by Robin Kaye
“No, I love cats, so does Craig. Tripod—what an odd name.”
Becca pushed open the door, and Tripod belted out a greeting. She looked at Emily over her shoulder. “Not really, when you consider he’s only got three legs. It suits, and he seems to like it. He’s answered to it since the day I rescued him.”
Emily stepped into the room, stopped, and stared at the couple set in clay. She didn’t even notice Tripod jumping out past her. “Oh, it’s magnificent.”
Becca shrugged. “It’s coming along.”
Emily shook her head. “The emotion just pours off it. It’s breathtaking, really. You could stop now, and it would be perfect.”
Becca laughed. It was a good thing, since she’d never touch it again. Christ, what a sucker she’d been, believing Rich. “It’s a thought.”
Emily circled the table it sat on. “It’s rough, edgy, almost raw. It’s positively sexual.”
“Yes, that’s what I was going for.”
“What do you call it?”
“Star-crossed lovers.”
“Becca, I love it just as it is.”
“Thank you.”
Emily threaded her arm through Becca’s as they left the room. “Your work is so varied. So many times you find a fabulous artist who seems to do much the same thing over and over again. Your work is all so different, wonderful, but looking at your collection of work, you’d never think that they were all by the same artist. It’s an extraordinary talent.”
Becca laughed. “My art professors thought I had attention deficit disorder. They may have had a point. I get bored easily.” She stopped by the dining room table and turned toward Rich and Craig. “Why don’t we all sit down? The lasagna will be ready soon. Let’s get started on the antipasto.”
Rich stood and carried their glasses to the table. “The mushrooms were great, Bec.” He kissed her cheek.
Becca smiled. “I can’t take the credit. I used your Aunt Rose’s recipe. She said they were your favorite.”
Rich filled everyone’s wineglasses. “They are. She used to always let me eat the left-over stuffing.”
Becca laughed at that, trying really hard not to sound like the Wicked Witch of the West. “She told me, so I saved the leftovers for you.”
Rich gave her a hug. “Just one of the many reasons I love you.”
Becca wanted to gag, but smiled instead, before returning to the kitchen. She removed the lasagna from the oven and set it out to cool for a few minutes. Aunt Rose said if she didn’t, the cheese would be too hot and would make a mess when she tried to serve it. Since the night was already a complete disaster, there was no need to add to it. With the lasagna cooling in the serving tray, she popped the garlic bread under the broiler and set the timer. She didn’t want to forget it—she’d eaten enough of Annabelle’s incinerated garlic bread to last her a lifetime.
When Becca returned to the table, Rich stood and held her chair for her. She nodded her thanks as he took his seat. “This is a little difficult to serve. Why don’t you pass me your plates?”
Craig took a sip of his wine and watched her. “Becca, I was under the impression that between the two of you, Rich was the cook.”
Becca slid a lettuce leaf topped with prosciutto, Genoa salami, olives, roasted red pepper, artichoke hearts, and cheese onto a plate and passed it. “Rich and I share a few of the kitchen duties. In this case, he was responsible for the dessert and coffee. Rich’s Aunt Rose wanted to teach me the secret to the family lasagna, and I didn’t want to pass up the chance. Since my schedule is more flexible than his, I handled the rest.”
“Ah.” Craig shook his head. “The sharing of household responsibilities is a sign of a strong relationship.”
Becca almost choked on that one.
Emily placed her napkin on her lap. “Everything looks and smells wonderful.”
Rich nodded. “Becca really did a great job throwing everything together.”
“Thanks, I had a lot of help.” She didn’t bother mentioning that none of it was from him.
Rich dug in, while Becca picked at her food. She was thrilled when the timer went off for the bread. Rich followed her in, and she had him carry the lasagna, sauce, and meat to the table. They were in full view of the Stewarts, so when he kissed her, she didn’t push him away even though she wanted to. Becca took her time cutting the bread and arranging it in the cloth-lined basket, just wishing she could disappear. Her head was killing her. She hadn’t had a migraine in years, but she knew one was coming on. Fabulous. The only thing she could do was pop four ibuprofen, hoping to keep ahead of the pain, and get through the night.
Becca put on her cheery face and went back to the table with the bread and served the lasagna. It was perfect. Looking at the bright side, at least she now knew the secret to Aunt Rose’s lasagna. Not that she’d want to eat it for a good long time, but still, it was something she got out of this sham of a relationship.
Rich took a sip of his wine and took a bite of the lasagna and smiled when he realized it was fabulous. The schmuck.
Craig moaned in appreciation and nodded to Rich. “I know what I’m going to ask you to bring to the next faculty potluck.”
Emily nodded. “It really is wonderful. I’m so impressed with both you and Becca. It’s so inspiring to see the two of you so obviously perfect for each other. Two young people with such bright futures—Becca’s in the art world, yours in the world of academia—is a very impressive thing. I wish you both all the luck in the world.”
Rich leaned back in his seat and squeezed her thigh. “Thank you.” All Becca could do was nod as she saw both her relationship and this opportunity die. Since the food was so good, not much more was said. She somehow got through coffee and dessert, and as soon as she said good-bye and Rich walked the Stewarts out, she went into the bedroom armed with her suitcase and began packing.
Chapter 17
RICH WATCHED AS THE STEWARTS WALKED ARM IN ARM toward the train. He offered them a lift to the station, but they claimed they needed to walk off all they ate. They did eat a lot, but then, no one could resist Aunt Rose’s lasagna.
He was pretty pleased with himself. The dinner went well, and after Becca’s initial reaction to the news of his “promotion” and that stupid remark Craig made about her family, she calmed down and did her queen-of-all-things perfect hostess shtick. Damn, the girl knew how to drive him crazy. He must have imagined peeling that dress off her a dozen times. It was soft and clingy and didn’t have one button or zipper. His guess was that it was one of those dresses you can pull up, and it would stay up while you did whatever you wanted. He couldn’t wait and hoped to God she wouldn’t insist on doing the dishes tonight. He’d gladly do all the dishes in the morning if he could just get his hands on her tonight.
He made his way into the house. The table still needed to be cleared, and the dishes done, and Becca was nowhere to be seen. He checked the bedroom hoping she hadn’t already changed out of that hot dress. Instead of finding her changing, he caught her packing. Rich stopped dead in his tracks, unable to believe his eyes. She had her suitcase thrown open on the bed and was tossing her clothes in without even folding them. Becca always folded everything, even her underwear.
“Why are you packing?”
She glanced at him without ever stopping. “Someone with three post-secondary degrees should be smart enough to figure that out for himself, don’t you think?”
“Becca, hold on.” He stepped between her and the closet. “Calm down and talk to me.”
“Calm down? You want me to calm down after you used me, fucked me over, and sold me out. Not likely. How about I tell you calmly to get the hell out of my way?”
“No.” Rich grabbed a handful of clothes sticking out of her bag, still on their hangers, and put them back in the closet. “I didn’t sell you out. The only reason I agreed to the dinner was for you.”
Becca looked about to clock him. He figured even if she hit him with that bat of hers, it would hurt a h
ell of a lot less than it would if she walked out on him.
“Ha! That’s just so like you, isn’t it? You think you can stand there looking all innocent, lie to my face, and get away with it. I know I was a fool to fall for you, but believe me, I won’t make the same mistake twice. Now get the hell out of my way.” She pushed past him. “You got what you wanted from the deal. You got your precious job.”
Rich was beginning to sweat, which kind of freaked him out. He just wanted to grab her and make her listen to reason, but she was way past reasonable. “Babe, I don’t care about the job. I just care about you, and I know how much you were counting on this thing with Emily.”
“Oh yeah, and you took full advantage, didn’t you? You pimped out my name. Did you tell them that I’d make sure Daddy sent a nice check to the alumni association if they gave my boyfriend a job?”
Okay, now Rich was getting angry. “Hey, I don’t need your name or your daddy’s money to get a job. If it wasn’t for you, I would have canceled the dinner.”
“But you didn’t, did you? What, did you need to seal the deal?”
Rich couldn’t believe his ears. This was a fuckin’ nightmare, and there was nothing he could do to prove himself. But worse, how could she think he would hurt her so badly? His guts tightened up. Christ, what was he going to do?
She started throwing all her clothes from the drawers into another suitcase. “I was such a fool, falling for your act. You’re good. Offering me money was ingenious. I gotta hand it to you—of all the guys who went after my money, you were by far the most original.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You thought you could get a two-fer. My trust fund and a great job. So what’d you do, Rich? When you were snooping through my artwork and my underwear, you checked out my portfolio, too?”
“Bec. Stop this. I love you. I love you and want to marry you. I don’t give a shit how much money you do or don’t have. Babe, I should have told you what Craig said, but I thought you’d refuse to let Emily see your work, and I wasn’t sure if you could afford to miss this chance with Emily. After you lost all that money that went to Mike, can you afford to keep working on your art? Are you going to have to get a job? I don’t want you to have to do that. I can, you know, support you.”
“Rich, let me give you a hint. You can stop the act now. It’s over.”
“What’s over?”
“This sham. You got most of what you wanted. Just be happy with that, and let me get the hell out of here.”
Rich stood between her and the door. Not before she calmed down enough to talk sense into her. “Becca, it’s late. You can’t travel when you’re so upset. Just stay here. I’ll sleep on the couch if you want me to. We’ll talk tomorrow after you calm down.”
“No way. I’m outta here.”
“Not until you calm down and talk to me.”
“Oh right. Who’s going to stop me?”
“I am. You’re not going anywhere until after you’ve calmed down, and we’ve had a rational discussion.”
“Are you delusional? Nothing that you say tomorrow is going to change my mind. You’re a liar. A really good liar. I thought I could spot them all. Well, you got by me, you lied to me, and I fell hook, line, and sinker in love with you, and you would have had me if you hadn’t gone off and proposed.”
Damn, she looked just about ready to crumble. She stood board straight, all strong and pissed, but every now and then, he’d see that hurt little girl. Christ, she thought he was just like those bozo friends of hers, her mother, and sometimes even her father. Shit. He just wanted to grab her, hold her, and tell her it would be all right. But she’d already convicted him.
Rich went to his side of the bed and grabbed a pillow. “I’ll be out on the couch when you decide you want to talk to me.”
“Don’t hold your breath, or on second thought, do.”
“Bec, I didn’t do any of those things. Once you look at this rationally, you’ll see. I love you.”
“Please just go. Please?” A big tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another, and another. Each one was like a punch in the gut and made him want to hit every person who’d ever hurt her. Himself included. He’d fucked up royally.
As soon as Rich left the room, Becca tried to pull herself together. She needed a plan. She grabbed her notebook and turned to a fresh page in her book and her life. She needed to find a place to live. She wouldn’t survive living with Mike and Annabelle. Their incessant happiness would only highlight everything Becca didn’t have in her life. She swallowed back a sob, cleared her throat, and looked for her phone. She could stay at a hotel, but as soon as Annabelle found out where Becca was, she’d be dragged back to the brownstone. Right now, Becca just wanted to be alone to lick her wounds and figure out how to get past this.
The other day when she’d met the appraiser at the gallery to get an appraisal on the value of the building, she’d done a walk-through of Ben’s place, which was currently empty, since Ben was spending an extended period of time in Idaho. It would be perfect for her. She thanked God for the two-hour time difference and called Ben in Idaho.
“Hi gorgeous.”
“Hi Ben.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because I don’t want Rich to hear me.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“More like a nuclear explosion. I need a place to stay, and I don’t think I can take staying with Mike and Annabelle. Can I crash at your place until the construction is finished on mine?”
“Don’t you mean our place?”
“Hey, nothing’s been signed. Until then, it’s your place. So what do you say?”
“Becca, it’s fine. Are you going to be okay alone? Maybe you should go to Annabelle’s.”
“I’m a big girl. I’ve spent most of my life alone. I’ll be fine.” Maybe if she kept repeating that, she’d start to believe it. Right now she felt physical pain. She hurt everywhere.
“What about the keys?”
“I have a set. I needed them when I met with the appraiser the other night.”
“Okay, good. Go ahead and make yourself at home. You can use the guest room for as long as you want. It looks like I’ll be staying here for a while. Just take care of yourself, and let me know if you need anything.”
“Um, Ben, how are you with cats?”
“Other than allergic?”
“Oh. Okay. I can probably leave Tripod with Rich until my place is finished. If not, maybe Mike and Annabelle can take him.”
“I’m sorry, Becca.”
“No, it’s fine. Thanks so much, Ben. I’ll be in touch about the deal. It’s looking really good to me right about now.”
“I’m ready to finalize things whenever you are. If you want to move up the date, it’s not a problem.”
“I’ll think about it. Thanks again for everything. I owe you one.”
When Becca disconnected the call, she looked around her at her packed luggage. She knew she was going to have to start building her new life all over again. She’d leave with less than she came with, because Rich had stolen her heart, and no matter how little sense it made, she still loved him. She wished love could be turned off, but no matter how hurt and angry she was, she still felt it. Even knowing what he’d done, she missed him. And even with all the pain he caused her, she wished she could go back to being blissfully unaware. She wrapped her arms around herself and lost the battle with tears.
Rich sat on the couch listening to Becca cry. Every sob was a knife to his heart. He forced himself to listen, wanting to break the door down, gather her in his arms, and make it better. But how? She wouldn’t even look at him. He’d never felt so damn helpless. The situation had spiraled out of control, and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.
He’d lost her, and Christ, he had no idea what to do to get her back. Tripod crawled onto his lap and lay against Rich’s chest. “I fucked up bad, buddy.”
Tripod responded with something tha
t sounded amazingly like “now what?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I can say to make her believe me.” Rich shook his head wondering if he was going off the deep end. Maybe this was what insanity was like. If it was, it sucked, it hurt, and he had a feeling it was just going to get worse—not that it really mattered. Nothing mattered anymore, not without Becca. He took another sip of his Jack Daniels. Drinking was probably not a smart thing to do since drinking Jack Daniels was what got him in this position in the first place. He needed to find a way to make things right. Rich pulled his phone off the charger and called Vinny.
“Fuck, Richie. What the hell are you doing calling me at one in the morning?”
“I got a problem.”
“Just one? What the hell do you want me to do about it?”
“Vin, she’s leaving me.”
“Whoa, okay. What the hell did you do?”
“I asked her to marry me on Monday—”
“And I’m just hearing about this now? What the fuck?”
“She didn’t say yes.”
“What the hell did she say?”
“When I asked? Nothing. Then later she was all suspicious. ‘Why did you ask me to marry you?’ like I had some kind of ulterior motive.”
“You did. You were afraid you were going to lose her. I guess I should have warned you not to pull a stupid stunt like that, but I didn’t think even you’d be that dumb.”
“Thanks, Vin. You’re making me feel so much better.”
“Eh? What do you want from me? Do you want me to help you, or do you want me to be like one of your professor friends and blow sunshine up your ass?”
“Christ, what am I gonna do? She’s packing her things and crying. I hurt her, Vin. Dean Stewart told her I got the promotion and that with her family connections and her rich father, I could go far. She thinks I used her to get my job, and that by marrying her, getting her trust fund is like a two-fer.”
“Look, the bar is open. Why don’t you come down here, and we’ll, you know, think of something.”
