Cassie pressed a hand to her cheek. Her flesh felt numb and cold. Get it together, for God’s sake. It wasn’t like Kirk had said something she didn’t know. She could never compare with Alison. She knew that. She’d always known that.
“Uh, someone stepped on my toe,” she ad-libbed, lifting her foot gingerly. “I just need to rest it for a few moments and I’ll be fine.”
“Oh, no, that’s too bad! Should I call the guys back in?”
“No, no.” The last thing she needed was to draw attention to herself. “Look, I’m better already. Let’s go, huh?”
She could do this. All those years of walking past the mean girls at school, pretending not to hear their snide comments, had not gone to waste. It was simple, really. You put all your dark feelings—the hurt, the fear, the sorrow—into a chest, one of those pirate treasure chests, and you shut the lid and soldiered on until the danger was past. That was what she would do. She would lock her pain away, and only when she was alone and out of earshot would she unlock the chest and let everything out.
Chapter Ten
“Honestly, Cassie. Can’t you ever get anything right?”
Cassie shrank back from her mom’s rhetorical question. She’d thought she’d got past the stage of being intimidated by Audrey, but today she didn’t have her usual defenses. They’d been demolished last night by two overheard sentences.
“You’ve completely muddled the welcome baskets,” Audrey continued, arms crossed, one foot tapping like an irritated woodpecker. “Everyone’s received the wrong baskets.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize they were for specific guests.”
“That’s what the name tags are for,” Audrey hissed.
“I’ll go back to the hotel and sort them out.”
“There’s no time for that. I need you to go to the bank and get some cash for all the tips we need. Here’s the list. Think you can handle that?”
Usually a snappy retort would spring to Cassie’s mind, but today even that defense mechanism had failed. She was utterly vulnerable to her mom’s slings and arrows.
“Sure, Mom.” She sighed, picking up her purse once more. She moved toward the front door of her mom’s apartment, but then swung round. Her mother was busy flicking through her address book.
“Mom?”
“Mm?” Audrey didn’t look up.
“I was thinking of moving back into the guest bedroom.”
“Today?” Her mom’s head sprang up. “But you can’t. It’s full of things I can’t move anywhere else.”
“But I only need a bed—”
“The bed is piled with everything.” Her mom heaved a grumbling sigh. “Did you have an argument with Kirk? Is that why you want to move back?”
“No, we didn’t argue, it’s just that—”
“I’ll never understand you, Cassie.” Her mom slapped shut her address book. “For years you keep it a secret that you’re friends with one of the Rochesters, and then you fall out with him. Why don’t you know how to get along with people? Why do you alienate the one important contact you’ve managed to find?”
Cassie gripped the strap of her purse harder as the pain she’d buried deep inside frothed out like poison. “I don’t expect you to understand me. I don’t expect much of anything from you. All I’m asking for is a bed.”
“Why don’t you go running off to Betsy and Mario? I’m sure they’ll be only too happy to give you a bed. They’re always singing your praises to me. Oh, yes. It’s ‘Cassie this’ and ‘Cassie that’ every time I see them. They’re driving me crazy.”
A tremble started in Cassie’s lower lip, and only a concerted effort stilled it. Oh God, could the rejections get any crueler? She’d come to San Francisco with hopes of forging a better relationship with her family, but her mom seemed determined to push her further away.
“You’re my mom.” Cassie’s voice shook. Years of needing her mother’s support and never getting it hadn’t lessened the yearning. This wasn’t about a bed anymore. This was about everything she’d missed in the past, everything she’d need in the future. “I—I’m asking you.”
Audrey gazed sharply at her, head tilted. Despite the pressures of the imminent wedding, she was still immaculately presented, not a hair out of place, her makeup flawless. She looked like the First Lady, or the president of a Fortune 500 company.
She picked at the address book in her hands. “I suppose you could sleep on the pull-out in Lillian’s room,” she said with obvious reluctance. “But only if you have to. You really should try to get along with the Rochesters.”
Mom, you don’t know what you’re asking.
She nodded, too choked to speak, and made her escape.
…
Several hours later, she was walking by the sea with Russell. The sunny weather was perfect for the beach, the views of the Golden Gate Bridge were stunning, and it was good to be with a straightforward, uncomplicated friend, but she couldn’t suppress a sigh as they strolled across the sand.
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Russell asked. “Or are you going to sigh all day like a drama queen?”
“Let’s just say I have good reason to sigh.”
“Troubles of the heart. The age-old mystery. Why do we fall in love with people who don’t reciprocate our feelings?”
“When you figure that out, let me know.” She looped her arm through his. “So what have you been doing to get over Jason?”
“Sightseeing, shopping, eating, talking. Nothing works.”
“You know, this is a nudist beach.”
He shook his head. “You’re sweet, but staring at some schlongs is only a distraction.” He poked his elbow in her side. “How about you? Think some naked arses will stop you sighing?”
“No,” she said, sighing once more. “Let’s not talk about our problems, huh? Let’s just enjoy the sunshine and the scenery.”
It was only much later, after they’d watched the sun go down, dropped in at a pizza joint, and finally caught a cab, that her problems welled up, and the thought of seeing Kirk again made her insides churn with anxiety.
“I might be moving out of Kirk’s place,” she said as the cab rounded the corner into Kirk’s street. “It’s getting to be too much…”
She couldn’t go on, but Russell seemed to understand. “You’re welcome to crash at my hotel room anytime.”
“Thanks,” she sputtered, tears welling up.
The cab pulled to a halt outside Kirk’s house, but she was in no condition to face him. As she fumbled in her purse for a tissue, Russell put his arm around her and patted her, not speaking, simply offering her comfort. She rested her head on his shoulder and allowed herself to sniffle a bit.
“Do you mind waiting until my friend feels better?” Russell asked the cab driver, who raised a thumb in reply.
“I know I’ll never measure up to his late wife,” she said to Russell. “But does that mean there’s nothing between us? Absolutely nothing? I wish I could confront him, ask him straight out, but I’m too chicken. I’m afraid of what he might say.”
“What’s the worst that can happen?”
“The worst is that he’ll reject me,” she said slowly, mulling over her fears. “And we’ll never be friends again because it’ll be too awkward.”
“So you’d rather be friends and worry forever, than know once and for all and have some closure.”
She chewed her lip. “When you put it like that…”
Her choices were even starker, but she knew which one she’d choose. She couldn’t live with this indecision gnawing at her for the rest of her life. She knew she could never compare with Alison, but maybe she had something else to offer Kirk. If she never asked, she’d never find out.
“Thanks, Russ. You’ve been a great help.”
She leaned across and planted a grateful kiss on his cheek before she quickly scrambled out of the cab and hurried toward Kirk’s house.
…
Kirk flinched back from the drapes in front of his bedroom window. He was spying on Cassie and Russell down below in their taxi, and he’d been punished by witnessing Cassie kiss Russell. The interior of the taxi was shadowy, but he’d clearly seen her lean in, their heads meeting, Russell’s arm around her shoulders.
He rubbed his sternum where he’d felt that instant, visceral punch. His breathing rasped in the stillness of his bedroom. Why did watching Cassie kiss her ex make him want to drive his fist through a wall?
No time to speculate as he heard Cassie enter the house downstairs. He wheeled around and marched out of his bedroom. Something was about to happen. He could feel it in the tightening of his muscles, the ache in his bones, the throb at the base of his neck. Something had to happen or he was going to smash the first thing he could find.
Last night the sight of Cassie wrapped up like a gift in her bandage dress had floored him. She’d dressed up for him, he was sure, and although he’d tried to ignore it, he’d known he wouldn’t turn down that gift. He’d been raring to get her alone and unwrap her slowly, kissing every inch of her body as he revealed it. But mysteriously and without warning, she’d come out of the wine bar looking like he’d drowned her puppy. She’d sat hunched and silent in the cab, answering him in monosyllables, and as soon as they’d reached home, she’d run upstairs to her room and shut the door.