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“You’re going to quit working for me for free? It’s about damn time. I would have fired you for your own good had you not said something.” Edith patted her knee as Ashley and Alvin came back into the room, this time Alvin carrying Coco, who was dressed in a pink diamond sweater, and Ashley carrying the tray.
“Are those my cordial glasses?” Edith asked, putting on her glasses to see the tray more clearly. “I haven’t used those in ages.”
“No cordial tonight, Edith. Tonight, we celebrate Valentine’s Day the only way four single people should: with Patrón,” Ashley said, handing around the makeshift shot glasses.
“And thank goodness for that,” Alvin said, dropping into the chair and setting down a squirming Coco, who raced over to snuggle between Edith and Violet. “I don’t know what bothered me more, Violet, the split second of worrying you might actually marry Keith, or learning he was CEO.”
“Acting CEO,” Edith reminded them quickly.
“Yeah, I noticed Keith liked to skip over that clarification,” Ashley added with an eye roll. “Regardless, sweetie, it was kind of you to not humiliate him in front of a crowd. I don’t know that I’d have had the stomach to do the same.”
“It felt like the right thing at the time,” Violet said, absently petting her dog. “But…”
“Cain?” Ashley asked softly.
Violet squeezed her eyes shut. “I hate that he thinks I’m engaged. But I think I hate even more that he might not care.”
“Oh, he cares,” Edith said with confidence. “But you’re not going to remedy anything sitting on that young butt of yours.”
“Edith, if you had any idea how often your grandson has rejected me…”
“Yes, but those times were different,” Edith said firmly.
“How so?” Ashley asked, looking as puzzled as Violet by Edith’s conviction.
“Because,” Edith said smugly, “today is Valentine’s Day.”
* * *
An hour later, standing outside Cain’s door, Violet felt the liquid courage from the tequila fade just as quickly as her faith in Cupid.
She’d been knocking for ten minutes, taken a break on the off chance he was in the shower and couldn’t hear her, then knocked some more.
The other side of the door remained stubbornly silent, the door itself remained heartbreakingly closed.
Cain either wasn’t home or was giving her a very pointed message.
Tired, frustrated, and missing him, Violet gave his door the tiniest kick with the tip of her stiletto, then uttered Cain Stone’s very favorite word that started with an F.
Twenty-Nine
As Violet let herself back into her dark apartment, she regretted leaving Coco with Alvin and Edith for the night. She’d been hoping to have an adult slumber party at Cain’s house.
But now she was simply alone.
Violet tossed her clutch onto the kitchen table and poured herself a glass of water. She drained it, then kicking off her shoes, began the process of pulling the pins out of her hair as she made her way to the living room.
The evening called for the most melancholy jazz in her collection, no “My Funny Valentine” or any mention of love allowed.
Violet switched on the side table lamp and then let out a startled scream when she saw the man sitting on the couch.
“Cain?”
“Hey, Duchess,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his hands clasped loosely between his knees. He was still wearing his tux, but the bow tie dangled around his neck, and his jaw was shadowed.
“What…” She placed a hand over her galloping heart. “How the hell did you get in here?”
He held up a key. “Found it in Adam’s things the first day I got to New York.”
“And you thought tonight was the best night to use it?” she asked incredulously.
“Actually, yes.”
Realizing her heart was beating fast for reasons other than being startled, Violet made her way to her records and began flipping through them as a way of settling her nerves, or at least disguising them.
“You’ve got an impressive collection,” he said from behind her.
“You snooped?”
“Of course.”
Violet said nothing for a moment as she selected an Oscar Peterson record that had been one of her father’s favorites.
She moved to the record player and put the vinyl on, letting the skilled pianist fill the awkward silence in the room.
“I didn’t expect you home so late.”
Violet watched the record spin but said nothing.
“Actually, that’s not true. I guess I didn’t expect you home at all. Figured you’d be celebrating your engagement.”
The casual indifference in his tone, as though it didn’t matter to him one way or another, brought tears to her eyes. Edith had been wrong. There was no magic on Valentine’s Day, Cain didn’t feel the same way. She wasn’t meant to be loved just as she was—
“Don’t do it, Duchess.” His voice was closer now. Rougher. “Please don’t marry him. Please, Violet.”
Violet’s head snapped up and she turned around, finding Cain just a few inches away, wearing that same tortured expression she’d seen on the stage, his hands shoved into his pockets.
