What a Girl Wants (3 page)

“You know the reason I’m here?”

“To help your former client’s daughter?” She nodded.

“I’m not entirely sure it’s going to work out.”

“What makes you think that, Sebastian?” She tipped her head, focused on him.

“There’s something going on.” He rubbed his chin, trying to figure it out. “Edward’s daughter doesn’t want to talk to me. You’d think at least she’d call me back and tell me to get lost, but she’s letting me stay in this limbo.”

“Maybe she’s cowed by her father.”

He nodded. Edward Warren was definitely a force to be reckoned with. “That’s likely.”

“I’m sure you have a plan to get to the bottom of it,” Lara said confidently.

“What makes you think that?”

She smiled, her gaze shrewd. “You’re a man with a mission.”

A reticent princess wasn’t part of it, though. He leaned forward, hands steepled in front of him. “Lara, I want a home. I’ve been couch surfing for longer than someone my age should.”

“You’re forty, sweeting.” Lara brushed back his hair with a loving smile. “Your life is just beginning, not ending.”

“I know.” He did—deep in his soul, he knew he’d been reborn and given another chance.

He was determined not to waste it. Facing death, a person reevaluated what was important in life. It wasn’t money and success, either—it was having people you loved, who loved you, around you.

Family. He wanted his own family. He hadn’t realized how badly he missed his until he’d been wheeled into surgery alone without hope of waking up. Smiling at Lara, he said, “You don’t happen to know any available women?”

“I wish I had another daughter for you, sweeting, but you know mine are taken.”

Her younger daughter, Bijou, was why he was here. He’d met her at his cousin Rosalind’s wedding, and Bijou had offered her parents’ home as a place to crash.

Stay with Anson and Lara, the most famous musical duo of the time? His tumor hadn’t left him crazy.

He’d met Lara’s older daughter, Karma—or KT as she preferred to be called—when he’d arrived. Lara’s daughters were as different from each other as they could be, but he liked them both. He loved the entire family.

But they weren’t his, and he knew it was time to build his own.

Not that he was going to rush it. In rehab, his motto had been “It’s a marathon, not a sprint.” It was the exact tact he was taking toward finding the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

In the meantime, he had a lot to be thankful for. He took Lara’s hand in his. “Run away with me.”

Lara laughed, the sound like joyful chimes. “Oh, sweeting, I have a feeling you’ll find someone very soon. You’re in San Francisco now.”

“I thought you lose your heart in San Francisco.”

Lara squeezed his hand. “The very lucky find their heart here.”

‡

L
illian walked into his office, slim and elegant. “Did Ariana say anything more to you?”

“Why would she?” Edward pushed the file box further under his desk with his foot. Not that Lillian paid attention to what he did anymore. “There wasn’t any reason to.”

His wife of thirty-five years didn’t appear convinced. Or maybe she was simply disappointed. She looked at him that way a lot lately.

Edward wasn’t sure when things had changed; he only knew that he hadn’t realized it until he’d retired.

It wasn’t a physical change, or something he could see. Lillian looked like the same person she’d been thirty-five years ago. She was evidence that time stopped for some people.

On the surface. The more subtle changes weren’t immediately apparent. Like her scent—she smelled differently than she used to. He couldn’t figure out if she’d changed her soap or perfume, or if the change was herself.

But the biggest difference was her regard. She used to look at him like he’d hung the moon just for her. Now, there was a faint chill in her gaze, as though she’d rather be anywhere but there with him.

When had that happened? And why hadn’t he noticed it?

“You don’t think we acted odd?” his wife asked him, worry darkening her gaze.

Edward sat back, trying not to feel resentful that she cared more about their daughter than him. “If you asked Ariana, she’d likely say we always act odd.”

“I just don’t know that she accepted what you told her. You know Ariana. She gets stubborn.”

“There’s no reason for her to question anything. It was a picture. If you saw a picture of yourself as a baby with someone you didn’t recognize, you’d just dismiss it.”

“True.” She twisted her wedding ring. “But I think we overreacted. I should have just made up a story about it being an old family friend who’d disappeared from our lives.”

“You were taken by surprise,” he offered. He hadn’t had the presence of mind to come up with a different story, either. He hadn’t expected to see Harriet’s face again. It’d been so long—over thirty years.

As if sensing the direction his thoughts had taken, Lillian said, “Edward, maybe we should have told her about Harriet.”

She used to call him Eddie. He had no idea when she’d reverted to Edward. Probably around the same time she’d started to withdraw from him.

“Edward?”

Normally he preferred being called Edward. For some reason from her lips it grated on his nerves today. “We both agreed that it was just as well not telling her. Ariana was a happy girl, and there was no reason to disrupt that. Plus, she was always our daughter.”

Lillian nodded absently, still twisting her ring. “I hope this doesn’t backfire.”

“Why would it? There’s no reason for Ariana to suspect anything.”

Lillian speared him an accusing look. “You don’t have any more surprises saved, do you?”

Guilt and resentment made his chest tight, as though the heart attack his doctor had promised was imminent. Under his desk, he clenched his fists. “I destroyed her birth certificate years ago, once we got her a passport. All the bases are covered.”

Lillian didn’t look convinced.

“Look, she’s going to be busy with the brand consultant I brought in to help her develop her products into a skincare line. She won’t have time to think about anything else.” He mentally patted himself on the back for contacting Sebastian Tate. Even if she continued to be stubborn and refuse to work with him, it’d distract her away from finding out about Harriet.

“I hope you’re right,” Lillian said doubtfully.

Edward sank into his seat. She used to trust him.

She frowned at him. “Do you have anything planned today?”

“Why?” Was she going to ask him to do something? He sat a little straighter, the hope sharp in his chest.

She shrugged. “You’re always sitting in here with your computer. You should go out for a walk or something.”

“With you?” He winced at the tone of his voice, like he was a teenager begging the girl he liked to notice him.

“Oh.” Lillian blinked. “No, I have plans today. But it’s nice out. You should take a walk along the Marina Green.”

He watched her turn and leave his office, annoyed. Back when he used to work, she complained that she didn’t see him enough. Now she couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

He didn’t get it.

Nothing had been right since he’d retired. His wife was a stranger. Ariana looked at him like she was waiting for him to throw a can of snakes at her. Even Belle, his angel, didn’t need him anymore.

The thing was he knew the problem was with himself. He could blame everyone around him for being different, or he could face the fact that he was out of sync with life. Nothing made sense anymore. He had no purpose.

Reaching under his desk, he dragged the file box back out. He wasn’t about to tell Lillian the reason Ariana had found that picture was that he’d gotten the box out to search for another woman’s phone number.

He lifted off the lid to the box and looked inside at the things he’d saved as souvenirs over the years. His college thesis, pictures with his brother before he’d died, receipts from dinners marking special occasions.

An envelope with Lillian’s name in his handwriting.

He picked it out and opened it.

Dear Lillian,

Today was the best day of my life.

I hate to say that, because I always considered the day I met you was the best day of my life, or the day Ariana came to us.

So let me rephrase it: today was magical.

We brought a baby into the world. A perfect, beautiful little girl.

I’ve never felt as full of love as I did looking at you cradle Annabelle in your arms. I’ve never felt so proud of anything I’ve accomplished. Humbled, too, by the miracle you wrought.

Thank you, dearest Lillian, for sharing that with me. For your grace. For your love, which I’ll cherish forever.

Yours,

Eddie

He’d loved her so much. When had they lost the magic?

Frowning, he refolded the letter and put it back in the envelope. He must have forgotten to give it to her thirty years ago.

Too late now. But instead of returning it to the box, he tucked it into the top drawer of his desk and returned his attention to the file box. Reaching inside, he found the stack of cards he was looking for.

The business card he wanted was right on top.

He slid it out from the worn rubber band holding the pack together. Diane Brauer. He’d met her four years ago and had liked her—a lot. He liked to think that he’d resisted having an affair with her at that time because of the fortitude of his character, even if it was because Diane had been traveling and he’d gotten busy selling his company.

He flipped the card over, knowing her private number was on the back.

He shouldn’t call her.

He’d only say hello, see how she was doing. Maybe invite her to lunch to catch up—as friends and nothing else. He could see if she was different or it was really him.

It’d give him something to do instead of walking around the home where he wasn’t sure he was welcome any longer.

Picking up his phone, he dialed her number before he changed his mind.

‡

M
onday morning, Ariana slipped under George’s garage door, careful not to spill the coffee. French roast, with cream—not half and half or, God forbid, low-fat milk—just the way George liked it.

George sat frowning over some paperwork at her desk. There were black smudges on the copies, and they were in some sort of array that probably made sense to her but looked entirely chaotic. Her cap was pulled low over her forehead, and her tank top already had stains on it.

Ariana strode toward her friend and handed her the mug with the rooster on it. “I brought you the cock, because I know how much you like it.”

Smirking, George took it in both hands. “I love the cock.”

“You’re that kind of girl.” She checked for grease and then perched on the edge of the desk. “Looks harrowing in here.”

“Invoices. A necessary evil.” She made a face as she lifted the cup and took a sip. Sighing blissfully, she smiled for real this time. “Have I told you what a great friend you are?”

Ariana smiled. It was their ritual every morning. Truthfully, making coffee was a meditation of sorts. She liked doing it, and she liked bringing George a cup, not just because she appreciated it so much but because then Ariana got to see her friend.

“Oh”—she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small jar—“I made this for your cuticles. It should help a lot with the dryness.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” Smiling to herself as she noticed the little car Ariana had drawn on the label, George opened the bottle, smoothed some on her fingers, and tucked the jar into her desk. Then she took another sip of her coffee while gazing at her. “You come in here every morning and save me. What do I ever do for you?”

“You save me all the time.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the spare keys. “Case and point.”

George shrugged as she took the keys and put them back in their spot. Then her nose wrinkled. “You smell like candy.”

“It’s peppermint.” She smelled the backs of her hands and then held them out. “Scented body lotion.”

Her friend leaned forward to smell it. “Hmm.”

She felt a little silly. She almost hadn’t worn it, but Esme had been so insistent, and she’d had the essential oil right there . . . It’d been easy to mix some into her lotion. “Do you hate it?”