California Girls

She fished her phone out of her purse. No text from her husband. Hardly a surprise, she thought, tears flowing again. What did she think, that he would apologize and beg to come back to her? Even she wasn’t that much of a fool.

She walked barefoot through the quiet house before going upstairs. The master bedroom was large with French doors leading to a balcony. She ignored the beautiful space that she had, until this moment, loved. She ignored the big bed, the linens she and Nigel had picked out together. She fought the feeling of being exposed, she fought the pain and sense of betrayal. She had to keep breathing, keep moving. She had to figure out what on earth she was going to do now. Wait? Did she just wait to hear from him? Was he gone forever? Was this just a fling? How long had he been sleeping with Treasure? Were there other women? How long had he been lying, emotionally setting her on fire, while laughing with his mistress?

The tears returned. She ignored them and walked into Nigel’s part of the his-and-hers closet. Entire sections of his closet were missing. Shirts and suits, jeans, T-shirts. She reached up, as if the clothes weren’t really missing, they were just invisible to her.

Her fingers grasped nothing. There was only the space where her husband’s clothes had once been. She closed her eyes and sank onto the small bench in his closet. Just last night they’d gone to dinner, she thought desperately. Just last night they’d been talking about Hawaii. They’d been at their favorite little bistro on Ventura Boulevard, at their favorite corner table. They’d talked about their previous trips and he’d made her laugh, as he always did. He’d made her feel loved and special, because that was who he was. Or who he had been.

She’d nearly told him her plan. She’d nearly mentioned that she’d gone off her birth control and was ready—no, eager—to start a family with him. But she’d waited because she’d wanted to surprise him.

It had all been a lie. Every gesture, every word, the way he’d held her. They hadn’t made love, but he’d held her and told her he loved her. All the while he’d known what he was going to do to her today. He’d planned it.

She wrapped her arms around her midsection and rocked on the small bench. She cried out, the keening sound echoing off the empty spaces. Why had he done it? Why had he hurt her? Why had he—

Her phone rang. The sound startled her, then she jumped to her feet, searching for the phone. She spotted it on a shelf and lunged for it, knowing it had to be Nigel. He’d realized his mistake and he was sorry.

“Hello?”

“You were off your game this morning. Are you all right?”

The familiar voice should have comforted her, but didn’t. While Finola’s mother had always been supportive, she wasn’t exactly nurturing. Nor would she understand how her oldest daughter had managed to lose her husband to some country-pop star tramp. In the split second before she spoke, Finola considered blurting out the truth, then knew that wasn’t going to happen.

“I’ve been, ah, fighting food poisoning,” she lied, thinking it was easier to stick with what she’d already told Rochelle and Melody. “I just threw up.”

“Oh, that explains it because you were really stiff with that Treasure person. I didn’t like her song, by the way, but then I’m not her target audience, am I? Are you going to be well enough to fly to Hawaii tomorrow?”

“That’s the plan.” Finola did her best to keep her voice light even as tears poured down her cheeks. “Going to Hawaii with my husband.”

“You should talk to him about getting pregnant. It’s long past time, Finola. More important, I want grandchildren. All my friends have them. Most have several. A few of them have so many they complain about it. You’re the only one who’s married, so it’s up to you.”

The words were meant to induce guilt. Finola doubted even her mother would want to know how much pain they caused. She sank back on the bench and tried to stem the emotional bleeding.

“Ali’s getting married.”

Her mother made a dismissive sound in the back of her throat. “Oh, please. She’ll wait at least a year before getting pregnant. I want grandchildren now.”

“Too bad you can’t order them off Amazon. You’re a Prime member. You could have one by Tuesday.”

“Very funny. All right, I can see you’re going to ignore me, as per usual. Regardless, I love you and I hope you and Nigel have a wonderful time. Once you’re back from your vacation you can help me get the house ready to sell. There’s a lot to go through and I expect you girls to do a lot of the work.”

Not anything Finola could deal with at that moment. “Sure, Mom. I’ll call you when I’m home. Bye.”

She hung up before her mother could say anything else, then dropped the phone on the carpet.

Now what? She had no idea what to do or how to make the pain at least bearable. She wanted to crawl into a dark space and hide like a wounded animal. She wanted to go back in time so she could stop the affair from happening.

How could he have done this to her? He was supposed to love her forever. They were a team, a partnership.

Her phone buzzed as a text message flashed on the screen. She pushed the button to make it appear again. Her heart pounded when she saw it was from Nigel.

We need to talk. I’ll be by Sunday around noon and we can figure out what happens next. There’s the Hawaii trip. You have all the paperwork there. Can you cancel it?

A second text filled in below the first one.

I’m sorry.

“That’s it?” she shrieked at the screen. “That’s all you have to say? Just that? Where’s my explanation? Why aren’t you making this right?”

There was no answer, no sound, nothing but her phone screen slowly fading to black.

Finola stood. Nigel was gone and she didn’t know if he was coming back. He’d always been there for her, loving her, making her feel amazing and now it was all gone. Just gone. Worse, she didn’t know how much of their marriage had been a lie.

She walked into her own closet and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. After she washed off her makeup, she went into her small study and booted her laptop. Thank God for the internet, she thought bitterly. It only took a few clicks and zero conversation to undo their trip. Once that was done, she went into the guest room and closed the blinds before crawling into bed and pulling the covers up over her head.

She curled up as tightly as she could and told herself to keep breathing. That was all she had to do. Everything else would take care of itself. Nigel wasn’t an idiot—he would remember how much he loved her and how good they were together. Treasure was just a fling. He would get over her and come back where he belonged. They’d go into couples therapy where he would realize how much he’d hurt her and he would beg for forgiveness. She would refuse at first, but then he would win her over with his love and kindness. The break in their marriage would be healed and they would go on, slightly scarred, but wiser and more in love than ever. They would grow old together, just like she’d always imagined. It was going to be fine. It had to be.

Chapter Three

“I’ve got a guy who needs fog lights and brackets for his ’67 Mustang. The computer says we have fog light kits but when I went back to get them, I couldn’t figure out what was what.”

Ali Schmitt waited as her printer spit out the end-of-week inventory control log. She looked at Kevin and raised her eyebrows.

“Really? What was unclear?”

The eighteen-year-old shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “You know. Ah, which ones he, ah, wants. Ray said to make sure I got it right because there’s a difference between the ’67 and ’68 Mustang.”

Kevin had been with the company all of six weeks. He’d hired in as a picker—the person who literally picked parts off shelves and took them over to the shipping department, where they were boxed up and sent out to customers. Ray, Kevin’s boss and a man who lived to terrorize all the new hires, had given the kid a difficult job, probably for sport.

Ali looked at Kevin and knew she’d been just as confused when she’d been hired. She’d had the added disadvantage of not being that into cars, although in the past eight years, she’d certainly learned plenty. While she would never physically quiver at the thought of a fully restored 1958 Thunderbird, she could hold her own in most car-related conversations. She was also something of a motocross expert, at least when it came to parts. In truth, she’d never been on any bike with an engine and her skills on the kind you pedaled were average at best.

“What year?” she asked, putting her inventory sheets on her battered desk, then walking over to one of the computers used to check availability. “The Mustang. What year is it?”

“Um, a 1967?” His tone was more question than statement.

“You need to be sure,” she said as she punched in a few keys, then arranged two pictures side by side on the screen.

She pointed. “The one on the left is a 1967. See the bar across the front grille? That bar runs behind the fog lights and holds them in place. No bracket required.” She pointed to the picture on the right. “On the ’68 Mustang, there’s no bar, so the fog lights are held in by a bracket. If you’re looking for a ’67 with brackets, there’s no such animal.”

Kevin was nearly a foot taller than her, but as she spoke, he seemed to shrink.

“Okay.” He drew the word out into three syllables. “So there’s a problem with the order and I need to get it confirmed.”

“Exactly.” Ali smiled. “You need to talk to Ray.”

Kevin went from confused to scared. “Do I have to?”

Ali sighed. “Yes. He’s your boss.” She hesitated, then gave in to the inevitable. Somehow she was always the one shepherding the new guys through their journey with the company. “He has a dog. Coco Chanel. There’s a picture on his desk. Do not, under any circumstances, make fun of the picture. Simply notice it and tell him she’s the cutest dog ever. Then ask him to help you confirm what the customer wants.”

Kevin’s expression of confusion returned as he considered her advice. Ali knew once he saw the picture of a five-pound Chihuahua dressed as a pirate all would be revealed.

“Thanks, Ali.” Kevin started to walk away, then he spun back to her. “Didn’t Ray already know there was a problem when he told me to go find the fog lights?”

“Probably. He wanted to see if you could figure it out on your own.”

“Oh.” Kevin’s skinny shoulders slumped again. “But I couldn’t.”

“Not today, but with time. When in doubt, look up the car and confirm you have the right part.”

“Good advice. Thanks.”

Ah, to be that young again, Ali thought with a smile, then she picked up her inventory sheets before glancing at the clock on the wall. Not that she didn’t love her job, but she had so much to get done this weekend. The wedding was only seven weeks away and her to-do list had quadrupled in the past few days. Tonight she wanted to check for RSVPs, pack another cupboard in her kitchen, then narrow the centerpiece options down to two. She’d already chosen the flowers and now had to pick the style of the centerpiece itself. The florist wanted a final answer by Monday morning and Ali was determined to settle on her favorite by then. If only her favorite didn’t keep changing.

She left work right on time, a big win on a Friday, then headed for her local grocery store. She was on a strict low-carb diet—again—so bought salad and a rotisserie chicken. Despite the loving whispers from the tortilla chips and the macaroni salad, she kept to her list, paid in the self-checkout and reveled in a bit of self-congratulation. She’d accepted she wasn’t going to be skinny for her wedding, but now that she’d had her final fitting, she couldn’t put on any weight. Not that it was ever the plan, but there were days when the only thing standing between her and madness was a cookie.

She drove to her apartment and parked. She was halfway up the stairs to her place when she saw someone standing by her front door. A tall, male someone with dark hair.

She recognized the set of his broad shoulders and narrowness of his waist. When he turned, she saw the familiar three-day beard on his strong jaw. One thing she and Glen had in common was that neither of them was the most attractive sibling in the family. She had to contend with both Finola and Zennie being prettier than her while Glen had to deal with his younger brother, Daniel.

Although Daniel wasn’t conventionally handsome, there was something about him. Something dark and just a little bit dangerous. A woman knew, just by looking at him, that she was taking a risk—while the sex would be amazing, there was at least a fifty-fifty chance he would steal her car afterward.

Metaphorically, of course. Because Daniel wasn’t a thief—far from it. He was a successful businessman who owned a motocross track. He was, ironically, a really good customer of hers—all those bikes he rented needed maintenance and therefore parts, which was where she came in. In theory that connection should have made them friends, and they were. Kind of. There was just something about the way he looked at her. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but in the back of her mind she was fairly sure he found her lacking. Or just plain uninteresting. None of which explained why he was standing at her apartment door.

He watched her approach. For a second his whole body stiffened. As if he didn’t want to talk to her. As if he wanted to be anywhere but waiting for her. She stumbled to a stop, not sure what to do or say. She instantly felt defensive and resentful—both of which were a huge overreaction considering the man hadn’t even spoken. Jeez. Daniel was Glen’s brother. After the wedding, he would be her brother-in-law. She really had to figure out how to get along with him.

She forced a big smile. “Hey you. This is a surprise. I’m going to be picking out floral centerpieces later. Want to offer your opinion? You can represent all the men attending, and if any of them complain, I can say it’s all your fault.”

She waited for him to say something. Anything. Instead he simply stared at her. The defensiveness returned, accompanied by a big dose of insecurity. Why did he have to be a jerk?

“Ali, I need to talk to you.”

There was something in the way he spoke—an urgency that got her heart beating faster. It suddenly occurred to her that this wasn’t a social call at all. Something was really, really wrong.

“Is it Glen? Is he hurt? Was there a car accident?” Glen was away on a job. “Did his plane go down?”

“Nothing like that. Glen’s fine. Can we go inside?”

Ali managed to open her front door. She shoved the groceries into the refrigerator, dropped her purse onto the counter, then turned to find Daniel standing in the middle of her small living room as if he had no idea what to do next. She ignored the rapid beating of her heart and the way her legs were shaking. Whatever it was, if Glen was fine, she would handle it. There might be screaming or crying or both, but she would get through it.

“Tell me,” she whispered. “Just tell me.”

He motioned to the sofa. “Sit down.”

“I’d prefer to stand.”

He took her hand and led her to the sofa. When she was seated, he sat down next to her and stared into her eyes.

His irises were dark brown with flecks of gold. She’d never noticed that before, but then she’d never been this close to him. Emotions flashed across his face. She would swear she saw real pain, which didn’t make sense.

“Daniel, I have no idea what you’re going to say but in about thirty seconds, I’m going to start shrieking, so just blurt it out. Is Glen really okay?”

“Yes. It’s not—” He turned away and swore under his breath. “Ali, Glen isn’t...” He looked at her. “Glen is breaking off the engagement. He’s too much of an asshole to do it himself, so he told me to tell you. When I refused, he threatened to simply pretend everything was fine for the next few weeks, then not show up on your wedding day. I don’t know if I believe him or not but I couldn’t take the chance. I’m sorry. I wish you could know how sorry I am.”

No. No! The words bounced around in her brain, repeating themselves, breaking apart, then reforming. What? No. Glen wasn’t breaking off their engagement. He couldn’t be.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m sorry.”

She sprang to her feet and glared at him. “Why are you doing this? Do you think it’s funny? I won’t believe you. I can’t.”

She felt a tightness in her chest and suddenly found it impossible to breathe.

She hurried to the door, started to open it, then collapsed against it, tears burning in her eyes. No, she thought frantically. He couldn’t leave her. They were about to get married. He loved her. She’d just mailed the invitations two days ago!

Only even as the pain gushed through her and she felt her heart cracking into tiny pieces that would never be whole, a faint voice whispered that she wasn’t completely surprised. That somewhere deep inside she’d known something was wrong.

Before she could argue with that horribly cruel voice, strong arms captured her, spun her around and held her close. Daniel cupped the back of her head in one of his hands and pressed her cheek to his chest.

“Ali, I wish I could make this better. I keep saying I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else to tell you. If it helps at all, I hit him. He’s got a bloody nose and a black eye and he’s the stupidest guy alive. One day he’ll regret giving you up and he’ll have to live with that for the rest of his life.”

She heard the words, but they didn’t mean anything. Nothing meant anything. She was going to crumble into dust and blow away. Before she could gather any strength, she simply plopped down on her butt on the floor.

Glen had ended things. No—he’d made sure the humiliation and horror was worse than just dumping her to her face. He’d sent his brother to do it. Only this wasn’t a breakup. This was their wedding.

Daniel crouched next to her. She brushed the tears from her face. “Why? Did he say why? We’re getting married. I have a dress and his ring and we’re supposed to go on our honeymoon. How could he—” She had to swallow to keep talking. “He was supposed to love me. He said he loved me. He saw me.”

The shaking started up again, claiming her body and making it impossible to talk. Daniel got up and disappeared from view. She half expected to hear the front door open then close, only instead of that, he returned with her phone in his hand.

“Who can I call? You need someone here. A friend? Your mom?”

“No,” she managed. “Not my mother.” Not only wouldn’t she understand, she would make it all about herself. “Finola.” Yes, her sister would—“Wait. She and Nigel are leaving for their vacation tomorrow. I don’t want her to know.”

Not when they got away so infrequently and Finola was going to surprise her husband with the happy news that she was ready to get pregnant. Telling Finola what had happened would ruin everything.

Ali sniffed and pointed to the phone. “Zennie. I just saw her. She’s off today.” There was more to say but she couldn’t manage it. Not when the sobs returned and it was all she could do not to shriek at the unfairness and the pain. What had happened? Why would Glen do this to her? They were good together. Everything was so pleasant. Sure there wasn’t a lot of passion, but a lot of people didn’t want that. Passion could be exhausting.

The whispering, slithering voice returned, murmuring that Glen had been less attentive lately and that she’d wondered, more than once, if something was wrong. Only she hadn’t asked because she hadn’t wanted to know.

“You’re wrong,” she whispered out loud. “Glen loves me.” Except his were not the actions of a man in love. His were the actions of a total jerk who had never really cared.

She looked up just as Daniel pushed a button on her phone.

“Zennie’s on her way,” he said, looking both sad and compassionate, which only added to her humiliation. “I’ll stay until she gets here.”

Instead of telling him he didn’t have to, she scrambled to her feet and grabbed her phone. She quickly texted Glen.

Is it true?

She didn’t have to wait very long. Less than twenty seconds later, a single word appeared.

Yes.

“Rat fink weasel lying shithead bastard!”

She threw her phone against the wall and watched it shatter into a thousand unfixable pieces. Obviously she would be replacing that in the morning, but so what? She automatically backed up everything every time she charged it and she had phone insurance. Besides, compared with a canceled wedding and losing the man, if not of her dreams, then at least the guy she’d planned to marry, did it really matter?

Seconds later, she realized the flaw in her plan. She turned to Daniel.

“I need to make a call.”

She had to give the man credit. Despite what he’d just witnessed, he handed over his phone without so much as a blink.

She walked into her kitchen and pulled open a drawer. After sorting through her takeout menus, she chose the pizza one and dialed.

She gave her name and address, then placed her order. “A large all meat with extra cheese and garlic bread. Two pints of Cherry Garcia. Oh, and the chocolate Bundt cake.” She listened, then said, “Forty minutes is great. I’ll be here with cash.”

She handed Daniel back his phone, then pulled out two bottles from the pantry. She offered Daniel the corkscrew. While he took care of the red wine, she chugged a mouthful of tequila. Because if she was going to be heartsick, she might as well have a hangover, too.

She waited for the alcohol burn to start in her stomach and hoped it would be bigger than the pain in her chest. Every part of her hurt and she couldn’t believe what was happening. Just like that it was over. Just like that, everything was different. She wasn’t going to be Mrs. Glen Demiter. She was just going to be herself and didn’t that suck.

“You don’t have to stay,” she said as she carefully screwed the top on the tequila bottle. “Zennie will be here soon and I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” He nodded at the bottle. “You’ve got quite the party going.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say it’s going to be a good time,” she said as tears filled her eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant.” She brushed the moisture off her cheeks and tried to smile. “Daniel, you’ve been way more decent than I would have expected. Thank you for that, but to be honest, I just want a few minutes alone. Okay?”

He hesitated before nodding slowly. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He surprised her by moving close and lightly touching her face. “Try not to get too drunk or you’ll have a really bad morning.”

Her mouth twisted. “No offense, but I’m going to have a bad morning regardless.”

She walked him to the door and waited while he walked to the end of the landing and headed down the stairs. When he was gone, she sank to the floor and leaned her head against the wall. Sobs overwhelmed her as she fought against the ugly reality that once again she was the one left behind.

Glen had promised to love her forever and he couldn’t even get through an engagement. What was it about her that made her so easily abandoned? Why didn’t anyone love her best?

A flash of light caught her attention and she glanced down only to realize she was still wearing her engagement ring. The modest but pretty diamond winked up at her, mocking her and her pain. She pulled off the ring and threw it in the direction of the phone. It bounced a couple of times before sliding to a stop in the electronic debris.

The bits and pieces lying there were the perfect tableau of what had been her life. Once whole, and now just a bunch of garbage.

Chapter Four

When Ali opened her eyes Saturday morning, her first concern was to question whether or not she had to throw up. Thanks to the wine and the tequila chaser, much of last night was a blur. Zennie had been sweet and supportive, but she’d never been more than a single glass of wine kind of girl, which meant the two empty bottles of wine were mostly Ali’s doing.