“I have missed this. I can’t tell you how much. We always made a great team when it came to the music.”
Too bad life had been far more than just making music. Too bad they’d had to deal with her immaturity and his infidelities and substance abuse.
“That’s exactly what I needed. I’m going to give you credit on the song.”
“That’s silly. I helped you for ten minutes. I don’t exactly deserve cowriter status.”
He grinned. “You do if I say you do. Seriously, thanks, babe.”
He reached in to kiss her before she could move away. She turned her head, and at that moment, of course, Shane walked in.
He stood in the doorway, gazing at the scene with an expression she couldn’t read. She immediately stepped away from Cruz then hated herself for feeling flustered. Damn it. She hadn’t done anything wrong.
Anyway, if Shane wanted more from her than friendship, why hadn’t he done something about it before now?
“Hi,” she said, trying for a cheerful tone. “Is the rest of the team with you?”
He inclined his head behind him, where several burly young men came in behind him.
“Hey, Ms. R.,” said Travis Taylor. He was one of her favorites, the starting quarterback for the year who was only a junior.
“Hi, Travis. Hey, everybody.”
In moments her kitchen was filled with teenage football players, a good twenty-five of them. They were larger than the average high school student, but still so young it made her heart ache. What did life have in store for these boys? She hoped the world would be kind to them.
She hadn’t enjoyed her high school years and had dropped out of high school midway through her senior year to run away to LA with Cruz. Stella had not been happy about it, which she understood through an entirely different lens now.
She’d gone back to finish her GED during those early years of their marriage and had even earned an associate’s degree later. Still, sometimes she regretted not taking the traditional route.
“Cookies!” one of the football players exclaimed.
“Can we have one, Ms. Romero?” Tony Feola eyed the entire tray with a ravenous eye.
“Guys. You can at least say hello to Bea first before you start pigging out on the snacks she didn’t have to make,” Shane said sternly. He was very good at making sure his team was courteous. As a coach, Shane didn’t tolerate disrespect or slovenly behavior. His players were expected to live up to a high standard and set an example to all other students at Cape Sanctuary High, not just athletes.
A chorus of hellos greeted her at that, which made her smile. She gave a general wave. “Hey, everyone. You can have a couple of cookies each. There should be enough. I made popcorn also. It’s already waiting in the viewing room.”
“You’re the best, Ms. R.,” Travis said with his charming smile.
She really enjoyed being part of the football team, even on the periphery. Since Shane had come back to Cape Sanctuary to teach, she had attended every home game and many of the away ones. It was the sort of thing a wife or girlfriend would do, if Shane had one. Since he didn’t, she loved filling in.
“Thanks, guys. Go ahead and help yourself.”
“Take a couple of cookies, then head to the media room so the rest of our teammates can grab theirs,” Shane ordered.
As they moved around him to reach for the cookies on the kitchen island, they finally caught sight of Cruz. The mood in the room immediately changed. Though they weren’t exactly slouching, the boys seemed to straighten to attention, clearly knowing his identity.
Cruz Romero was a small-town boy from Cape Sanctuary who made good. Everybody knew him. She wanted to think the team liked her for herself, because she was kind to them and supported them, but she had a sneaking suspicion some of her popularity among the players had more to do with her ex-husband.
The whispers started first from the front line of players, then seemed to grow louder.
“Cruz! How are you, man?” The first boy to break the awed silence was Carlos Ayala, who had been one of Aunt Stella’s foster children, until he had been adopted by a neighbor. Because Cruz had also been one of Stella’s foster kids, Carlos considered them as good as family, which she thought terribly sweet.
Cruz slapped his back. “Hey, Carlos. How’s it going, man?”
“I’m good. I’m good.”
Carlos stepped up to introduce the rest of the team members and they all seemed predictably awestruck to be hanging out in the same kitchen as their local celebrity. Several asked for selfies with him and Cruz was, also predictably, happy to oblige.
She shifted, wishing she had been able to push him out of her house before the team arrived. Shane didn’t say anything, but she could tell he wasn’t thrilled at having his team meeting commandeered.
After about fifteen minutes he seemed to run out of patience. “We should probably get cracking if we want to get through the films. Practice comes early in the morning and you boys need your sleep.”
“Yeah, guys. Let’s go.”
Travis, a natural leader, led the team down the hallway to her home theater, which was a sheer luxury she enjoyed very much, with several rows of sofas and the giant-screen TV. Bea sometimes had movie nights with her girlfriends and Mari loved having her friends over and binge-watching their favorite TV shows.
“Sorry about them,” Shane said stiffly after the boys tromped out. “They’re good kids, but can lose their heads around celebrities.”
“Not a problem at all. I’m used to it.”
“No doubt.” Shane gave a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He didn’t look at her as he spoke and she fought the urge to explain the kiss wasn’t what he thought.
She didn’t owe him any explanations. Not when he had been so cold since their own kiss.
“I can bring more cookies in when this next batch comes out of the oven.”
He finally met her gaze. “Thanks, but you really don’t have to. I didn’t mean for you to go to so much trouble.”
She gave a determined smile. “I know I didn’t have to do it but I wanted to.”
He looked at her for a long moment with that unreadable expression in his eyes again. “Thank you,” he said before heading to the media room with his team.
“It’s nice of you to help Shane’s team out,” Cruz said.
“They’re nice young men,” she said. “Many of them come from tough situations. He’s been a great role model to them. He cares very much for them. All of them, even the boys who don’t have much athletic skill at all. It’s about the team to him and helping each one find his own strengths.”
“I can see that,” he said, surprising her a little. “I imagine he’s a good coach.”
“He is,” she said. And I’m in love with him, so you’re going to have to get used to that.
“Well, you’ve got your hands full. I’d better get out of your hair. Thanks again for all your help with the song. It works much better now. I’ll let you know if I need something else.”
Cruz seemed a little subdued and she wondered what she had said but didn’t have time to worry about it as the timer went off on the next batch of cookies.
After delivering the plate to the media room, where everyone was engrossed in watching footage of the team they were playing for their opener in a few weeks, Bea retreated to her studio to take care of some paperwork and do some planning for her next gallery show at a studio in Carmel in a few months.
An hour later, when she heard cars leaving out front, she headed back to the media room to find it empty except for Shane, who was picking up disposable cups and popcorn bags.
“You don’t have to do that. I can clean up.”
He rolled his eyes at her. “My team. My mess.”
My house. My guests, she wanted to say in reply, but knew she wouldn’t w
in the argument. “Fine. I’ll help you.”
She headed back into the kitchen for a garbage bag and her vacuum then returned to the media room. “How were the films?” she asked.
“Good. It wasn’t really about the films. I just need my team to come together. We’ve been struggling with that a little bit this year. We’ve got a couple of stubborn rich kids who think they’re too good to play with the dairy farm dudes.”
The demographics of Cape Sanctuary were a mixed bag and that could cause occasional social discord. Because it was a coastal community, it brought in wealthy people who wanted seaside homes, but the area had been founded by farmers and ranchers. A few miles inland was all agriculture. She remembered those cliques herself from high school. The farm kids would hang out in the parking lots in their pickup trucks and John Deere hats while the surfer dudes would mock them in their clothes from Roxy and Aeropostale.
“I’m sure you’ll bring them together.”
“I’m trying.”
He grabbed the vacuum from her so he could clean up the loose kernels.
“I’m coming to the game this weekend,” she told him when he turned off the vacuum cleaner. “Is there anything I can bring? Gatorade? Orange slices? More chocolate chip cookies?”
“I think we’re good,” he said as he wound the cord. “The booster club has really stepped it up this year. Hopefully, we won’t have to lean on you as much as we had to last year.”
“I didn’t mind,” she told him. “I love the guys on your team.”
“And they love you—though maybe not as much as they love your husband.”
“Ex-husband,” she said firmly.
“Not if he can help it, right? He wants you back.”
“What he wants doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s what I want that’s important.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “I’m not sure you know what you want.”
“I’m sure I know what I don’t want. Another man telling me what I should or shouldn’t feel.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
She sighed, afraid again to ruin their friendship by bringing up her new feelings for him.
On the other hand, their friendship was already cracking apart because of the effort it was taking her not to tell him.
She had to find the courage to tell him. She was tired of being timid. He might reject her, yes, but she wouldn’t know unless she told him.
“Shane, you’re my best friend. You have been for years and I’m so grateful for that, but I...I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”
Hurt glimmered in his eyes. “Fair enough. I get it.”
“I don’t think you do.”
She stepped forward. “I want to be more than friends. I’ve wanted that for a while now. Am I wrong or do you...do you want that, too?”
He gazed down at her. “What about Cruz?”
“He has nothing to do with this. With us.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Bea. He has always been there, between us. An hour ago you were kissing him.”
“He was kissing me. There’s a big difference.”
“Have you told him that you’re not getting back with him? Just came out and said it?”
“I’ve tried. You know how he is. He hears what he wants to hear.”
“You asked my opinion. Here it is. If you have any feelings left for Cruz, I think you owe it to your child to try. You came from a screwed-up home life and I did, too, always split between the people we loved. Divorce is tough on kids, no matter how amicable it is. I love that kid and want the best for her. If there is any chance a reconciliation with Cruz is better for her, I can’t stand in the way.”
She didn’t know what to think. Yes, what he said was rational, but every part of her cried out in protest. “You sound like you’ve given the matter some thought.”
He gave her a look filled with raw emotion. “Of course I have. I care about you, Bea. You’re my oldest and dearest friend. I’ll always be grateful for what we shared but lately...lately I’ve come to accept it’s not enough for me anymore.”
She felt the first struggling seedlings of hope. “Then we’re on the same page. It’s not enough for me, either. That kiss the other night made it clear, I think, that we both want to take the next step in our relationship.”
“And what? You juggle me and Cruz until you decide what’s best for Mari? No. I can’t do that. I’m at a place in my life where I’m ready to find someone and settle down. Losing my dad this year was a wake-up call. My life is finite. I want to fill what’s left of it with kids of my own and a woman who is completely free to love me. I don’t think I can find what I need while I’m living in your guesthouse.”
Those tendrils of hope withered and died at the finality in his voice. “Your house isn’t ready yet. You can wait until it’s done, can’t you?”
“No. I think it’s better if I move out sooner. My new assistant coach, Marcus, just leased a house on the other side of town with a fenced backyard for Sal. He’s offered to let me crash there for another few weeks.”
“What’s wrong with the guesthouse?”
“Nothing is wrong with it. I’ve enjoyed being close, hanging out with Mar and with you. But by staying here with you, I think I’m making it harder for you to figure out what you really want.”
“I know what I want. I want you, Shane. I’ve loved you as a friend since I was a girl and now I’m coming to see there’s more to it. If you...if you feel the same, I’m not sure where the problem is.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Cruz. I hate that he hurt you again and again and yet he’ll always have a part of your heart that I can’t touch.”
“We share a child. At this point that’s the full extent of our relationship.”
“If that was all, you would tell him it’s time for him to move on, too, that you’re never getting back together with him. You haven’t done that, though, which makes me think some part of you is still wondering if it’s possible for a reconciliation.”
“What do you want me to do? Take out a newspaper ad?” She fought the urge to dump the can full of garbage over the stubborn man’s head.
“No. I only want you to be clear about what you want and I don’t think that can happen while I’m here. I’ll move my things over to Marcus’s place this weekend.”
He didn’t give her a chance to argue, just picked up the bag of trash and walked out, leaving her angry and hurt and fearful that she had just lost her best friend.
17
STELLA
Inviting her niece to spend the night at this particular stage of her pregnancy may not have been Stella’s greatest idea.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” The worry in Mari’s voice coming from outside the bathroom door broke her heart.
“I’m fine, honey,” she lied, just as what was left of her stomach lining insisted on coming back out.
“I don’t think you’re fine at all,” Mari said. “You’ve been puking for like twenty minutes straight.”
Oh, she hated this stupid morning sickness! Whoever named it that was obviously a man who didn’t understand it could hit at any moment. She had been nauseated on and off for days now and had spent entirely too much time bent over a commode.
“Just give me a minute,” she managed. “It’s probably something I ate.”
“That’s what you said when we went to Universal,” Mari said. “You must be eating some bad stuff.”
She was going to have to tell someone. She had carried this alone for too long. She had done her best to keep her pregnancy a secret but her severe morning sickness was interfering in her life.
“Give me a few more minutes then I’ll drive you back home.”
She threw up one last time and was wiping her mouth and brushing her teeth—grateful she had taken to keeping dental h
ygiene supplies in every bathroom—when she heard the doorbell ring.
Oh, great. She was not in the mood for company right now.
“Whoever that is, tell them I’m not home,” she said weakly. She didn’t think Mari was still outside the bathroom door but it was worth a try.
She opened the door, only to find Ed Clayton walking toward her with a very worried-looking Mari.
“It’s too late for that,” he said.
Of all the people she did not want seeing her like this, Ed was right at the top of the list. She knew she looked like death warmed over, with messy hair, pale skin, deep hollows under her eyes. It was the very reason she had been avoiding everyone as much as possible.
“Oh, Stell. How long has this been going on?”
She wanted so desperately to fall into his arms and weep. “It feels like decades,” she admitted. “I’m pretty sure it’s only been a few weeks. The past five or six days have been the worst. I thought today was better but it hit me hard about an hour ago.”
If she hadn’t already made plans several weeks earlier to take Mari to the movie premiere of one of her favorite continuing sagas, she never would have invited her to spend the night.
“How did you know I was sick?” she asked.
“Me,” Mari said, chin jutted in defiance. “I texted Rowan and told her to tell her dad that you fainted after dinner and that you’ve been throwing up ever since you woke up. I know you must be really, really sick. Are you dying, Aunt Stella?”
“No. No, honey.” She closed her eyes, trying to find the energy to explain in a way Mari could understand.
“You did the right thing, calling for help,” Ed told her great-niece. “Stella is not dying. I suspect your aunt is dehydrated. She’s going to have to go to the ER for some IV fluids.”
“Can’t you do that?” Stella asked him hopefully. She didn’t want the fuss and bother of going into the hospital, where everyone would have to find out about her pregnancy.
“You don’t want me giving you an IV, I promise. The ER nurses are much better at that than I could ever be. Has Jo given you a prescription for anti-nausea medicine? There are certain things you can take that are completely safe for you and the...” He glanced over at Mari and Rowan, who had followed her father into the house.
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