"Right." She looked at her watch. It was almost two. "You better get going."
"Daphne will be in at three, and she'll stay until close."
"That's fine."
"How's the dress going?"
"Not that well. Taking a break from it will be good," she said as she got to her feet.
"It always helps to have fresh eyes. By the way, have you checked your emails today?"
"Not yet. Why? Is there a problem?"
"I was skimming through to see if there was any store business—"
"Of course," she interrupted. "I'm happy to have you keep an eye on emails I need to respond to."
"Well, you do need to respond to these emails, but they're not about the store. You have two emails from Karli Holton, one from a guy name Rafa Delgado, and another from Talia Bee."
"Seriously? Talia Bee and Rafa Delgado are very successful and well-connected stylists."
"I know," Connie said with a gleam in her eyes. "And Karli Holton is an up-and-comer. I looked her up. They all want to talk to you about designing dresses for their clients. They all referenced Chelsea's beautiful gown."
"That's amazing." She'd thought she might get some interest in her work after Chelsea's gown was photographed, but not from top stylists.
"Your side hustle could be turning into a lot more, Keira. So, answer your email."
"I will take a look," she promised, following her manager back into the store. There were no customers at the moment, so after Connie left, she logged into the computer on the counter.
Each email was nicer than the last: compliments about her design, her originality, and the sheer beauty of Chelsea's gown… Her smile grew with each word, and she felt a thrill of excitement and satisfaction.
Talia Bee was looking for a designer for Crystal Jeffers, who was her main client. Crystal was starring in a blockbuster film being released in September and would need a red-carpet dress. Rafa Delgado wanted to know if she had any gowns already done that one of his clients might be interested in, and Karli Holton simply asked for a call to discuss opportunities with her clients, who were primarily country music singers. Designing Chelsea's gown had definitely opened some doors for her. Now she just had to walk through those doors.
Her exhilaration dimmed as she thought about the practical logistics of addressing these requests. She had Hannah's gown and the bridesmaids' dresses to complete, as well as managing the store and keeping an eye on the real-estate business.
Where was she going to find the time to do all of this?
As she pondered that question, the door opened, and a beautiful, tall blonde came through the doors, wearing a very short red dress that showed off the sharp angles of her very lean body. She had on ridiculously high heels and a pair of what appeared to be very expensive sunglasses. As she removed her glasses, Keira stiffened in surprise. She knew this woman. She hadn't changed much at all in the last seven or eight years since they'd met.
"Are you Keira?" the woman asked.
"Yes."
"I'm Nikki Voltari."
"I—I know who you are," she stuttered, swallowing hard as she tried to get her wits about her.
What the hell was Nikki doing in Whisper Lake? And why was she here? This could not be good.
"Then you must know I'm Dante's girlfriend."
She cleared the lump in her throat. "Yes, and I also know that you're a supermodel. In fact, we met several years ago. I'm sure you wouldn't remember."
It was Nikki's turn to be surprised. "We've met? How is that possible? I've never been to this town before."
"I was working in New York for Jacques Bateau. It was years ago. You were a teenager. You came in for a fitting before our Fashion Week runway show. I went out to find you the perfect matcha tea."
Nikki stared back at her. "I don't remember."
"I didn't think you would. I was pretty much an errand girl and not the designer I wanted to be."
"How did you end up here?"
"I'm from here. My mom had an accident. I came back to care for her." She paused. "I want you to know that you don't have anything to worry about. Dante and I barely know each other. Those photos were misconstrued."
"That's what he said."
"I hope you believe him."
Nikki tilted her head, giving her a thoughtful look. "I do, but a lot of women would take advantage of a mistake like that to wedge themselves into his life."
"That's not me."
"Maybe. Maybe not. Here's what we're going to do. You're going to meet me for drinks on the patio at the Lakeshore Bistro at five thirty."
"Why?"
"Because I want us to talk, and I want us to be seen together. Wear one of those cute dresses in the window."
"Wait—" she began, but Nikki was already gone, the door clanging behind her.
She blew out a breath. She really wished Dante would have given her a heads-up that Nikki was coming her way—unless he didn't know. But Nikki said she'd spoken to Dante, so he had to know. Maybe he was happy to go along with whatever Nikki wanted. She certainly was beautiful. She'd forgotten how striking Nikki was.
Why had Dante been flirting around with her when he had Nikki?
Probably because he'd been bored, she thought, as she worked herself up, anger running through her.
She'd let herself believe that there was something real between them. Dante had said that he wanted to take a break from Nikki. But if he wanted to take a break, then Nikki wouldn't be here. And Nikki certainly hadn't acted like a woman whose boyfriend had just broken up with her.
The last thing she wanted to do was meet Nikki for drinks, but she did feel like she owed her something, because she felt a little guilty that she'd kissed Dante. So, she'd meet Nikki at the Bistro, and hopefully that would be the end of it—the end of everything. She could stop being distracted by Dante, stop thinking what if…when she knew there was no what-if.
Tonight, maybe she could finally make herself believe that.
"You did much better this afternoon," his therapist, Rita Donohue, told him after they finished their session late Thursday afternoon.
"It didn't feel that way." His shoulder was aching, and his breath was still coming hard.
"Because you want everything in a second, but each day you're getting stronger and your range of motion is improving. You're right where you're supposed to be."
"I'm supposed to be in Miami on the pitcher's mound, throwing strikeouts."
"One day at a time," she said with a smile.
Rita was a kind but firm woman in her early forties. He hated the platitudes she occasionally threw out, but he did appreciate her efforts. She stayed positive while she kicked his ass, and that's what he needed.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Rita said. "You might want to take it easy tonight, get a lot of rest."
That was exactly what he wanted to do, but he had a problematic girlfriend waiting to have drinks with him. He didn't think rest was in the cards.
He headed toward the locker room, took a quick shower, dressed, and then took the elevator down to the parking garage. When he stepped out, he was surprised to hear shouting, and the two people involved in the argument included Mark Langley and a middle-aged red-haired woman. They were having an animated and heated conversation. The woman put her hand on Mark's arm, and Langley shoved it off.
"You'll be sorry," she warned.
"I've been sorry for a long time."
"This isn't over."
"It is over. You just need to accept that." Langley then stormed away from her, jumping into a gray sedan before speeding out of the garage. The woman had her hands on her hips, her glare following his vehicle until it disappeared. Then she got into a white car and drove away. Neither one of them had noticed him at all.
As he got into his vehicle, he wondered what he'd just seen. The woman was not Keira's mother, that was for certain. But they clearly had some sort of relationship. Maybe Keira's instincts about Langley were not as far-fetched as he'd thought.
There had been definite anger and dislike between the two of them.
But who was that woman? Was it the Mandy who had called him a few days earlier?
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, then took out his phone.
Before he could call Keira, he saw several texts from Nikki. She wanted him to meet her for drinks at the Lakeshore Bistro. Damn. He didn't want to have a public argument with her, but he felt like that's where they were headed. He sent her a quick text asking her to just meet him at the inn, but she replied immediately. I came all this way. Just meet me for a drink.
With a sigh, he sent back a thumbs-up. She probably wanted to prove to the world that they were still together. Whatever. He could have a drink and they could talk after that.
He punched in Keira's number. While they'd agreed to stay apart, he needed to tell her what he'd seen. Unfortunately, his call went to voicemail. He didn't know if she was avoiding him, but he left a brief message. "I have some information on Langley," he said. "If you're interested, call me back." He'd leave it to her to decide.
Setting down his phone, he drove out of the garage, keeping an eye out for paparazzi, but there was no one around. He hadn't seen anyone on his trips back and forth to the inn, either. He'd like to believe the photographer had given up and gone back to whatever rock he'd crawled out from under, but that didn't seem likely. Maybe he was following Nikki around. He doubted she'd come into Whisper Lake under any kind of radar. She never went anywhere without announcing it on social media. She wanted people to follow her, especially the press. The more pictures, the better, as far as she was concerned.
It hadn't really bothered him before, but then he hadn't thought much about it. When he'd been on top of the world, the press and the photos had all just seemed part of his life, and he had nothing to hide. But while his injury was no secret and had occurred in real time on national television, his recovery was private and probably felt a little mysterious to a lot of people. Throwing in a hot brunette had given the press a new story to run with. They'd had a void to fill, and they'd found a way to fill it.
He needed to take back control, not just with the press but also with Nikki. He'd let her put him off and stall the hard conversation that she didn't want to have. He'd talk to her tonight and then he'd figure out what to do about the press.
Chapter Twelve
The Lakeshore Bistro was set on a bluff overlooking the lake, with an interior dining room and a spectacular patio with an even more impressive view. He made his way through the dining room and onto the patio. Nikki sat at a table by the railing. In the seat across from her was Keira. His gut twisted. What the hell?
He froze, tempted to leave before either one saw him, but then Nikki's gaze swung toward him, and she waved. He had no choice but to walk over to the table.
"Sit here," Nikki said with a smug smile. She waved her hand toward the empty chair between them.
"What's going on?" he asked, looking at Keira.
"Ask Nikki. She set this up," Keira replied tersely.
"Nik?"
"It's all part of my plan to reframe the story," Nikki replied. "I told you to leave it to me. I know exactly how to play this." She slid her chair closer to his. "Now you both need to turn, face that way, and smile like we're the best of friends."
"What?"
"You heard me," she said through lips that were fixed in her trademark smile.
He turned his head toward the right as Keira did the same, only then realizing that there were several photographers standing just off the patio. Their cameras flashed continuously for a good minute.
Nikki put her arm around his shoulders and pressed her lips against his cheek as the shots continued. He tried to smile. But it was a battle. He could see the discomfort in Keira's gaze as she valiantly tried to look like she wasn't a third wheel.
"Keira, slide your chair closer to Dante," Nikki ordered.
"Uh, okay." Keira did as she was told until the three of them were very close together, with himself in the middle.
The cameras flashed again, and then Nikki waved to the photographers. "That's it, guys."
One of the men moved closer. "Are you going to be back this season, Dante?"
"I told you no questions about baseball," Nikki interrupted. "Go send your pics off. Make some money."
"Hope you make it back, man," the photographer said, then he followed the others away as the owner of the restaurant came forward to make sure they were leaving.
Keira moved her chair back to where it had been. "Well, you don't need me anymore."
"You can't leave yet," Nikki said firmly. "The press will be in the parking lot for at least another ten minutes. We don't want this to look fake."
He shifted, too, moving his chair away from Nikki. "What the hell was that?"
"It was the best idea I could have had," Nikki replied. "Now, let's all have some champagne. You two need to smile. Even if the photographers have left, everyone on this patio has a phone, and they're looking at us."
He could see that was true, which made him even more uncomfortable. Since Keira's expression was extremely stressed, he had a feeling she'd been ambushed as well.
Nikki pulled a bottle of champagne out of a nearby ice bucket. "I got a great bottle of bubbly. I'll pour."
"I don't want champagne," he said tersely.
"So just pretend to drink it," she said sharply. "You, too, Keira. I went to a lot of work to solve this problem. The story of your mystery romance is now over. The three of us are friends. In fact, Keira and I are actually old friends. That's the story that will be online tonight. I'll add to it later."
"You should have told me what you were planning."
"You would have said no."
"You're right. I would have said no. Creating a story as fake as the last one only creates more problems."
"It's not completely fake," Nikki replied. "Keira and I did meet years ago."
"I mentioned that to her when she came to the store earlier," Keira interjected. "Nikki didn't tell me you were coming tonight when she invited me for a drink. She also didn't tell me she was setting us up for a photo."
"I figured. I'm sorry."
"Why are you apologizing? You two should be happy," Nikki said. "I've changed the narrative. It's all good."
He didn't feel good, and he didn't think Keira did, either. But there was no denying the smile of satisfaction on Nikki's face. "You just whet their appetite, Nik. They'll hang around to see what other photos they can get."
"But I'll be the focus, and I love the camera." She lifted her glass. "Let's make a toast."
"To what?" Keira asked in bemusement.
"Our threesome," Nikki said with a laugh.
"Nik," he protested. "That's not funny."
"Fine. Let's just drink to the end of a story that didn't benefit any of us. By the way, Keira, I love that dress. Who's the designer?"
"It's actually one of mine."
"What? I thought you just ran a boutique."
"I do run a boutique, but I also design in my spare time. A few things here and there. I do mostly custom-designed gowns, but I've also made some summer dresses like this one."
"Keira designed a dress for Chelsea Cole," he said.
"Really?" Nikki said, surprise in her eyes. "Chelsea Cole is a big star. How did you get her?"
"She lives here." Keira set her glass down and stood up. "I have to go. Hopefully, this is the end of the problem. Goodbye."
Her words felt very final and put a pit in his stomach. He wanted to call her back, but he couldn't, not until he cleaned up the mess he'd made.
Nikki gave him a smile as Keira left. "Don't look so tense, Dante. Everything will be fine. You'll see."
Everything would not be fine. It was time he told her that.
"Nikki," he began.
At his tone, her smile dimmed. "Look, I know you're pissed that I didn't include you in my plan, but it worked. Can't you just appreciate what I did? You don't have to worry abou
t rumors. You can concentrate on your rehab."
"You should have told me and Keira what you were planning. No one likes to be ambushed."
"I was ambushed when those photos appeared. Let's not forget who looked the worst in this whole scene."
He wasn't going to win that argument. "All right. Let's forget about the photos."
"Fine by me. Shall we order food?"
"No. I'm not hungry. Let's go back to the inn."
"Well, I am hungry, and I've been stuck in that inn half the day. So, I want to order some appetizers, at least."
"You can't keep putting me off, Nik."
For the first time since he'd arrived, there was uncertainty in her gaze.
"Just take a breath, Dante. Things are not as bad as you seem to think they are."
"And they're nowhere near as good as you think they are. I've tried to tell you that a few times. You need to hear me." He paused, glancing around the patio. Most people had gone back to their conversations, but he still didn't want to create a new scene. "I really don't want to talk here."
"Well, I'm going to enjoy my champagne, so you can do the same, or we can have some public and awkward conversation. It's up to you."
She was daring him to do it, because she didn't think he would. But she was wrong. Her challenge just made him more determined to speak.
"All right, we'll do it here," he said. "We don't work anymore, Nikki. We haven't in a long time. You know that as well as I do. I don't want to just take a break; I want to break up."
She sucked in a breath at his blunt words. "That's shitty, Dante. I've been so supportive of you."
"You haven't seen me in six weeks. You couldn't even sit at the hospital when I had my surgery."
"Hospitals make me nauseous, but I texted you all the time, and I sent you fun presents. It's not like I could do anything for you. And besides that, you didn't want me around. You didn't want anyone around."
She had a point. By the time he'd gotten to Denver to see Grayson, he'd been wrapped up in a cocoon of pain and misery. "You're right. I wasn't in the right space to deal with anyone but myself."
"I'm glad you can see that."
If We Never Met Page 11
