“He sounds like a really nice guy,” Cassie said, shooting me a meaningful look.
Cassie hadn’t been involved in the whole Josh dossier building, so all she knew about him was that he was meant to be my Last First Date. The last thing I wanted was any discussion about that when that position had already been filled by Marcus. So, when Marissa began with, “Well, he’s more than that, he’s also—” I cut her off faster than The Road Runner.
“He saved me from a near-death experience!” I blurted to divert everyone’s attention. It worked beautifully, as stories of escaping the jaws of death often do. I launched into how I had fallen into the water, nearly drowned, and how Josh had helped me out. They made all the right noises about how scary it must have been for me and how happy they were I was still alive and not in my watery grave at the bottom of the Hauraki Gulf. I nodded along with them, adding in salient details about how I’d stared death in the eyes and lived to tell the tale.
“Okay, I’ll admit it probably wasn’t certain death, but I was fully clothed and as you know, I’m scared of the water, so it sure did feel pretty darn terrifying to me.”
“And Josh saved you,” Bailey said with her hand on her heart. “How romantic.”
“Oh, yeah,” Cassie said, nodding along.
“That’s knight in shining armor stuff, right there,” Marissa agreed.
“It was his fault!” I protested, even though I knew it wasn’t. I had may as well have been whispering into the wind, anyway. All three of them were practically swooning over what a big hero Josh was. I crossed my arms and chewed the inside of my lip. I guess he had saved me, if they wanted to put it like that, and he had looked after me very well afterward. But it was no big deal. He was Josh, that’s the kind of guy he was. It didn’t mean I should be falling at his feet, asking him to be with me for the rest of my life.
Thankfully, conversation moved onto other people’s yachting disasters—really, it was a terribly dangerous sport and more people needed to be aware of this fact—and we finished up our burgers and drinks.
As we were splitting the check five ways, I heard a familiar laugh close by. It couldn’t be, could it? I searched the room until my eyes landed on her: Portia de Havilland, my old boss and one of my least favorite people. She was gazing lovingly at a man across the table from her. All I could see was the back of his head.
That must be her fiancé, the poor sucker.
I nudged Marissa in the ribs and nodded at the doting couple. “Look, it’s Princess Portia.”
She followed my gaze. “Oh, yeah. That’s her. Oh, and that’s her fiancé, too. He was at Friday drinks at O’Dowd’s last week.”
“You can tell from the back of his head?” I said with a laugh.
“Who else would she be out for dinner with, looking like that?” She nodded over at Portia’s table, and as her fiancé turned, I caught sight of his face. No, it can’t be! I blinked and blinked again. Were my eyes playing some kind of sick trick on me? My jaw dropped open as my heart hit the floor, the world slowing around me. It was Marcus. My Marcus. Only, he wasn’t my Marcus at all.
Everything and everyone blurred around him as I stared at him, not quite believing what lay so blatantly before my eyes. I was rooted to the spot, my belly twisting painfully with anxiety. Marcus was completely oblivious to my eyes, boring holes in the side of his head, so busy was he laughing with Portia, holding his hand in hers—just like he had with me.
“See? He’s kissing her,” Marissa said.
With eyes that refused to focus, I nodded dumbly. Marcus was Portia’s Marcus, Portia’s fiancé.
“Paige? Are you all right?” I heard Marissa ask.
I nodded through the fog. “Yes, I . . .”
Marissa wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. “Don’t let Portia bother you. You’ve moved on, you’ve got this great new job, it’ll all be okay.”
I didn’t—couldn’t—take my eyes from Marcus. As the shock began to morph into a cocktail of other emotions—sadness, anger, confusion—Marcus stood up from his seat and looked over in my direction. The smile dropped from his face in an instant.
I pressed my trembling lips together in a vain attempt to stem the flow of tears, threatening to engulf me. How could he do this to me?
“What’s going on?” Bailey asked.
I tore my eyes away from Marcus to look at her. I knew, the moment she saw Marcus, she would know everything.
“That’s Paige’s old boss over there, Portia de Havilland. Paige is just a little upset seeing her, that’s all,” Marissa explained.
Panic shot through me as I saw Bailey glance over at Marcus and Portia and then back at me. A cloud passed over her features, before she returned to her characteristic smile.
“Well, best we leave, then.” Bailey hooked her arm through mine and lead me out of the restaurant into the cool night air.
I smiled at her gratefully, guilt twisting in my belly. As my friends bid one another goodnight with hugs and kisses and “see you soon,” all I wanted to do was get home as fast as I could.
I thought of Marcus, standing there, looking at me, his contented fiancée sitting at their table. How could I not have known? How did I not see this when it was so sickeningly obvious to me now? Marcus never wanted a relationship with me. I was just some sort of booty call to him—although, not at all successful from his point of view. I let out a sardonic laugh, stifling it when Bailey shot me a suspicious look.
God, I was such an idiot! Turning off me when I had that coughing fit; inviting me up to his hotel room—a hotel room!—on our second date; turning up at the café out of the blue, probably looking for a quickie out back.
That knot in my belly twisted tighter. I felt like I might vomit.
And why did his fiancée have to be Portia de Havilland? Portia, the most insincere, self-absorbed woman I’d ever met. She was, quite possibly, the single most detestable person on the face of the planet. I let out a sigh. As much as I may have despised Portia, it wasn’t Portia who had broken my heart. It was her two-timing bastard of a fiancé.
“I’m taking you home,” Bailey announced in a no-nonsense tone.
I swallowed, knowing I was in for a grilling. “Okay.”
Once in her car, she started the engine and pulled out, joining the long stream of traffic back into the city.
“That was such a great burger, wasn’t it? The trip out here was totally worth it,” she said.
“Mmm,” I agreed, not trusting myself to speak without bursting into tears.
“And it’s hard to believe you’re finishing up at the café so soon,” she continued as I looked out the window.
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“About leaving the café?”
“Ah, no.”
I knew she was talking about Marcus. I knew we’d been totally busted—not that there was a “we” anymore. Or ever. I hung my head. “Not really.”
“You’ve been seeing him, haven’t you?”
I nodded, biting my lip.
“And you didn’t know he was engaged, did you?” Bailey’s tone was soft.
“No.” My chest tightened as tears stung my eyes.
“Oh, honey,” Bailey said, patting me on the back.
“I’ve been such an idiot.”
“I hate to say it, honey, but you weren’t the first woman to be played and you won’t be the last.”
“I was just so sure he was the guy for me. He made me feel special.”
“Marcus Hahn is a very charming man. He’s also a total slimeball.”
“But I thought you liked him? I saw you talking with him one day.” I thought about how I’d been so sure Bailey and Marissa were lining Marcus up as my Last First Date—and how I’d felt when I found out it was Josh, instead.
“He was giving me some legal advice on something, that’s all. I didn’t take it.”
“Oh.”
We drove for some time in si
lence until Bailey said, “We may have to reset the pact.”
Despite myself, I laughed. “There has to be a limit to how many times we can do that.”
“You’re right. It was worth a shot. But then, Cassie went on her One Last First Date with Parker and ended up with Will.”
I let out a watery laugh. “I could still end up with your choice for me, is that what you’re saying?”
“Or whomever you choose. But I do hope it’ll be Josh. I thought he’d be the right guy for you. But if you’re not feeling it, then that’s your choice.” She pulled her car up outside Dad’s house.
My phone had pinged a few times throughout the trip, and when I pulled it out of my purse to check it, I saw they were from that two-timing ass, Marcus.
“Forget about him,” Bailey said, eyeing my phone.
I nodded, swallowing down the rising lump in my throat. “I’ll try.”
Once inside, I closed the front door and leaned up against it, my chest as deflated as a flat tire.
“Is that you, lamb chop?” Dad called from down the hallway.
I tried to force a bright and breezy tone, as though my heart hadn’t just been ripped out and thoroughly stomped on. “Hi, Dad. Be there in a second.” I pulled a tissue out of my purse and dabbed at my eyes, my smudged mascara blotting the tissue black. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself before walking down the hall into the living room. I didn’t want to make Dad worry about me.
It was all in vain. As soon as I saw him, my face creased up and the tears flowed.
“Honey!” he said, pushing himself out of his recliner and collecting me up in one of his famous hugs.
I sobbed into his shoulder, deep, shuddering tears. I’d been holding so much in, keeping so much from my dear old dad. He shushed me, holding me close. I felt like a little girl, crying over a cut or scrape as he held me.
“I’ve made your shirt all gross,” I said as I tried to wipe the mascara smudges from his white polo.
“Don’t you go worrying about a thing like that,” he said with a smile. “It could be my new ‘fashion forward’ look.”
I let out a watery—and a little snotty—laugh. “I never thought I’d hear you use the term ‘fashion forward,’ Dad.”
“Well, I’m glad your old dad can still surprise you every now and then.”
I thought about the way in which he’d been surprising me lately: Gaylene, going Paleo. Using an expression he had picked up from E! Television was a tiny minnow in comparison with those great, hulking fish.
“Did you want to talk about it?” he asked.
I nodded. It was time; I needed to come clean with him. We sat down together on our old sofa with the cat claw rips on the arms from many cats ago.
“I don’t know where to start,” I said once I’d blown my nose and was feeling marginally more in control.
“The beginning is usually a good place.”
So that’s what I did. I went all-in, telling Dad everything from top to toe. I told him all about how I’d quit my job at AGD under a dark cloud; how I’d been working for Bailey as a waitress these past weeks; how I’d got another job but wasn’t sure I even wanted it.
“Why would you take a job you didn’t want?” he asked.
“Because it’s my career, Dad.”
“Honey, let me tell you something. Do you know why I work at the supermarket?” I shook my head. “Because I love it. I love the people, the way it’s so busy, being around all that wonderful produce.”
I let out a chortle. “Only if it’s what the cavemen ate, right?”
He grinned. “Laugh if you like, but it’s working out great for me.” He pulled on his jean’s waistband to show how much weight he’d lost.
“Dad, that’s awesome.” I smiled at him through my tears. Although it made me happy to see him taking control of his health the way he was, it still troubled me it was Gaylene who got him to do it, not me.
“I know. Gaylene has changed my life.”
I couldn’t help but harrumph. Loudly.
Dad’s face showed his alarm. “Don’t you like her?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just . . . I guess, I tried for ages to get you to take care of yourself better, and then Gaylene sailed in and bam! you started doing all the things I’d been asking you to do.”
It was Dad’s turn to hang his head. “I know, and I’m sorry. You feel betrayed.”
I nodded at him as he labeled the indistinct feeling I’d been carrying around with me.
“I know what. Why don’t we say you loosened the jar so she could open it?”
I furrowed my brow. “What?”
“What I mean is, you laid all the groundwork so that when Gaylene and I got to talking about things, I was already halfway there.”
I let out a light laugh. “Let’s say that, then.”
“Anyway,” he said, widening his eyes in mock frustration, “My point about working at the supermarket is I could have worked somewhere else, made some more money. Who knows? But I didn’t because I was happy. Honey, you need to do what makes you happy, not what anyone else wants you to do.”
I thought about what Josh had said on the yacht. Two men in my life seemed to have their heads screwed on right—and seemed to know me better than I knew myself.
I bit my lip. “So, are you saying it would be okay with you if I didn’t work as an Email Marketing Assistant anymore?”
“Of course!” He collected me into another hug. “Do what’s right for you, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. And you know I’ll always be proud of you.”
Fresh tears welled in my eyes. “I know.” A surge of excitement hit me at the thought of “doing what was right for me,” but I came back to earth with a splat when I realized I had no idea what the right thing for me was.
“What does that lovely boyfriend of yours think?”
My heart sank at the thought of Marcus. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”
“You broke up with Josh? What happened? He seemed like such a great guy.”
“I wasn’t dating Josh, Dad. I was seeing a guy called Marcus and . . . well, it’s over now.”
“Huh. Here I was thinking you were dating Josh.”
No, he just rescued me from the ocean, trained me for my run, and gave me career advice—advice that was totally on the money, as it turned out. Oh, and he liked me. He liked me. Which was a lot more than I could say for Marcus Hahn.
Suddenly tired, my head heavy, I stood up, and said, “I’m going to bed. I’ve had enough of today.” I leaned down and pecked Dad on the cheek. “Night.”
“Night, lamb chop. And thanks for telling me about everything that’s been going on. I’m sorry you’ve been having such a tough time of it.”
I shrugged, a small shadow of guilt still lying across my chest. “Sorry.”
“It’s nothing to worry about.”
I ambled slowly toward the door, turning back when Dad said, “Everything will be okay. You know that, don’t you?”
I looked at his smiling, upturned face. With no career, no boyfriend, and no direction, I wished with all my heart I could believe him.
Chapter 21
I ARRIVED AT THE Cozy Cottage the following morning, literally dragging my feet along the ground. Okay, not literally dragging my feet, but I was feeling as low as I’d felt in a very long time. Betrayal and a near-death experience could do that to a gal.
I tapped on the front door, and Bailey appeared from the kitchen to unlock and let me in.
“Good morning. I hope you’re feeling better today?” she asked in her usual bright and breezy tone.
I summoned every last bit of energy to form a smile. “Morning. I’m working on it.”
“Good. Come and drop your purse. I need you to finish off the breakfast muffins, if that’s okay?”
Usually, the thought of Bailey’s delicious cream cheese, bacon, and spinach breakfast muffins had my mouth watering. Not today. My taste buds were clearly as down in the dum
ps as I was.
I followed Bailey out to the kitchen. When I walked through the entranceway, I spotted Josh, glancing in my direction and shooting me a brief smile as he slipped out the back door. A strange feeling passed over me. In my current state of mind, I couldn’t identify it.
Bailey turned to me, her eyes shining. “Actually, this can’t wait. Can we sit down and have a talk?”
I wondered what was going on. “Of course. But didn’t you want me to do the muffins?”
Her face was bright. “Yes, but I have something I need to tell you first. Something to talk to you about. Let’s grab a coffee and sit down. Latte?”
“Sure.” I dropped my purse out back as Bailey ground the beans and fired up the coffee machine. I was finding it nearly impossible to get excited about anything today, but she had my interest piqued.
Our coffees on the table in front of us, Bailey placed her hands on the table in front of her. She seemed almost nervous.
“What is it?” I asked, knitting my brows together.
“I need to tell you a story. My story.”
Out of nowhere, a chill hit me. I nodded.
“You know I’ve had this place for a while now and I own it with a partner, right?” I nodded. “That’s not the whole story.” She paused, and I noticed she was now clasping her hands together tight.
I placed one of my hands on hers. “It’s okay.”
She smiled at me, tears welling in her eyes. “I bought this place with my fiancé.”
I blinked at her. Bailey didn’t have a fiancé. We’d have known about it if she had. Wouldn’t we? “Your fiancé?”
“Daniel. Daniel Bentley.”
Josh’s last name was Bentley. Coincidence? My mind began to whir. “Any relation to Josh?” I asked uncertainly.
She bit her lip and nodded. “He was Josh’s brother. He died.” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her lips together.
“I had no idea. My god, Bailey. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. It was a while ago. It was a biking accident.” She looked off into the distance. “He was mad on mountain biking. He and Josh would go on these trips away together. Only, one day just after Dan and I had bought this place, he . . . he didn’t come back.”
Two Last First Dates Page 21
