“I’ll be here.”
“And you want to stop by Leilani’s class in the Mission. I took it yesterday, and her tree poses are to die for.”
“I can’t wait.”
He fixes me with a pout, narrows his winged eye-liner eyes, all the more stunning against his dark brown skin. “Are you ever going to tell me what all this research is about?”
“Someday,” I say breezily, still high on sex, on falling, on love.
But the next day I wake up with a smidgeon of guilt wiggling through me, and it’s not about the half moon shoot.
As I shower and get dressed, I keep asking myself if maybe I shouldn’t have given in with Harlan.
Should I have waited till the end of the season?
I wait for the universe to answer, but instead, there’s a knock on my door.
I head to the peephole.
My mother is waiting on the other side.
26
Katie
I’d be less surprised to see Ed Sheeran.
I turn into a statue with my mouth hanging open. How do I talk? Think? Act?
My brain goes sluggish.
The woman who ruined my wedding is here at my home. She hasn’t reached out to me since August when I sent her my “Enjoy him,” note.
But now she’s here on a Thursday morning.
Knocking.
This makes no sense.
I stare at my hand like it’s not even attached to my body. Like it’s been injected with novocaine and I can’t move it.
Do I let her in?
Ignore her?
Tiptoe to the bedroom and hide until she goes away?
Just like that, I know what to do.
I am not hiding. I grab the knob, open the door, and meet her gaze for the first time since she took my almost-husband from me.
“Hello,” I say. I don’t have time to fashion a quip or a zing.
She flashes a red-lipsticked smile at me. “Darling.”
It’s said without fear.
There is no hint of repentance in her voice. No sense she was ever in the wrong.
Her confidence unnerves me. I’m not sure how to handle her. My jaw tics, and I grit my teeth as I wait for her to speak.
Her eyes widen, and she peers inside. “Well, can I come in? Would you like to invite me?”
No. I would not like to.
But I’m morbidly fascinated with her chutzpah.
Also, she’s my mother. When I’m around her, I snap back to how I felt growing up.
Small.
I’m the gnat on her shoe, one of the kids she didn’t stick around for, and she’s the master of the universe. Curiosity wins. I open the door wide. I need to know why she’s here.
She sweeps in, scans the walls emptied of Silvio’s art, and surveys the couch strewn with colorful pillows. “The couch looks better now than in those neutral tones. Pinks are so very you . . .” She waves airily, and right is wrong and up is down, and why is my mom complimenting my taste in color, which is so vastly different from her man’s taste?
“What can I do for you?”
She spins around and presses her hands together like in prayer. “I’m here to ask you for a favor. An absolutely delicious one.” Her tone is imploring, her eyes wide and I’d even say guileless if I didn’t know her better. But I do know better.
Whatever she’s about to ask is all about her.
Everything’s all about her.
“Okay,” I say evenly, trying hard not to lose my cool. I don’t want her to know she still affects me. That seeing her rattles me.
How was I able to sass her when she swept into the suite before my wedding? Oh, right. Because that was before she capsized my plans.
Now I know fully what she’s capable of, and I hate that I come from her, that we share DNA.
She squeals, then gasps. “Katie! I’m engaged!”
I blink and jerk away. It’s like a blast of frigid air has whipped into my home and assaulted me. “What?” It comes out like it has ten syllables.
She flaps her hand, brandishing a fat ring. It’s shiny, gaudy, and so very her. “He asked me to marry him! Silvio did. And I said yes.”
I stumble backward, grabbing the kitchen counter behind me so I don’t fall.
Is this my life?
Is she truly here to show off her engagement ring?
But she steps closer, waggling her diamond at me. “He asked me to marry him on the Golden Gate Bridge.” She clasps her hand to her chest. “It’s so romantic. Isn’t it?”
She waits for an answer with expectant eyes, like my opinion on engagement locations matters.
“It’s great,” I say with zero emotion.
Why do I feel nothing? It’s eerie, this flatness in my heart. This nothingness.
I should be . . . livid.
Destroyed.
Why do I feel like I’m floating above this scene?
“That’s where we had our first date,” she adds, still giddy, still bouncing on her toes.
What did she just say? Their first date? She’s mentioning their first date? It had to have been . . .
“When he was with me,” I say, but it doesn’t come out enraged. I sound offhand, and I’m not sure what’s going on inside me.
She tilts her head. “C’mon, you’re not still upset about that, are you?”
Truthfully, I’m . . . not.
I’m not upset.
I’m not bothered at all.
I am, admittedly, mystified that anyone would brag to the ex about getting engaged. I’m amazed that she would think I’d want her to share this news.
“I’m not upset,” I say in the same flat tone—a tone that seems to vex her.
She flicks her wine-red locks off her shoulder, adopting a haughty expression. “Aren’t you happy for me?”
Is that what she wants? For me to be happy for her? With a surprised chuckle, I shrug. “I have no opinion, honestly.”
She furrows her brow, stomps her foot.
I laugh. Foot stomping? Is she serious?
“Katie, love, I want you to be happy for me,” she pleads, her big eyes begging.
“I’m sure you do,” I say, revealing nothing, feeling nothing.
Not a thing.
And it feels . . . great.
At last, I understand my emotions. What was confusing is now clear. Feeling nothing for her feels utterly fantastic.
“But you don’t seem happy,” she adds, stepping closer, waving her hand at my face again. “You’re all frowny. Talk to me.”
There’s nothing to discuss with her. If I’m frowny, it’s because I’m making a plan for the day. I have things to do. Yoga classes to check out. A replacement to find. A tough conversation to have with my sister. And a DNA donator to kick the fuck out of my house.
I smile, deep and delighted at last. I draw a fulfilling, gorgeous breath that fuels me, then lock eyes with her. “I don’t actually care about your engagement or your wedding, Mom. Or your life, for that matter. So if you’re wondering what I’m thinking, it’s this—I don’t care. And I feel great about that.”
I am wildly thrilled to say all that. It’s not a zinger. It’s just the truth.
Her jaw drops. She is the definition of aghast. “And to think I came all this way to ask you to be my maid of honor.”
I bark out a laugh, clasping my belly. Truly, that’s hilarious. So damn funny I can’t wait to tell Emerson and Olive and my dad.
“The answer is no. Let me show you out.” Now my tone isn’t flat, isn’t empty. It’s wickedly amused.
She’s more selfish than I ever imagined, and I no longer feel small. I no longer feel betrayed by her decision to romance my former fiancé.
Thank God she took him from me.
If I’d gone through with that dumb decision, I’d have said I do to the wrong man, a man who wasn’t right for me.
And if I’d walked down the aisle, I’d never have run into Harlan again. Harlan—the man who makes my hear
t and body sing.
There is no convincing, no tricking, no uncertainty with Harlan.
If my mother hadn’t snagged Silvio, I wouldn’t have found all my own strength—the strength to live entirely differently from her.
I owe her nothing.
I owe myself so much more.
Thank you, universe, for showing me that.
I stride to the door, yank it open, and sweep out my arm. “I believe we’re done.”
The second she leaves, I grab my phone, and take the next step—something I should have done a week ago.
27
Katie
I don’t like to bail on appointments, but I have to. As I snag a Lyft, I call Elliot at my yoga studio.
“Hey, Ells. I need a favor. Big time.”
“Anything for you, doll,” he says brightly. “Do you need me to grab you a hot tea or a lemon cookie from Doctor Insomnia’s?”
“Both sound delish. Get them for yourself and put them on my tab. But actually, I need you to reschedule the videographer. I’m so sorry, and I’ll pay his fee for today, of course. But something came up and I have to take care of it.”
“Of course, love. Everything okay?”
I smile, unsure of the answer, but hopeful. “That’s the goal.”
Then I call Olive to tell her I’m coming to see her, but she doesn’t answer.
Oh well. I’m going in anyway.
I’m rarely here at our corporate office in Hayes Valley, but I still know nearly everyone, so I say hi to our employees as I walk through the cubes.
As I head for Olive’s office, nerves thrum through me.
Should I have said something to her sooner? Let her in on my plans?
The nerves take flight as I reach her door, ajar as always. Whether I picked the wrong time or not, I still need to do this.
Deep breath.
I’ve got this.
I rap my knuckles on the wood, peeking around. She’s stretched out on her couch.
She and Zachary are pointing to his laptop, laughing hard at the screen. “And then it goes like this.” He lifts a hand and mimes swatting something . . . off a counter, maybe?
Ah, they must be watching cat videos. Olive is addicted to evil cats.
Olive looks up, laughing still as she waves me in. “You have to see this one. This tuxedo is such an asshole. She knocked over the coffee-maker for literally no reason.”
Zachary stares at her. “Olive, there’s not no reason. She’s a cat. That’s reason enough.”
“True, true.”
I join them on the couch, watching the video of a dastardly cat swatting mugs, vases, shot glasses, and more to the floor in a cacophony of sound and feline destruction. When the demolition is complete, Zachary shuts his laptop, winded from laughter.
Olive is his twin in chuckling. I’m not sure if this means she’ll be in a better mood to receive my news or if I’m about to burst her bubble.
Zachary pushes his glasses up his nose then stands, clutching the silver laptop. “I’ve got a conference call, so I better take off. Good to see you, Katie. Don’t be a stranger.” Then he leaves, shutting the door.
Smart guy.
Olive sighs happily, then meets my gaze and roams her eyes up and down my frame. “It must be a special day. You’re hardly ever here. Are you going to whisk me off to test that new chocolate shop that just opened today? Because I had plans already to eat my lunch there.”
“No,” I say, steeling myself to tell her the truth, the full truth, and nothing but. “Listen,” I begin.
In a nanosecond, she sits up straighter, her expression shifting to intensely serious. “Oh.”
Images of my mother flicker before my eyes. Her pop-in this morning. Her assumptions. The way she’s lived her life. My deep, potent desire to be the opposite to her. I haven’t entirely been that way these last few days, but I have to be now. If I want to have the life I desire, I can’t operate like her at all. Not one bit. “Mom came by this morning.”
Olive cringes. “What did she want?”
“To ask me to be her maid of honor. She’s marrying Silvio.”
Olive’s jaw clangs to the center of Earth, then back up. “Oh, Katie. I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head, quickly dismissing any sympathy. “It’s fine. I’m not upset. I don’t care about her or him. But the thing is, I don’t want to be like her. Not at all. And I have been. I haven’t been truthful with you.”
Confusion crosses her face, lining her brow. “Okay. What do you mean?”
With my head held high, I begin. “I fell in love with Harlan while working with the Renegades. He’s wonderful and amazing, and I’m going to start seeing him. We were going to wait till the end of the season, and I’ve been looking for a replacement to recommend for the classes I teach them, and I had this whole plan to find someone who they’d want and be impressed with. I was going to finish out the contract and then tell you,” I say, and sadness flickers in my sister’s eyes.
“You were?” She sounds devastated.
I’m such an ass for hurting Sassy Yoga. But I have to do this. No matter what.
“I’m so sorry, Olive. I know it probably seems selfish, and I’m about to tank a deal. But I can’t be this person who’s ridiculously in love with this guy and making plans to be with him and not tell you. And not tell them—Lacey at Wilder Enterprises. I feel like I’m deceiving everyone, and that’s wrong. I hope you can forgive me, but I can’t work with them anymore. And that has to start now.”
She shakes her head and doesn’t stop shaking it.
My heart plummets, knowing I’ve disappointed her so terribly. Tears well in my eyes, and a lump forms in my throat.
“I’m sorry,” I say past the hitch. “I’m sorry I messed up this deal you and Zachary worked so hard for. But I just can’t lead a double life. I need to be honest about this—fully honest. So I’m truly sorry.”
She gets up, scoots closer, wraps an arm around me.
Huh.
That’s not what I expected.
“Um, I thought you were upset. You were just shaking your head like crazy,” I say, flummoxed.
She laughs into my hair. “Because I’m so happy for you, you dork.” Then she yanks me in tighter for a hug.
Second out-of-body experience so far today, and it’s not even noon. But I go with it, hugging her back. “You’re happy for me? You don’t hate me? You don’t think I’m terribly selfish?” I ask against her shoulder as tears slip down my cheeks.
She shakes her head once again, then breaks the hug but clasps my shoulders. “No. I think this is incredible. I’m happy for you. And telling me takes guts. Being willing to walk away from a deal takes big ovaries. Going after love takes so much courage.”
Oh, hell. The tears fall even faster. “Really?”
“Yes, really. You’re not at all like Mom. You’re brave and gutsy, and I think this is fantastic. You could have sneaked around for two more months, but you didn’t.”
It’s my turn to wince. “Well, we did sneak around yesterday. We had sex at the yoga studio, and then when Mom showed up this morning, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer.”
She smacks my thigh. “Sex at the studio! Oh my God, you dirty, racy girl. I want to hear how it was.”
I grin, all hopped up on endorphins again. A tingle races down my chest from the memory. “Amazing,” I say.
But I’m not only remembering the physical side of our relationship.
I’m recalling all the emotions.
And the words.
And the connection.
And I can’t wait to share those details with my pack. “He’s a good guy with a big heart, and he’s in love with me too,” I say, feeling all dreamy and warm. “Like, one hundred percent. You and Emerson and Jillian and Skyler have nothing to worry about. He’s worthy.”
She bounces on the cushion and claps her hands with glee. “Dish. Now. Everything. You’ve been holding back. I demand every swoony and dirty det
ail.”
So, I tell her, sharing how we got to know each other better, how we fell for each other over yoga sessions and lunches, over conversations and monkey bread. How all that went down before we smashed into each other again yesterday.
“Clearly, resistance was futile at that point.” She can’t stop grinning and grabs my hand, squeezes it. “He sounds great. You seem happier than you ever have been. And I know you wanted to see what could happen with him.” Her lips curve into a knowing grin. “Honestly, I had a feeling when you asked about the contract at dinner a couple weeks ago.”
I tilt my head, grinning. “Yeah, I kinda sensed you did.”
She rolls her eyes, giving me the most duh of duh looks ever. “Hello! It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”
“I’ve been researching replacements like crazy. I’ve gone to a ton of classes, and I want to find the perfect person to—hopefully—fulfill the contract. I know the Renegades might say no, and that’s on me. I’ll do whatever you need me to do to find new clients to make up for it. Hell, you can dock my profits until we sort this out.”
A wild snort emanates from her. “Oh my God. You’re hilarious. Dock your profits? Give me a break. It’s our company. Yours and mine—equal ownership. I’m not docking your profits. We both took on the risks, and I’m not going to punish you.”
“You’re not?”
“Did you think I would?” She pokes my chest, then hisses. “Now I am pissed at you.”
I sigh, but I’m smiling and she is too. “I just want to do right by you and the company.”
“And you are,” she says, then winks. “But don’t you worry. I’ve got your back.”
Intrigued, I arch a brow. “What do you mean?”
“Like I said, I had a feeling this might happen. So I’ve been scouting replacements for you too.”
I squeal now—full on, through the roof. “Oh my God. You have?”
She taps her temple. “Sister intuition.”
“I’ll say.”
Olive’s not the only one I need to talk to, though. I square my shoulders. “I really want to let Lacey know today. I don’t want to pretend any longer.”
A Wild Card Kiss Page 20
