  “That sounds nice,” she lied. They were friends. She should be happy for him, not feeling suddenly sick at the images suddenly flashing through her head of him sharing croissants with an elegantly dressed, perfectly made-up woman.

  The woman taught French. She wasn’t necessarily French herself. The reminder didn’t help.

  “What about you? Where are you off to?”

  She didn’t want to tell him, suddenly. He and her ex-husband weren’t exactly the best of buddies—probably her fault, since she had cried on Shane’s shoulder as her marriage was imploding.

  “Cruz is taking us to dinner to celebrate Mari’s birthday.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You mean the birthday she had months ago?”

  “He was on tour in Europe at the time and couldn’t arrange to make it back in time.”

  Cruz could easily have flown Mari to Italy to meet him but he hadn’t suggested it and she hadn’t, either. She’d been selfishly glad. She liked having her daughter to herself on Mari’s birthday.

  “So a makeup birthday dinner.”

  “Yes.”

  “Sounds like fun. Have a good evening,” he said.

  “Same to you. Say bonjour to the new French teacher.”

  His mouth worked into what might have been a smile as he turned away, but she couldn’t quite tell.

  She waved him off, then let her hand flop back to her side when he was out of sight.

  Well. That answered that. He couldn’t have made it more plain that he didn’t care about her spending time with Cruz. She had obviously imagined this new dynamic to their relationship, the awareness simmering between them. And Cruz had obviously been imagining things when he hinted Shane was interested in being more than friends.

  He was dating other women and hadn’t blinked when she told him she was spending time with her ex-husband. She needed to accept that she and Shane were friends. It was unfair of her to suddenly change the rules and want more.

  When she walked into the kitchen, she found Mari and Cruz watching a video featuring people lip-synching one of his songs. They were laughing uproariously at some of the garbled lyrics. She had to admit, it was pretty funny how people could get the words so wrong.

  Who was she to laugh at anyone else when she was getting everything wrong in her life right about now?

  “Okay. I’m ready,” she said as soon as the clip ended, before Mari could find another one. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  Cruz flicked the remote to turn off the small wall-mounted TV. “You were worth the wait, babe. You look great.”

  She had been working all day and felt frumpy and disheveled, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel a burst of warmth at the appreciation in his eyes.

  She was a woman. She liked to feel attractive to someone, even if it wasn’t necessarily the person she wanted noticing her.

  “Thanks,” she answered.

  When they walked outside to the circular driveway, she found one of Cruz’s shiny black luxury Cadillac SUVs. He probably had a half dozen of them.

  He held the passenger door open for her—props to him for that—and helped Mari into the back seat.

  “No driver tonight?” Cruz usually didn’t go anywhere without Diego, who was both bodyguard and chauffeur.

  “No need. I’m with my family in Cape Sanctuary. Nothing will happen here.”

  She doubted he had expected anything to happen to him that night in Dallas, either, she wanted to point out. In the interest of getting along, she held her tongue.

  “Dad,” Mari said as soon as Cruz pulled out of the driveway, “did I tell you about the new friend I made? Aunt Stella introduced me to her the other day. She just moved here from Pasadena.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Her name is Rowan. She’s a year older than me and she’s super nice. Aunt Stella took us shopping for swimsuits because Rowan is going to come over the day after tomorrow to hang out and meet some of my other friends.”

  “That should be fun.”

  “Aunt Stella thought she should make new friends before school starts.”

  “I still can’t believe you’re going to middle school.”

  “I know, right?”

  While Cruz drove faster than Bea necessarily liked, Mari regaled her father all the way to the restaurant with a long story about the classes she was taking and where her locker was and how she hoped it would be close to her new friend Rowan’s.

  He found a decent parking space outside The Fishwife, Mari’s favorite. As usual, when they walked inside, people did a double take as they spotted Cruz Romero. Bea could see the whispered conversations begin.

  The townspeople of Cape Sanctuary usually left their hometown boy alone but the tourist season was still in full swing for another month or so and she could sense heads begin to swivel in their direction.

  Oh, yeah. Now she remembered why she disliked going out in public with him. Her ex-husband commanded attention wherever he went.

  The hostess was leading them out to the patio, at Cruz’s request, to the prime seats in the house near the railing that looked over the bay when they passed a familiar figure.

  Bea stumbled a little. Seriously? There were at least a dozen nice restaurants in Cape Sanctuary. With all those options, why did Shane have to choose this one?

  Mari, of course, lit up when she spotted her buddy. “Hey, Shane!” she exclaimed as they were led past the table where he sat with his very pretty French teacher—who was, in fact, wearing an elaborately twisted silk scarf in a very continental style, as Bea might have predicted.

  Shane didn’t look nearly as thrilled to see the three of them. He glowered for a moment, which actually made Bea’s spirits brighten. Was it possible he wasn’t as sanguine about her being with Cruz as he had appeared earlier?

  “Hi, Mari, Bea. Cruz.”

  Cruz put his arms around both her and Mari, clearly staking his territory. “Landry. Fancy meeting you here.”

  “We’re celebrating my birthday again,” Mari chirped. “I might even get birthday cake.”

  “That’s what I hear. Happy birthday. Again.”

  The woman with him was giving Cruz a starstruck look, one Bea had seen countless times before.

  She made a slight sound, halfway between a gurgle and a sigh, which compelled Shane to make the introduction.

  “Vanessa Martin, this is my, uh, friend and landlady, Beatriz Romero, her daughter, Mari, and her ex-husband, Cruz. Everyone, this is Vanessa. She’s a new teacher at the high school, just moved here from Bakersfield.”

  Bea wanted to dislike the woman but she had such a soft spot for teachers after seeing all the hard work her aunt Stella put in to do her best for her students.

  “Hi, Vanessa. Nice to meet you.”

  “Uh. Thanks.” The woman managed to shift her gaze from Cruz long enough to give Bea a tentative smile before she looked back at him wi
th a dazzled expression.

  “Mr. Romero,” she said breathlessly. “I’m a huge fan. My students turned me on to your music and I just love it so much. I have you in my head all the time when I’m running.”

  Naturally, she would be a runner, thin and graceful and lovely. Bea was lucky if she could walk down the sidewalk without tripping over a crack.

  Cruz gave her his most charming smile. “Is that right? I hope I’m good company.”

  “The best,” she gushed. “You keep me running for miles. My Cruz playlist is my very favorite. If I had you on vinyl, that track would be worn down.”

  Knowing Cruz, he would have stayed there longer, soaking in the woman’s praise, but the hostess politely cleared her throat and Cruz took the hint.

  “It was lovely to meet you, Vanessa Martin,” he said with more of his charm, before letting the server lead them the rest of the way to their table.

  They were some distance away, much to her relief, and Bea deliberately chose a seat that put her back to Shane and his French teacher.

  They were able to order their food without interruption and the rest of the meal passed in relative peace. On the whole, the other diners left them alone to enjoy the patio’s lovely ambience and delicious food. Bea didn’t have to say much as Mari and Cruz seemed to have plenty to talk about.

  She tried not to be too aware of Shane and his date. Okay, she might have dropped her napkin a few times as an excuse to turn around.

  Right after ordering her favorite dessert here, the chocolate lava cake that always took extra time, Mari excused herself to use the bathroom. When Bea rose to go with her, Mari frowned. “Mom. I’m eleven years old. I’m about to go to middle school. Do you really think I still need a grown-up to take me to the bathroom?”

  She sighed and sat back down, knowing she was right. She wasn’t happy her daughter was growing up but she was even less thrilled at being alone with Cruz.

  “She’s a great kid. We did pretty good with that one, didn’t we?”

  Mari had been a sweet baby who grew up into an adorable toddler and a pretty decent child. Bea thought she’d been a good mother but Mari had made things extremely easy so far.

  Every moment of every day, she was grateful for their child.

  “She’s terrific. The one good thing that came out of our marriage.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Cruz picked up her fingers and played with her rings idly. Though she couldn’t see them from her vantage point, she was keenly aware of Shane and his date, some distance behind them.

  “Have you thought more about what I said the other night, about giving the two of us another shot?”

  Everything inside her seemed to tighten. “Of course I have,” she answered quietly. “How could I not think about it?”

  “And?”

  She slipped her fingers away. “We’re different people than we were twelve years ago when we ran away together. I feel like an entire ocean full of water has passed underneath that particular bridge.”

  He again placed his hand over hers, trapping it against the table and leaving her vaguely claustrophobic.

  “Don’t you feel like we owe it to our baby girl? She would love to have us back together. You know she would.”

  Before she could answer, two young women in their early twenties came over. “Sorry to bother you, Cruz, but we just love you and wonder if we could take a selfie with you.”

  Some celebrities would have told them no, that selfies could wait until this important conversation with his ex-wife was done. Cruz, on the other hand, jumped right up and put on his Sexy Pop Star face.

  “You got it, girls,” he said. He beamed at them, slinging an arm around one on each side.

  “Do you mind?” One of the young women handed her phone to Bea.

  She did mind. She minded very much, but since she couldn’t very well toss the phone on the table without looking like a bitch, she forced a smile, rose from the table and stepped back to fit all three of them in the frame.

  That seemed to start a chain reaction where every other diner on the patio wanted to take a picture with Cruz, and even people from inside the restaurant.

  All of them handed their phones to Bea, barely acknowledging her.

  Mari came back into the middle of the chaos. Their child rolled her eyes at the people making a fuss over her dad and started working on her chocolate lava cake.

  After a few more moments the maître d’ finally stepped forward and asked the other diners to return to their meals and allow Mr. Romero’s table a little bit of peace to finish their desserts.

  She sat back down but had lost her appetite for the fresh fruit tart she usually loved here.

  The interruptions provided a stark reminder to Bea of one of the key reasons her marriage hadn’t survived after Cruz found sudden fame with his first album.

  He was always there for his fans. It was in his nature. He couldn’t say no to anyone, no matter the circumstances or the venue. She certainly understood that he was a public person and had to be responsive to those who basically paid his salary, but the result was that she tended to disappear and she hated it. She hated the resentment; she hated the frustration; she hated always knowing she and Marisol would never be first in his world.

  “You were gone a long time,” she said now to her daughter. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. I stopped to talk to Shane about our Pinewood Derby car.”

  “What Pinewood Derby car?” Cruz asked.

  Mari immediately looked as if she regretted opening her mouth. Bea didn’t blame her. Cruz would posture and strut and claim he could make a far better car than anyone else.

  “Oh, nothing. Just a little project we’re working on,” Mari said.

  “For what?”

  There was no avoiding it. They would have to tell him. She and her daughter exchanged looks, Mari’s pleading with Bea to help her through the awkwardness.

  She finally spoke. “Mari’s Girl Scout troop is having a daddy-daughter event the same weekend as the festival. They’re having a Pinewood Derby and watching the fireworks together. Mari asked Shane to help her.”

  “I talked to you about a month ago and you said you would be on tour. Remember? When you said you couldn’t come, I asked Shane.”

  “Plans change. I’ll be here the rest of the month, so you can just tell Shane you don’t need his help anymore.”

  “But I already invited him. We already started working on my car.” Mari looked distressed. “I can’t un-ask him now. That would just be rude.”

  “I’m sure he would understand. If it’s a father-daughter event, your father ought to take you to it, not some jock who moved into your pool house.”

  Bea narrowed her gaze. “Shane is a well-respected teacher and coach.”

  “And he’s our friend,” Mari added.

  “And he’s our friend,” she agreed. She didn’t add that Shane was the one there to help Mari with homework or teach her how to make a layup or cheer her on at her soccer games.

  Cruz seemed to suddenly realize their discussion was drawing attention from nearby tables. He immediately tempered his stormy expression.

  That was another thing she had despised about being married to a celebrity. They could never have any authentic conversation in public without a constant awareness that people were watching them.

  They shouldn’t be having this discussion now, anyway. She didn’t want to ruin Mari’s birthday dinner, even if they were celebrating the event three months late.

  “We can talk about this later,” she said firmly. “Right now let’s enjoy our desserts.”

  Cruz looked as if he wanted to say more but something in her features must have changed his mind. “We have time. The arts festival is still, what, three weeks away? Maybe Mari should build a car with both of us and then decide which one sh
e likes better.”

  That wasn’t an ideal solution, forcing an eleven-year-old girl to choose between her father, whom she loved, and a dear friend whom she had made a previous commitment to.

  “We can figure it out,” Cruz said amiably. “Meanwhile, I was thinking about going horseback riding tomorrow. If you’re free, maybe you both could come with me.”

  “I can’t,” she answered with honest regret. She did love horseback riding and knew Cruz kept several excellent horses at Casa Del Mar. “I have to drive up to Trinidad in the morning to take a couple of my pieces to a gallery there. They’ve almost sold out of their inventory of my work and I promised the owner I would bring more.”

  She was particularly proud of that, especially the fact that she had achieved it on her own merits, not for being Cruz Romero’s ex-wife.

  “What about you, pumpkin? Want to go riding with me?”

  “Yes,” she exclaimed in excitement. “I haven’t seen Penelope since the last time you came to town and we went riding. I missed her.”

  “Great. We’ll go bright and early. I can pick you up. Better yet,” he said, “how could we convince your mom to let you stay the night at Casa Del Mar?”

  She finished as much as she could of her own tart and set her fork down beside her plate. She had planned to take Mari with her to the seaside town north of Cape Sanctuary but didn’t have the heart to disappoint her daughter.

  “I had the background checks from Peter and everything checks out with your guests. I was going to tell you that at dinner so we could work out a custody schedule while you’re in town, but your fan club kind of interrupted things.”

  “You know how annoying they can be,” he said, but she was quite certain he looked smug, rather than annoyed.

  She saw Mari wave and turned around to see Shane helping his date out of her chair, their meal apparently finished.

  He caught her gaze, and the expression in his blue eyes, complex and unidentifiable, left her restless and achy and ready for her own evening to be done.

  * * *

  Back at her house, after Mari gathered pajamas and clothes she could wear riding the next day, the two of them took off for his house down the road.