“But they’re really very sweet. Maybe if you’d—”
“No. I can’t work with dogs too. It’s them or me.”
Rachel opened her mouth to say the dogs weren’t staying, but weren’t they? Marcello had given the kids the dogs because he loved his children, no matter how ill suited two pups had been. It might be the only reminder they’d ever have of him if things didn’t work out. She couldn’t give them away.
She glanced at her mom, who was smirking again. She’d known what the answer was going to be before Rachel had. “Then I’m terribly sorry to have wasted your time. I have to choose them.”
Ceilia blinked at her vacantly. “But I already have the job. They make me sign contract.”
Hannah squirmed and held her hands out to touch the puppies, so Rachel sat on the couch. The puppies dutifully scrambled over to get some love. “I have the final say. I’ll call and tell them it wasn’t your fault.” Why hadn’t Marcello mentioned the dogs to the nanny he’d chosen?
Anger tightened Ceilia’s lips. “My chances are gone? Just like that?”
“If you mean your chance to spend time with two great kids, then yes.” Rachel handed Hannah to her mom and then stood to show Ceilia out. The woman’s real motives were abundantly clear. “You didn’t want this job anyway. Owing someone in the acting business can lead to having to do things no woman should have to do.” Marcello’s clear disgust had shown through when he’d told her how actors were mistreated in Hollywood, all in the name of getting parts.
Ceilia pouted as she walked beside Rachel to the door, calling herself up a ride on her cell phone. “Who was this famous actor anyway? He no live here, obviously.”
Rather than take offense, Rachel smiled. Her new house wasn’t a palace in France or a governor’s mansion like Ceilia expected, but it was a nice home. “I’ll be sure they pay you for a month so you’ll have time to find a new job. Good luck.” Rachel stuck out her hand, but Ceilia refused to shake it.
She filled her hands with her suitcases instead. “Waste of my time.” She laid a case down, opened the door, and marched down the walk, her heavy boots clomping their way to the curb to wait for her ride.
It was cold, so Rachel called out, “You’re welcome to wait inside.”
Ceilia’s response was a rude hand signal.
Well, good riddance. She’d find her own nanny. One who wanted to be with the kids because she enjoyed their company. Not someone biding her time until getting her big break. What had Marcello been thinking?
She turned and walked down the hallway to the den. Probably time to pick out names for the dogs.
She rejoined her mom and the kids on the couch. “So much for that. I’ll call a service this afternoon and see if I can find someone else.”
“Good idea.” Her mom stood with the two sleeping kids. “Let me put them down, and then you can tell me about your date tomorrow night. Since when do people date on Thursday nights?”
Lori had a big mouth. Seemed her mother knew more than she’d been letting on. “It’s not really a date, that’s why.” The thought of actually dating again made Rachel’s stomach hurt. While Trent could be dating material, she wasn’t interested.
When her mom returned, Rachel added, “Lori showed me who she and Shelby had picked out for me, and I knew him. I went to college with Trent and his former wife Macy at State. Macy was one of my roommates in that big apartment we had sophomore through senior year, remember? Then we all went off to grad school and lost touch. I hadn’t heard Macy had died, so I asked Trent if he’d like to have dinner. As friends. To catch up. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry to hear about Macy. But are you and Marcello really over?”
“He told me to find someone else to help me raise the kids. That sounded pretty much over to me. Then he sent me a text apologizing and said he wanted to talk. I can’t take this back and forth.” Tears stung Rachel’s eyes, and that stupid lump was back in her throat. She hated to cry. It made her feel weak and vulnerable. She was trying to get back to her normal self. Strong. Independent. Not a babbling fool over lost . . . whatever it was it felt like she’d lost.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Her mom’s arms encircled Rachel’s shoulders.
She didn’t want a hug. She’d cry for sure.
Rachel squeezed her eyes closed and tried to think of something else, but her mom just held on tighter.
There was something nice about being embraced by someone who had no choice but to love you no matter what. Who did love her no matter what. It made her heart ache even worse.
She couldn’t hold back the flood any longer. The dam broke, and the first tear dripped onto her mother’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine, Mom.” Rachel hated the croak in her voice.
“You always say you’re fine. Even if you aren’t.” Her mother’s comforting hand slowly running up and down Rachel’s back made her want to cry even harder.
She finally gave in and snuggled closer to her mom. After she cleared the blockage away from her throat, she whispered, “I’d always hoped my kids wouldn’t have to come from a broken home too, you know? No offense.”
“None taken. I’d hoped that for you too. Especially you.” A soft kiss landed on the top of Rachel’s head. “You and failure have never mixed. But sometimes we have to fall and get back up before we appreciate the journey we’re on.”
“I suppose. But it still sucks.” Rachel accepted the tissue that appeared in front of her face and blew her nose. “Part of me wants Marcello more than air to breathe, and the other part is so afraid of being hurt again. I’ve just been feeling so tired and overwhelmed lately on top of it.”
“You’ve not been sleeping. That’ll mess with even someone as tough as you.” Her mom’s arms tightened. “You’ll make the right choice. You always do. And you have your whole family to lean on until you get your mojo back, or whatever it is you told your sister you’ve lost. We all love you, sweetheart.”
The lump formed in her throat again, so she just nodded. She should tell her mom she loved her too, because she did. Instead, she gave her mom a hard squeeze.
Maybe she’d needed that hug after all.
Chapter Five
Can the truth really set you free?
Marcello closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep so his ambitious yet annoying agent would be quiet for fifteen minutes. He’d given his team a full day of press engagements in New York, hadn’t he? That he’d only given a select few outlets interviews had worked to their advantage. But smiling for twelve straight hours made his face hurt.
Lance didn’t let Marcello’s closed eyes stop him. “We really need to talk about this Rachel person, bud. You can’t afford to lose sight of the prize right now. And when the hell were you going to tell me and Stella you have freakin’ kids? You need to let their baby mama handle them and move on. They’ll ruin all our plans, man.”
It was as if Lance had one arm and Rachel had the other and they were both pulling. Both asking too much of him. There were only so many hours in a day. Only so many places he could be at once.
But in reality, it was only Lance doing the pulling. Rachel hadn’t asked a thing of him other than to be a real father to their children. She hadn’t asked that he marry her, had never asked for money. She hadn’t even asked for a simple hug when she had to have needed one. It was his heart that was doing the pulling.
“I love Rachel and my children. You’ll need to accept them and understand that perhaps our five-year plan isn’t going to happen. I don’t have to be a mega star to be happy. I have more than I can ask for now.”
Lance hopped out of his seat. “It doesn’t work that way. You’ve got this small window of time, and in that, if you don’t jump to the next level, make yourself a household name, then someone else will. At this rate, you won’t find any work in your forties, dude.”
He sighed. “We’ll find a way to make things work. I promise.”
Lance sat down again and shook his head. “I still don’t
know how you could betray Stella and me like this. Keeping a huge secret like this from us. That hurt, man.”
He refused to let his agent’s dejected demeanor change his mind about Rachel and the kids. But he hated to disappoint anyone. “My falling in love has nothing to do with betraying you. How about I buy you a new Rolex? Those always cheer you up, sì?”
“You know I love a good watch.” Lance ran his hands down his face. “But Ally would kill me if I accepted it. She took the last one you bought me back and said I have to stop feeding your bad habit of showering gifts on people.” He leaned back, crossed his arms, and did the equivalent of a full-grown man pout.
Ally was eighteen years old, his chef’s daughter, and the one person other than Rachel whom he fully trusted. Wait until Ally saw the bills for what Rachel was going to get. He’d get an earful for sure.
Luckily, Lance seemed to have run out of gas and finally closed his eyes, so Marcello did the same.
The noise from the engines and the oxygen pumping into his plane relaxed him. Lance’s plans were not nearly as important as the plan he needed to remove his father from his life.
Using strategy, and maybe a little espionage of his own, he would uncover dirt on his father. Surely the man had committed other crimes since the one against his sweet mother. And then he’d shut the man down for good, maybe even send him to jail where he belonged.
Thoughts of his father made all the tension in Marcello’s shoulders return. He forcefully unclenched his hands and jaw in an effort to relax. He would not let his temper get the best of him. Ever. Instead, he’d focus on how to solve his problems.
He’d take the first step and ask his assistant, Skye, to hire a private investigator to start the inquiry into his father. His next steps would be all about making Rachel see what a great life he could give her. He’d show up at her door with beautiful gifts. Shower her with dinners out, designer clothes, jewelry, parties, fantastic trips. She’d never be able to refuse him. Especially now that she had a nanny to allow her time to enjoy all the spoils a life with him could bring.
All would be good again with Rachel. He fell asleep thinking of how perfect it’d be.
After a quick power nap, he opened his eyes and enjoyed the way the lights drew closer, and how the illuminated buildings near the airport became larger as they made their approach into Denver. His assistants had been busy all day preparing for his visit with Rachel. And his plane would go on to LA and drop his team off, so the press wouldn’t know he was in Denver. They’d think they stopped to refuel.
Everything would be perfect. He hoped.
Rachel opened the door to the busy restaurant and made her way to the reservation desk. She ran her mantra for the evening, “It’s not a real date, it’s not a real date,” through her mind to give her the courage she lacked. Since when had she ever been nervous before a date?
But it wasn’t a real date.
The greeter must’ve been showing others to their table, because there was no one manning the station. She scanned the groups of diners in her favorite barbecue joint while breathing in the familiar smoky tang that hung in the air. It made her stomach growl. That was the one thing that hadn’t changed: she still had an appetite like a linebacker. Since the kids had been born, though, she’d had to eat more like a model about to walk the runway.
But then a waitress walked by with a platter of ribs slathered in her favorite sauce. Carrot sticks and yogurt could go stuff it. She was going to eat for a change, and she’d damn well enjoy every bite. There wasn’t any need to pretend she didn’t eat much when on a date like her friends did. Because, lucky for her, she wasn’t on a date.
Trent stood and lifted a hand. He looked the same. Tall, thin, dirty blond hair, and glasses that’d look dorky on anyone else but made Trent look sexy and smart. She smiled as she weaved her way through the tables to join him.
When he smiled that familiar, teasing smile back, all her anxiety drained away. She’d almost forgotten how much she used to like to hang out with him and Macy. He’d been like a lovable but annoying big brother. “Hey, stranger. Long time no see.” She gave him a quick hug. “We’re clear this is just dinner, right. Not a date.”
“Crystal. But I feel obligated to tell you that you look fantastic. But in a purely nonsexual way.”
“Right back atcha. I’m into dark Italian types these days, so you’re safe too.”
“Glad we cleared that up.” He took her coat and laid it across the back of an empty chair. “I’m surprised you didn’t make me sign something agreeing to this nondate before you sat down. You being the lawyerly type and all.”
“It’d crossed my mind.” She scooted her chair closer to the table. “Mostly because I know how much that would have annoyed a free-spirited head shrinker like you.”
“Oooh, nice one. Glad you haven’t changed a bit.” He smiled and picked up the menu. “What’s good here?”
“The ribs are to die for, but the brisket is good enough to make you want to slap your mamma.”
“Slap my mamma?” He slowly lowered the menu. “Have you fallen and hit your head recently?”
“It’s a Southern expression.” She pointed to the sign with the same slogan hanging across the room, smiling inwardly. It reminded her of how often she had to explain slang to Marcello. “But all the food is good here. And I’m buying tonight because I invited you. No arguments.”
Feelings of betrayal crept into her gut before she reminded herself she wasn’t on a date. And even if she were, Marcello told her to date other men.
The waiter’s arrival interrupted her guilt-ridden thoughts. “I’m John, and I’ll be your server. Have we decided what we’d like this evening?”
Trent frowned at the menu for a moment and then laid it down. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”
“Smart man.” She ordered way more than they could possibly eat. She’d have leftovers for two days. No cooking, and good eating was always a plus.
After the server left with the promise of ice-cold beers to come, she said, “I’m sorry I lost touch with you and Macy. We had some great times, didn’t we?”
“Yeah. Us and whoever the flavor of the moment was you’d been dating. It was like a revolving door, but I won the bet every time.”
“Bet? What do you mean?”
“Macy always thought you’d finally find the right guy if you could just keep one around for any period of time. So we’d bet on how many days they’d last. Loser had to cook dinner for the other. I had many a fine meal at your expense, so thank you for that.”
“Glad I could help. But just for that, maybe you should buy me dinner tonight. It’s the least you can do for treating me like a racehorse.” They’d measured her relationships in days? Not even weeks? Had she been that picky?
“Deal.” A big grin lit his face. “A normal person would be mad at me for telling her that. Glad you’re still a freak.”
She’d forgotten he used to call her that. It made her smile. “Can I assume that’s my official diagnosis now that you have that fancy certificate hanging on your office wall?”
“If the freaky clown shoe fits.” His grin slowly faded. “I’d almost forgotten how much alike you and Macy were. You make me miss her.”
That made her heart hurt for him. “Me too. I was so sorry to hear about her accident. How are you holding up?”
“It’s been two years, so . . . ” He grabbed a bottle of barbecue sauce and slowly pushed it back and forth between his hands. “I have a standard answer that’ll make you feel better for asking, or I could tell you the truth. Which would you like?”
She’d always appreciated Trent’s honesty. Sometimes he’d been a little too honest, though. It’d made some of their friends uncomfortable. It was as if Trent could see right to people’s souls sometimes. “The real one, please.”
His busy hands stopped pushing the bottle, and he folded them. “I miss Macy every day when I look into my daughter’s eyes. And I really hate dating. I�
�m not sure I’ll ever find someone to love as much as I loved Macy. I still have to tamp down the anger I have that the man who was texting while he drove his car into hers still has his whole life ahead of him.”
Rachel laid a hand over his. “All normal feelings a shrink probably isn’t supposed to tell others he has, right? Like you’re supposed to be above all those base emotions we mere mortals feel?”
“Yeah.” His eyes were filled with sadness as he nodded. “Now it’s your turn, Miss I-Hate-To-Talk-About-My-Feelings.”
She slid her hand back into her lap. “Now that you bared your soul, I’d probably be a jerk if I didn’t tell you something just as personal, wouldn’t I?”
“Yep.” He leaned back in his chair and tilted his head. “I’m not letting you off the hook like Macy always did.”
Rachel blew out a long breath. If she couldn’t tell a psychiatrist, who could she tell? “You know I never wanted what Macy wanted. To get married and have a bunch of kids. I wanted to see the world, be the best lawyer I could be, and have fun. Find my own identity apart from my twin. But somehow things took an unexpected turn along the way.”
The waiter returned with their beers. Thank God.
She accepted hers with a smile. “Just in the nick of time. Thank you.” Rachel took a deep drink while Trent did the same.
When they were alone again, Trent locked gazes with her. “You’re a smart woman who knew what she wanted, especially about not having kids right away, so I’m sort of curious how this ‘unexpected turn’ happened. And where is the father?”
She hated talking about that. “It was an accident. We were in Spain. My prescription ran out. I figured I’d be back in New York in a few days to refill it, so if we were careful and remembered to use protection . . . The rest is history.” She still felt so stupid about that. But she wouldn’t change a thing. Her children were a gift like none she’d ever been given.
Trent nodded as he took a drink. Then he put his glass down and pinned her with another deep stare. “Some think there are no such things as accidents. That it’s the subconscious acting on its own desire.”
Truly A Match (Rocky Mountain Matchmaker Book 4) Page 5
