“What state do you live in?”
Constant anxiety.
By the end of the week, Lanie still hadn’t made peace with what had happened. Cora—or maybe just fate—had been kind enough to keep River in the front building and out of the offices.
Lanie was grateful for the time to think. Or not think, as the case might be. She dug into work as an excuse to busy herself and to not have to see or talk to anyone—though they’d tried.
All of them.
The only one who’d gotten through had been Mark, and that was only because he had the key to her cottage and knew how to get past her defenses by not using words.
Nope. He used his body instead.
And he’d used it well. The things he’d done to her in the deep dark of night were the only highlights in an otherwise spectacularly shitty week. Granted, it was probably only a matter of time before he tried to get her to talk, but for now he let her be.
And for that alone, she fell for him just a little bit harder.
Then one afternoon Alyssa texted her with an “employee-room emergency.” Lanie raced over there to find no Alyssa in sight.
Just River, looking very young, very pregnant, and very nervous.
Lanie froze in the doorway. “Where’s Alyssa? She texted me.”
“I asked her to,” River said.
Lanie turned to the door to go.
“Lanie, please. I want to apologize. I want to talk to you and explain—”
Lanie sighed and faced her. “You’ve already apologized and there’s nothing to talk about.”
River’s expression was one of devastation and Lanie hardened herself to it. It’s like the glass partition at the zoo between the dangerous animals and the patrons, she told herself. You’re looking at this situation from behind a huge window. Nothing can get to you. You’re safe.
And best yet, not even emotions could get through the glass. It was how her mom and dad had dealt with her. They did what they’d had to in order to be parents, but there’d been no emotion, no feeling.
The glass was a good thing.
“If there’s nothing to talk about,” River said, “then we can get past this, right? We can go back to being friends?”
That was just it. Lanie had believed them to be friends, but it’d been a ruse from the get-go. She turned to pour herself a cup of coffee and saw that Alyssa and Cora had come into the room, so she managed a smile. “Sure,” she said through her imaginary glass wall. “Of course.”
Cora looked relieved. Alyssa seemed to buy it as well.
But River’s eyes said she knew the truth. That Lanie was being nice only to keep the peace.
“Thanks,” River said quietly. “I’d like that.”
Lanie nodded.
River, clearly trying to hide her disappointment behind her smile, walked out.
Cora gave Lanie a quick squeeze, a gentle sweet hug before reaching for an empty mug. “So how are you doing? You’re hanging in there?”
Her boss had been gently probing all week. Lanie had been avoiding her the best she could because she really did care about Cora. She cared about Sierra and Sam. She cared about Mia and Alyssa. She cared about all of them.
Including Mark.
Especially Mark.
Nothing had changed about any of that, but caring about these people gave them great power over her. They could manipulate her. They could hurt her.
Cora—who had a way with timing, or hell, maybe she could read minds—grabbed an apple from a basket on the counter. “I’m going into a bunch of meetings,” she said, “one of which is in regards to the bottling business.” She looked at Lanie expectantly. She’d said she wouldn’t push Lanie about extending her contract. This was Cora, not pushing.
But Lanie couldn’t hold off this discussion any longer. Her decision was made. Maybe there’d been a few weeks where she’d actually considered staying, but she knew she couldn’t now. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to take the extension,” she said, managing to meet her unwavering gaze. “I’m grateful for the generous offer, but I’m going to leave at the end of my contract.”
Cora’s phone rang, which she ignored. “I promised you that I’d accept whatever decision you made. But I just want to make sure this wasn’t a hasty decision made in a moment of high emotion. In other words, don’t make it personal.”
Hell, yes, Lanie had made this decision emotionally. And it was personal. And here was the other thing—the deep, dark, humiliating, terrible thing she’d finally figured out. Lanie wasn’t just upset at River. She was upset at the Capriottis. They’d brought her into the fold, shown her love and easy affection. They’d made her one of them.
And then they’d done the same for River.
The irony here was that Lanie hadn’t even wanted them to love her in the first place, so why she was so inexplicably, ridiculously . . . jealous, she couldn’t even say.
But the truth was, she wanted the Capriottis to feel the same anger and hatred and resentment that Lanie herself had felt about what had happened to her. And she wanted them to feel it against River.
Instead it’d brought the pregnant woman even tighter into the fold. And Lanie couldn’t seem to get out of her own way about that. It made her feel like an awful person, but no matter how unreasonable, the feelings were real and wouldn’t go away.
“You know, Lanie,” Alyssa said quietly, “if you ever want to talk about it—”
“I don’t.”
Alyssa looked at her for a beat. “What happened wasn’t your fault, you know that, right?”
Lanie had taken on a lot of guilt about a lot of things, but that Kyle had turned out to be addicted to women wasn’t one of them. “I know.”
“Good. Because River doesn’t blame you.”
Lanie stilled. “What?”
“River doesn’t blame you for being the other woman, for being the woman who made her marriage illegitimate, for being the one to get his entire life-insurance policy payout, leaving her with absolutely nothing.”
Lanie blinked slowly, willing her brain to catch up with the ball of emotions bouncing inside her. “That’s nice of her,” she managed. She gestured to the door. “I’ve got a busy day ahead, so . . .” She then walked out it, shutting it behind her.
She got all the way to her car before she realized she’d been followed. “Still not talking about it,” she said, turning to face Mark, assuming Cora had just told him she wasn’t going to stay.
He stepped in closer and cupped her jaw, the rough pad of his thumb swiping away a tear she hadn’t meant to shed. “Hey. Hey, come here,” he murmured, pulling her in. “I know it’s been a rough week—”
“I’m not that pathetic that I need you to ‘there, there’ me again. And I know you’ve just talked to your mom, and man, she works fast, but—”
“Actually,” he said, “I haven’t seen her today.”
Okay, so he didn’t know. Yet.
“And I think you’re a lot of things like impressive and hot, but pathetic isn’t one of them.”
He was very close, his scent intoxicating, the intensity of his stare dizzying. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you’ve handled a really shitty situation with serious class and grace. What can I do to help?”
“I’m fine.” She was fumbling through her purse for her damn sunglasses, which she could never seem to find when she needed them—
Mark pulled them off the top of her head and held them out to her.
Shit. She snatched them from his fingers. “Thanks. Gotta go.”
“I used to wonder what your wall was about,” he said quietly, stopping her in her tracks. “All I knew was that it was thick and well built.”
She met his gaze. “You really want to go there? Because I’m not the only one with walls, you know.”
“My walls are to protect my daughters. Your walls are to protect yourself, your heart. Not a healthy way to live.”
“You don’t know, you don’t understand.”
“I’d like to.”
“No.” She gave him a push away even though he wasn’t touching her. Just his close proximity, with that easy, confident stance and those broad shoulders that could handle the weight of her world made her want to move in close way too much. “Look,” she said. “We share orgasms when it suits us, but we’re not sharing emotions, remember? You decreed that.” And then, without waiting for his response, she slid into her car and sped off, literally leaving him in her dust.
Five minutes later she was on the highway, roof window open, windows down and inhaling the ocean air in big gulps, trying to figure out where her important place to be was.
Fifteen minutes later, she turned into a narrow, windy driveway on a hill a quarter mile from Morro Bay, because apparently her place to be was her family home. She parked and sat there, pissed off at the world.
Her mom opened the front door and from twenty feet, they studied each other, each giving nothing away. After about fifteen seconds of the stare down, her mom nudged her chin in the barest of movements.
The only invite Lanie was going to get.
Proving it, her mom vanished inside, but Lanie took heart—and also a good amount of annoyance—in the fact that she’d at least left the door open.
She found her mom in the big, huge country kitchen, which had been updated and renovated to the latest and greatest. Her mom, tall, elegant, and coolly beautiful, resembling a model playing a real person—a person who juiced most of her meals—actually baked like a boss.
The evidence was all along the counters in the form of cookies, cakes, and pies, and Lanie’s mouth immediately watered. Nothing helped stroke-level stress like a sugar overload. “Looks like a heart attack walking in here.” The first words they’d spoken face-to-face in years.
Her mom shrugged. “Bake sale for the adult literacy program tomorrow.”
“Of course,” Lanie said. “Because heaven forbid we not have our causes. Never mind the children as long as the world thinks you’re a giving, loving philanthropist.”
Her mom sighed. “Still with the dramatics. You’re hardly a child, Lanie.”
“I was.”
“Which I well know, as I pushed all seven and a half pounds of you out of my vagina. I did what I could, but as I’ve told you, I’m bad with babies.”
“And children.”
“And children.”
“And teenagers.”
Her mom rolled her eyes and went to the bottle of wine on the counter between a strawberry pie and a cheesecake. “To be fair, you were a horrid teenager. But I’m good at adults. Which I’m assuming you’ve finally become.” She handed Lanie a glass and gently knocked their two together in a toast. “To the both of us being adults at the same time.”
Lanie tossed back her wine and reached for the bottle.
“That’s a very expensive Napa Valley cabernet,” she said. “You don’t want to drink it too fast.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, then, darling, next time warn me that you’re having a moment and I’ll drop by the store for a boxed wine.”
Lanie took her second glass in hand and reminded herself she’d come here to see about actually getting along for a change. After Lanie had moved out at eighteen and gone off to college, things had gotten better between her and her parents. They all checked in with each other via a phone call once a month. Very civilized. When Lanie had gotten married just before her twenty-fifth birthday, her parents had come to Santa Barbara for the festivities. Since then, they’d met for some of the holidays but not all. More civility.
But instead of appeasing Lanie and making her feel good, it left her yearning for more.
So here she was. Looking for that more. Only she had no idea how to get it. She perused the counter and picked up the cheesecake. She grabbed a fork from the utensil drawer and headed to the table.
“What are you doing?”
“Having a moment, apparently.” Lanie sat and dug in. “Oh my God,” she moaned around a huge bite. “This is amazing.”
“Did you just compliment something I did?”
Lanie paused, the fork halfway to her mouth as she licked some of the cheesy goodness off her lips, considering something she’d never considered before.
Was she equally at fault for this strained relationship? On the one hand, she couldn’t be blamed for her mom not wanting to be a mom during Lanie’s growing-up years. But now that she was grown up, had she perpetuated the crappy communication out of resentment and festering emotional wounds?
One hundred percent.
She took another bite and swallowed before answering. “Yes,” she said. “I just complimented you. And here’s another one. Thanks for letting me in to eat and drink you out of house and home.”
Her mother looked surprised but recovered quickly. “You’re welcome. And I’d say anytime, but I think I’ll wait until the end of this visit to make sure.”
Lanie choked out a laugh, but remembering her shitty day, it turned into a sob so she carefully pushed away the cheesecake and set her forehead to the table.
Silence from her mom.
After a moment, the bottle of wine appeared in front of her face and the cheesecake was nudged close again.
A peace offering.
Lanie felt her eyes sting, but she ruthlessly beat back the tears. “I’m not falling apart or anything.”
“Well, that’s good, as one, us Jacobses don’t do falling apart, and two, I’ve got a meeting in fifteen minutes.”
This got another choked laugh out of Lanie. She lifted her head and grabbed the wine bottle and drank right from it.
“I’m going to assume someone’s dying,” her mom said, sounding more than a little pained. “Because otherwise certainly you would be civilized enough to use the glass.”
“No one’s dying.” Lanie took another long pull of wine. Finally, it was starting to warm her up from the inside out. About time. “He’s already dead. Though there are days when I wish I could kill him all over again.”
“If you’ll recall, I told you not to marry him.”
Lanie shook her head with a mirthless laugh. “Aw, there it is. The ‘I told you so.’”
“Well, I did tell you so. What happened?”
Lanie hesitated. She’d spoken to her mom quite a few times on the phone since they’d seen each other at Kyle’s funeral, but Lanie hadn’t told her about the wife addiction. Maybe opening up and trying for a real relationship had to start with her, she thought, and drew in a deep breath. “A bunch of his other wives keep knocking.”
Her mom stared at her for a full beat. “Are you drunk?”
“Yes.” Lanie sighed. “And he was cheating on me. He married at least four other women. One of them says he had a ring of hers and she wants it back.”
“Tell her to take a fucking hike.”
Lanie choked on the unfortunate sip of wine she’d just taken. “Did you just say fuck?”
“Yes.”
“You never say fuck.”
“No?” her mother asked. “Well, I think it a lot. For instance, fuck using a glass. This situation calls for drastic measures.” Taking the bottle of wine back from Lanie, she lifted it to her lips for a long pull. “Don’t give in to this woman.”
“Her name’s River, and she’s like, twelve.”
Her mom looked horrified. “He was a pedophile too?”
“I mean she looks twelve. She’s legal, barely. She just turned twenty-one.” Lanie sighed. “She also looks like an angel, one that’s about to pop.”
Her mom sat straight up like a hot poker had been rammed up her spine. “She’s pregnant?”
“Yes.”
Her mom stared at her for a long beat and then closed her eyes. “Well, damn.”
“What?”
“I’m going to say two words to you that I’ve never said before and don’t intend to ever say again. I’m sorry.”
Lanie nearly fell off her chair. “Why are you sorry?”
“Because I have to revise my statement. She’s young, alone, pregnant, and came to you for help. You, when you’re most likely the very last person on the earth she wanted to need anything from. My God.” Her mom rubbed her forehead like her head hurt. “Do you have any idea how desperate and terrifying that is?”
Lanie stared at her. “Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about River anymore?”
Her mom finished off the bottle of wine and swiped her mouth with her arm, the most undignified thing Lanie had ever seen her do in her life. If she’d burped the alphabet, Lanie couldn’t have been more surprised.
“We need more wine,” her mom said.
“Actually, I don’t think that’s what we need at all,” Lanie said carefully, because yes, her mind was a little muddled, but not so muddled as to not realize they’d just acknowledged the elephant in the room.
The big, fat, huge pink elephant, who might be a little drunk to boot. “I feel like I’m missing a piece of my own puzzle here,” Lanie said. “A big piece too, like one of the corners or something.”
“I was nineteen when I got married,” her mom said. “And I thought I knew everything there was to know about love. I didn’t, by the way, and neither did your father. I caught him boffing my best friend up against my refrigerator and immediately retaliated with my own torrid affair with the mailman. I was the only one stupid enough to get pregnant.”
Lanie stared at her, shocked to finally learn the truth of this story. Her story. “But . . . Dad cheated first.”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right, Lanie.”
“No kidding, but it seems to me you’re the one who paid the most.” Lanie shook her head. “And you stayed married.”
“We worked through it. Bottom line, we’d both been young and stupid, but after about a year of hating each other, we realized we still also loved each other.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Lanie asked.
“Oh, come on,” she said with a rough laugh. “That kind of baggage doesn’t fit into the overhead, you know what I mean?”
“Not even a little bit,” Lanie said.
“I didn’t want your pity!”
“Oh, Mom.” Lanie went for more cheesecake. “We’re a pair.”
“Well, you know what they say. A pair beats . . .” She shook her head. “What does a pair beat?”
Lanie knew this one because she’d been married to an asshole who’d loved poker. “Depends on how good of a bluffer you are,” she said, setting the plate on the table between them.
“Well, then, we’re in fine shape.”
Lanie actually laughed a little at that.
“Do you realize we just spent an entire hour together and didn’t yell or hurl insults at each other?”
Lanie looked up at her mom and caught a glimpse of wistfulness on her face before she schooled her expression back to her usual implacable, unruffled calm. “Yeah,” Lanie said slowly. “You’re right. Should we go at it just for old times’ sake?”
Her mom shrugged. “Why feel emotions when we don’t have to?”
Yeah. That made perfect sense, but at the same time it squeezed Lanie’s heart a little, making it hurt. Because for once, for damn once in her life, it’d have been really nice to have someone want to feel emotions when it came to her.