What a Girl Wants (17 page)

‡

D
iane’s advice hit home.

Edward couldn’t cook, but that didn’t matter because he knew how to use Yelp. He found a caterer that had good reviews, who could deliver food for that night. Not just any food, but Lillian’s favorite: fettuccine al formaggio and tiramisu.

Going into his wine cellar, he got out a nice bottle of white. They usually drank red—his fault, he realized. He preferred it.

Tonight was about Lillian, so she got the Chablis she loved, the pasta, and the dessert. He got flowers for the table and fresh candles. He even prepared a list of things to talk to her about, all regarding her.

It was a solid plan.

Mentally thanking Diane, he texted his wife.
I’m taking care of dinner tonight. 7pm, here.

After he let the caterer in, he went to take a shower, changing into a casual shirt that Lillian once said she loved on him. He shaved, put cologne on, and went downstairs to check on the caterer.

She had everything set, giving him directions for how to warm the pasta so the sauce wouldn’t break, whatever that meant.

Then he poured himself a glass of wine and waited.

At eight, he heard Lillian’s car pull into the driveway. He tensed, forcing himself to ease his grip on the wine glass so he wouldn’t snap the stem.

She walked in, her heels clacking on the floor. She wore a thin skirt and a hugging top that made his mouth dry. He sat up, wondering if dinner could wait.

She set her purse on the counter. “What is all this?”

His libido got doused as surely as she’d thrown a bucket of ice water at him. Trying not to glance at her anklet, he took a calming sip of the wine before he spoke. “I sent you a text.”

Arching her brow, she took her cellphone out of her purse. Then she nodded. “You did. I didn’t see it. I was busy.”

“Busy with what?” he said, instead of asking what he really wanted: busy with who?

“You knew that Ariana was going to see Harriet, didn’t you?” she asked, startling him.

Edward froze, looking at his wife. This wasn’t the topic he wanted to discuss tonight, but no sense running toward a noose. He set the glass down and faced her. “Sebastian Tate told me, yes.”

Lillian twisted her wedding ring. “What do you think Harriet will do?”

“I have no idea.” Fact of the matter was that Harriet had told him she didn’t want a baby because it impaired her career, but she had that now. Plus, Ariana wasn’t a baby anymore. She was a beautiful, accomplished woman. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she wanted to get to know Ariana.”

“You think so?” Lillian asked with a frown.

“Why wouldn’t she? It’s not as though Ariana still requires her diapers changed, and she’s blood.”

Glaring at him, she reached for the wine and poured herself a glass. “This doesn’t bother you at all.”

The accusation raised his hackles. Of course it bothered him. He was the head of this family, and it was falling apart, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He loved them—he’d rather have his heart cut out than them hurting like they were. “What will it help, Lillian? I can’t change anything.”

She silently sipped from her glass.

It was worse than her saying anything. He stood and crossed his arms. “Why don’t you just say it?”

“Say what?” she asked, her voice clipped.

“You think this is my fault.”

“Isn’t it?” She squared off, her arms folded. “Why did you leave those things out? It was careless.”

It was more than careless, but how much more he wasn’t going to tell her. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry for it.”

“Yes, but it’s a mistake that can’t be fixed. There’s no going back from this.” Shaking her head, she grabbed her purse and, with the wine glass in her other hand, stalked out of the room.

He stood there, staring after her for a long time. Then he got up and looked at the pasta. The sauce was separated, the oil running from the congealed, gelatinous cheese.

It broke.

Frowning, he threw it all away. He took his time, cleaning, making sure he put everything away where it was supposed to go. Lillian was particular about things like that.

Mostly, he just didn’t want to join her in their room. Or worse—go up there and find out she wasn’t there. He went into the living room to watch TV.

By the time he went to their room, she was already in bed, with the light turned off. She had her eyes closed, but he could tell that she was awake. He went into the bathroom and closed the door. Closing the toilet lid, he sat on top, head in his hands.

Dinner was a disaster. The problem was that Lillian hadn’t given him a chance to fawn over her.

Would she ever?

Was it worth trying?

With a heavy feeling in his chest, he got up and let himself out of their room. He went downstairs to his office.

Sitting behind his desk he looked at the picture of them on their wedding day. Reaching into the drawer, he pulled out the letter he’d written her and read through it again. He’d always been a glutton for punishment.

But enough was enough.

He stopped reading it. Carefully putting it back in the envelope, he dropped it in the trash. He got up and went to the couch to settle in for the night.

‡

T
he sun streamed into her studio, but what made Ariana warm was waking up to Sebastian curled around her.

Like he had the past few mornings.

She liked it a lot. She liked having him in her bed, and she liked everything he did to her—and let her do to him. She especially liked the possessive way he wrapped himself around her, like he never wanted to let her go. She couldn’t get enough of him.

She even liked having him around. Not that he stayed all day: He’d taken to leaving while she had her appointments, returning in the evening.

Sighing, she hugged his arm and burrowed her back closer into him.

He kissed her shoulder. “Good morning.”

After everything that had happened this week, it actually was. She smiled. “This is nice.”

“Really nice,” he agreed, sliding his leg between hers and holding her closer. “The only way this could be nicer is if we were in a real bed.”

“This is a real bed.” Secretly, she agreed with him. She couldn’t have a bed because she used her studio as her workplace, too, but if she ever did have the means to get a bigger place, the first thing she was going to get was a proper mattress.

“At least what’s in the bed is perfect,” he said, nuzzling the nape of her neck. “What would you say if I said I was falling for you?”

“I’d tell you to knock it off,” she joked. When he didn’t smile, she rolled over to face him. “Are you serious?”

He shrugged, propping himself up on his elbow, baring his sexy shoulders.

“So soon?” she asked, feeling both excited and scared. She had too much going on to think about falling in love, first and foremost meeting her biological mother. “There’s just a lot on our plate right now.”

He nodded. “But we’re taking care of it. I’ve taken care of all the travel arrangements, and you have a dress and shoes.”

“Not to mention
proper foundation garments
,” she said mockingly.

“Kimberley did enjoy saying that phrase, didn’t she?” Sebastian grinned. Then he sobered, running a hand along her hair. “It’s a shame you got rid of the purple though. I liked it.”

She touched her hair. She’d just had it done yesterday, and she wasn’t used to it either. “Everything is changing so fast.”

“Love doesn’t wait for us to be ready.” He laid his head on her chest and inhaled. “You even smell perfect.”

Esme
. Ariana frowned, wondering if the woman had meddled with her and Sebastian, and how.

She waited until Sebastian left to pay a visit to the psychic.

Esme opened the door, her face lighting up. “Ariana!”

“What have you done?” she asked, striding inside.

“Oh, good.” Esme clapped her hands together, looking absolutely delighted. “Sebastian made a move. Let me tell you, it’s about time, because—”

“No.” Ariana shook her head, pointing at the woman. “Did you do something?”

Esme blinked innocently. “Like what?”

“Like, I don’t know. Drug him or something.”

“Me?” She rolled her eyes. “I’m the only person in the world who’s never done drugs. Aspirin makes me loopy. It’s not me.”

Ariana put her hands on her hips. “Then what is it?”

“Fate,” Esme said, her eerie eyes direct.

She put a hand to her head. “Now is just not a good time for Fate to meddle.”

“Love isn’t about convenience.” She pointed at Ariana’s heart. “It’s about being open and connecting.
Open
, Ariana, not closed.”

“I’m open,” she protested. “I’m really open.”

Esme heaved a sigh. Then she waved her hands. “Shoo.”

“
Shoo?
” Ariana raised her brow.

“Yeah, shoo. Out.” Esme poked her side, right in a ticklish spot.

She jumped back, out of the threshold, just as the woman closed the door in her face.

That went well.

Not. The encounter left her feeling off-kilter, and there was only one remedy for that: her rooftop garden.

The sun was shining and there wasn’t any threat of fog or wind for a change. Ariana tried to find the serenity she normally found tending her herbs, but she couldn’t. Her feelings were all wonky: about Sebastian, Hadley, and her mom and dad.

Frankly, she didn’t know how she felt.

Well, maybe with Sebastian she did. She
liked
him. She just wasn’t sure she’d use the other L-word, like he did.

As she gently worked a sliver of a weed out of a pot, her cell phone buzzed with a text message. Her heart leapt, wondering if it was Sebastian.

But it was Annabelle.
You need to stop being stupid.

“Stupid?” Glaring at her cell phone, she wiped her hands on her jeans and called her sister. “
You
find out that your mom isn’t actually your mom, and then you tell me how I’m being stupid.”

“I get it, Ariana,” Belle said in a completely rational voice. “They should have told you. But you
are
being stupid, because Mom loves you and nothing would change that. And with the way you’re acting, it’d be totally logical if she wanted to throw you back.”

Ariana sat up, indignant. “Excuse me?”

“Dad said you’re going to meet Hadley James.”

It was an accusation, one she didn’t deserve. “Damn it, don’t make me feel guilty. It’s a normal thing, wanting to meet your birth mother.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to hurt Mom in the process,” her sister retorted.

“I’m not.” She winced, thinking about all the calls she’d sent to voicemail.

“You are.” Belle let out a frustrated breath. “The thing is you know meeting this woman isn’t going to solve any big mystery. You’re the person you’ve always been.”

“A slacker?” she asked sarcastically.

“My sister,” Belle yelled. “And that’s damn wonderful.”

She stopped cold, stunned.

“But you don’t get how great you are,” Belle continued, “which is why you’re
stupid
. With a capital S.”

“I—”

Her sister hung up.

Glaring at the phone, she tossed it aside, muttering to herself. She wasn’t being stupid.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

Her head jerked up, startled to see her mom standing there as if she’d made her appear. She wore one of Belle’s yoga sets and should have looked sporty and fit, but she was a pale version of herself, like she hadn’t been sleeping or eating.

Lillian walked over toward her, and then she gasped. “You changed your hair.”

Ariana’s hand went to her head automatically. It was all a light brown now. The stylist said she put highlights in, too, but she couldn’t tell. Why bother with highlights if they were going to blend in? Besides, she liked vivid color.

“I liked the purple in it,” Lillian said after a moment. She got down and sat cross-legged on the roof. “It’s our yoga day.”

She ducked her head and pretended to be really engrossed with her plant. “I left you a message that I couldn’t go.”

“Hmm,” was all her mom said.

Out of her peripheral vision, Ariana could see her watching. She wanted to reach out and hug her while at the same time she wanted to yell at her for lying all these years. Her eyes welled up with tears, blinding her.