“Dangerous?”
“Time has passed. A lot of time. It’s best to look forward, not back.”
“They say examining the past is a way to understand the present.”
“Not in our case.” She spoke so softly that he leaned forward to hear her better, but she didn’t say anything further.
“Sometimes at night when I’m trying to sleep, I think of our little apartment. You made that little dump beautiful,” he said.
“I loved that apartment. When I catch a whiff of oranges, I think of it.”
The scent of oranges and bourbon. Low lights. A breeze through the open window. She’d hung a light blue tapestry with a pattern of Kokopelli on the ceiling over the bed. She’d teased him when she brought it home from a street fair. Kokopelli is the sign of fertility, but don’t worry; he’s no match for birth control pills. And he’d had an image of their future. Babies and a house of their own. Picnics on the beach. A flower bed with peonies. Lizzie loved peonies.
The image shattered with his father’s voice. You’re a loser. A woman like Liz will figure it out sooner than later, bud. His father had always called him bud with a sneer.
What he wouldn’t give for just one more night in that bedroom with Lizzie. “I remember everything. All of it. All the time,” he said.
“You do?”
“I do.”
“Do you ever wonder what you’d be if you hadn’t been an attorney?” she asked.
Obviously changing the subject. “No. Why?”
“Because I do. A lot. Every day when I’m driving to the office, I daydream about another type of job. So much is riding on my preparation, my mind. What about a job that required just my heart? A job that didn’t have so much ugliness in it. But what would I do? I don’t know how to do anything else.”
“What would you be if you could do anything?” he asked.
“A soccer mom.”
“Really? And give up your work?”
She closed her eyes. “Yes. Free of all this pressure and just raising a family. Being the type of mother my sister is.” Her eyes opened, and she sipped from her glass. “She’s not like my parents at all. She’s just there—present every minute.”
“Do you think you’d be able to give it up? The drive? The adrenaline?” he asked.
“I suppose I don’t really mean it. It’s a little late for me anyway. I have a practice and employees. People who depend on me. I’m trapped. But I think the pressure might be killing me. Literally.”
She wasn’t slurring, but her eyes were bright. Lizzie was drunk.
She continued, speaking rapidly with almost no pause between sentences. “If you and I…if you and I had worked out, I would have been happy to stay home and raise the kids and let you have the big career. My father and mother would have been appalled I wasn’t following in the feminists’ footsteps, but with you by my side, I wouldn’t have cared. You always made me braver than I really am.” She paused long enough to take a sip of wine. “I wanted to be the type of mother mine wasn’t. Not that she was bad. She was great. Fantastic, really. But I never wanted to be like her. I’m proud of her. Don’t get me wrong. Do you know she’s head of the English department at UCLA now? I mean, that’s amazing. But I wanted a simple life. You and kids. A golden lab and a backyard. I wanted to learn how to cook. We had takeout almost every night when I was a kid. Chinese on Mondays. Pizza on Tuesdays and so forth. She always had stacks and stacks of papers to grade or lectures to prepare. I never saw her relax and just be. I wanted to be the type of woman who could just be. Like my Aunt Sally. I admired her more than anyone in the world. Until I met you, that is.” She rolled her eyes. “What’s the matter with me? I’m sorry. Shut me up. I never talk this much. It’s the wine.” Setting her glass aside, she tilted her head to one side, peering at him. “I usually keep to one glass. It always makes me sad. Or I talk too much. Or both.”
I wanted you, Lizzie. Whatever you wanted I wanted to give you. Instead, I ruined everything. To this day, he didn’t know why. Why had he wrecked the best thing that had ever happened to him?
“I love to hear you talk. Maybe have some water, though?” he asked.
Nodding amicably, she drank from her water glass. Carlos came and cleared the table. They declined dessert.
After Carlos had walked away, she rubbed her temples. “Now that the trial’s over, I have some stuff to take care of. Personal stuff I’ve put off.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Boyfriend stuff.”
A knife surged through his chest. His stomach hollowed. “Oh. I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”
“I’m not. I mean, I broke up with him, but he doesn’t want to take no for an answer. He asked me to marry him, and I told him I wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment and that I needed space. That was three months ago. He doesn’t seem to understand what space means.”
“Who is this guy?”
“His name’s Joel Mueller. Doctor Joel Mueller. We dated for a while after the Murphy case was done, but I’ve known him for at least five years. He works with my dad at the hospital.”
“Heart surgeon?”
“Right.”
“Like your dad. That’s tidy.” Keep your voice steady. Light.
“Tidy? That’s one way to think of it.” Liz drank from her water glass and squinted her eyes like she did when she was thinking through a question. “They say women always pick men like their fathers.”
“They do say that. I hope it isn’t true for my sisters’ sake.” He finished the wine in his glass. “What kept you from saying yes?”
“I don’t know. He’s not...”
“Not what?”
“For me. I haven’t missed him. Not one bit. Not like you.” She clamped her hand over mouth. “Please forget I just said that.”
Not like you. “Forgotten.”
“I need to tell him to leave me alone, but he’s persistent. He’s the type that believes with more work you can always get your way.” She shook her head. “But I don’t want to think about it tonight. I want to have fun.” She tapped her finger against the side of their table and smiled. “I have an idea. Let’s go somewhere else and have a night cap.”
“I’m not sure that’s a great idea.”
“It’s a fantastic idea. Do you know how long it’s been since I had any fun?” she asked.
“What about the boyfriend? Didn’t he take you anywhere fun?”
She let out a long sigh. “He took me places, but they weren’t fun. They were boring. So boring.”
“Example please?” It was taking everything in him not to sound angry. Just thinking about this asshole with his hands all over Lizzie made him want to punch a wall. He had to know everything. Scope out his enemy.
She counted off on her fingers. “Ballet. Opera. Charity fundraisers. His mother’s rest home for lunch.” Giggling, she raised her hand as if he were about to protest. “The last one sounds mean, I know. It is mean, and I’m a terrible person. But she’s like a hundred and four and has no idea who either of us are. Joel is very dutiful. He’s a dutiful man. Very loyal.”
“Good qualities. He sounds like a great guy.” He sounds like the bore of the century. “Does he make you laugh?”
She grabbed her wine and took one last sip, emptying the glass. “No, he’s very serious. He’s a serious person. An important person. He thinks a lot of himself, which could be attractive, but isn’t. And I don’t know if I want to be serious for every single minute of my life. As a matter of fact, I might want the next part of my life to be very unserious.”
“Unserious?”
“Yes. Is that a word? Probably not. Anyway, so far, my life has been way too serious. I want someone who makes me laugh. You used to make me laugh so hard I thought I was going to pee my pants.”
I make her laugh. I always made her laugh.
“But then again, he’s very stable. Very, very stable.” She giggled. “He eats the same thing for breakfast and lunch
every day. Every single day.”
“That’s a little weird, Lizzie.” He couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice. If he couldn’t have Lizzie, he wanted her to be with someone phenomenal. Not Joel the bore. Jore. That was his new nickname. “Jore needs to be history.”
Her giggle was like bubbles in a champagne glass. “Jore? You’re going to hell. You know that, right?”
“I’ve accepted my fate, yes.”
“He’s a surgeon. So he’s geeky but thinks he’s God all at the same time.” She made a circle in the air with her left hand.
Lizzie is not in love with this oaf.
“He’s hard to talk to. That’s another thing. Remember how you and I used to talk all night long about nothing?”
“And everything,” Grant said.
“Yeah, well, we didn’t do that.” She held up her glass. “I want more wine.”
“The bottle’s empty.”
She flashed a wicked smile. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere else. Someplace by the beach and have bourbon like we used to.”
“That sounds like fun, but not entirely practical, given one of us has to drive.”
“I’ll call us a car. Come on, Grant, take me out. Help me pretend my life’s not what it is for just one night.”
Be a good guy. Don’t take advantage of her drunkenness. Dammit, he did not want to be a good guy. He wanted to be bad. Really bad. She was all soft and pliable—her browns eyes unfocused. She’s drunk, man. Don’t be an asshole. Time to get her home. “How about if I take you back to your house and we can have a nightcap there?”
“That’s a brilliant idea.” She smiled at him and it was like the stars on a summer night in Oregon. He was lost. Lizzie. Sweet Lizzie. You’re going to break my heart all over again.
We can skinny dip in my pool,” she said.
“Good idea.” She wasn’t serious. Lizzie would never skinny dip. She was a rule follower. A good girl. But what he wouldn’t give to skinny dip with Lizzie. It was good the devil wasn’t here. He might make a deal with him—like years off his life, or his career, or his house. Anything to be able to see her in the moonlight. To touch her and hold her and feel her soft skin under his fingertips.
“I’m just kidding. This isn’t Oregon,” she said.
He laughed. “Darn, you had me excited there for a minute.”
She slapped the table. “See there. I make you laugh too. I’m hilarious.”
“Yes, you are. Now get your purse. We’re going.”
Like magic, Carlos appeared with the bill. Grant put two hundred-dollar bills on the table. “Keep the rest,” he said.
“But Mr. Perry, it’s too much.”
“You just gave us a great night, Carlos. I appreciate it,” Grant said.
“Thank you, Mr. Perry.” Carlos leaned down to fetch the money and whispered in his ear, “Take good care of her. She is precious and easily broken.”
“I will, Carlos.”
Lizzie stood, holding onto the table for support. “I really am a lightweight. Wow. I used to be able to drink bourbon like a rock star.”
He offered her his arm. “No problem, Lizzie. I’ve got you.”
“Thank you, Carlos, for the best night I’ve had in forever.” She leaned her cheek against Grant’s arm. “Can we come here again?”
“Anytime,” Grant said.
“I’ll keep the bread warm until we meet again,” Carlos bobbed his head in a semi-bow.
They headed toward the door. She held onto his arm with a surprisingly strong grip for such a tiny woman. “We always brought out the best in each other,” Lizzie said. “God, I miss that.”
“I miss it too, Lizzie.” He kissed the top of her head. I miss it, and I’m going to get it back for us. We belong together, whether you know it or not.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Liz
LIZ BREATHED IN the evening air and sobered slightly. Unfortunately. She liked feeling buzzed and warm, with Grant all to herself.
“In you go.” Grant held the car door for her as she slipped into the seat. The car smelled of leather and Grant’s cologne. Sexy, like its owner.
He rolled up his shirt sleeves and drove out of the parking garage with one arm on the steering wheel and the other draped over the arm rest. If she moved an inch, she could touch his skin.
He glanced over at her. “You feeling all right?”
“The fresh air sobered me up a bit.”
“That’s good,” he said. “Just let me know if you need anything. There’s a bottle of water in the cup holder if you want it.”
The buzz of her phone indicated there was a text. She dug it out of her purse. Joel. Why was he texting? Because he hadn’t believed her when she’d said it was over. Men like Joel didn’t think no applied to them. If he wanted something, he manipulated his way into getting it. For example, her breasts. He thought they were too small. The missing piece to an otherwise perfect girl. On her birthday, she woke to a card and flowers.
A little surprise for you, baby.
Inside the card was an appointment with a plastic surgeon for new, bigger breasts.
Are you out of your mind? What kind of gift is this?
This guy’s a friend of mine. Best in town. He does all the celebs.
No way I’m putting anything foreign into my body. She threw the card at him. Get out.
What’s the matter? Most girls would die for this.
I’m not most girls. Furthermore, if I wanted fake boobs, I could buy them myself.
Now, she looked out the window. In hindsight, she should have broken up with him then. It took the jarring marriage proposal to wake her up. She could never agree to spend the rest of her life with someone who didn’t like her the way she was. If she could just get rid of him.
And yet, for a split second, she thought about agreeing to his proposal. Why? Because she was thirty-four years old and she wanted to be a mother. She was tired of being a table for one.
The text buzzed again. She’d read it later. Nothing was going to ruin this night for her. Not reality. Not Joel. Not the knowledge that the morning would bring her real life rushing back to her. Life without Grant. Work that made her chest seize with anxiety.
Joel was everything Grant hadn’t been when they were young. He was rich and successful and sure of himself. He was steady and purposeful. He would never cheat on her. During dinner, all she could do was compare Joel to Grant. They were as opposite as two men could be.
That was the problem.
He wasn’t Grant. He could never be Grant. No one could.
Had Grant been the most communicative man on the planet? No. He hadn’t talked about his feelings. The only time he’d ever broken down was the night his mother had died. But back then, Liz had been naïve enough to think she knew his thoughts and feelings. She hadn’t needed him to tell her everything. Perhaps that was her error? What had happened to them? Why had he cheated on her? It always circled back to that question. Why had he sabotaged them?
He tapped her hand, interrupting her loopy thoughts. “You sure you’re okay?”
Her pulse quickened at his touch. “Oh, yes. I’m great. Really.”
“I shouldn’t have let you have wine after you fainted on me,” he said.
“I disagree. This is the best I’ve felt in ages. Thank God you were there to take care of me.”
“I’m glad I was there,” he said.
“Why were you there?” It hadn’t occurred to her until just then, but it was odd. Why was he still there when he had been on his way out when she saw him before the verdict?
He grimaced. “I was stalking you.”
“What?”
“I decided to sneak into the courtroom and hear the verdict.”
She jerked upright, straining against the seat belt to twist her body in his direction. “Why would you do that?”
“I was worried it wasn’t going to go your way and I…I don’t know what else to say. I just wanted to be there for you.” They stopped at a red
light. He untied his tie, slipped it off, and stuck it in the compartment between the seats. “I care about you, Lizzie.”
He cared about her. What does this mean? She couldn’t think. Didn’t know what to think. Wine numbed and dulled her thoughts. This night was an island. She would stay on the island for as long as she could. Only this very moment mattered. The warmth in her body, the sharp sense of desire. Everything was right now. Anything else was the pretend life. The life she never wanted. This was the real one with Grant by her side. I’m drunk. I’m not making good decisions, but I don’t care. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to fret and worry and be responsible. I want to touch him, kiss him, put my hands in his glorious hair. I want this night to go on forever.
She’d given him her address when they left the restaurant, which he’d plugged into his navigation system. Before she knew it, they were pulling into the driveway of her Spanish style home. She lived on a quiet street, lined with palm and eucalyptus trees, in Pacific Palisades. She hadn’t even noticed the drive. It was like she was floating above it all. Happy. Just being.
It was twilight, mere minutes before full darkness descended. He killed the engine. “You still want me to come in?”
“Desperately.” She meant to sound funny, but instead her voice cracked. To her horror, her eyes filled with tears. Drinking always makes me sad. That was the line of a country song. Which one? It didn’t matter.
He reached across the console and caressed the side of her cheek with his thumb. “You deserve everything good, Lizzie. The best. Don’t ever settle for less.”
“I have to,” she said. “It’s just the way the world works.”
“No. Not for you. You get the best.”
“I don’t want to be sad, Grant. Not tonight. Tonight has to be good. We have to go inside and make drinks and listen to music like we used to. Please?”
“Yes. Anything you want.” His eyes hadn’t left her face. He picked up a lock of her hair and twirled it around his finger. “Lizzie,” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Not anymore. I’m old. And worn out. Skinny. I looked in the mirror today and a wicked witch stared back at me.”
Riverstorm Page 6
