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She drives me crazy, sure, but it’s been just the two of us since the beginning. We’re kind of a team, which is why I hate lying to her.
And the rest of the world.
I could have stayed here, at Mom’s, after the shit hit the fan with Andy. But I needed to get the hell out of Dodge. I quit my accounting job, shocking the hell out of my boss, who claimed I needed to learn to take the bad with the good and that I needn’t have bailed on Andy. This, coming from a woman who’s already buried three husbands.
I try not to think too hard about that one.
I moved out of the apartment I shared with asshole Andy, and hightailed it out of town and up to the guest cottage at Mom’s winery. It’s so quiet and peaceful there, and one day when walking around town, I saw a help-wanted sign in the window ofTwisted Hearts. It was meant to be, I was sure. I’ve been a romance reader since forever, and a bookstore dedicated to exactly that was a godsend.
I’m hoping Rake won’t mind my spending a couple nights a week up there at the cottage, even though we’re ‘moving in’ together. I’d really like to keep my part-time job. It’s fun and has kept my mind off the shit show I created in San Francisco.
Mom throws an arm around my shoulders and squeezes. “Just think. My baby, finally married.”
Finallymarried? What the hell? I’m only twenty-seven years old. I hadn’t realized my expiration date was drawing near.
“You know, honey, when things went… went south with Andy, well, I wondered if I’d ever see you walk down the aisle again. Now, I dowishyou hadn’t eloped with Rake. It’s romanticand all, but I should have been there. I’m still very happy for you, though.”
“I know. I’m sorry you weren’t there too. But you know…” I wrack my brain for the plethora of lies I made note of, which I plan to use again and again to get me through this deception. “It justfelt right.”
So. Cheesy.
She pulls up a counter stool next to me. “I’m throwing you guys a party. It’s the least I can do for you?—”
Oh God no.
“Mom, that’s not necessary. I appreciate it, I do, but we don’t need anything like that.”
“Nonsense!” she booms and jumps off her chair to grab a pen and paper.
Here we go.
“Okay, I’m making a list, everyone who’s anyone in San Francisco will be there. Ooh! I wonder if we can have it at the Cable Car Museum? That would be so fun. We’ll have everyone take a cable car ride and then we’ll end up at the museum. Kind of where it all started, huh?”
“Mom, Rake is super busy. But thank you.”
“Nonsense! I’ll take care of everything. All he has to do is show up. Oh honey, you get a list from him, the entire team and their significant others. His family too. Will you help me with that?”
“Sure, Mom.”
An hour later I’m pulling my car into the guest spot next to Rake’s Range Rover in the parking garage of the high rise building where he lives. I’ve never particularly liked the South of Market part of town, mainly because I can remember back when it was broken down and deserted, before the big developers came in. Even now, I’m still not in love with this partof town with its boxy skyscrapers. The buildings are cold and impersonal. I prefer cozy and warm.
Like the cottage up in Sonoma.
“Hey, darlin’,” Rake says as I pull my bags out of the car.
As instructed, I texted him when I was pulling in so he could come down and help me. All for show, of course.
“Hi,” I said, giving him a half-hearted hug.
“Petal. You have to do a little better than that. At least when we have an audience,” he says, slinging my bags over his shoulder like they’re empty.
“I will. When we have an audience.”
“I think you should start now. You know, parking garages have cameras.”
Oh. Right.
We get to his apartment, which I would describe as decorated in ‘Bachelor 101.’ It’s not bad, just a little impersonal, like a hotel lobby or an airport lounge. I do a full three-hundred-sixty degree turn and am pleased to see it’s clean. I walk over to a window and gasp out loud at the stunning view of the Bay Bridge.
