Winning his Heart

by Lara Van Hulzen

  Instead, her thoughts had filled with Mike and Annalise’s faces, laughing at Olaf and his silliness as they watched Frozen for the one thousandth time. She saw her students and the shift in their demeanor when a scene clicked and they became the character they were pretending to be. Her mom’s smile as she told Franchesca the details of her life in the photographs that sat on a table in front of her.

  Every moment had been so clear, she feared the director could see each one in a bubble above her head. She’d fought to recall the lines she was to perform and then did so, moving through the scene as best she could.

  But now, as she sat and stared at the empty stage, the truth hit her so hard it was like a punch to the gut. Without the joy from her family, from the people she loved, none of this was worth it. Yes, this had been her dream once. But not anymore. It didn’t fulfill her the way teaching did, the way time with her friends did. The way Mike and Annalise did.

  And there was the rub.

  A tear fought its way to the edge of her eyelash, but she blinked it away. Going back to Marietta meant having some of those things again, but not a future with Mike and Annalise. The one thing she wanted most.

  She laid her head back against the seat and looked at the ceiling. It was a gorgeous theater. Daniel St. Claire had friends in high places. This was an audition most actresses dreamed about, but only a choice few got the chance to have. She’d be forever grateful.

  This was Broadway. It was grand. And yet, all Franchesca could think about was how much she missed the theater in Marietta. So small in comparison, but a place that had more importance to her than this.

  She shook her head. Enough of the pity party. No more thinking about what was, what could be. It was time to think about all she had. Her mom. Her friends. Her students. She was Franchesca Stone, for heaven’s sake. No matter what she faced moving forward, she could handle it.

  Her attitude to pick herself up and stomp through life only lasted as long as it took to get back to Wes’s penthouse. Even though she’d protested, Wes had insisted she stay there. And as much as she hated taking one more favor from the St. Claires, she’d learned it was best not to fight with Wes. When the man wanted something, he got it.

  Hence the reason her best friend now had that enormous rock on her left hand and his last name. He’d seen her, he’d wanted her, he got her. Franchesca laughed as she walked out of the elevator that opened up straight into Wes’s entryway. It wasn’t quite that simple. Noelle had made him work for it a bit. But still, the man was a force. It was best to agree with him and move on.

  As she kicked off her shoes and settled into the sofa that faced the floor to ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan, she had to admit she was glad she’d not fought him too hard. The place was amazing. He’d whisked Noelle to New York for a night while she was helping him with the Bachelor Bake-Off and they’d stayed in this penthouse.

  Smart man.

  Not that Noelle was a gold digger. Far from it. And neither was Franchesca. She’d never seen Mike as someone to be with for his money. She was too independent for that.

  Man, that word almost haunted her. Why was it that everyone wanted to make her see it as a negative? Learning to stand on her own two feet had gotten her this far. And it would get her through losing Mike.

  Mike.

  She looked at her watch. He’d be racing right now. Aware of when his race would be, she guessed her subconscious kept her at the theater longer and nudged her to move slowly back to Wes’s place to keep from thinking about it and to stop her from turning on the television and watching.

  She shuffled to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Maybe if she went out to dinner that would kill more time and she wouldn’t be tempted to turn on the TV. The meals Wes had his housekeeper make for her stared back at her from the fridge. It would be a waste to go out. Besides, loneliness was knocking on her door already. Sitting alone at a table in a restaurant would do nothing but seal that deal.

  Not that sitting alone in a huge penthouse was any less pathetic. But at least it was less public. She read the labels on the meals and chose lasagna. She’d just turned on the oven when her phone rang in her purse. It was Noelle. She could tell from the ringtone. Franchesca had promised to let her know how the audition went and she’d forgotten to call. She found her phone and answered, preparing herself for a deserved admonishment from her friend.

  “Hey, friend. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I—”

  Noelle cut her off. “Franchesca. Are you watching?”

  She didn’t like the tone of Noelle’s voice. Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong.

  “Watching?”

  “The race.”

  Franchesca’s stomach sank. “No. Why?”

  “There was a crash. Mike’s was one of the five cars involved.”

  Her hands shook as she found the remote and turned on the massive television over the fireplace. She cursed the length of time it took for her to find the channel. Her heart pounded in her chest.

  This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.

  The channel came on the screen and she gasped at the sight of smoke and twisted metal. One car was overturned, its wheels spinning in the air.

  “Oh my...” She put a hand over her mouth.

  “Franchesca.”

  She still held the phone to her ear but had forgotten Noelle was on the other end. All that ran through her mind was that Mike was in one of those cars.

  Mike.

  “He’ll be fine, Franchesca.”

  How could Noelle know that? There was no way to tell anything from what was on the screen. Bits of news flashed across the bottom, names of the drivers involved. Mike’s name floated by and a sob escaped her throat.

  “Franchesca. We’re all getting in the car to go to the airport. We’re taking the plane to Detroit then Wes is having it sent to get you. Okay?”

  She nodded her head as if Noelle could see her.

  “Franchesca?”

  “Yes. Sorry. Yes.” She found her voice, but it was as if it belonged to someone else.

  Mike.

  One hand held the phone to her ear, the other wrapped around her middle as if to hold her together somehow.

  “I heard you. I’ll be ready.”

  “Wes’s driver knows to take you to the airport as soon as you’re ready. We’ll text you with a time the plane will be there so you can head to the airport.”

  “Okay.” She had to fight the urge to race for the door and run to Detroit. Annalise’s cherub face filled her mind. “Annalise! What about Annalise?” Oh, Lord in heaven, that precious little girl. Franchesca prayed she wouldn’t lose her father, too. Mike might not want her in their lives, but she’d be damned if she wanted anything bad to happen to either one of them.

  “Glenna is staying with her. She has no idea.”

  “Good. Okay.”

  “Franchesca. We’ll call you soon.”

  “Yes. Go. Soon.”

  They ended their call. Her mind swirled as her eyes stayed glued to the television screen, searching for any sign of Mike. The cameras showed different angles, but with all the smoke and EMTs and trucks now on the track, it was impossible to see.

  The channel went to a commercial, snapping her out of her trance.

  Tears poured down her cheeks as she turned off the oven, tossed clothes, and toiletries into her suitcase, not giving a damn about anything but getting to Mike as fast as possible.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Franchesca paced the waiting area of the small, private airport. She’d had the driver bring her the second she was packed, which took about two minutes since she’d grabbed everything and jammed it into her suitcase. She still hadn’t heard any more from Noelle.

  The apps on her phone that gave racing news weren’t giving details. All drivers involved in the wreck had been taken to the hospital, but no more information was given. Her hands were clasped together in front of her chest, whether in constant prayer for Mike
or to help keep her pounding heart in her chest she wasn’t sure. Maybe a little of both.

  The thought that a mere few days ago she’d believed she wanted what New York had to offer her over all that was in Marietta made her shake her head. She may have been a fool for Mike, but until the day she died, she would never regret loving him. He may not want her in his life, but she’d forever be grateful for the time he was in hers.

  “Franchesca.”

  She spun around to find Lucas flying through the doors of the airport.

  “Lucas.”

  He held out his arms and she walked into the brotherly embrace he offered.

  “I came as soon as Wes called me. I’m gonna hop the flight with you to Detroit.”

  Franchesca stepped back and looked at Mike’s brother. “Of course.”

  “Have you heard anything else?”

  She shook her head, her arms wrapped around her middle.

  “Hey. He’s gonna be okay.”

  Noelle had said the same thing. But how did they know? The images from the television screen played over and over in her mind like a horror film she’d seen in college. But this one was real and the man she loved was right smack dab in the middle of it.

  Lucas’s phone dinged in his pocket. He pulled it out and read the screen. “Wes said the plane should be here any minute.”

  “Anything else?” Her heart grasped for something, anything that told her Mike was fine. That he was alive.

  Lucas typed something then hit send.

  His phone dinged again.

  “They’re at the hospital. No solid news or details on his injuries but he’s alive.”

  Franchesca took a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. As much as she hated tears, at the moment she didn’t care that they flowed freely down her cheeks. Lucas put his phone back in his pocket and pulled her to him once more.

  As an only child, she’d gone through a lot of her life alone. Sure, her parents had been wonderful to her and loved her like crazy, but it wasn’t the same as having a sibling. Being around the St. Claires, she’d seen the positives to having a big family. Mike teased that his brothers could be a pain, but he loved them. And she could see in Wes’s and Lucas’s actions, the feeling was mutual.

  The doors flew open once more and a tiny woman with wavy strawberry blonde hair raced through.

  “Is he okay? What have you heard? I came as fast as possible.”

  Lucas turned from Franchesca and held out his hands. “Calm down, McKenna. One thing at a time.”

  The youngest St. Claire. Franchesca recognized her from the family photos.

  “He’s at the hospital. No information on his injuries.”

  A woman who had been sitting behind a counter came over. “Your plane has arrived, Mr. St. Claire.”

  Lucas nodded and thanked her then turned to his sister. “He’s alive. That’s all we know.” He grabbed his backpack and Franchesca’s suitcase. “McKenna, this is Franchesca. Franchesca, my sister, McKenna. Let’s go.”

  The two women shook hands and followed Lucas. Bringing up the rear, Franchesca could see the similarities in the younger two St. Claire siblings. Although much smaller than her brother, McKenna looked the most like Lucas in coloring. She talked to him nonstop as they made their way to the plane, Lucas responding with only a nod or shake of his head. Franchesca couldn’t hear what they were saying, but McKenna looked almost frantic with worry. It didn’t help her nerves to see the young woman so upset.

  Lucas and Noelle said Mike was going to be okay. As she climbed the stairs to the aircraft, she clung to that and prayed it was true.

  The doors to the ER opened with a whooshing sound as the three of them entered to find Daniel, Wes, and Noelle sitting in chairs off to one side. The looks on their faces didn’t give Franchesca much comfort.

  McKenna rushed into her dad’s arms while Lucas hugged Wes and Noelle. Standing behind them, she was aware of how much she didn’t fit in. Caught up in the frenzy of getting to Mike, she’d not thought about whether her presence there was a good idea or not. She wasn’t a St. Claire. And she wasn’t in Mike’s life. A wave of loneliness overwhelmed her and she moved to sit in a chair a few feet from the group.

  She fought back tears and eyed the Exit sign. What made her think she had any right to come rushing to his side?

  “Hey, you.” Noelle stood in front of her and pulled her into a hug.

  Franchesca blinked hard and let the tears come.

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “You might be the only one.” Franchesca looked down.

  “Nonsense.”

  A man in blue scrubs came into the room. Daniel stepped forward.

  “Your son is in ICU at the moment. We are running a few more tests, just to be sure, but at this point, I believe he’ll make a full recovery.”

  They all breathed a sigh of relief at the same time.

  “With an accident like this, we want to be absolutely sure no damage was done to the neck and spine. So far, it all looks good. He has a broken arm and is quite battered and bruised. But overall, your son is a lucky man.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Daniel shook the man’s hand. “When can we see him?”

  “Family can go back one at a time. Friends can visit once he’s moved to a regular room.”

  “Dad, you go,” McKenna encouraged.

  They all nodded in agreement.

  “Ok. I’ll be back.” Daniel turned and left with the doctor.

  Franchesca sank back in her chair again, relief flooding her system.

  “This is such great news.” Noelle took a seat beside her.

  “Hey, Franchesca. How are you holding up?” Wes leaned down and kissed her cheek then stood before the two women.

  Lucas and McKenna stood nearby, McKenna wrapped in her brother’s arms looking exhausted and relieved at the same time. Boy, Franchesca understood that.

  “I’m fine.”

  Wes lifted his eyebrows. “Try again, and this time, be honest.”

  She took a deep breath in and let it out. “I’m so relieved he’s going to be okay.”

  “We all are. I asked how you’re doing.”

  The man really was relentless.

  “Just answer him. He won’t give up until you do.” Noelle winked at her husband and smiled at Franchesca.

  “I don’t know, to be honest. New York wasn’t... it isn’t what I want. I thought I did, but...”

  Noelle put a hand on hers, encouraging her to continue.

  “I’m so grateful to you, Wes. And to your dad. You’ve been so great. I’m sorry...”

  “You have nothing to apologize for, Franchesca. We wanted to support you in this, in seeing what you really want in life.”

  “I know what I want, but I’m afraid the feeling isn’t mutual.”

  “Don’t kid yourself.”

  Franchesca looked up at Wes. What did he mean by that? Had Mike changed his mind about them?

  “He doesn’t want me.”

  Before Wes could answer, Daniel came back in the room. “He’s doing well. They’re moving him to a regular room now. We can go in and see him one at a time.”

  McKenna took a step toward her dad, but he held up his hand.

  “Franchesca, he’s asking for you.”

  Franchesca moved one foot in front of the other down the hallway that led to Mike’s room. Hospitals had always freaked her out a little, a labyrinth of twists and turns making her feel as if she were in a maze she could never get out of.

  All eyes had turned to her when Daniel had said Mike wanted to see her, McKenna being the only one looking a tad surprised. Well, she and Franchesca, who had no doubt that the shock she felt showed on her face. Mike had just woken up from a horrible accident. If he wanted nothing to do with her, why would he ask to see her before any of his family?

  Her heart pounded in her chest once more at the potential answer to that question, but logic swatted at any hopes of it being true. Mike had been
clear on where they stood. There was no doubt about his feelings for her. She told herself as much as she pushed on the door to his room, but hope refused to be tamped down. It danced on the edge of her heart and mind as she entered.

  His bed was tilted up, his head resting on two pillows. His left arm was in a large cast. One eye was so black and blue, it was almost swollen shut. The rest of his face had small cuts, red slashes that marred his skin. Her hand longed to reach out and touch his five o’clock shadow she loved so much. Instead, she clasped her hands in front of her and fought the urge to cry.

  “I look that bad, huh?”

  In spite of herself and the moment, she laughed.

  “No.” She smiled, her heart aching in her chest at the mere sight of him. A chant of ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’ repeated in her head at seeing him alive and whole.

  “You can come in.”

  She took a couple steps into the room, but still didn’t dare trust herself to get within a reachable distance to him. Throwing herself into his arms would be a whole new level of humiliation for her, one that she cared to avoid as much as possible.

  “How was New York?”

  Her stomach turned. Of course he wanted to talk to her. He wanted verification that she’d gone and left, walked away from him and Annalise without turning back. He’d most likely forgotten he was the one who’d shoved her out the door.

  “It wasn’t what I thought it would be.” There was no use in beating around the bush or playing games. She wanted to come home to Marietta, whether Mike was in her life or not. But oh, how her heart broke again standing before him with the reality of that right in her face.

  “It wasn’t?” His tone was sincere as if he was disappointed.

  “No. Marietta is my home.” She looked down at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. Not wanting to see a life without him in it.

  “I’m sorry, Franchesca. I know that was your dream.”

  Her head came up and met his eyes. “It was. But not anymore.”

  “What’s your dream now?”

  Visions of her with Mike and Annalise playing tea party flashed through her mind. She and Mike sitting at an outdoor café, talking, laughing, and kissing. Life with him. That was her dream. But not something that could be her reality.