As she got to her car, she was overwhelmed by nausea. She didn’t know if it was mistimed morning sickness or just because she was upset. Regardless, she took deep breaths until the sensation passed, then drove home.
When she was safely in her apartment, she threw herself on the sofa and decided she was perfectly justified in having a mini pity party—at least for a couple of hours. Her parents objecting was one thing, even though she was still mad about what her dad had said, but Gina and Cassie chastising her was harder to deal with. So far she only had Ali and DeeDee on her side. She’d been hoping for a larger contingent in the support department.
She did a few breathing exercises, then tried to gather some enthusiasm about dinner. She knew she had to eat. Maybe she would feel better if she texted with a friend. Only who? DeeDee was still out with Gina and Cassie, and Zennie couldn’t discuss her problem with Bernie—it would only upset her.
She started to text Ali, only to stop herself. She was stronger than this—she didn’t need to bother anyone. If only she didn’t feel so alone.
Maybe she needed a pet, she thought. Not a dog—she wasn’t home enough. How about a cat? Cats purred and that would be nice. She could go to a local shelter and adopt a nice adult cat who would be there for her. A cat would—
She swore under her breath. Hadn’t she read something about cats and pregnancy? A parasite or something? She eyed the pregnancy book on her coffee table, confident the answer was in there, but not wanting to look.
Great. She couldn’t eat sushi, she couldn’t have coffee or wine or go in a sauna and now she couldn’t even get a cat. She wasn’t willing to admit to second thoughts, but being pregnant was a much bigger drag than she’d ever thought possible.
Chapter Twenty
“You need to go on a date.” Rochelle’s voice was firm, as if she actually expected Finola to listen.
Finola stared at her assistant over her mug of coffee. “Are you kidding? A date? Really? Because I need one more thing?”
“You’ll feel better, I swear. Nothing serious. Just a nice, happy revenge date with a great-looking, younger guy who has a mad crush on you.”
Finola thought about how she still wasn’t sleeping very well and how putting on enough concealer to look refreshed was becoming an art form.
“And where would we find such an amazing guy? On Amazon?”
They sat across from each other at the small table in Finola’s dressing room.
“You’ve had dozens of offers,” Rochelle said eagerly.
“You’re making that up.”
“I’m not. You forget, I have your old phone. You’re working off a burner. I get your messages every day.”
And cleared them out, Finola thought. Rochelle was deleting the cruel comments, the requests for interviews and all the other crap designed to make her feel worse than she already did.
Rochelle smiled gleefully. “Trust me, there are plenty of men eager and willing to help you get over Nigel, and some of the offers are pretty tempting.”
“Then you go out with them.”
“They’re not interested in me.”
“They would be if they saw you.” Rochelle was young and beautiful—filled with possibility. Finola was simply used-up and tired.
“I’m not ready for a revenge date.”
“Are you waiting for Nigel to come back?”
“Of course not. I was at first. I had no clue anything was going on. I was devastated.” She still was, she admitted to herself. “I wanted things to go back to the way they were.” She clutched her coffee, recognizing a truth she hadn’t articulated before. “I just don’t think they can.”
Her voice was so small, she thought. So powerless. Nigel hadn’t just cheated on her, he’d stolen the very essence of her. He’d ripped her bare and left her with nothing but wounds. She knew, excluding the public nature of what had happened, her situation wasn’t unique. She wasn’t the first woman to be cheated on and she wouldn’t be the last. But that knowledge didn’t take away the pain or sense of loss. She was truly broken and she didn’t think she would ever feel whole again.
“They can’t be the same,” Rochelle told her. “But maybe they could be better.”
Finola looked at her assistant. “Do you really believe that?”
“What I believe doesn’t matter. This is about you.”
“What is the purpose of a revenge date?”
“I think the name kind of says it all.”
“Yes, but that presumes Nigel would care. He wouldn’t. So where’s the revenge?”
“It’s not about him. It’s about you remembering who you are. It’s about realizing there are men out there who think you are beautiful and smart and Nigel is simply a stupid man who’s going to regret what he’s done.”
Regret would be nice, she thought wistfully. Regret, remorse and maybe a painful, oozing rash.
“I have a list of guys I think you’d like.”
Finola stared at her. “You have a list?” She couldn’t help laughing. “Of course you do. Let me guess—it’s in a spreadsheet and you’ve sorted them by age, appearance, appropriateness and what else?”
Rochelle grinned. “Income, and how good I think they’d be in bed. The latter is subjective, but I felt it was important.” Her smile faded. “Finola, you’ve got the gala coming up. Wouldn’t you like to go with a date?”
“I couldn’t. There would be too much speculation.” She hadn’t decided what she was going to do. “I’ll be fine if I go alone.”
“You won’t be fine. I’d offer to go, but everyone knows I’m your assistant and that would just be weird.”
Finola knew that was true.
Rochelle’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and then at Finola. “I have to take this.”
Rochelle walked out of the dressing room. Finola thought about the gala and who would be safe. For some reason, she zeroed in on Zennie, who would look gorgeous in an evening gown. Everyone would wonder who she was.
A sister was safe, Finola thought. A sister made for good press.
She picked up her phone only to realize the last time she’d talked to Zennie, she’d totally freaked out about the surrogacy. Not exactly her best example of being supportive. She hesitated for a second, then started to type on her phone.
Sorry I was such a bitch the other day. Your news caught me off guard and in my current mental state, I seem to be defaulting to the dark side of things. What you’re doing really is amazing. I know Bernie and her husband are going to be really happy.
She pushed Send and knew she would hear from Zennie later. No doubt her sister was in surgery this morning. Because that was what Zennie did—she saved lives, and was pregnant with a baby for her best friend, while Finola hosted some ridiculous TV show and worried about being photographed by the press and gossiped about.
“I’m a completely shallow person,” Finola whispered aloud. She didn’t want it to be true, but the truth was kind of hard to avoid. She was shallow and self-absorbed and both her sisters were nicer people than she ever was. She’d apologized to her sister for the sole reason of getting her to come to the gala—not because she thought she was wrong.
The realization was uncomfortable. She felt slightly sick to her stomach and her skin felt weird—as if it were suddenly too small. Her cheeks were hot and the sense of being less than everyone else returned. Not sure where to put all the unwelcome emotions, she quickly turned on the TV.
The Today Show came on with a well-dressed woman talking to one of the hosts. “Yes, I do think that there is always blame on both sides.”
“Even when one partner cheats?”
Finola froze. This was not happening, she thought, reaching for the remote control. But before she could silence the words, she heard, “Yes, even then. While there is the occasional partner who is compelled to be unfaithful, in most relationships
, there’s an underlying reason that needs to be addressed.”
Finola pushed the off button and the screen went dark, but it was too late. If the universe was trying to get her attention, it had succeeded, and she didn’t like it one bit.
* * *
Ali spent two days surreptitiously observing the men she worked with. They were good-natured and funny, always insulting each other. Everything was a competition, with the winner crowing about his victory. Their style of communication was completely different from hers.
She remembered when she’d first started at the company—how she’d been the only female, and she’d known nothing about cars. She’d been overlooked, dismissed and bypassed. It had taken a lot of hard work to learn the inventory, then prove herself to the team, but she had. Now the new guys always came to her with their questions and when something went wrong, she was put in charge of fixing it. She was respected and appreciated, but she wasn’t sure she was ever seen as ambitious.
She didn’t talk about her successes or what she’d done right that day. She didn’t brag or put anyone down. She didn’t play pickup basketball at lunch. She wasn’t one of the guys, but she was part of the team.
She knew there was a difference between the two and her gut told her that her problem wasn’t not being one of the guys. She suspected the issue was her natural reticence. She did a good job and expected that was enough. Given what had happened with Ray, it obviously wasn’t. She was going to have to start talking about what she did for the company on a daily basis. She was going to have to come up with a plan and fast because if she didn’t, she would never be considered for the promotion and wouldn’t that suck.
She used her lunch break to write up what she’d accomplished the past year above and beyond her job description. Then she walked through the warehouse and made notes on what she thought should be done differently. Later she would back up her ideas with tangible suggestions connected to cash flow. She had time—the owner was going on vacation and not picking up the job search until he was back.
She’d just returned to her desk when her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but it was local. “This is Ali.”
“Hi, it’s Betty from All Occasion Bakery. Your cake’s ready for pickup. Just a reminder, it’s in several boxes that you won’t want to stack. You don’t want anything happening to your beautiful cake before your special day.”
Ali closed her eyes and groaned. She’d totally forgotten about the cake. She hadn’t canceled it, which meant she was going to have to pay for it and then what? She had a cake for several hundred people. And her canceled wedding date was this weekend—a fact she’d been doing her best to avoid.
“Okay, thanks,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll be by later to pick it up.”
“We’re open until six.”
Ali hung up and thought about banging her head against her desk, but she knew that wouldn’t accomplish anything. Instead she thought about the massive cake Glen had insisted on. They’d needed one for only a couple hundred people but he’d liked the look of the five-layer one, so that was what they’d bought.
Five layers, she thought grimly. That would never fit in her car.
She picked up her phone and quickly dialed Daniel.
“Hey,” he said when he answered. “What’s up?”
“Any way I can borrow your truck?”
“Sure. What for?”
“I totally forgot to cancel the cake. It’s huge and I’m afraid it won’t fit in my car.”
“Not a problem. I’ll meet you at the house after work. What are you going to do with it?”
“I don’t know. I guess donate it. You don’t happen to know someone who’s getting married and forgot to order a cake, do you?”
“No, but I know a good food bank. Let’s take it over there.”
“Done,” she said firmly. “At least it’s going to a good cause.”
“See you tonight.”
“See you.”
She hung up and wished just once she could be something other than inept around Daniel. Was it too much to ask that just one time she was together and confident and sophisticated? Even though she already knew the answer, she couldn’t help wishing for a miracle.
* * *
As promised, Daniel was waiting when she got home from work. She pulled into the garage, then climbed into his truck.
“Thanks for doing this,” she told him. “I really appreciate it.”
“Happy to help. Plus, cake. Where’s the bad?”
She laughed. “There is that. So how’s the world of motocross?”
“Good. There are a lot of promising young guys who want to make it happen. We’ll see if any of them can do it.”
“Just guys?”
He looked at her. “Sometimes there are girls, but not very many. It’s physically challenging and...” He returned his attention to the road. “I’m going to stop talking now, before I get myself in trouble.”
“Probably for the best. I’m sure the sport is physically grueling, but still, you should support girls.”
“I do my best to be supportive.”
She believed him. He’d sure been there for her. “I’ve been watching the guys at work, trying to understand their communication styles.”
“And?”
“They do talk about themselves a lot. It’s interesting. I can see how it would be easy to overlook me. Not in a deliberate way, but just because I tend to blend into the background.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I already have an appointment with my boss when I’m back from my week off and he’s back from his vacation. I’m working on my plans to improve the warehouse and I’m listing my accomplishments for the past year.” She held up a hand. “By that I mean I’m figuring out how much money I’ve saved the company or how I’ve brought in new business, not just that I’m a good worker bee.”
“Excellent. If you want to run anything past me, I’m happy to be a sample audience.”
“You mean for a practice interview?”
“If you’d like. I do hire and fire.”
She winced. “Firing can’t be fun.”
“It’s not. Screwing with someone’s life is the worst. But sometimes it has to be done.”
They arrived at the bakery. Ali braced herself for the hit on her credit card, then led the way inside. Betty, a middle-aged woman wearing a bright yellow apron, smiled when they entered.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m Ali Schmitt. I’m here for the cake.”
“Of course. It came out beautifully.” Betty looked at Daniel and winked. “I can see you’re going to have lots of gorgeous babies.”
Ali flushed, not sure what to say. Explaining who Daniel was seemed too complicated, but she didn’t want him to think she was... Well, she didn’t know what she didn’t want him to think, but nothing bad.
Before she could figure out a response, he chuckled and said, “I hope that’s true. Now let’s get a look at the cake.”
Betty already had the five boxes on a cart. The biggest box had to be nearly three feet in diameter and two feet high. Holy crap, that was a lot of cake!
While Daniel loaded the boxes into his truck, Ali passed over her credit card and tried not to wince when she saw the total.
She walked outside. “You know what I hate more than having to pay for that cake myself? It’s spice cake. I hate spice cake, but Glen wanted it so of course I said yes.”
He loaded the last layer of cake, then closed the back of the truck. “You wanted to do right by him.”
“Of course I did, but why didn’t he do right by me?” She stomped her foot on the ground. “I hate this. All of it. Dealing with the wedding, the money I’m spending, where my life is. I need an apartment that’s clean and doesn’t bankrupt me and a promotion and I need a b
etter quality of fiancé for sure. I have to stand up for myself and I’m just not sure I can but I hate feeling like this and I don’t know what to—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Daniel cupped her face in his large, strong hands and kissed her. Just like that—in the bakery parking lot, with the sun beating down.
He kissed her softly at first, a gentle kind of kiss that made her feel cherished. She was just getting into the feel of his mouth on hers and the softness of his beard when everything changed. He pressed a little harder and moved his mouth against hers. Unexpectedly she found herself putting her hands on his back as she somehow moved closer. Or maybe he moved—she wasn’t sure and it really didn’t matter.
He dropped his hands to her shoulders, then slid them around her so that he was holding her as tightly as she was holding him. He tilted his head and stroked her bottom lip with his tongue.
Heat exploded everywhere. Liquid, sexy, take-me-now heat that had her breasts suddenly taking notice and her girl parts murmuring that they liked this new guy a lot. She welcomed the feel of his tongue against her own. He kissed her like he meant it, with lots of tingles and promise and just enough demanding to make her swoon.
Kissing Glen had been perfectly fine but kissing Daniel was taking off in a rocket headed for Mars. Maybe it was tacky to compare the brothers, but she didn’t care, because hey, Mars.
He dropped his hands to her butt and gently squeezed, then slowly, seemingly reluctantly, he stepped back.
She stared up into his dark eyes and blurted, “If I got all that for a cake, I can’t help wondering what you would have done if I’d been unable to cancel the catering.”
He laughed, then kissed her again until they were both breathing hard. Then he drew back again.
“I’m confused,” she whispered.
“Me, too.”
“We should probably pretend that never happened.”
“If that’s what you want.”
Was it? She was so disoriented. How much of this was real and how much of it was because of her breakup?
California Girls Page 24
