Chapter 23

Haylee

“We really miss you, Haylee.”

I look at the woman who’s been so good to me, ashamed that I’ve let her down so many times. I’m surprised she’s still speaking to me.

“Hey, Taryn. I miss you too.”

Taryn glances around the café, taking it in. I doubt she’s ever been in here. She graduated with honors from UNLV and took a start-up to stratospheric success faster than seasoned business people. I admire her. More than that, I like her, even if she is more of a sophisticated champagne and caviar kind of a gal.

“You know, Haylee,” she says, slipping down into the chair opposite mine. “The Strict Necessaire app is doing really well.”

My shift just ended, and I’m tipping out my bartender and my busboy before I go home with whatever’s left, hoping against hope I’ll be able to pay the rent this month without asking Ford for money. Everything’s still too new between us. I’ve assured everyone around me for so long that I’m Miss Independence that I can’t ask for a handout now and still save face.

I smile at her. “That’s great news! It’s such a wonderful thing that Ford created for your store. Especially for those ladies who can’t try things on in person for whatever reason.”

“Yeah, it’s been a godsend for my designer items,” she says, reaching across the table to take my hand in hers. I want to snatch mine away because it’s rough and work-hewn. Taryn’s is polished perfection. Soft, smooth with a dark red gel manicure.

“It is wonderful,” she says, looking at me as if she can see all of the hidden spots within my soul that I keep from everyone, even other women. “But I need you, Haylee. You represent the body type that I deal with most often. I know it’s hard to believe, but most women aren’t a sample size, even here in Vegas. I’ve had multiple requests for more photos of you. They’re asking for you by name. Please come back, so you don’t have to work…here.”

I have a hard time believing that rich women are asking for me. Comparing themselves to me. I haven’t been the same since Atlee’s birth. My hips got wider, my breasts fuller. Running around after her keeps me pretty fit, but we can’t afford organic produce, so I tend to eat the same grilled cheese, PB & J, and mini corndogs Atlee does. I could probably stand to lose about fifteen pounds. But here’s this stunning woman sitting in front of me and saying that I’m in demand just the way I am, single mom and all.

It feels good. It feels great even.

“I’m in.”

She leans back in seeming surprise, her eyes widening. “You are?”

“Yes. I need to start setting a better example for Atlee. Going after my dreams and all that. But you have to make sure that I’m pulling my weight. After the modeling is done, I can help you with your marketing plan. I went to college for that, you know.” I look down at my shoes. “I’m confident I could be an asset to your business team for the store.”

“I’m so happy, Haylee!” Taryn exclaims, clapping her hands together. “I could use the help, and I could use another strong woman on my team. One who doesn’t take any shit from anyone. Not even Nixon.”

I don’t tell her that like everyone else, Nixon scares the shit out of me. With his brooding looks and his cool aloofness, he could turn a person to stone with just a stare. I’ve heard that Marcella’s softened him, but I haven’t spent enough time around him lately to gauge if that’s true. Now, with Ford knowing about Atlee, I suppose we’ll both eventually be drawn into the family fold. Which means that Marcella and Taryn will be kind of like sisters to me.

I always wanted a sister.

She stands, and I follow so I can sweep her into a hug, welcoming the safety and encouragement of her embrace. She gives a flirty wave and then she’s gone down the Promenade and back to Strict Necessaire after telling me the logistics of my next shoot. Maybe Ford will want to spend some one on one time with Atlee while I’m modeling for Taryn.

With a spring in my step, I hand my busboy his share and scan the room in search of Dixie.

“There you are, Haylee-berry pie,” she gushes. “I’ve been lookin’ all over for you. I have some exciting news!”

“Me too,” I answer. We both take a seat at our usual table, out of the sight of the diners and she looks at me. “You first.”

I feel like I’ve been taking up all of her time lately with the Ford drama. Dixie’s a spectacular home cook, and she’s been taking culinary classes at the local community college twice a week. I’ve even sampled her chicken and dumplings, which are fantastic.

“Do you remember a few months back when I told you they were gonna hold a contest at the school to be a chef’s assistant for a week?”

I nod, remembering how excited she had been. “I sure do.”

My ears had perked up because Ford’s brother, Carter, had offered to be one of the celebrity chefs to take on a quasi-intern during the prize period so multiple students could win the mentoring of a world-class chef. I wonder if Dixie’s going to be cooking at the steakhouse right here.

“Well, I got selected to assist that incredible chef over at Sakana, Pepper St. Clair! Isn’t that the bee’s knees? I don’t have much experience with anything that swims other than ugly ole catfish, but I’m a very eager student.”

I don’t have the heart to burst her bubble and tell her about Dante, especially considering how hard she’s worked for this opportunity. This is her dream, and she needs to live it with no holds barred. Besides, she’s got an asshole radar better than anyone I’ve ever seen. Nothing gets by Dixie. If that dickhead even speaks to her, she’ll give him the old what for. Hurricane Dixie Pendergrass might be the only thing that could sweep Dante Giovanetti off his loafer-clad feet, catch him off balance and dump him on his ass.

I pop up and run around so I can wrap my arms around her. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in years,” I say, kissing her on the cheek. “I can’t wait to hear more about it. I met Pepper a few months back, and she’s so nice. And talented. And beautiful. I think you two are going to get along famously.”

“Well, I sure do hope so,” Dixie says, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her usually confident voice. “I’m a hair worried she’s a little too citified for me.”

“She’s very warm and passionate about her restaurant,” I counter. “And that’s good. Right?”

“I just wonder if she’ll scoff at a middle-aged waitress who doesn’t have a pot to piss in,” she says, taking both my hands in hers and tugging me down even further. “No experience outside of her own kitchen.”

She plants a kiss on my cheek, and I revel in the warmth of our friendship. If it wasn’t for Dixie, I don’t know how I would have made it all these years without Ford.

“She won’t,” I promise. “I can almost guarantee it. She’s just not that kind of a woman. And this competition was for amateurs and home cooks.” I can tell by my one interaction with her and the way she understood Dante’s machinations that she’s not going to sell Dixie down out down a river of Hollandaise sauce without a spatula.

“I’m really excited to meet her and learn how to make her famous horse dish.”

I smile and nod, moving back to my chair. “I had it one night. It’s scrumptious as well as a visual masterpiece.”

Dixie fans her pinkened cheeks with a napkin. “So, you said you had some news, too?”

“Yeah, you’re not going to believe it. Taryn just left, and she said her customers have been asking for more photos of me in the Strict Necessaire app. She practically begged me to come back and model again. After that’s done, I can help her with her marketing efforts. Oh, Dixie! I’m so excited. I feel like I have a chance at a new life. Atlee’s got a chance to have a relationship with her father and everything’s working out just the way it always should have in the beginning.”

“You deserve it, darlin’. No one works harder than you or makes more sacrifices. Now, all that’s left is to enjoy every moment. Step right into the life you were meant to have.”

I sigh and fiddle with the paper on the straw in front of me. I haven’t even taken a sip of my coffee. “I still worry about Ford’s money and power. What if I do something wrong, he gets pissed, and he starts trying to hold my daughter over my head or use her as leverage in our relationship? You should have seen him at his office that day, Dixie. He scared me with his intensity. I’ve never seen Ford like that before.”

Dixie clucks her tongue and shakes her auburn curls. “Haylee, it’s an extenuating circumstance, don’t you think? You didn’t tell him he had a daughter for over seven years. He had a right to be as angry as an old wet hen.”

“I guess so,” I say, hedging. But I still have that tiny sliver of doubt deep within my soul that says that if I make one wrong move, Ford will take Atlee from me and use his money and power to keep me away from her. I couldn’t survive even one day without her.

“There’s only one thing left to do in that case,” she says, eyes twinkling. “You’re going to have to get married.”

I gape at her, my mouth sagging open in surprise. “Get married? Are you kidding me? We haven’t even officially gotten back together.”

She laughs and slams a palm down on the table so hard the silverware shifts position and clang together. “That’s a new brand of crazy, girlfriend. You’re off like a herd of turtles.”

I blink at her, trying to process her lovable weirdness. “What?”

“Slow as molasses in January, so slow you’ll only cross the finish line in a pine box, so slow you came in third in a two-man race–”

I throw up my hands in mock affront just so she’ll stop. “Enough! I get the picture. You think I’m moving too slow. But you don’t understand, there’s so much water under the bridge that we have to wade through. We can’t just pick up where we left off.”

She chuckles and winks. “Who says that? Stop watching that damn Dr. Phil. He’s a bald-headed know-it-all with chicklets in his mouth where his teeth should be. This is the real world, not daytime television! If there’s rough waters to wade through, just take your damn shoes off and get your feet wet.”