The Winner Takes It All

by Jennifer Dawson

  It was the first time he saw the resemblance between them and in that moment, with their gazes narrowed and mouths turned down, they looked like mother and daughter.

  Cecilia tapped the toe of her shoe. “Can we help you?”

  The question rubbed him the wrong way. He spotted the orange and red bag on the counter and walked over to stand next to it, propping his hip on the counter and ripping open the bag. “Nope.”

  Chapter Four

  Cecilia took a deep breath and tried to figure out if she was thankful for the intrusion or wanted to throttle him. Frowning, she watched as he shoved another handful of Cheetos in his mouth then popped open a can of Mountain Dew.

  In a haughty tone, she asked, “Do you mind? We were talking here.”

  He scratched his head. His blond hair shone like spun gold in the sun streaming from the window, casting him in angelic light that was entirely at odds with his true personality.

  Her mother sighed then glanced toward the swinging door. “I need to go change anyway. We’ll finish this later.”

  Cecilia pinched the bridge of her nose. This was not a good day. Hell, this wasn’t a good month and the edges of her control were starting to fray. Shane wasn’t helping matters.

  “What exactly is going on here?” Shane asked, that deep voice sending a tingle down her spine despite her fatigue.

  They’d find out soon enough. In fact, she was surprised none of them read the article. She should tell him and end this little game he was playing once and for all. Except she didn’t want to. As soon as he discovered the truth he’d go back to looking at her with the contempt he’d always shown her, and selfishly she wanted to enjoy her reprieve a little longer.

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit. You’re making everyone tense.” He popped another cheese curl into his mouth.

  It stung, a lot more than she cared to admit.

  It shouldn’t; she’d always been an outsider, especially with this bunch. But before, when she felt lonely or excluded, she’d relied on the knowledge that she was her dad’s favorite. That someone in this world loved her and thought she was special. Now she knew better. The loneliness covered her like a wet blanket, damp and cold and heavy. Not that she’d ever let it show. In a calm tone, she said, “I just got here.”

  “And you’re putting everyone on edge.”

  “What am I doing?” Temper flashing, she put her hands on her hips. “I showed up because your sister wanted me to. I’ve been polite, cordial, and haven’t once mentioned the nation’s deficit. So how exactly am I making everyone tense?”

  “That’s what I want to know.” He took a big gulp of his stupid Mountain Dew.

  He was infuriating. Plain and simple. “How is this any of your business?”

  He put the can back on the counter. “It’s not.”

  She blinked, thrown off guard by the unexpected answer. She steeled her spine. “Then we’re in agreement.”

  “Not really. I’m still going to find out.”

  “What do you care? You don’t even like me.” It was the first mention she’d made about the way he treated her, and she didn’t even know why she said it. It was probing. Fishing for answers. She knew it and he was smart enough to know it too.

  “You’re right, I don’t like you much.” His tone matter-of-fact.

  And there it was: the truth.

  The little spark that had grown inside her every time he texted flamed out. Disgusted to find she’d harbored some sort of deep-seated hope. For what? She wasn’t sure and refused to let herself wonder. Throat tightening, she put on her most impassive expression.

  Well, good. She had evidence now. Evidence sure to cool her desire. She squared her shoulders. “Then stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”

  He put both hands on the counter. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

  She almost took a reflexive step backward but was able to stop at the last moment. Instead she said, “Excuse me?”

  Nice comeback. Not.

  He pushed off the counter, his green eyes looking distinctly predatory.

  She was too damn tired to do battle with him. She wanted to retreat until she felt like herself. But she couldn’t do that.

  Never show weakness. Never break.

  “There’s no way,” he said, standing mere inches away but thankfully not touching her, “I’m going to be able to ignore you for a whole two weeks.”

  What did that even mean? “Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but we are living in the same house, so for Mitch and Maddie’s sake, let’s just be civil.”

  “Here’s the problem with that,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I don’t feel civil around you.”

  Another woman, a more flirty one, interested in capturing his attention, would ask seductively how she did make him feel, but Cecilia wasn’t that kind of woman and never would be. Better to keep her distance. Besides, he didn’t like her. In her most dignified tone she said, “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but stop it. It’s not welcome.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  “Is that so?” He curled his hand around the back of her neck, touching her for the first time, and it was like an electric shock. She had to force herself not to wrench in response. His thumb brushed over the pulse hammering in her neck.

  So very telling.

  “Yes.” The word entirely too breathless. Light-headed, she forced her eyelids to remain open as his fingers stroked over her skin. She should pull away, but couldn’t find the willpower. Who knew if he’d ever touch her again?

  “I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate this.” The second the words left her mouth she wanted to kick herself. Why on earth would she say something so revealing?

  Her only excuse was that he was so close and she was so tired.

  One golden brow, several shades darker than his hair, rose. “Girlfriend?”

  She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth.

  His eyes darkened to a deep shade of emerald.

  The damage was done, she’d shown her hand, and now the only thing left to do was spin control. She tried to pull away, but his fingers remained locked on her neck. “Let me go.”

  His mouth twitched as though containing a smile. He lowered his head, making her heart beat frantically against her ribs, and whispered, “I knew it.”

  She sucked in a breath. God, he smelled good: like soap, and spice, and summer. Somehow she managed to say in a calm voice, “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re jealous of Gracie.”

  How did he know that? She reared back. “I am not!”

  “Even you have tells.”

  “You’re insane. I don’t have tells.” Did she? How had she given herself away? She’d been so careful. She waved a hand in a failed attempt to bat him away. “Besides, there’s nothing to tell.”

  His fingers played over the cords of her neck as though he had every right to touch her. “I’m not sleeping with Gracie. Or any other woman, for that matter.”

  Relief, swift and powerful, stole through her. But she managed to say the good, proper Cecilia thing. “Who you do or don’t sleep with is none of my concern.”

  “We’ll just see about that, won’t we?”

  “No, we won’t,” she said, surprised at the steadiness of her voice.

  He smiled, and it was pure carnal sin, transforming his too good-looking face into something dangerously gorgeous. He dropped his hand and stepped away.

  To her humiliation, she immediately missed his heat.

  “Game on, Ce-ce.” Then he turned and walked away.

  Game on? What in the hell did that mean?

  Cecilia pressed cool fingers to her hot cheeks and tried to figure out what just happened. He said he didn’t like her. So why had he touched her? Not only had he touched her, he’d made it clear he had plans. That he considered her some sort of challenge.

  She closed her eyes and counted to ten. She wa
s so damn confused.

  This day, already fraught with drama, was turning into a roller coaster she wasn’t prepared to deal with. For so long she’d been living on the surface, skimming through life and people and events without any attachment. She didn’t know how to cope with this sudden, emotional upheaval.

  It was exhausting.

  All she wanted was a nap, a good solid couple of hours of rest. Like everything else, she’d been getting by on the bare minimum and it was finally catching up with her. Maybe if she got some good REM sleep she’d be back to normal and able to recapture her previous cool, detached disposition.

  She sighed. She couldn’t rest until she finished the conversation with her mother. Cecilia had never been able to relax, let alone sleep, when there were important matters to deal with.

  Charlotte was not happy about the Miles Fletcher situation and had made it clear before Shane interrupted that she was furious with both Cecilia and her father.

  Somehow, she had to find a way to get her mother on her side, despite her protests. Charlotte had always been a constant presence in her life, but one she’d taken for granted. Unlike her dad, Charlotte never made her work for approval, and stupidly, Cecilia had viewed her mother as less valuable because she didn’t have to strive for her acceptance.

  And now, when she needed Charlotte’s support, she refused to give it. Somewhere over the last year her mom had grown a spine of steel and Cecilia hadn’t caught up to her yet.

  But Mitch had. He was the good one again. The golden boy who could do no wrong. And Maddie, with her easy affection, was a bonus. Like winning the jackpot on a scratch-off lotto ticket.

  It just made Cecilia feel that much more alone.

  She left the kitchen and her confusing exchange with Shane behind, trekking upstairs to knock on her mother’s bedroom door. She needed someone on her side. “Mom, it’s Cecilia.”

  A moment of silence before her mom called, “Come in.”

  She entered the room—one Maddie hadn’t gotten ahold of. Like her own room, it was still in her grandma’s old style. The nostalgia of the décor eased some of the tension in her shoulders. “This reminds me of Grandma.”

  Her mom sat on a faded green brocaded wingback, looking out the window, a book on her lap. “I asked Maddie not to change it.”

  Cecilia walked over to the bed and her eyes filled with unexpected tears, which she blinked quickly away. “Is this her wedding quilt?”

  “Yes, we found it in the attic.”

  Ivory from age, the cotton quilt was embroidered with intertwining tulips symbolizing the circle of a wedding ring. “When we used to visit I’d spread it out on the floor and roll myself up in it like a cocoon.” It was a memory from out of nowhere, one she hadn’t thought of in so long it seemed like it belonged to someone else. “Then Grandpa would pick me up, cuddle me on the couch, and tell me the story of how he met Grandma. How he knew he’d marry her from the second he saw her.”

  The window was open and a breeze blew in, sending Charlotte’s expertly highlighted champagne-colored hair flying. “They were very much in love.”

  Once, Cecilia questioned if that kind of love really existed. She’d convinced herself she’d imagined the way her grandparents looked at each other. Romanticized her childhood summers until they were something magical and beyond her reach. But, like the rest of her illusions, it was wiped away every time she witnessed her brother gaze at his bride. He had that same look her grandpa used to wear.

  She ran her hand over the fabric, soft and worn, but the fibers were still strong. “Maybe some people aren’t destined for great love. Maybe we’re only destined for one thing and we have to make sacrifices along the way.”

  “I don’t believe that,” her mother said flatly.

  Cecilia took a chair from the secretary’s desk and brought it over to sit next to her mom. She stared out the window, overlooking the idyllic yard full of ancient, timeless trees, roses, and plush green grass still new from spring.

  She wondered if her mom had loved her dad that way. If once upon a time they’d had a fairy-tale love. She wanted to ask, but didn’t dare. The wounds were too fresh and the hurt too deep. Instead, she said, “Won’t you please understand?”

  There was a long pause. “No, I can’t. Everything about this is wrong. I won’t pretend you’re not making a huge mistake.”

  “Mom,” Cecilia said, her voice a bit pleading, “I have so many factors against me. And this is something I can control.”

  Charlotte’s fingers tightened, turning her knuckles white. “You will regret this, I promise you.”

  “I’m not losing anything I believe in.” She knew what life had in store for her.

  “You’ve always been stubborn. Even as a young girl you never listened to me.” Charlotte turned to look at her with sad eyes. “I’m wasting my breath trying to change your mind, aren’t I?”

  The question filled Cecilia with shame because it was true. She’d only valued one opinion, and even now, with all her disillusioned bitterness toward her father, she believed he was right. Believed his words over her mother’s. She had doubts, but she’d never admit them to anyone, least of all Charlotte. She’d take them as a sign of hope. And Cecilia refused to be cruel. She shook her head. “I have to do this.”

  Charlotte pressed a fingertip briefly to her lips before saying, “When you were a little girl and your dad was around, you’d come home from school and line up all your work on the dining room table. As soon he walked in the door, you’d take him by the hand and make him look at what you’d done in school that day. At first I was proud of how diligent and hardworking you were, but after awhile I became concerned.”

  Cecilia looked down at her manicured hands. She remembered doing that. Remembered her desperate need for approval. How she’d hang on his every praise and be crushed by every criticism. “I was an overachiever. Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “You were so obsessed with being perfect,” Charlotte said, her voice soft. “If he corrected you, you’d do it over and insist you’d never make the same mistake again. It was too much pressure.”

  “I don’t like mistakes.” She tried to make the words light but failed miserably.

  “After a month, I told him to stop correcting you. You just wanted his approval so much. And I hated watching you try so hard.”

  Had his approval always been false? Something to appease her?

  Charlotte put her hand over Cecilia’s, her fingers cool but surprisingly firm. “Don’t do this to please him. To prove to him that you can succeed.”

  “I’m not. I’m doing this to be free. To have something to call my own. Can’t you understand that? Since I was a girl, this is all I ever wanted.”

  “But why?”

  Cecilia blinked at the question. “What do you mean?”

  Charlotte gripped her hand harder. “Why do you want to run for office?”

  “Because the seat is open and I’m tired of waiting.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking. Why do you want to be a congresswoman?”

  Cecilia didn’t understand. “You know it’s all I ever wanted. This is the first step in achieving my dreams.”

  “I know that’s what you’ve always said, but I don’t understand why.”

  Clueless, Cecilia shook her head. Her answer wasn’t satisfying her mother. Instead, it seemed to distress her further. “I need to prove to myself I can do it.”

  “Is that what you’ll run on? The need to prove yourself?”

  The words stung. She brushed imaginary lint from her skirt. “I don’t have my campaign slogan yet, but I will. I just haven’t had a chance to think about it.” There’d been too many other details to take care of, but now that she had time to think, her message would come. “Please, Mom, I need your support right now.”

  Charlotte sighed, a great weary sigh that sounded like it came from the tips of her toes. “Cecilia, you’re my daughter and I’ll support you and help you in whatever way I can, i
n all things but this.”

  “Thank you,” Cecilia said. She should be relieved. The weight should lift from her chest, but it didn’t and she didn’t understand why. She’d gotten what she came for and, realistically, begrudging support was all she could expect.

  All she could hope for.

  But today, sitting in this room that reminded her of her grandma, she wanted more.

  Chapter Five

  Shane rubbed his gritty eyes in the silent, dark kitchen, illuminated by the screen of his laptop as he sent off another e-mail. Twenty-five more to go.

  He glanced at the digital clock on the stainless steel microwave. Five after eleven. He’d been working through his e-mails for the last couple of hours and the list of problems from his battle with the new head of city planning was growing exponentially. He really should be in the office, dealing with the city contract from hell, but he refused to disappoint his sister. It wasn’t her fault she had to get married at the worst time.

  He opened an e-mail from his VP of Communications. After the first sentence his eyes blurred and his mind drifted to other things . . . namely Cecilia.

  Where had she disappeared to?

  She’d gone upstairs after their interlude this afternoon and he hadn’t seen her since. It seemed unlikely she’d avoided him—Cecilia Riley wasn’t the kind of woman who tucked tail and ran at the first sign of a little challenge. So why hadn’t she shown up at dinner?

  When Mitch asked Charlotte about her daughter’s whereabouts, the other woman just got a troubled expression on her face and said she didn’t know. Mitch shrugged it off and the conversation moved on.

  Shane had wanted to probe but held his tongue. He wasn’t ready to explain his interest to anyone. He’d waited, none too patiently, for one of them to go find her, but neither of them moved from the dinner table and Maddie hadn’t seemed inclined to track down the missing Riley.

  Didn’t they see something was going on with Cecilia? It was clear as day. But her family seemed unconcerned with her well-being.