My stomach grumbled. I guessed the only issue I had right now was the constant hunger. When I searched the kitchen for something appealing to eat for breakfast, nothing caught my attention. It also had a lot to do with a mother who never quite figured out how to cook. I settled with a safe choice—strawberry jam on toast.
It wasn't nearly as satisfying as a Chunky Monkey scoop. So, I raided the freezer again. I was shocked to see the tub was half empty. Had I eaten that much ice cream? At this rate, I'd likely balloon in another month. I idly wondered what Delaney looked like now.
I had noticed she’d gained a few pounds weeks before, but it hadn't been anything unusual for her. She yo-yo dieted our entire teen years and never ever had been successful. I imagined her boobs would get a lot bigger, not that she needed that. She'd always filled in nicely in the bra region, unlike me. Her "twins" had been her best assets. Delaney had been proud of them, showing them off whenever she could. She loved the attraction they garnered from all the boys, which now included my ex-fiancé.
No matter how much I tried to think of it, I couldn't wrap my head around the reasons why she would take him away from me. And why he took her bait. How had I not seen the signs, if there were any? That had been Nica's question, followed by "Do you want me to send Chase out to break his legs?" I’d laughed, shook my head and began crying again.
My sister. She was a tough cookie, in her own ways. And if she couldn’t solve a problem, her best friend, Chase would always be by her side. That’s what friends do! Not steal the other’s groom.
Standing in front of the refrigerator, my fingers hovered over photos of my sister and Amiee. Motherhood suited her. Her hair was long and glossy, her cheeks pink, her body changed in a flattering way. The little one, Amiee, was a bundle of everything cuteness. A beautiful mixture of her and her Hollywood-star-looking husband, Levi. I recalled what she had told me the first time we discovered June and Delaney had eloped. I’m here for you…for anything…anytime.
A light bulb flashed.
Nica and I had never been extremely close, mostly due to our age difference. But I knew she would hear me out. She’d listen. And she could help me figure things out. Together, we could find a solution.
I looked down at the ice cream, surprised that through all my ministrations, I had finished the entire tub. I threw it in the trash and washed my hands. Then I flew to my bedroom and packed.
Later that day, I found myself in front of an imposing iron gate, flanked by enormous oak trees and solid stone walls.
The cab driver whistled as he took in the sight before us. "Looks like one of the biggest properties around here." I was sure he was talking to me, but my head was somewhere else.
I'd only stayed in this estate and vineyard twice during Nica’s wedding and her baby shower. She and Levi decided to split their time between this piece of heaven in Napa Valley, and their enormous penthouse in the San Francisco. The last time we spoke, she told me they would be staying here for a while, and that I was welcome to stay anytime.
School was out for the summer, and I had taken a leave from my grocery store cashier job. All I'd done the entire month was be angry, sad, and afraid at home. At least here, I could get away from the looks of pity.
Thinking now, I should have called before I left home, but rushing had been the better idea at the time. If I moved too slowly, my mind would chastise myself for being a coward, for not facing my mother, and my problems head on. Instead, I ran off to Napa Valley with a baggage full of clothes I might not be able to wear in a few months, a few bills in a sandwich resealable bag as my secret stash, and a dangerously high level of mixed up emotions. I was a coward. A big one. No doubt about that.
"So, what do you wanna do, sweetheart?" He might as well have called me "toots" by the way he said that last word. "Looks like you need to enter a code." He pointed at a keypad by the entrance.
There was a code? Panic began to set in. I really should have called first.
"I think I'll wait out here." I handed him my fare, including a big tip before he could make another comment, dragged my carry-on luggage out of the car, then slammed the cab door a little too hard.
"Hey watch it, will ya? Just because you're rich don't mean you can go destroying other people's property!" He popped his head out of the car window, scowling at me.
"I'm not rich! My sister is." And her husband. And they would both flip out when they found out I had traveled all the way here in hopes of escaping the stares and glances from all the people I had known my entire life. I wanted to be free of the "poor dear," and the "oh so sad" looks.
The driver muttered some other words I didn't hear as he reversed back onto the main road.
I dragged my stuff to the curb, sat beside it and looked up to the sky. Insane didn't even begin to describe me. I zipped open my bag and unwrapped the sandwich I had packed for this trip when a black SUV pulled into the driveway.
The driver side window rolled down. "Maggie?" Nica's shocked look appeared. "What are you doing here?"
I jumped to my feet, dropping my sandwich on the ground. "You said I could come and stay with you guys. You said that, remember?"
Nica furrowed her brows. "Of course, I remember." She glanced at my luggage. "Hop on in. We'll talk inside."
I grabbed the items I brought, picked up the soiled sandwich and stuffed it in my bag. As I opened the car door, I cute little laugh greeted me. Aimee was in the back smiling widely at me.
"Hi, Aimee. You've gotten so big." I waved my fingers at her, and she giggled again.
“Hi, anty!” the two-year old greeted back. At least she made me feel welcome.
"Why didn't you call?" Nica asked as she moved closer to the keypad and punched in the code.
I watched the iron gates open in front of me, welcoming us to the grandeur of what Nica and Levi now considered home. "It was a spur of the moment thing."
Nica drove forward, her eyes focused on the road, but I could almost hear the gears spinning in her mind. "We were supposed to be in San Francisco by now. I have a few things I needed to work out at the office. But Aimee had a fever yesterday, so we decided to stay. You could have been stuck here all weekend. You should have called. Or at least, got Mom to call me."
I stayed quiet and slouched into the plush seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Nica turn to me.
"Mom does know you're here, right? Maggie?"
"Well..."
"Maggie! What were you thinking?" she fumed as the SUV pulled in front of their house.
I dared a glance at her. "I wasn't?" I was a lot taller than Nica, but she had a way of making me feel small, child-like.
"No kidding. I can't believe you traveled on your own all the way here without telling anybody. What if something had happened to you?" she gritted out.
"That's the problem. Something did happen to me. I got left at the altar. My boyfriend whom I thought I would be with forever shacked up with my best friend. Everyone back home feels sorry for me. I can't talk to anyone. I can't look at anyone's face. All I hear is 'poor Maggie Stewart, dumped at the altar at nineteen." I wheezed and faced Nica. "Nineteen! Who gets left at the altar at nineteen, Nica? Me." I pointed a finger at myself. "Things like this always happen to me."
"Okay, Maggie. But no one told you to get married so young.” My eyes widened, disbelieving that she brought it up again. “I didn’t mean to say that. Sorry..." She reached out a hand to me.
"Sorry," I scoffed. "All I've heard for the past month is sorry. And from the wrong people too! You know who isn't sorry? June. And Delaney. They're not sorry. They're happy, so happy. They’ve been seen frolicking around town like nobody knows what they did. They're kissing and necking and..." My stomach lurched. "I think I'm gonna throw up."
I jumped out of the car and hurled into the rose bushes. Nica was at my side in an instant, rubbing the middle of my back. I heard a door open.
"Miss Nica, are you okay?" Anita, Nica's housekeeper, asked with a heavy accent.<
br />
"Yes, Anita. Aimee is in the car. Could you take care of her?"
As I glanced up, wiping my spit onto my sweater, I saw Nica's concern in her eyes. "Sorry."
"Don't. Come inside, and we'll get you settled. I'll bring your stuff in."
I nodded and obeyed.
Casa de Laurent was huge, but it felt homey. That had a lot to do with Nica's personal touches. She had made it into a comfortable home for the three of them. There were fresh flowers at every corner. The place had neutral tones and was reminiscent of a chalet in Provence, not that I had ever been there. I knew this from what Nica had told Mother.
Nica led me to the large kitchen. I parked my butt on one of the barstools, watching my sister grab a bottle of water from the two-door sub-zero fridge and a glass from one of the cabinets. Clearly, the kitchen wasn't built for someone her height, but her husband, Levi loved to cook, and I could picture him creating something masterful in here.
"Drink up." Nica slid a glass of water to me. "We should call Mom."
I bit my lip once I put the glass down on the counter. That was one conversation I wouldn't want to be a part of. Not just yet, at least.
Nica shot an eyebrow up. "You know we have to." She took out her cell phone from the purse she had dropped on the countertop and started swiping at the screen.
"Can we wait for a while? I'm so exhausted from the trip. I need energy to face Mom," I pleaded.
My sister contemplated on it for a few seconds before deciding. "I'll talk to her and tell her you're safe with me. Go rest by the fireplace, and I'll take you to your room after."
She didn't have to tell me twice. I'd do anything to avoid having to talk to Mother. She pointed me in the right direction, and I found myself in a great room with a huge marble fireplace, surrounded by thick-cushioned sofas. My eyes drifted down as I laid down and waited for Nica to finish talking with Mother.
I wasn't lying when I said I was exhausted. It could have been from the travels, but it could also be part of the pregnancy. I'd read it could cause exhaustion and lack of energy. Whatever I'd have to deal with could wait until after I got some restful sleep.
I could hear hushed voices around me. Familiar ones.
Where was I? Was I still in the church? If I opened my eyes, would June appear in front of me, telling me I had just fainted? And everything that had happened had only been a terrible dream?
My eyes fluttered open and blurry shapes started to take form. I swiped at the drool which flowed from my lips. I was the epitome of class. “June?” I called out to what I could tell was a male-form, tall with broad shoulders.
He moved forward, followed by a woman. "Mother?"
"God, now she thinks I'm my mom."
"She's probably delirious." A large hand covered my forehead. "She has a slight fever. Maybe I should take her to her room."
"Okay."
I was being moved, lifted off the soft, cushiony clouds. Why was I so tired? Why couldn't I get my eyes to open? My body felt heavy. I pitied the person carrying me. I was no lightweight, and with the amount of ice cream I'd had this past month, I was sure I had added quite a few more.
I was lulled back to sleep as soon my head hit a pillow.
"June, I miss you," I told him. He was the only one strong enough to pick up and carry me. Years of playing football had done him some good. A blanket was laid over my body. I tucked my hand under my head as I went back to a deep slumber. "Stay with me a while, June. I missed you."
A warm body joined me on the bed, and an arm wrapped around me.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I would wake up and see a brighter, lighter day. Tomorrow fixed everything.
Chapter Two
Zach
"Once a brawler, always a brawler," I said. It should have been my tag line. Ma had said it enough the past fifteen years. "Who knew it would actually pay off and take me to where I am right now?" I gave a little shrug and a low chuckle.
The woman in the tight skirt across from me giggled and touched the side of her throat, scraping her long fingernails over it all the way down to her cleavage. Yeah, I knew what she was thinking. They all wanted the same.
Get in line, sweetheart, and take a number.
She leaned forward, propping her elbows on her crossed legs, drawing my eyes to the black lace bra peeking from underneath her shirt. "So, give us a run down of your daily regimen. How much training do you do in a day?" She looked me up and down, then stopped to stare at my crotch. The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips.
If I was allowed to roll my eyes, I would. The questions were the same at each and every interview. I gave her a quick list of what I do in a day—weight-lifting, combat, sparring, any number of martial arts training, a two-hour run, and more sparring.
"Wow, that's impressive." Then she scratched her neck again, her skin turning red. Maybe she should have that checked. "What do you do when you're not training? What's your idea of fun?" I was surprised she didn't wink or lick her lips again.
I gave her my Hollywood-star smile, and I was grateful I hadn't lost all my front teeth, yet. "Training is my idea of fun. Apart from that, I shoot some hoops with friends, party a little, or lounge by the pool." I gave a half shrug and relaxed into the seat, stretching my arms over the back of the sofa.
She quirked an eyebrow and spread her lips into a flat line, a telltale sign she could be up to no-good. "When do you visit your mom?"
My lungs expanded when I took in a silent breath. The smile stayed plastered on my face. "I try every day," I said between clenched teeth. I changed my posture, crossing my arms over my chest, lifted my chin higher and gave her a predatory smile.
And I saw it—the hint of mischief, a crooked grin at one corner of her lip. "Will she ever recover from what your father has done? Have you lost all hope?"
My fingers went numb. My heartbeat switched from slow and steady into an erratic pace. I could hurt her. I could wrap my hands around her itchy neck and tighten it. It wouldn't take much out of me, like snapping a twig.
"This is interview is over!" Patton, my agent, decided to finally interject. He stood beside the reporter, Anne or Annie, I can't remember, and snatched the recorder from her hand.
"Hey!" she protested.
"You've been given directions. You were told what to ask and what not to ask. It's that simple." Patton dangled the recorder above his 6'5" frame, far from her reach.
"I'm only doing my job. I have to ask what no one else has, or the piece won't get notice." The bitch turned to me, fluttering her lashes. "You understand, right? I'm just like you. I just want to be the best at what I do."
"Then come up with better questions," I replied curtly, without a trace of the smile I'd given her earlier.
Understanding appeared in her features. She straightened, wiped her hands over her skirt, and then fixed her slicked-back hair. She stretched a hand to Patton. "I fully understand."
He hesitated but gave her the recorder a moment later. Anne or Annie got her things together, stood, and then walked over to me, ready to shake hands, make peace. "It was a pleasure, Zach. I am truly a big fan." Her eyes twinkled.
I took the proffered hand and gripped it, not hard, just enough to let her know she had crossed the line. She was the type who wouldn't back down. She didn't shake off the ache once I released her hand. She was braver than she seemed. Anne or Annie stepped closer.
She said in a hushed voice, "If you don't have anything going on right now, I'm available for fun." That dreaded wink appeared.
She ran a long fingernail on my gray shirt. I covered it with a hand and pulled her slightly closer to me. My smile stretched and I gave her my best brooding look, regarding her through my lashes.
I leaned my head in and whispered in her ear, "No thanks, I don't fuck old women." I put more emphasis on the word "old."
I didn't have to say she was shocked by it. It was exactly what I had wanted her to feel. She straightened quickly and almost stumbled backward.
"
I'm thirty-two!" Her voice rose, and she scowled at me.
I scoffed and shrugged. "Could have fooled me. I thought you're in your late forties."
She narrowed her eyes. Anne or Annie seethed. "Then you better have your eyes checked." She stomped her foot to punctuate her words.
Truth be told, she looked younger than thirty-two. Any other time, I would have been all over that, and she wouldn't even have to ask. But she crossed the line and expected not to get burned.
Plus, I'd learned my lesson. I wouldn't ever sleep with a reporter again. I'd never known when "off the record" truly applied.
She huffed one more time and turned her tight little ass around, heading toward the door. As soon as she was out of sight, I slumped back onto the sofa, leaning my head back on it.
Patton joined me. "Sorry about that, Zach."
"Nah, it wasn't your fault. She's just the type to push." I squeezed my eyes shut.
"A real daredevil that one. I thought you were going to punch her." Patton laughed nervously.
"She's not worth the hassle." And I must confess—no matter how much she poked and prodded, I would never hit a woman. I might feel anger or rage, but I would never hurt her. After all, I'd tried my hardest not to be like him. My father.
I slapped a hand over Patton's leg. "I'm going to step out for a bit."
He nodded. "Grab one of the arrangements and bring it to her." He pointed at a large bouquet of white roses on a table.
"Yeah, thanks. I'll call you later," I said, already out the door with a vaseful of flowers in hand.
I placed the roses on the table between the bed and the window, and grabbed the old arrangement I brought last week.
When He Falls Page 2
