Chef Sugarlips_A Ponderosa Resort Romantic Comedy

by Tawna Fenske

  She gives a slow nod. “I already made some calls. My manager thinks he can get me into a place out here. A private treatment facility, very discreet. He’s already started the insurance claim”

  “Good. That’s a start.”

  That’s all I can ask for at this point. We’re both quiet for a long time, neither of us wanting to jostle the fragile plan. This new understanding between us.

  “That was your girl, right?” my mother says at last. “Amber? The one at the wedding.”

  I hesitate, then nod. “Was.”

  If my mother catches my use of past tense, she doesn’t say anything.

  She unclasps her hands, folding one on top of mine. As she squeezes the ridge of my knuckles, I catch myself meeting her eyes again. “You know I’m proud of you, right? Of the man you’ve become?”

  It’s my turn to force a brittle laugh. “You might want to take a raincheck on that pride. I fucked up royally today.”

  “With Amber?”

  I nod, surprised she doesn’t assume I’m talking about some catering mishap. “Yeah. With Amber.”

  “Are you sorry?” she asks.

  I wonder if she knows about the sharp teeth of guilt gnawing at my insides. If she’s felt it herself. “Yeah. I’m sorry. For all the good it does.”

  “Then say so,” she says. “If you’ve hurt someone, you always have the chance to go back and try to make it right.”

  I snort and shake my head. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

  “You have to start somewhere. We all do.” Her eyes shimmer with tears, and she reaches across the chasm between us and puts a hand on mine. “I’m sorry,” she says. “So sorry for everything.”

  I nod, wondering what “everything” is meant to encompass. Today’s events, or a lifetime of dysfunction. The look in her eyes has the contents of my chest unknotting like a ball of yarn that’s been wrapped too tight and finally unbound.

  I swallow hard and place my other hand on hers, giving a soft squeeze. “I forgive you.”

  We aren’t done here. Not by a long shot. But she’s right, it’s a start. A step in the right direction.

  And now there’s another one I need to take.

  Chapter 17

  AMBER

  “Hold still,” Jade says, smearing a green gob of sticky wax on my left eyebrow. “You don’t want them to be uneven again.”

  I snort and reach up to adjust one of the big pink foam rollers that’s come loose over my left ear. “Remember that time you waxed off half of the left one by mistake?”

  Jade flicks my finger away from my face. “What part of ‘hold still’ doesn’t make sense to you?”

  “The still part,” I admit, doing my best not to move. “Maybe the hold.”

  I let go of the foam roller and clasp my hands on my lap, belatedly realizing there’s something sticky on the thigh of my favorite gray sweatpants. Jelly, maybe. I can’t recall the last time I washed them.

  “Waxing off your eyebrow was an accident,” Jade insists as she presses a linen strip against my brow and smooths it with a fingertip. It’s an oddly soothing gesture, considering the pain she’s about to inflict. “I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “I know. And I appreciated that you tried to draw it back with eyeliner.”

  “My art skills were pretty sharp.” Jade finishes rubbing the strip over my brow bone, careful to leave one edge free for tugging. “It totally looked real.”

  “You nailed it,” I agree. “If only my eyebrows were green.”

  My sister smiles and sits back on the couch. “Okay, that may not have been a mistake.”

  “I know.”

  “Take a deep breath.”

  I do what she says, then yelp as she rips the strip off. “Ow.” Pinpricks of ouch shoot through my face, and I stroke a finger over my brow bone to pet away the pain.

  If only I could do that with my stupid, achy heart.

  “Feels like you got it all,” I say.

  “After ten years of this, I’d hope we have our system down.”

  “I don’t think I’m ready to try the Brazilian bikini thing yet.”

  Jade laughs. “I’d prefer to have Brandon as the only one who’s all up in my lady business.”

  I ignore the pang of regret that Sean won’t be up in my lady business anymore. There’s also a pang of regret for thinking the words “lady business” in the first place, but I push away all the regret and reach for a broken hunk of chocolate bar.

  “Did you try the plum jelly?” Jade asks. “That’s actually pretty good.”

  “Yeah, I’m going with the Cool Whip this time.” I dunk the chocolate into the tub, swirling it around for adequate coverage. “I’m still trying to wash away the taste of Dijon mustard.”

  “I really did think it was pumpkin butter.”

  My sister’s faint smirk suggests otherwise, but I’m biding my time for her to discover the bowl of crème fraiche that’s actually horseradish.

  See? This is normal. I’m wrapped in the familiar comfort of home and family. I don’t need a stupid man.

  I glance at the bowl of peanut butter in the middle of the coffee table and try not to think about Sean and his stupid peanut butter toast tattoo. Shoving my hunk of chocolate in my mouth, I chew hard enough to force back the memory of his damned bare shoulder.

  “You doing okay?” Jade asks softly.

  I nod and glance back at her, wondering what she just saw on my face. “Yeah, the left one stung a lot. Let’s take a break before you do the right.”

  “I wasn’t talking about your eyebrows.”

  I wipe my sticky fingers on the knee of my sweats and reach for another piece of chocolate. “Sean’s crew should be done with cleanup by now. Nice of him to stop by.”

  I hate how snarky I sound, but it’s better than crying. That’s the alternative right now.

  “You don’t know what’s going on in his world,” Jade says. “In his head.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. Because he never let me in. Not about his mother or his career or everything that’s been happening at the ranch.”

  Jade glances down and fiddles with one of the linen strips we use for brow waxes. “He must have reasons for all that.”

  “Yeah,” I choke out in a funny little half-laugh. “Like the fact we weren’t actually serious after all? That he turned out to be another guy looking to nail Flawless Amber and then lose interest afterward? Reasons like that?”

  My sister grabs the hunk of chocolate I’ve just dropped and hands it back to me. “He did see the real you,” she says softly. “Not a lot of people do, but Sean seemed to.”

  “So what does it say that he turned tail and ran the other way?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I’m not used to hearing my sister sound uncertain, and that breaks my heart as much as anything. I swipe my chocolate through the peanut butter and fight back the tears that have been simmering all evening. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I hadn’t started to think he was different, you know?”

  “He was different.” Jade frowns. “Is. He’s not dead.”

  “He’s dead to me.”

  “Isn’t that overkill?”

  I shake my head as tears sting my eyes again. I double-dip the peanut butter-covered chocolate into a bowl of strawberry cream cheese and shove it in my mouth. “I swore I wouldn’t do this again. That I wouldn’t get so drunk on infatuation that I failed to notice the guy wasn’t really seeing me at all. That I was just a piece of furniture in his world. An armchair to be hauled off to Goodwill when it doesn’t fit the color scheme.”

  “You think that’s what happened?”

  I nod and wipe a crumb of chocolate off my lip. “I know it is. You should have heard him. “You’re an amazing girl, but I just don’t think I have the bandwidth for this right now.”

  The look on Jade’s face says “ouch,” but she doesn’t speak the words aloud. She might as well. We both know they’re true.

&nb
sp; “He wasn’t in it for me,” I say softly. “Not the real me. He was in it to nail his fantasy version of me. Once the box was checked, he didn’t have the fucking bandwidth for the rest.”

  Jade winces again, but I shake my head. I’m ready for her to stop feeling sorry for me. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. What’s done is done, and I need to get over it.

  Still chewing my chocolate, I gesture to my eyebrow. “Go ahead and do the right one,” I tell her. “I can take it.”

  Maybe the sting of it will take away the other sting. Jade picks up the little wand filled with green goo and grabs the side of my face.

  “Well,” she begins as she smears sticky wax along the arch of my brow. “Not that I’ve ever said something I didn’t really mean in the heat of an argument—” She gives me a knowing look, but keeps waxing. “We can’t all be perfect. But I have it on good authority that it’s possible to love someone and say shitty things to them. It’s how you respond afterward that counts.”

  I don’t have anything to say to that, so I let Jade smooth another linen strip on my brow line. Her touch is gentler than it was before, and I’m grateful to her for keeping me distracted.

  Is it so wrong that I expected a call? Or a text at least. Just something explaining what the hell happened.

  But I know what happened. Same thing that always happens.

  “You’re an amazing girl, but—”

  There’s always a but, isn’t there?

  Picturing Sean’s butt isn’t helping, so I force the image out of my head. It really is over. We made that clear, didn’t we?

  “Ready?” Jade reaches for the edge of the strip.

  I brace myself for the sting and give a sharp nod. “Yeah.”

  The doorbell chimes and we both jump. Jade gives me a hopeful look. “Speak of the devil?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  But I know she’s right. I can feel it. The hair on my arms prickles, and I get that drunk butterfly feeling in my stomach. Sean is standing out there on my porch, though I don’t know whether it’s to continue the fight or apologize. Which do I want?

  “Amber?” His voice calls out from the other side of the front door, sending a pang of longing through me.

  “It’s him.” Jade makes a shooing motion toward the hall. “Go put on some clothes and fix your hair. I’ll stall. Or wait—let me at least pull off that strip so you can—”

  “No.” I get to my feet, not interested in being pretty or perfect or amazing. I don’t know who Sean expects to answer the door, but it won’t be Flawless Amber. “I’ve got this.”

  I pad sock-footed down the steps, clutching the handrail so I don’t fall on my face. Or maybe that would be better. The real Amber is clumsy sometimes. The real Amber is wearing socks that don’t match. The real Amber’s nail polish is chipped as she stretches a hand out to turn the doorknob.

  “Amber,” Sean says as I pull open the door. His gaze fixes on mine and he frowns. “Are you okay?”

  I push back the flood of warmth that washed through me at the sight of those bright green eyes. Squaring my shoulders, I take a deep breath.

  “Yes, Sean,” I tell him, wishing like hell my voice didn’t crack on that last word. “I’m totally fine. I’m better than fine, actually.”

  “Um—”

  “Here’s a little secret for you,” I continue, gripping the edge of the door like I’m holding tight to my own courage. “I’m a real, honest-to-goodness woman. With faults and flaws. A whole helluva lot of them. But I have feelings, too, dammit.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “I put curlers in my hair sometimes,” I shout, gesturing to the wild nest on top of my head. “I wax my eyebrows!”

  “I get it,” he says. “I just—”

  “Sometimes I wear granny panties instead of sexy thongs, and you know what? That’s okay!”

  I realize I’m shouting, and I glance up to see Jade duck back from the railing above me. Something tells me I’m not making any sense and that my sister will call me on it later.

  But right now, I’m too hurt to care. I turn back to Sean. His green eyes are clear and calm as he lifts a hand to touch me. “Are you done?”

  He doesn’t wait for an answer. Just skims a thumb over the corner of my mouth. I think about pushing him away, but his touch feels so damn good that I sigh when he pulls his hand back.

  “Jelly,” he says, rubbing his fingers together. “Or syrup. I thought you were bleeding. That’s why I asked if you were okay.”

  “Oh.” Heat creeps into my cheeks. “Fine. Yes, I’m a dumbass.”

  “You’re not a dumbass.” He smiles. “But if you were an ass of any kind, I wouldn’t care if you wore thongs or granny panties or went commando or—you know what? I’m getting off topic.”

  “Right.” What was the topic again?

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “That’s what I came here to say.”

  I want those words to be enough. To accept the apology and move on. But there’s more that has to be said.

  “I thought we were on the same page,” I say, hating how small my voice sounds. “That we were building something together. But you cut and ran as soon as Fantasy Amber turned into Real Life Amber.”

  There’s something heartbreakingly sad in his eyes as he shakes his head. “No. Damage Control Sean is a fucking asshole sometimes, but I promise you the Real Me sees Real You. He sees the bra-sniffing, tree-carving, dust-mote-fairy-chasing version of you, and he loves that version more than the fantasy one. That’s the honest-to-God truth.”

  “I—what—?”

  Did he just say he loves me? Talking about ourselves in third person is making my brain spin, and I’m not sure I’m following this conversation at all.

  He must sense my confusion, because he rakes his fingers through his hair the way he always does when he’s trying to herd the right words into the starting chute. “Let me try this again,” he says. “I suck at communication, so this isn’t coming out right, but I need you to know I’m crazy about you. So crazy that when my mother showed up, I panicked. I was embarrassed and ashamed and—”

  “Ashamed?” I swallow hard, steeling myself for his next words. “Of me?”

  “No, Amber. Not even close.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m ashamed of myself. And embarrassed that I never told you my mother is an alcoholic.”

  I stare at him, not sure I’ve heard right. “An alcoholic.” I swallow hard, pretty sure I misunderstood. “But—on TV. She’s—I don’t—”

  Christ, now I’m the one who can’t find words?

  Sean finds them for me. “It’s been a big secret for a long time.”

  “And you’re the one who’s had to keep it.” I stare at him a moment as some of the puzzle pieces rearrange themselves in my head.

  “Yeah. Yes. At my own expense, I guess.” He gives a hollow laugh and shakes his head. “Hers, too, maybe. If I’d done something sooner—”

  “No.” I let go of the door and brush the tips of his fingers with mine. “Don’t make this your fault. Didn’t you say something like that to me about my ex? You’re not responsible for someone else’s behavior.”

  “Yeah,” he mutters. “I’m not always great at taking my own advice.”

  I shake my head, chest aching with the knowledge of what he’s been carrying around. “I don’t know what to say. Sean, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

  “No one did,” he says. “I never let anyone in. It never mattered before, though. Not until I met you.”

  A lone tear escapes down my cheek, and Sean slips a hand into his pocket and holds out a hankie. “Here,” he says. “I didn’t mean what I said. About this being a mistake. That’s not even close to how I feel about you.”

  “I thought—” It sounds stupid now, so dumb I don’t want to say the words. But we’re being honest now, and I owe it to him to put it all out there. “I thought you were ashamed of me. That maybe that’s why you didn’t introduce me to your family or even tell
me your mom was in town.”

  He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I want everyone to know I’m crazy about you. My whole family. The whole world. As a matter of fact—”

  He turns and gestures behind him in the darkness, and that’s when I spot his blue Audi parked next to my truck. The dome light comes on inside, and before I can ask what’s going on, the doors fly open. I blink as bodies start spilling out like it’s a freakin’ clown car.

  Sean’s mother is at the head of the pack, looking much more dignified than she did at the wedding. The champagne has worn off, and so has her makeup. She looks tired and ruffled, but stoic. She’s the same woman I’ve watched on television a thousand times, but different somehow.

  “Amber, sweetheart, I’m so sorry about this afternoon,” she says as she approaches. “I swear I’ve never crashed a wedding in my life. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “It’s fine,” I assure her, wondering if she knows what Sean told me. That he trusted me with her deepest secret. “We all make mistakes.”

  Bree marches up a few steps behind her, followed by Jade’s fiancé, Brandon, who’s followed by two men I’ve never seen in my life. One is handsome and lean, with starched shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows and green eyes that match Sean’s.

  The other guy looks like he’s spent the day felling trees with his bare hands. The hem of his plaid flannel shirt flaps in the breeze as he lumbers up the steps and regards me with a curious look.

  “You’re Sean’s girlfriend?”

  I blink and look to Sean in confusion. “I—uh—”

  “Yes,” Sean says, reaching out to take my hand. “That’s assuming she’s willing to be.”

  “You are kind of an asshole,” Bree says, jabbing a thumb at the other two guys. “All my brothers are.”

  “But not your cousins,” Brandon interjects, giving me a wink. “Hey, Amber.”

  “Brandon,” I say, trying to get my bearings. “Jade’s around here someplace—”

  “Right here,” Jade calls and magically appears behind me. “Hey, guys.”

  Jade greets Brandon with a big hug before pulling back to regard Sean’s family like it’s the most normal thing in the world to have an audience of seven witnessing her sister’s makeup session.