Beautifully Damaged (Beautifully Damaged series) by L.A. Fiore (22)

Trace usually made dinner, but I decided to cook for him for a change. I wasn’t as good a cook as he, but there were a few things I was quite adept at making and pot roast was one of them.

I reached for the Dutch oven from the pot rack hanging over the kitchen island. All the pots and pans were All-Clad and Le Creuset. Trace really did like to cook. I wondered if he ever worked the line at Clover or Coq au Vin? I thought that he was certainly skilled enough to do so.

I moved to the subzero refrigerator and pulled out the chuck roast and carrots before reaching into the cobalt-blue bowl Trace had on the counter for the onions and potatoes. I had just finished seasoning the roast and was browning it when I heard the sound of the front door opening and closing seconds before that wonderful voice called my name.

“Ember?”

“In the kitchen.”

I heard his heavy footfalls coming down the hall and then I felt the heat that sizzled my nerve endings. I peeked at him from over my shoulder and saw that he was leaning against the doorjamb watching me. It had been two weeks since his nightmare and he hadn’t had another, which was a relief.

He pushed off the wall and walked over to wrap his arms around my waist. His lips brushed lightly along my jaw and across my cheek before he took a sniff as he looked at the pot.

“Pot roast?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds delicious. Do you need help?”

“Actually, could you show me how you chop the vegetables in that way of yours?”

I turned to him and saw the weird look on his face.

“What’s that look for?”

“You want me to teach you to chop vegetables?”

“You don’t have to, but you do it without looking and I’d like to learn how to do that.”

He was silent for a minute and then he said very softly, “I’d love to teach you.”

“Oh, cool. We have to chop some carrots, potatoes, and onion.”

He turned back to me after washing his hands at the sink and he looked almost excited. That was when I realized he had learned this gift of cooking and never had anyone to share it with.

I felt the tears burning the back of my throat. He really had been so alone, even with all the women that had come through his life. As he reached for the knives from the magnetic strip on the wall, I walked over, wrapped my arms around his waist, and pressed a kiss to his back. He turned and brushed his knuckles over my cheek.

“What was that for?”

“Just because.”

He smiled and then he placed a cutting board in front of me and laid a large knife next to it.

“This is a chef’s knife and, personally, I think it’s the best knife to have in the kitchen.”

Trace turned out to be an excellent teacher.

That night, as Trace and I snuggled up in front of the television watching Psych, the phone rang. Trace reached behind us for the receiver and when he spoke, I felt as his words rumbled up his chest.

“Hello. Hi, Josh…really?…when? One second…Em, you up for a trip?”

I leaned up and turned to Trace before I asked, “What’s up?”

“Your uncle located Darlene Moore. She works at a bar in Ramsey, New Jersey. He’s with your dad in the Bronx and they’re on their way to talk with her and wanted to know if we wanted to join them.”

“Yes.”

He smiled as he lifted the receiver to his ear. “We’re leaving now so we’ll see you soon.”

Darlene was not at all what I’d expected. She was in her late forties, but she looked much older. I couldn’t help but wonder why someone who had been a nurse was waiting tables at a bar. Trace and I arrived before my dad and uncle so we grabbed a table and ordered a drink. Trace was sitting at my side as his fingers lightly brushed over the back of my hand. The action was so unconscious that I didn’t think he even knew he was doing it.

“Dinner was delicious.”

“That recipe never fails.”

He grinned at me as he leaned up and took my hand into his. “Just because you have a great recipe doesn’t automatically mean you’re going to make a great meal. There is skill involved.”

I smiled, since I didn’t necessarily agree with him. “You’re a wonderful teacher.”

He blushed and I leaned closer to him as I ran my finger over his cheekbone. “You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are and I understand now the appeal of a blush.”

He straightened in his chair and tried to look serious. “I am not blushing.”

I grinned as I sat back in my seat. “Okay, if you say so.”

“I do say so.”

“Seriously, though, you really are a wonderful teacher. Did you ever cook at any of your restaurants?”

“I was a sous chef at Clover before I bought it. I didn’t like the head chef; thought he was an arrogant jackass who didn’t know the difference between sautéing and frying. I replaced him with Chef when I bought the place.”

“I like Chef.”

“Chef likes you.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me.”

“Does he know about us?”

“Does he know that you are the very air I breathe? Yes, he knows.”

We were silent for a moment and then I asked, “Why don’t you still work at one of your restaurants?”

“I like cooking, but I think I like teaching more.”

“Have you ever thought of teaching at a cooking school?”

I could tell, from the look on his face, that he had thought of that and then he said, “I always wanted to open my own cooking school, but who wants to be taught by the likes of me? What are my qualifications?”

“I think the only qualification that matters is that you cook like a freaking god.”

“It’s not really practical, not for someone like me.” His tone was one of finality and it was that, more than his words, that made me angry. I wasn’t mad at Trace, I was enraged at the lingering impact of his parents’ neglect. If his dream was to open a cooking school then, goddamn it, I was going to see to it that he had his school. I had no idea how I was going to make it happen, but it had become my mission. Lucien’s entrepreneurial skills would come in handy. I was diverted from my plotting when Trace reached for my hand and pulled me from my chair.

“Where are we going?”

He said nothing, just continued to pull me to an area that I realized was a small dance floor before he turned me to him and held me close. His lips were right near my ear when he whispered, “Have you ever listened to the words of this song?”

“What song is it?”

“‘Everything’ by Lifehouse.”

“No.”

And then he started to sing to me as he slowly moved me around the floor. The song was about a man feeling in awe simply because he was in the presence of the one he loved, and hearing those words coming from Trace made me feel almost lightheaded with love. When the song came to an end, he pulled back to look at me only to see the tears that were clinging to my lashes and wetting my cheeks.

“That song perfectly states how I feel for you.”

It was the magnitude of love I felt for him that made me speak words that came directly from my heart. “Marry me, Trace.”

Shock flashed over his expression at first and then a smile spread over his face as he framed my face with his hands.

“You’re stealing my thunder, sweetheart.”

It took me a minute to process his answer and when I had my reply, it was anything but eloquent. “Wait, what?”

He only smiled and said, “Yes, Ember, I will marry you.” My eyes instantly filled with tears as love for this man filled me.

“You were going to ask me?”

He moved so that his lips were just over mine before he whispered, “I’m still going to ask you.”

“But you already agreed to marry me.”

And then he was kissing me. After a bit he pulled away and we returned to our table. He held my chair for me before taking his own and his eyes found mine as he reached for his beer.

“I always imagined when the woman I loved asked me to marry her, she’d get down on one knee.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and he chuckled before he reached for my hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed my fingertips.

“Teasing aside, you asking me to marry you is the greatest moment of my life. Thank you.”

I moved closer to him. “You agreeing to marry me is the greatest moment of my life too.”

At that moment, the door opened and Trace’s eyes moved from me to just behind me as a smile touched his lips.

“Your dad and uncle are here.”

“Are we going to tell them?” I asked.

“Hell, yes!”

Just then my dad came up behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders.

“Hello, Emmie.”

He leaned over and brushed a kiss on my head as I heard Uncle Josh’s greeting.

Trace stood and reached his hand across the table to shake my uncle’s hand and then my dad’s before he said, “Ember just asked me to marry her.”

I put my head down and started banging it against the table. “Nice segue, Trace.”

His response was a grin, a completely unrepentant grin, before he added, “I said yes.”

My dad’s voice filled with joy. “Welcome to the family, son.” He reached for Trace and hugged him.

I sat back and watched as my uncle also hugged Trace, and saw the look on Trace’s face, a combination of happiness and embarrassment. And then I was being lifted from my chair and pulled into my dad’s arms.

“I am so happy for you,” he said.

“When is the happy day?” Uncle Josh chimed in.

“When can I expect grandkids?” asked my dad.

I paled and looked at Trace, who was watching us with a tender smile on his face. “Nine months after I get my ring on her finger.”

He didn’t want children—confusion filled me. He seemed to understand what I was thinking.

“Excuse us for a moment,” Trace said before he walked me to a corner.

“A child that comes from the love we have for each other, a child that is a part of both you and me, how could I not want that?”

I reached up to touch his face. “You’re healing.”

“I am and it’s all because of you.”

When we returned to the table, Trace pulled my chair out for me as we joined my dad and uncle at the table. Uncle Josh reached for my hand and squeezed. “Congratulations, Ember.”

“Thank you.”

Our attentions turned to Darlene as my uncle stood. “She knows we’re coming. I’ll be right back.”

I was watching my uncle, but my dad’s voice turned my attention to him.

“Do you have any idea where you want to get married?”

“If Trace doesn’t mind, I’d like to get married in the chapel where you and Mom were married.”

At that moment, Uncle Josh returned with Darlene. Seeing her up close drove home that the years had not been good to her. Her hair, naturally brown if her roots were any indication, was dyed in an attempt to look blond. She was thin, but seemed malnourished rather than fashionably slim. Both my dad and Trace stood as the introductions were made. Her tired blue eyes turned to me as a smile touched her lips.

“You look so much like her. She loved you so much and used to talk about you all the time. She had a booklet of photos that she would whip out to show anyone even slightly interested.” Darlene’s eyes moved to my dad before she added, “Both of you.”

She looked at my uncle and asked, “What do you want to know?”

“Right before Mandy died she was working on something. Do you happen to know what she may have been up to?”

Darlene sat back in her chair, the lines around her mouth and eyes deepening as she thought on it for a few minutes. “I do remember she was really off weeks before the accident. I never knew what it was that was bothering her, but I do know it had something to do with her friend, Teresa Nolan. Whatever it was, it put an end to their friendship.”

My dad leaned up in his chair. “I knew Teresa stopped coming around, but I didn’t know it was as serious as all that. What happened?”

“She and Teresa stopped speaking after their huge fight.”

“What fight?”

“It was in the hospital cafeteria—I wasn’t there at the time. Teresa was visiting some doctor that she was smitten with and something that Teresa said really upset Mandy. They had words and then Teresa stormed off. They didn’t speak again after that and it was around that same time that Mandy started acting oddly.”

“Meaning?” Uncle Josh prompted.

“She seemed paranoid at times, secretive, and then there was the whole drug thing.”

“What drug thing?” Trace asked.

“Mandy developed an unusual interest in the drug benzodiazepine—specifically the withdrawal symptoms.”

“I have to admit I have no idea what that is,” I said.

“It’s a psychoactive drug, a really powerful sedative among other things. You know she was spending a fair amount of time with Dr. Cavanaugh, the head of the psychiatric department at the hospital. The doctor could probably tell you more.”

My uncle looked over at my dad, who was sitting silently, looking almost lost in thought. “I haven’t thought about Teresa in years. Teresa really wasn’t much of a friend. She was more interested in what Mandy could do for her.”

His eyes turned to me as a slight smile touched his lips just before Trace said, “Like mother, like daughter.”

Darlene looked at us quizzically before she continued. “The thing I didn’t understand about Teresa was that she claimed to be in love with this doctor, a man who was old enough to be her father, but the few times I saw her she wasn’t with the doctor.”

Darlene’s eyes moved back to Trace. “In fact, the man she was with looked a lot like you.”

I noticed something close to tenderness move across her expression as she looked at Trace.

I looked from Darlene to Trace and saw as he clenched his jaw and the blood drained from his face. My uncle reached across the table with his phone.

“Was this the man?”

Darlene looked at the picture and it was clear that she recognized the face, but what was even more interesting was her reaction to seeing him—her jaw clenched and her lips thinned—before she said, “Yeah, that’s him.”

Trace’s voice was hard when he said, “Douglas.”

“Teresa and Douglas. I wonder if Victoria knew?” my uncle said.

“I doubt it, since she was out of it all the time,” Trace said softly.

“Wait! Trace, you said your mom was zoned out that night you asked her for help, but what if she wasn’t zoned out, what if she was drugged? Think about it, my mom visits your mom and suddenly she takes an interest in the withdrawal symptoms of a powerful sedative.”

Uncle Josh pulled a hand through his hair as he shifted in his chair. “It makes sense. How much do you want to bet that Teresa was dating the doctor for the scripts? She was probably bragging to Mandy about her clever ruse that day in the cafeteria. It would be so like Mandy to visit Victoria to confirm for herself if the woman was really in trouble.”

I looked at Darlene, saw a flicker in her eyes, and wondered what she was thinking before I asked, “If someone was on that drug for any period of time could it make them almost comatose?”

She didn’t hesitate to answer. “Absolutely.”

“Do you remember the doctor’s name, Darlene?” my dad asked.

“Dr. Richard Grant. He heads up the cardiac division now.”

Uncle Josh noted that down as I turned my attention to Trace. He was clenching his jaw and fisting his hand.

“It sounds like something my bastard of a father would do, drugging his wife to keep her oblivious while he spent her money and abused her children.”

“Your mother was as much a victim as you and Chelsea,” I said.

Trace’s tone didn’t improve as he replied, “I know.”

“Where is Teresa now?” my dad asked.

“I don’t know,” Darlene said. “After Mandy died I never saw her again.”

It really wasn’t my business, but I just needed to know. “Can I ask why you’re no longer working as a nurse?”

“I made some bad decisions and lost my license.”

She didn’t go into detail on how and I didn’t have the heart to pry further.

My dad turned to Uncle Josh. “We need to find that bitch.”

“Absolutely.”