Just as important were the questions about herself. Why hadn’t she been more involved with her husband? Maybe she’d fallen out of love with him or maybe she was simply too selfish to truly love anyone. She didn’t want it to be the latter, but she had recently discovered she was not the warm, loving, giving saint she’d always imagined.
She understood the foolishness of planning for a future when she didn’t have enough information but that didn’t stop her from searching for marriage counselors in the area as well as divorce lawyers. So far she hadn’t called either.
Rochelle burst into the office, her eyes wide. “Did you see it? It’s online.”
“Did I see what?”
“You have to see it.”
Rochelle grabbed Finola’s computer and typed in an internet address. Seconds later a video appeared of Nigel being interviewed by a reporter Finola didn’t recognize.
He looked thinner, she thought absently. As if he hadn’t been eating enough. And tired. He seemed very tired. She waited for a sense of happy revenge or elation that he, too, was suffering, but there wasn’t any. Just concern for him and sadness. A lot of sadness.
Rochelle turned up the volume. He was talking about being in the spotlight and how it was unexpected.
“You and Treasure make an interesting couple,” the reporter said. “Things started rather quickly between you.”
Nigel shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Yes, they did.”
“You were married at the time?”
His jaw tightened. “I still am.”
“How does your wife feel about the affair?”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m sure you can imagine.”
“Do you still love your wife?”
The question took Nigel by surprise—she could see it in how he stiffened and looked away. It startled her, as well. She instinctively took a step back, as if distance could protect her. Rochelle grabbed her arm.
“Don’t worry. He has a good answer.”
Nigel looked straight at the camera then and nodded. “Yes, I love my wife. Very much.”
“Was it worth it?” the reporter asked.
Finola pressed her arms to her midsection and turned away. “Shut it off. I don’t want to hear any more.”
“Are you okay? I thought you’d be happy. Nigel loves you. I’m sure he’s tired of the drama with Treasure and wants to come home. Of course he’s been an ass and will have to do a lot to earn your trust...” Her assistant’s voice lowered. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be thrilled.”
“I mostly don’t know what to think,” Finola admitted. “He hasn’t been in touch with me in weeks. I don’t even know where he is. I’ve had to deal with all this without him.”
There were still wounds, but some were less fresh. The bleeding had stopped. She turned the words over in her mind. Nigel said he still loved her. He’d said it in public, as if he wanted her to know.
“Treasure’s not going to be happy,” she said.
“I know. Isn’t it great?”
Finola was less sure of the greatness of the moment. Two months ago she would have been giddy. Now she was just confused.
She glanced at Rochelle only to see her assistant looking both guilty and resigned. As if she’d been hoping for a different reaction. Her senses immediately went on alert. Something was up—she knew it in her bones. She and Rochelle worked closely together nearly seven days a week. Their relationship required trust. They’d always been honest with each other. The rules were simple—be all in while she worked for Finola and in return Finola would teach her about the business, introduce her to the right people and when the time came—
The kick in her gut was sharp. She grabbed the back of a nearby chair to keep from stumbling. It was happening, she thought, even as she wanted to scream she wasn’t ready. Normally she didn’t care when her assistants left her, but this was different. She was so vulnerable right now, so exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions she’d been on. She couldn’t do it on her own, and hiring a new person was always so much work. It wasn’t the training that sucked up her energy, it was figuring out if she could trust the person. That took time.
She looked at her beautiful assistant. Rochelle was smart, savvy and ambitious. They had a deal and Finola knew she was going to have to abide by it, no matter how much it hurt.
She sat in the chair she held and motioned for Rochelle to take a seat opposite.
“So what’s the job offer?” Finola asked.
Rochelle’s dark brown eyes widened. “I have no idea what you’re—”
Finola raised her eyebrows. “Don’t start lying to me now. You know someone is going to call me for a reference.”
Rochelle ducked her head. “Associate producer on Late Night LA.”
“Impressive. That’s a big job.”
Late Night LA was a fast-paced, hip show about the city after dark. Some of the segments were devoted to hot spots and great dining, but there were human interest segments along with some investigative reporting. The ratings were excellent, especially in the 18 to 34 demographic. The network paid attention to the local show. If all went well there, Rochelle would quickly move up the food chain.
“How long have you been sitting on this?” she asked.
Rochelle drew in a breath. “A few weeks. I didn’t want to leave when everything was going down like it was. You needed me and you’ve given me so much. I wanted to be here for you.”
Finola smiled. “I appreciate that. I couldn’t have gotten through this without you, but it’s time for you to go. Take the job.”
“But if you and Nigel aren’t getting back together then—”
“Take the job.”
Of course Finola wanted her to stay, but she wasn’t going to have someone she cared about give up the opportunity because Finola’s heart was still shattered. That would be ridiculous.
“You have names for me?” she asked, because part of Rochelle’s responsibilities would be helping her find a replacement.
“Three.” Rochelle’s voice was soft. “But we don’t have to—”
“Call them today and we’ll start interviewing tomorrow. We’ll get the list down to two by end of day. After that, I want you to talk to my lawyer to get the background checks started.”
Rochelle stared at her. “You ran a background check on me?”
“Of course and one day you’ll do the same when you have an assistant you trust with your life.”
“A background check. I never knew.”
There was a lot she didn’t know, Finola thought enviously. She had so much life ahead of her. So much to learn and experience.
Impulsively she grabbed Rochelle’s hand. “Listen to me. This is a tough business. Be strong, be smart and be determined. Watch your back. Make people earn your trust, but don’t be a bitch about it. And no matter what, always remember to be a decent human being.”
Tears rolled down Rochelle’s cheeks. “I can’t do this. I can’t leave. I’ll stay.”
“No, you won’t. It’s time. Past time. I should have noticed. That’s on me, but with everything going on, I forgot our deal. I’m sorry.” She released her hand. “Tell whoever’s interviewing you that they can call me whenever they’d like. I’m happy to talk about you.”
Rochelle nodded and stood. She crossed to the closed door, then looked back. “I can never thank you.”
“I know and you don’t have to. Just pass it on. Do for someone else what I’m doing for you. And when you’re incredibly famous and I’m just someone you used to know, take my call.”
More tears fell. “I’ll always take your call.”
Rochelle left. Finola did her best to ignore the sense of dread sweeping through her. The start of training a new assistant was overwhelming, but she didn’t have a choice. She’d screwed up nearly every other part of her li
fe. She wasn’t going to screw up her career or her deal with Rochelle.
She glanced at her computer and thought about replaying the video. Nigel still loved her. She was fairly confident she still loved him. And while that should be enough, deep in her heart she knew that it wasn’t. Not anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ali enjoyed the feel of the bike racing around the track. She’d taken the first couple of laps slowly, wanting to get a feel for what was happening, but as she gained confidence, she picked up speed.
Even with ear protection and a helmet, she could still hear the roar of the engine. Dust blew around her as some of the more experienced riders passed her. She wanted to increase her speed to keep up but reminded herself this was a practice session, not a race. She still didn’t know exactly what she was doing.
She completed another lap and decided she could go a little faster. As she went into the turn, she remembered what the instructor had said about leaning into the curve rather than turning the bike. She experimented by shifting her weight and was shocked when the bike moved in a smooth turn.
Elation joined the adrenaline already racing through her. No wonder Daniel loved what he did—this was exciting.
On the straightaway, she gave the bike even more gas. She was about to pass a slower rider when she saw a bike up ahead take the curve too fast. The bike twisted, the driver fell off and rolled right into the path of the rest of the pack.
Ali immediately slowed down, all the while telling herself to keep control. She was doing all right until another biker bumped her, sending her right for the barriers on the inside of the track.
She knew she was going to crash and forgot what she was supposed to do. She hit the brakes too hard, then slammed into the barrier. One second she was absorbing the impact and the next she was flying over the barrier onto the hard ground. She landed with a thud that knocked the wind out of her. Pain exploded from so many places, she didn’t know what to focus on first. The sky seemed to swirl and shift and then everything started going dark.
This was bad, she thought hazily. Really—
“Ali? Ali! Can you hear me? Ali?”
She opened her eyes and saw Daniel bent over her. He was pale and frantic as he began examining her.
“Ali?”
“I fell,” she murmured, wishing the pain would settle in one or two places so she could figure out what she’d done.
“I saw. It wasn’t your fault. That jackass ran into you.”
“That jackass is eight, Daniel. It’s not his fault, either.”
She shifted on the ground. Okay, her legs worked and her back wasn’t too bad. She didn’t think she’d hit her head that hard, so maybe she was—
“Yikes!”
Moving her left arm had been a mistake, she thought, glancing down at it. With all the protective gear, she couldn’t tell what was wrong, but it hurt bad.
She wiggled her fingers and they were fine, then raised her right arm. Just an okay kind of ache. She carefully lifted her left arm and rested it across her body. The pain increased. Still holding it against her, she managed to raise herself to a sitting position.
She looked at Daniel. “I think I broke something.”
He swore. “That’s what I was afraid of. You also might have a concussion.”
“I’m fine.”
“You blacked out.”
“For one second.”
“That’s all it takes.” He stared at her. “Look at me. I want to see if your pupils are dilated.”
She wanted to protest, but figured he’d taken a bunch of first aid classes and probably knew what he was doing. She did as he requested, then answered basic questions about what day it was and where she was.
“I should call an ambulance,” he said, pulling out his phone.
“Don’t you dare.” She shifted onto her knees. “I’m okay. It’s just my arm. Help me up and you can drive me to the hospital.”
When he didn’t move, she added. “I’m getting up with or without your help.”
“You’re so damned stubborn.”
“So I’m just like you.”
He helped her to her feet. She took a second to get her balance but was pleased when the world stayed firmly in place. He removed her helmet and her gloves. They left the rest of her gear in place.
As they walked back to the buildings, she saw that everyone else had survived the pileup just fine. One of the guys from the repair shop had taken her bike and was walking it in. Laps had already resumed.
“Does this sort of thing happen all the time?” she asked.
“You play, you pay.”
“That’s just so macho.”
“It’s a macho sport.”
She wanted to keep bantering with him, but her arm hurt too much. She waited while he grabbed her handbag, then they went to his truck. He helped her into the passenger seat and carefully clipped her seat belt into place, then started for the hospital.
Ninety minutes later the doctor showed them an X-ray that confirmed what Ali had suspected. She’d broken her arm. It wasn’t a bad break, but it was going to take a few weeks to heal and she would need a cast from her wrist to her elbow.
At the news Daniel went white and for a second, she thought he was going to pass out.
“It’s just a little hairline thing,” she said when the doctor had left. “I don’t have a concussion and the break is clean and easy. I’m fine.”
Daniel crossed to her and held her tight. “Dammit, Ali, I love you and I’m supposed to take care of you. Not let you get beat up.”
He loved her? He loved her? She stared up at him. “What did you just say?”
His dark gaze met hers. “I love you. This is my fault.”
Happiness filled her. Happiness and a floaty, giddy feeling that made the pain in her arm disappear. Daniel loved her. Based on what he’d said before, he probably had for a while. The whole time she’d been with Glen, about to make the biggest mistake of her life, Daniel had been loving her.
She thought about how much they’d been through together and while she wanted to blurt out she loved him, too, she didn’t say it. She needed a little time to think things through. She and Daniel hadn’t been together that long, at least from her side of things, and she wanted to be sure.
“It’s not your fault,” she began, thinking she would then ease into telling him that she liked him a lot—a lot and was totally on her way to being crazy in love, but things had happened so quickly and—
“Ali?”
She turned and saw her mother in the doorway. Her mother?
“Mom? What are you doing here?”
Her mother, dressed for work because it was Saturday and Mary Jo was always at the boutique on Saturday, hurried to her side. Her mother who had screamed at her over the phone for a full twenty minutes because of the stupid clock.
Mary Jo stared at Ali’s swollen arm and then touched her face. “You’re in the hospital. Where else would I be?”
“But how did you know I was here?” Ali turned to Daniel. “You called my mother?”
“No,” he said firmly. “Your phone rang while you were having your X-ray. I saw it was her, so I answered it.”
“Yes, yes,” her mother said. “While that’s fascinating, what happened? How did you break your arm?”
“I was riding a dirt bike and some kid ran into me and I went flying. It’s not bad, Mom. I’ll wear a cast for a few weeks and then I’ll be fine.”
“You were riding a motorcycle?”
“A dirt bike, but yes.”
Her mother’s gaze shifted to Daniel. “I know you. How do I know you?”
“I’m, ah, Daniel Demiter.” He hesitated. “Glen’s brother.”
“Glen, as in your former fiancé Glen?”
Ali saw the flaw in her decision not to share
much about her life with her mother. “So, it’s a funny story. When Glen broke off the engagement, he didn’t have the balls to do it himself, so he sent Daniel tell me. Daniel helped me deconstruct the wedding and we, um, became friends. I wanted to try something new and he was a professional motocross guy so I was on a dirt bike.”
Her mother looked between them before settling on Ali. “I appreciate that you think I’m old and feeble, but a blind squirrel could see you’re sleeping together. Really, Ali? Your fiancé’s brother?”
Ali held in a whimper. “Mom, don’t. Just don’t. Daniel’s a great guy. Even if you don’t believe me, I just broke a bone and I deserve sympathy.”
“Mrs. Schmitt,” Daniel began, “I assure you that I would never put Ali in any danger.”
“All evidence to the contrary?” Mary Jo asked. “I just don’t understand any of this. One minute you’re marrying Glen and the next you’re breaking bones and sleeping with his brother and stealing people’s grandfather clocks. Ali, what’s gotten into you? I barely know you.”
“Mom, it’s not like that.”
“It’s exactly like that. You’re becoming someone else and I don’t like it. Who is this Daniel person?”
“He’s standing right there,” Ali said frantically. “Please, can we talk about this later?”
“No. I want to talk about it now. He stole his brother’s girl, Ali. What does that say about his character?”
Daniel headed for the door. “I’ll be right outside.”
“Don’t go.”
“It’s okay, Ali. She’s your mom.”
Ali had no idea what that meant, but she knew it wasn’t good. Not any of it. She leaned back against the pillows and wondered why now, of all times, did her mother suddenly have to give a damn about her life.
* * *
“She’s sleeping with him,” Mary Jo said for the fourteenth time since Finola had arrived at the house on Sunday morning. “It’s a nightmare.”
California Girls Page 31
