“That’s not what I said.” She blinked and gazed up at the sky like a caged bird longing to be free.
He took pity on her. No one liked to be trapped. “You okay to stand?”
“I think so.”
He set her on the ground and put his arm around her waist. To his surprise, she didn’t try to wriggle free. Instead, she sighed and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “I’m exhausted.”
“Ah, Lizzie, you just need some food and a good night’s sleep.” He smiled and almost kissed the top of her head. Stop it. Get a hold of yourself. All the months they’d worked together on the Murphy case, he’d kept it together. He could do it today too.
The woman worked harder than any attorney in town. Every other time he turned on the news, there was Liz talking about another one of her high-profile cases. He’d known in law school she was ambitious. They’d shared the drive to succeed. She wanted to please her father. He wanted to prove his father wrong.
“Where are you parked?” he asked. “Let me take you to get something to eat, and then I’ll drive you to your car.”
“I use Uber.”
“You do?” Spending money on Uber fares seemed unlike her. Even though her father was a renowned heart surgeon and she’d grown up privileged, Liz was notoriously frugal. She’d driven the same old Volvo for years.
“I prefer it to driving in traffic.”
“Let me drive you home,” Grant said.
She raised her hands, protesting. “I can call for a car.”
“Please, Lizzie. It’s on my way home anyway. It’ll make me feel better to know you’re home safe.”
She sighed and looked as if she wanted to give another argument, but gave up at the last second. “Fine.”
He held the door as she slipped into the passenger seat. She smelled like lilacs. If only he could kiss her neck, feel her soft skin.
They drove in silence until they neared the freeway entrance. Cars were lined up to enter the freeway. Traffic was at a standstill. Liz groaned and reclined her seat a few inches.
He glanced over at her. “This could take a while. I’m sorry about the traffic.”
“It’s always awful. Sometimes I hate it here.”
“And the sunsets are fake,” he said. “Just like everything else in this town.”
She smiled and looked over at him. “What?”
“Smog makes them pretty. Not some act of nature.”
She laughed. “Oh, I see. Smog makes them fake.”
They inched forward.
“Grant, let’s get out of this and go to dinner.”
He dared not look at her in case he jinxed it. “Really? I mean, yes, I would love to. Anywhere you want.”
“Someplace good. I’m starving.” She had twisted so that one cheek rested on the back of her seat and gazed at him with those eyes. “I want big plates of pasta and bread with olive oil and glasses of red wine. Multiple glasses.”
Right here in the car, he might melt into a gooey mess with nothing left of him but his pounding heart. He stole a glance at her. She hadn’t regained any color, and she’d bitten off all her lipstick. She looked about twelve years old.
“I know a little Italian place.” He whipped the car out of the line of waiting cars and sped the other direction. Get some pasta in this girl before she faints again.
“Sounds great.” She closed her eyes. In seconds, her head drifted to the side. She was asleep.
Ten minutes later, he pulled in front of his favorite Italian bistro. The valet came out to greet them as he tapped Liz on the arm. “Hey, we’re here.”
Her eyes fluttered open. For a split second, she looked like she had no idea where she was or who she was with. “Yes, yes. I’m awake.”
“You still want to eat?” He brushed a lock of hair from where it had stuck in her long eyelashes. No one should be this pretty.
“Sure. Yes. Gobs and gobs of pasta.”
“That’s my girl.”
**
They were seated at a private booth in the back of the restaurant. Within minutes, the owner, Carlos, brought them a basket of fresh rolls, still warm from the oven. While he poured glasses of water, Carlos asked if they wanted to see a menu. “Mr. Perry usually orders from memory. He’s here a lot.”
“Especially the past sixth months,” Grant said. Why had he said that? It made him sound pathetic.
“What do you recommend?” Liz asked.
Carlos rattled off several dishes, including the seafood of the day. “My favorite’s old school,” Grant told her. “Beef bolognese.”
Liz looked up from breaking a roll in half. “That sounds good.” She grinned at Carlos with her finger pressed against her lips. “But shhh. Don’t tell my mother.”
For God’s sake, how could any man resist her?
“She is not a lover of the pasta?” Carlos asked, putting one hand over his heart as if greatly offended.
“Oh no, not that.” Liz reached for the butter. “My parents are vegans.”
“I see. It’s the beef that causes a reaction. Such a pity.” Carlos frowned and held the pitcher of water close to his waist as if someone might stab his stomach area. “I will put your order in.” He glanced at the basket of rolls and broke into a wide smile. “And some more rolls. I can see you like the bread, no?”
“It might be the best I’ve ever had.” She grabbed another. “I better butter this one up before it gets cold.”
“Excellent,” Carlos said, giving a slight bow. “Every restaurant should be judged first by the quality of their bread.” Carlos didn’t mess around when it came to food. “And wine?” he asked. “The usual bottle?”
“Perfect,” Grant said.
Carlos gave another slight bow and disappeared.
She tore open another roll and smothered it with butter. “This case. This awful case. I thought it might drive me crazy, and I was right.”
“I’m sorry, Lizzie.”
She rested her chin in her hands. Her perfect heart-shaped face. “I want to cry.”
“You knew it was a long shot.”
“I did. Never stops me though.”
“I know, Sharky.”
She smiled and threw a napkin at him. “Do not call me that.”
He raised his hands in mock defeat. “I’m not the one who gave you that nickname.” The LA Times had called her that in a feature they’d run on her.
He didn’t like it, if the truth were known. She was not a shark. She was an angel.
“I’m sorry about your divorce,” she said. “I had no idea.”
“A lot of people say that. Me included.”
“What do you mean?” She stared at him. “You didn’t know it was coming?”
“I knew things were bad between us. We fought constantly. I knew it was over when she started rolling her eyes when I played country music in the car.”
“What? You were with a woman who didn’t like country music?”
He grimaced. “That was only one of the things we didn’t have in common. Despite my fancy job, I’m still a hick from Oregon who uses the wrong fork at dinner parties. And she’s…” How could he describe Mandy without being unkind?
“‘Got diamonds on the souls of her shoes,’” Lizzie said.
His Lizzie—quoting the Paul Simon classic. She always understood what he meant even when he couldn’t express it himself. “Yes. ‘The poor boy changes clothes and puts on aftershave to compensate for his ordinary shoes.’”
“You don’t have ordinary shoes any longer, Grant Perry. You did it. All the dreams we had back then for our careers have come true.”
Not all of them. Not you by my side. “It wasn’t enough for her. We brought out the worst in each other. I knew it was doomed. But I didn’t know she was having an affair. One night, she announced she was in love with someone else and wanted a divorce. I was served papers the next day.”
“You looked happy together in the photos in the society pages.” She flushed and looked down at her lap. “I mean, from
what I saw. Not that I was looking really.”
“Yeah, well, we weren’t.” Not like me and you. He took a bite of a roll. It tasted like sand in his mouth. “My personal life’s a mess, if you want to know the truth.”
“A divorce can’t take away who you are. You’re a phenomenal attorney who made his way completely without help. You put yourself through school. You made your dreams happen when no one believed in you.”
“You believed in me.” He brushed both hands through his hair and swallowed the painful lump at the back of his throat. Lizzie had always known how to plunge right through the small talk.
“I did. I do. I knew you’d be a great success.”
“You were the first person who ever told me I was worth anything.” For God’s sake, was he about to cry? What is wrong with me? Lizzie. That’s what.
“Not the last, though.”
He smiled. “No, not the last. Raymond’s been a driving force in my life. Without him at the firm...I don’t know.”
Carlos appeared with their bottle of wine. He slid the cork from the bottle without making a sound and poured a small amount into a glass before sliding it toward Grant.
“No, Carlos, let the lady decide. She’s always had better judgment than me on wine and most everything else.”
Lizzie smiled up at Carlos, her eyes twinkling. “He’s exaggerating, but I’m happy to try it.” She sipped from the glass. “Wonderful. Thank you.”
Carlos poured them both a glass and, in his usual stealth manner, disappeared without a sound.
Liz took another sip. “This is nice. I didn’t know you were a wine guy now.”
“Well, I still like my bourbon, but I have evolved some. Your father was the one who taught me about wine.”
She looked away with a small nod. “I remember.”
“I love this one. It’s bold and fruit forward, like you like. Although, it’s from Washington State, so don’t tell your father.”
She tore her roll into four pieces. Was her upper lip trembling? What did I say? Idiot.
“You got sad,” he said. Gentle. Be gentle. Don’t scare her away. Don’t say stupid things that make her close down. She used to bubble over like a fountain, telling him everything and anything that came to her mind.
“You could always tell when I was sad.” She flashed a wistful smile. “No one’s ever been able to read me like you.”
“You were my favorite subject.”
A wave of pain crossed her face. He knew what she was thinking. Then why did you cheat on me?
“I was thinking about our trip to Napa that time,” she said.
“That was a great trip.” He swept nonexistent bread crumbs from the table. They’d spent three glorious days in Napa the week after graduation from law school. Eating bread and cheese. Drinking wine and making love. He’d loved her so much he’d thought his heart might burst. Then why did you ruin it, asshole? “Is that what made you sad?”
“Yes. I try not to think about any of the happy times. It still hurts too much.” Her hands trembled. She set aside the bread and sipped from her wine glass.
He flinched, astounded by her honesty. “I’m surprised.” He wrenched his lips into his best self-deprecating smile. “I figured the only feeling you had left for me is hatred.”
“Indifference is the opposite of love, not hatred. Hate and love live side by side when your heart is broken.” Her voice cracked.
Indifference is the opposite of love. If Liz was not indifferent to him, did this mean she hated him and loved him at the same time? Did she still love him? Was it possible that she felt the same way he did?
“It was all a long time ago.” She tugged on a tuft of her hair.
Tugging on her hair. I’d almost forgotten that.
“Lizzie, I’m…” What do I say? I’m sorry? He’d said it a thousand times when it happened, but she couldn’t forgive him. Her trust and loyalty had been complete, but it took only a moment of insanity to break them.
Carlos arrived with their dinners. He set the steaming plates of pasta in front of them. The aroma of fresh tomatoes and herbs filled the awkward space between them. Carlos asked if there was anything else he could get them.
“No, thanks, man. We’re good,” Grant said.
He waited for Carlos to leave before he spoke. “Lizzie, I’m sorry for everything. Please know that.”
“I know. It’s completely fine.” She met his gaze once again. “It was a million years ago. We were young. And I was very naïve.”
An image of a gate being ripped from its hinges during a storm flashed before him. He blinked it away.
Was it possible she thought he didn’t care? If she only knew his dreams, both waking and sleeping. “I was an idiot. Like a superhero idiot. I should get a cape.” He pointed at her untouched plate. “Please, eat.”
She picked up her fork and spoon. “It smells good. Like my Aunt Sally used to make. Did I ever tell you how she made fresh pasta?”
He smiled, twirling some linguini onto his spoon. “Only a couple hundred times.”
“Isn’t it weird that Stefan and Gennie filmed a movie in River Valley?”
“And built a home there. It wasn’t until you mentioned it that I realized it was the same town you used to visit.”
“Small world,” she said.
“Six degrees. Stefan wants me to come up soon. Do some fly fishing. Howl at the moon.”
“It would be an excellent place to howl at the moon.” Liz smiled as she ran a finger around the rim of her wine glass. “Gennie wants me to come for a visit too.”
Although Gennie was his client and not Lizzie’s, the two women had become friends during the trial. They were alike, both gentle spirits with giant hearts and quiet intelligence.
“You should go sometime,” Grant said.
“Well, listen to this. I got a letter from my mother’s cousin, Lola, this afternoon.” Her eyes glistened in the candlelight. “She invited my sister and me to come up and read through some letters. She thinks my grandmother might have been murdered.”
“What?”
“It’s a little crazy, I know, but of course I’m curious. And I’d love to see the old place again. I haven’t been back since my aunt’s funeral.”
“Eleven years ago,” he said.
“You remember?”
“Sure. I remember picking you up at the train station. You fainted that day too.”
She laughed. “Oh, my God. I did. I totally forgot that.”
“You need to take better care of yourself, Lizzie.”
She nodded. “I do. I know.”
You need me to take care of you.
“I promised Peggy I’d take her and my little niece somewhere fun as soon as this trial was over. Her husband left her a couple of months ago. He met someone at work that he apparently couldn’t live without.”
“Man, that’s rough. I can relate. Even when the marriage wasn’t good, being left for someone else feels pretty terrible.” Grant filled both their glasses with wine. He raised his glass. “Here’s to good old Hedgie.”
“What’s his real name?”
“Harold Herrington.”
“Harold Herrington?” She laughed. “What kind of name is that?”
He spoke in a bad English accent. “Very posh, darling.”
She erupted into giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. “That was the worst accent ever.”
“What? I’m well-studied in the fine art of accents.”
“Remember when Stefan was taking that dialects class and we made him do all the different accents.”
“Someone made it into a drinking game.”
“That was you,” Liz said, laughing.
“That seems likely.”
Her expression changed from amused to sober. “Peggy’s suffered. Is suffering. And when I think about my niece, Beth, it makes me want to string him up. He moved to the east coast. She’ll never see him. I worry because I know how important a father figure is to a gi
rl. Then I worry about Peggy. Can she find someone new who will be good to Beth? A man who will embrace being a stepfather. It’s not easy to find a man when you have no children, so it just makes it that much harder.” She clamped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I think I’m a little drunk. Here I am going on about my sister, and this is the Friday night after your divorce is final. Aren’t you supposed to be out with the guys drinking too much bourbon?”
He dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “As a matter of fact, the guys already took me out a couple nights ago. It was not pretty. Tequila.” He shuddered.
“What’s that country song…”
“Tequila makes her clothes fall off?” he asked.
“Yes. That’s the one. Did your clothes fall off?”
“No, they did not, other than my tie, which is somewhere in North Hollywood. I did, however, wake in the morning with a half-eaten quesadilla in my hand.”
“You did not.”
“I did.”
“You didn’t burn down the house. So, there’s that.” She laughed, her chin lifting toward the ceiling.
“There’s that.” Her long neck. Laughing like bubbles. “Honestly, I can’t imagine anything better than spending the evening with you.”
She stared at him with her big brown eyes. “Is that really true?”
“Yes. Completely and utterly true,” he said.
She didn’t say anything for at least thirty seconds as her face contorted. For one horrible moment, he thought she was going to cry. She took in a deep breath and gave him a tight smile that didn’t match the sad look in her eyes. “This is the best night I’ve had in a long time. Thank you.”
“Eat.” Grant pointed to her plate.
“Yes. Yes. Eating.”
She twirled some linguini around her fork and brought it to her mouth. She made eating pasta look pretty. They ate in silence for a few minutes.
When her plate was half-empty, she set her fork aside. “I’m full. These portions could feed a small family.”
“You can take the rest home,” he said. “Have it for breakfast.”
“Leftovers for breakfast. My favorite.”
“I know.”
She rested her cheek on her hand, watching him. “Sitting here with you—it’s like no time has passed. Very dangerous.” She sipped her wine.
Riverstorm Page 5
