“I’ll see what I can arrange with my mom and dad, but I don’t foresee that being a problem.”
“Good. Talk later?”
“Yes.” We disconnect as I turn into the driveway and pull into the garage.
Rylee snuggles against me when I lift her out of her booster seat. “Rylee, sweetie, we’re home.” I press the button to close the garage thinking I’ll unpack everything later. The house is a bit chilly so I walk down the hall to turn on some heat, flicking on lights as I go.
“Where’s MoMo?” Rylee asks, raising her head off my shoulder.
Damn it. “I forgot MoMo in the car. Let’s go get her.” I carry Rylee back to the garage and we find her stuffed monkey beside her booster seat. Rylee immediately hugs the toy tightly to her chest. Walking back into the house I ask, “Are you hungry?”
She nods her head.
I’m not sure what I’ve got in the kitchen, but I can whip something up on the fly. Only I don’t have to. Because sitting on the counter are two stainless-steel food warmers, a bowl of fresh strawberries, and a plate of cookies. There’s also a bouquet of red roses and pink hydrangea with a notecard perched at the base of the vase.
“Is it okay if I put you down here?” I ask Rylee, pulling out a sloped leather barstool at the breakfast bar. She nods.
Once she’s comfortable with MoMo, I walk around the counter. “It looks like someone left us dinner.”
Her big blue eyes widen.
“Let’s see who it is.” There’s really only one person it could be, confirmed when I see my dad’s chicken scratch on a piece of paper beside the plate of cookies. He let Ethan in the house to set up food for us.
I flip open the folded notecard. Welcome home. I missed you. —Ethan
Once again, the gesture is lovely, if not a little over the top, but it rubs me the wrong way. It’s not just me anymore. Granted he can’t miss someone he’s never met, but I’m in over my head here, and I can’t explore a relationship with Ethan again and figure out how to be a mom at the same time. For the second time, circumstances beyond our control have put a wedge between us.
“It’s from my friend, Ethan. Shall we peek under the lids?”
“Yes.” She shifts to her knees, elbows on the counter, for a closer look.
I lift the lid off the first warmer. She peers over the edge. “Chicken tenders,” she says like they’re her favorite food. (They are.) I remove the second lid. “And macaroni and cheese.” Another favorite of hers.
My stomach flutters. I didn’t give Ethan enough credit. He obviously arranged for a meal that would make Rylee happy.
She reaches for a chicken nugget.
“Careful, it’s hot.” She does this adorable thing of blowing on it with the biggest breaths she can muster.
I grab us plates, napkins and utensils, and sit beside her. She likes to do everything herself, so she takes the big spoon and scoops the mac and cheese onto her plate. Then she picks several chicken nuggets, looking them over carefully before making her selection and putting each one on her plate, far enough from the pasta so they don’t touch.
It’s been a while since I’ve eaten either one of these and they are delicious. I imagine there will be a lot more kid food in my future.
Rylee looks around the kitchen as she eats. When her gaze catches on the bay window behind the sink, landscape lighting offering a hazy glimpse into the small backyard she asks, “Do you have a sandbox?”
“No, but we can get one.”
She drops her chin in disappointment.
“Want to hear a funny story?” I ask.
“Okay.”
“When I was your age I didn’t like sand. I thought it was yucky.”
She scrunches up her nose. “But you like it now.”
“I do. I especially like it at the beach. It’s soft and there are sand crabs. Would you like to go see it?”
She stuffs her mouth with a chicken nugget and nods. “Is your daddy in heaven, too?” she asks seemingly out of the blue.
I guess I haven’t mentioned my dad to her. “No, he’s still here with us and he’s very excited to meet you. I’ve told him all about you. His name is Thomas.”
Her face lights up. “Like the tank engine?”
“Yes,” I answer with a smile.
We eat the rest of our meal, including a cookie each, in silence. When finished, she asks if she can see her room and then watch some TV. I give her a quick tour of the house and, catching her yawning, I decide to get her and MoMo comfortable on my bed to watch some kid-friendly TV. Until my mom arrives with Rylee’s bedroom furniture, she’s sleeping with me.
I clean up the kitchen, retrieve our suitcases then get our teeth brushed and our jammies on. We read three books. Well, almost, three. She falls asleep before I reach The End of the third. I fall asleep and dream about giant worms coming up out of the sand and trying to pull Rylee underneath with them. I yield a sword to cut them in half and keep her safe. Once they’ve all fallen, standing on the other side of the scuffle is Ethan, yielding a sword, too.
Chapter Fifteen
Naked at Last
Ethan
They say you can’t outrun forks and your past and other shit, but right now I just want to outrun the photographer who thinks snapping a picture of me with Monica Mann is a good idea. And when I say outrun, I mean outrun. As in get our legs to move faster than that asshole’s.
While no stretch of beach along California’s coast is legally private, the expanse of sand outside my home is hard to get to unless you really try. How the hell this guy knew Monica was here, I don’t know, but she’s cursing like a sailor as we sprint toward my property.
So much for a leisurely jog and catch-up with an old friend.
Normally, a picture of me with an actress wouldn’t be a big deal, but I don’t want any speculation on my love life out there. And Monica most definitely does not since she’s engaged to Damon East, lead singer for the hottest band in the world, and a photo of the two of us together would make for excellent tabloid fodder.
The fencing this dick climbed over to get to us? I’m having spikes put atop it tomorrow. Don’t tell the city.
I look over my shoulder to see the guy slowing down. I’m surprised he gave chase as long as he did, considering he’s wearing a camera with a huge lens around his neck. Then again photos of Monica get close to six figures.
We reach the seven-foot-tall side gate at the foot of my estate with distance between us and the photographer to spare. Once on the other side, I lock it, and hands on our knees, we catch our breath.
“It’s never a dull moment with you,” I say.
“You wouldn’t like to hang out with me if it was.”
I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off. “Don’t even try to deny it. You like a sense of danger. That’s why you fly helicopters and surf and rock climb and—”
“You made your point,” I interrupt.
“I always do.” She shows off the Julia Roberts smile that scored her one of the top talent agents in the industry when we were in college.
We start up the travertine path. It’s steep, and after our sprint, my calf muscles burn. Monica, who’s in great shape, slows to a crawl halfway up.
“Looks like someone needs to up her workout routine,” I tease.
“Shut up.” She swats me in the biceps.
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
The house comes into clear view as the path levels off. “Thank you, Jesus,” Monica mumbles under her breath. Before the paparazzo descended on us, we were talking about an upcoming trip she and Damon are planning to some swanky villa in Mexico and they want friends to tag along.
“Back to your trip,” I say. “You know I can get you in at any Auprince property you want.”
“I know, but you are good for things other than hotel reservations.”
“Am I now?” We wind through the grounds, palm trees blockin
g out the sun, and well-kept grass on either side of the walkway.
“Yes, we want you to join us so you can cook.”
I laugh. “Damon’s too cheap to hire a chef?”
“Not exactly,” she says coyly. Uh-oh.
“Why do I not like the sound of that?”
She laces her arm through mine. “Well, there is this girl I want to introduce you to and I thought you could wow her with your cooking skills.”
There’s no chance in hell I’m meeting this girl—or going to Mexico with them since I’m too busy at the moment, not to mention too involved with a certain green-eyed beauty—but I’ll play along until we reach the house. “I have other highly sought-after skills that don’t require I meal-plan, you know.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Jesus. Really? From who? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
She snickers. “Say you’ll come with us. I think you’ll really like Camilla.”
We reach the side yard and head straight for the sliding French door that opens into the kitchen. “Plus,” Monica adds, squeezing my arm with enthusiasm, “Camilla’s last name is San Lucia.”
“Of San Lucia Vineyard?” SLV, located up north near Monterey, is one of the largest vineyards in the world.
“That’s right. Imagine the incredible partnership your two families would make.”
I slide open the door with my free hand and we step into the house. “I don’t need to imagine it. It would be epic.” I’m just stating a fact, but Monica starts bouncing up and down like she’s won the Matchmaker of the Year award.
“You and Camilla are going to make the best couple,” she loudly declares, letting go of my arm and clapping her hands together. She keeps them steepled under her chin.
She’s such a drama queen. (With an Academy Award nomination to back me up.) I slide the door shut.
“Oh! Hello,” she says from behind me.
I spin around to find Callie standing in my kitchen wearing white sweatpants and a lightweight navy sweatshirt that slides off one shoulder, and my pulse stutters. She’s always the most beautiful thing I see, but this morning there’s something more that I can’t put my finger on. Maybe it’s how much I’ve missed her.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hi. Sorry to bother you. Your housekeeper let me in.”
“You’re not bothering me. Quite the opposite.” To prove my point, I stride across the room and kiss her. It’s quick because 1) Monica is standing behind me, no doubt with her mouth hanging open. And 2) if I let my lips linger any longer than a second, I won’t be able to stop until who knows when. I’ve been in serious Callie withdrawal.
As I step back, she presses her lips together like she wants to hold on to our brief connection for a little while longer. “Hi,” I say, giving her a more committed greeting. “There’s more where that came from if you stick around.”
Before she can say yay or nay, I turn to make introductions. “Pascale, this is Monica. Monica, Pascale.”
Monica snaps her jaw shut then smiles and extends her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Pascale.”
“Great to meet you. I’m a huge fan,” Pascale says as they shake hands.
“Thank you so much!” Monica hasn’t let her A-list status go to her head. Much, anyway. “I’m sorry if you overheard the Camilla comment. I didn’t know Ethan was seeing anyone.” She gives me a sisterly punch in the upper arm.
“Well, it sounds like she might be perfect for him so…” Callie trails off with a shrug. Her amused tone is punctuated with a quirk to her lips.
“Wait,” Monica says glancing between us with a glint in her eye. “Pascale isn’t a common name. Are you the same girl who—”
“Monica and I go way back,” I cut in to tell Callie. “And yes, she’s that girl,” I tell Monica. “And if you don’t mind, I’m going to see you out.”
“This is just getting good, though.” Monica digs her heels in and crosses her arms.
“Apparently, I have quite the reputation,” Callie says casually.
“Oh, you sure do. But I’m guessing it’s entirely different now.”
“Maybe we should talk about it over coffee?” Callie asks good-naturedly. “I keep meeting Ethan’s friends at a total disadvantage.”
Both women grin at each other and then at me, very amused with this situation.
“Or better yet, talk him into coming to Mexico and bringing you with him.”
In the blink of an eye, the lightness in Callie’s expression completely vanishes. I’m not sure what that’s about but I aim to find out. In private.
“All right. That’s enough. Say goodbye Monica.”
“Goodbye Monica.”
I shake my head.
“What? You definitely said it without the comma.”
I frown. I have no idea what she’s talking about.
She waves me off and gives Callie a hug. Monica hugs everyone and everything, including trees and fans who ask for her autograph. “It was great to meet you, Pascale. I look forward to seeing you again.”
“Likewise,” Callie says amiably.
“Be right back,” I tell her. I walk Monica to the front door, avoiding her questions about Pascale with a promise to call her this week with the details. Why can’t she be more like my guy friends and be bored with the finer points?
Callie is sitting at the head of the kitchen table when I return. I take a chair beside her. “I’m really happy to see you. How are you?” I kept my distance over the weekend so she and Rylee could settle in. Besides a text from her thanking me for dinner and the flowers, it’s been radio silence.
“Tired, but good.”
“Rylee?”
Her eyes soften. “She’s still processing, but for someone with such limited life experience she understands her father isn’t coming back and that her new home is with me.”
“She sounds like a smart kid.”
“She is.”
“This is a nice surprise. I wasn’t sure I was going to see you today, but your name was at the top of my to-do list.”
“What a coincidence. You were at the top of mine, too,” she says, her tone flirty but also laced with seriousness. The two of us have a lot more to talk about, having only scratched the surface of her new normal with Rylee.
“Have you had your coffee yet?”
“Yes, but I’d love another cup.”
“Coming right up.” As I pour us each the Kona blend my housekeeper, Letty, made earlier, I ask the question I should have asked right away. “Where is Rylee this morning?”
“My mom took her shopping for some clothes and new shoes so I could come over here to talk to you.”
I set our coffees down on the table and sit. “You have something specific on your mind?”
“I left my job at Serenity Security.”
“Wow.” I rest against the chair back.
“I know.” She wraps her hands around the mug, drops her gaze to the table. “But I can’t put myself in a situation that is even remotely dangerous, not anymore. And travel is out.” She glances back up at me. “Any time away is out. I need to be here and present every day.”
“This means you’re staying put.”
“It means I’m staying put,” she echoes before taking a sip of coffee.
“I’m happy to hear that.” I’m fucking over the moon to hear it, but I can see the wheels turning in her head and sense she’s got more to say, so I play it cool.
“I knew that was the first thing I had to do, but I’m not sure what happens next. I did promise you I wouldn’t leave Royal without finding you a replacement, so I’d like to stay on as your manager until I figure things out.”
“You can manage for as long as you want. You’re great at the job, Callie, and I like having you there.”
“Thanks. I’m not sure being gone every night is good for Rylee, but I need a paycheck.”
“We’ve survived two weeks without you, we can survive a night or two anytime you need work off
.”
“I appreciate that. My parents and Paige are going to trade off staying with her, but I already feel guilty. My mom says that’s normal.” She sighs. It’s heavy and I put my hand on her forearm.
“Whatever I can do to help, let me know.”
“I think for now the best thing is for us to keep things simple. As friends.”
That’s fair. I don’t want to complicate her life. But I also refuse to let what we’ve started go without a fight. “That’s not going to work for me.”
“Co-workers then.”
Ouch. “You can walk away from us that easily?”
“Nothing about this is easy,” she shoots back, finally showing me some fire. Fire I can work with. Quiet defeat is a lot more difficult to navigate. “But our lives are even more different now, Ethan. Your life is late nights, networking and mingling, and famous friends with plans to jet off to Mexico together. People constantly want your attention. My life is caring for and sheltering a little girl whose world has been turned upside down.”
We stare down one another. She’s right. And I love my life. But then I think about Sydney and how I let a young woman down who only wanted me to see her. To say hello and engage with her, ask her which climbing wall she liked best. And it’s time I put someone besides myself at the center of my universe.
Make that two someones.
“I understand where your priorities are, and I want to tell you where mine are at. They’re fairly new so I don’t think you’re aware.”
“Okay.”
“You. You’re my priority.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but I press two fingers to her lips so she’ll let me finish. “And Rylee is, too. And before you argue that I don’t know her so how can that be, it’s because she’s an extension of you. I want to be here for both of you. You don’t need me, I know that. You’re strong and smart and capable, and can do this on your own. But let me prove to you you’re what I need.”
“Ethan.” Her eyes grow glassy. “I thought you were focused on opening more restaurants and traveling and, I don’t know, having a good time.”
“Are you saying you and Rylee aren’t a good time?”
“You know what I mean.”
Sweet Talker Page 14
