by Cate Cameron
“You okay?” Will asked, crouching down beside her spot on the couch.
She blinked hard, schooled her expression, then nodded in Emily’s direction. “She looks so grown up,” she managed.
“She might look it, but we both know she isn’t,” he responded. His hand gripped hers, and she let herself take comfort from its warmth. “She still needs us to look out for her. Not tonight—everyone here is good people. But outside this apartment, she’s still your little girl. Right?”
She didn’t say no, but she thought it. Because looking at Emily, standing there in her New York clothes, chatting happily with all these rich, sophisticated people, it was crystal clear. She was Will’s little girl, now.
The doorbell chimed again, and Will squeezed Cassidy’s hand before straightening up and heading for the front hall. One of the women at the party sank down on the couch next to Cassidy and smiled. “Emily’s just lovely,” she said. “My niece is the one with the brunette bob, over there. She and Emily seem to be getting along. Maybe the next time you’re in the city, I could take them on an outing somewhere, if that sounds good to you?”
It would have been so much easier if they’d been the clichéd rich bitches, but these people weren’t just sophisticated, they were friendly, kind, and intelligent. Cassidy was so far out of her league she wasn’t sure she was even playing the same sport.
“I’m sure she’d like that,” she managed.
“I was hoping you might come with us,” the woman replied with another warm smile. “Unless you want some alone time with—” She broke off as her gaze was caught by something across the room, then continued with barely a hitch. “—yourself. I’m not a parent, which is good for everyone concerned, but I know the little monkeys will run you ragged if you let them. And, of course, you’re in charge of a business at the same time, right? A café, Will said?”
Cassidy tried to find a response, but she just wasn’t that good at making small talk in the face of distractions. Distractions like the absolutely gorgeous woman coming into the room on Will’s arm, smiling and greeting people like she was the queen in her castle, visiting with some of her favored subjects.
“I didn’t know Victoria was coming,” the woman beside Cassidy said carefully. “But I suppose it’s not too surprising. We’ve all been friends for a long time.”
“Victoria,” Cassidy said dully. She didn’t need to ask for any details about the relationship between Will and the tall blonde; Victoria’s intimate smile and the proprietary grip on his forearm made it crystal clear.
She realized that Will was looking at her and jerked her head a little, turning to face the woman on the couch beside her. Damn it, she wished she’d gone to the trouble of learning her name when they’d been introduced. “Where would you want to take the girls?” she asked. Her voice was too loud, almost shrill, but her couch buddy didn’t look put off.
“I’m always torn between feeling a duty to do something culturally enriching—a museum, or the ballet—and an instinct to do something a bit more fun, like a pop concert.” Another lovely smile, sweet enough that Cassidy almost missed the way the woman’s gaze flickered in Will’s direction.
But there was no way for Cassidy to continue the attempted distraction because it was totally clear that Will was heading toward them. His expression was unreadable, his posture maybe a little stiffer than usual. But what did that mean? The discomfort of introducing a girlfriend to a fling? Was there an etiquette rule for the proper way to do that?
“Victoria!” Couch Buddy said with a smile that was just as sweet as the ones she’d been sending toward Cassidy. Stupid to feel betrayed, just because someone was equally friendly to everyone. “That jacket is gorgeous. It must be new?”
“It is,” Victoria agreed. She turned to Cassidy. “As are you! You’re Emily’s aunt? I’ve heard so much about her. It’s wonderful you were able to help out when her mother was ill.”
“Cassidy was part of Emily’s life well before that,” Will corrected.
“Oh, of course.” Victoria turned to Couch Buddy. “Being an aunt is important, isn’t it? You and Ainsley always have so much fun together.”
“Cassidy, can I borrow you for a moment?” Will asked, taking a half step back from the conversation. “I just need to make sure we’re on the same page for tomorrow.”
It was a transparent attempt to get Cassidy out of the conversation; there was nothing about the next day that was at all complicated. A part of her wanted to stay and see what else Victoria came up with. The same part that made her press on a bruise or pick at a scab, she supposed. Luckily her sense of self-preservation took over and she stood up, feeling short and dumpy next to Victoria’s svelte, stiletto-accentuated height. Will put his hand on the small of Cassidy’s back as if he planned to guide her through the crowd, but she stepped sideways out of his reach. She didn’t know where he was planning on having their conversation, but wherever it was, she would get there on her own steam.
“Kitchen?” she asked him.
“How about the den?”
She didn’t answer, just changed course and headed for that room. She supposed the kitchen was full of caterers. The den, of course, was where her seduction of him had started the night before; she didn’t really want to think about that right then, not with the blond goddess looming behind her.
“Victoria’s my ex,” Will said as they stepped into the den. He shut the door behind him and crossed over to the unlit fireplace. “We were off and on for a few years, but we’re off for good, now.”
“That’s none of my business,” Cassidy said. “I mean, if you get serious about someone and think she might be spending time around Emily, I guess I’d like to meet her first. But you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“Because you and I are just casual,” he said. He was glaring at her, and Cassidy glared right back.
“That’s right. It’s casual. It’s probably over, really. The house should be ready by the time we get back. And Em’s only got another week of school. She’s—” Cassidy looked at the intricate pattern on the carpet they were standing on. Damn it, she might as well get it all out. “She’s loving it here,” she forced herself to admit. “She’s excited about school next fall, and I think—” A deep breath, and she made herself say it. “I think she wants to come here for the summer, too. She was talking about all the things there are to do here, and…”
She stopped talking. She’d said enough, surely, enough to let him know that he’d won and didn’t have to continue with the game.
“I really think she’ll be happy in the city,” he said. There was no gloating in his voice. Instead, he sounded cautious, or maybe even a little sad. “She’ll want to stay in touch with her friends from Lyonstown, I’m sure. I could buy a place up there, if you want, a weekend place. Or maybe she’d like to summer there. She doesn’t have to come to the city right now, Cass. You don’t have to rush into anything.”
“No, of course not.” She didn’t even try to keep the bitterness out of her tone. “I could keep her up there. She’s a good girl, and she’d stay if I asked her to. She’d stay out of guilt.” She shook her head and hoped she could get through this without crying. Going back out to face that crowd with red, puffy eyes might be the final straw of humiliation. “I don’t want that for her. I don’t want it for us, for her and me. I want her to remember me as—”
“Remember you?” Will interrupted. He didn’t sound sad anymore; he sounded angry. “No, Cassidy, this is just stupid. It’s pointless melodrama, and it’s beneath you. Why are you trying to make things difficult when they don’t have to be? You and Emily are a team. She loves the city, and you really don’t love Lyonstown, do you? I know you grew up there, but you don’t have any family left in the area, you don’t love your job, and you don’t have any real friends it would be hard to leave behind. Why the hell would you stay there when Emily’s going to be here? It makes absolutely no sense, and I’m tired of pretending that it does. Emi
ly will come to the city, either at the start of the summer or in time for the start of school, and you’ll damn well come with her. You don’t want to be with me? Fine. I’ll get another apartment in this building, and you and Em can live there together. Easy solution, everything’s fine, no need for any of this drama.”
It sounded so simple, when he said it like that. But she wasn’t going to let him fool her, not on something like this. “Sure, no problem. I’ll close down the diner—won’t get much money for it, of course, but that’s fine, because you’re rich. I can sell the house—won’t get much for that, either, but why should I worry? I’ll sell Casey and Finnegan, give the damn goat to anyone who’ll take her, and the cats will just have to get used to living inside instead of roaming the farm. I’ll move here and try to get a job. Probably as a waitress, since I’m not qualified for anything else. It won’t pay enough to cover the damn parking in a place like this, but that’s okay, because Brave Sir William has me covered. For four years, at least, until Em goes away to college and you realize you don’t really need a nanny anymore. And then I’ll be left with no diner, no horses, no home, no fucking life.” She swallowed hard, and more quietly said, “And that’s just the practical side of things.”
“What else is there?” he asked. He didn’t sound angry anymore, and she kind of missed it. This would be a lot easier if they could fight about it.
“There’s Emily, running around with her sophisticated new friends, her fancy new father, and then coming home to her aunt who’s washing the smell of hamburger grease out of her polyester uniform. And she’s Emily¸ so she won’t want to be ashamed of me, and she’ll try not to be. She’ll try so hard, but she’ll see me at parties like this, and she won’t be able to keep herself from noticing that I don’t have anything to talk to these people about. She’ll see that I don’t know how to dress, and I can’t tell the difference between good wine and crap from the grocery store, and I don’t have time to read anything but the back of a cereal box, but if I did read something it would be a romance novel or Stephen King or something, not whatever the hell they were talking about in there before. And you know what? This is an easy party, isn’t it? These are all good people, good friends. But you have parties so big you need to use a damn reception room for them, and you’ll sometimes want her at those, and the people there won’t all be as kind, will they? She’ll see all that, and, Will—” She made sure he was looking at her when she said, “I’ll see all that. She won’t be the only one who thinks I’m out of place and not sophisticated enough. I’ll think the same thing. And I don’t want to think that about myself.”
He was quiet for long enough that she thought he might understand, but then he shook his head. “No, that’s bullshit. None of that matters. I mean, if you decide you care about wine and clothes and whatever, great, I can help you learn about them. Not because I care, but if you want to learn, you can learn. And if you want to read different books, you can read different books. You’ve grown up in a different world, but that doesn’t mean you have to stay there, not if you don’t want to.”
“So I could change myself. I could become someone else, someone who does know good wine from bad and who does shop at places other than Walmart. I could turn myself into someone else entirely, and then what am I? I’m completely dependent on you, because there’s no way I can ever afford all of that on my own. When Em goes away to school, I either try to go back and build a whole new life in my old world, or I try to hang onto this life by giving up all my independence and my self-respect.”
“No,” he said, and she was happy to hear the anger creeping back into his voice. “No, that’s still crap. Firstly, you learning about wine and clothes is not going to make you someone else entirely. It’s not going to erase all the stuff you already know, or the person you are inside. It’s not going to change you from the strong, loving person you are today. And secondly, if you’re so damned worried about your independence and what’s going to happen four years from now? Let’s take that off the table. We can go to the bank tomorrow morning, and I’ll transfer a million dollars into your account. Maybe that’s not enough, so wait until Monday and I’ll put together more cash. Five million? Would that do it? If I give you five million dollars, free and clear, no strings attached, then will you relax about all this?”
She swallowed hard, then whispered, “I’m not for sale, Will.”
He stared at her, and she could see the frustration on his face. “This is so stupid,” he finally said, turning away and walking purposefully to the fireplace, stabbing his forefinger into the button on the wall to ignite the flames. “This whole thing is a problem because I have money and you don’t. So if I give you money, the problem goes away. But you don’t want to take the money because, why? Because of some idea of independence? You’ve devoted a huge chunk of your life to raising my daughter. If I refused to pay you and you took me to court, they’d rule in your favor, you know. Do you want to do it that way? You can sue me! We can let the court decide how much is fair.”
“I’ve already told you I’m not going to do that. I lost some money in the deal, but you lost something much more important. I’m not going to sue you after you missed the first thirteen years of Em’s life.”
They stood there quietly for a moment, and then Cassidy made herself smile. “She wants to be in the city, and there are opportunities here that she wouldn’t have at home. I see that. If I were here, it would be bad for her, and bad for me. I won’t let myself stand in her way, Will. She’s ready to fly. She doesn’t need me holding onto her legs, trying to drag her down.”
“She’s thirteen years old,” he replied. “Hardly straining to leave the nest, and she loves you. You love her. The opportunities she has here aren’t going to make up for losing that love.”
Cassidy felt like an old woman: tired, but wise. “Love doesn’t get lost that easily. It would take a lot more than a couple hundred miles to keep me from loving her. I’ll always be there for her, and I’ll always love her. Do you doubt that she knows that?”
She could see him trying to find a way to answer in the negative. If he could honestly say that Em wasn’t secure in Cassidy’s love, then the whole conversation would change. But he didn’t lie, and she felt a surge of gratitude toward him as he said, “She knows you love her. She knows you’ll always be there for her.”
This man. This spoiled, entitled man. If Cassidy didn’t come to the city, this man would be taking care of Emily. He’d make her just as spoiled and entitled as he was, if Cassidy didn’t watch out. But he’d also help her to become all the other things he was. Confident, generous, and caring; educated, powerful, and gentle.
Cassidy couldn’t help Emily become all those things. She could only get in the way.
She forced another smile. “We can talk to her tomorrow and work out the details.” She turned, then, and tried to compose herself before heading back to the other room. The people out there were Emily’s future, and they didn’t need to see Cassidy embarrass herself.
…
It was unacceptable. That simple. He would not accept this situation. Cassidy was giving up too easily, and maybe that was just because she was tired, but he wasn’t tired, damn it. He wasn’t giving up. He’d had a plan. It was a good plan, and it deserved to be realized.
“Cassidy,” he said gently, but she was already out the door and either didn’t hear him or pretended she didn’t. His good sense told him to let her go and sort it out later, but he ignored it. This needed to be settled, once and for all.
He strode after her, down the short hall and into the room full of his closest friends and their various connections. All the people he cared about, in one room at the same time. It should have felt like a celebration.
And that was what gave him the idea.
He didn’t take the time to think it through, just said, “Cassidy!” loud enough that she couldn’t ignore him without being insulting. When she reluctantly turned back toward him, he did it. He dropped t
o one knee and looked up at her.
He heard a couple gasps, and then there was silence. Cassidy stared at him and took a half step forward with her arms outstretched as if she thought she could lift him up. But she stopped when he said, “Will you marry me?”
Everything had been still before he’d said it, but there was a new quality to the silence after he spoke. A brittle fragility, an absence of sound that was somehow louder than anything Will had ever heard before.
It was broken by Cassidy’s snort. “You just can’t stand to see your plans fall apart, can you?” She took that step toward him now, and then another, until she was standing above him with her hands on her hips, glaring down. “You have no idea how to deal with someone telling you no. You have to win. Is that what you’ve been taught? You should do anything to make sure you get your way because…what? What happens when you don’t?” She raised an eyebrow with the regal authority of a warrior queen. “I guess you’re about to find out.”
And with that, she turned, brushing past the guests in her way and heading for her bedroom. Emily was the first to break out of the frozen daze, and her eyes were wide as she trotted after her aunt, her gaze first on Will and then turning purposefully away.
The rest of the room stayed quiet until they heard the thud of Cassidy’s bedroom door closing, and for a few heartbeats after that. Finally, Trevor said, “I brought a bottle of Speyside ’72. Seems like this might be a good time to crack it open?”
There was a buzz of relieved chatter about scotch, everyone speaking a bit too loudly and laughing a bit too often, and it was Victoria who ended up by Will’s side as he rose to his feet. “Well, that was dramatic,” she said lightly. “And I’ve got to say, I rather like your little country mouse. She’s got a spine. Or at least, she had one before she scurried away to hide in her hole.”
“I don’t want to talk to you about this,” he managed.
“If you’d pulled that stunt on me,” she continued, ignoring his statement, “I’d have stayed out here and swanned around, making sure everyone could see how little I cared.”
