Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Ella breathed in the rich aroma of espresso and delicious pastries as she and Rory stepped inside Savanna’s café, located in an old Birmingham neighborhood. The bell attached to the top of the door still jangled as Rory grabbed Ella’s elbow and dragged her to a high-top table. She shoved her onto a stool and pulled another one close, plopping down in dramatic fashion.
“Well, we’re here now. No more stalling, spill the beans,” Rory ordered.
Ella glanced over to see Savanna moving from behind the counter to make her way over, eyes wide with curiosity as well as confusion at their abrupt entrance. Rory had barked a hasty Hi to Savanna and waved her over but hadn’t given Ella a chance to say a word, much less catch her breath. She was obviously itching to cut straight to the bombshell news she’d overheard at Jesse’s workshop.
Ella hadn’t wanted to “spill the beans” to one best friend and not the other, so on their thirty-minute ride into Birmingham, they’d sat in awkward silence while listening to Taylor Swift’s “Taylor Version” of the Red album.
Savanna lifted her brows, her attention ping-ponging back and forth between the two of them as she slid onto her own stool. Looked like they wouldn’t be baking anytime soon.
Savanna had pushed back her normal opening hours so the three of them could bake treats for their New Year’s Eve party without the interruption of customers striding in to buy coffee or a croissant. It was a good thing, too, since she preferred no one else get an earful about her wild weekend with Jesse in New York.
A weekend of sex that had alternated between spicy and sweet. A weekend during which his hands had touched every inch of her body, and he’d worshipped her skin like the finest silk beneath his rough palms.
She’d done her best to mute the warnings in her head and ignore the squeezing pain in her heart during those thirty-six hours with that man. But the moment they’d stepped foot on the plane to head home to Alabama, and his entire mood had changed, she’d known she was screwed six ways from Sunday.
“What’s going on?” Savanna whispered while placing her elbows on the table and leaning in.
Ella was glad Rory had made her sit down first because her legs didn’t feel all that steady. She might buckle from the weight of her emotions that the ten-minute version of Taylor’s “All Too Well” song seemed to drum up inside her on the drive.
Ironically, she felt more stable face-to-face with the problem himself than when she was away from him. Jesse stirred frustration inside her when he was nearby, and anger was easier to manage than sadness. And whenever she looked at the man, her blood boiled.
But when they were apart . . .
It hurts.
It hurts so much.
Feeling somewhat recovered, Ella stood and walked over to the bookshelf that held romance novels Savanna’s regulars were welcome to borrow and board games customers played while sipping their coffees and eating desserts.
She thumbed the spines of Savanna’s favorite books. Ella had always been more of a murder mystery girl. Give her a good crime show podcast or serial killer documentary. How many times had she read Stephen King’s The Shining ?
Sometimes she swore she wanted to murder that man. Well, maybe just punch Jesse, but her hand would hurt more than his face. That bladed jawline would damage her fist.
Ella kept her back to her friends, not prepared to face them when she revealed the details of what she’d been hiding for three years. “I slept with Jesse,” she whispered.
Ella hadn’t given Rory a chance to work up steam to lecture Jesse back at his workshop. Or to hit him.
She’d quickly turned on her heel and left, and Rory had trailed after her, cursing her brother under her breath.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” Savanna was the first to respond since this was news to her and not Rory. “After the Christmas Eve party? You two danced. Did it happen then? Is Jesse finally coming to his senses?”
“God, no. I wouldn’t let that man touch me now. Screw him. I hate him.” Yeah, they danced the other night, but it was only because she’d asked one of Jesse’s new teammates at Falcon, Jack London, to dance. And Jesse, being a serious pain in her ass, didn’t like it when another man touched her.
“Oh-kay.” Confusion dripped through Savanna’s tone. Her romance-loving heart had been rooting for Ella and Jesse for years. Even after Savanna lost her husband, Marcus, to terrorists, her love for all things romance never waned. The woman loved love, and Ella couldn’t have been happier that her friend had found it again with Griffin.
“Teacups. Candy corn,” Ella began, speaking to the bookshelf, “overly sweet-smelling perfume. Fake smiles. The Jetsons. And oh yeah, Jesse McAdams.” She worked up the nerve to turn and face her friends, catching a whiff of the espresso she desperately needed. “That’s my list of things I hate. Although, I think Jesse ranks above teacups.”
Savanna rolled her lips inward as if torn between smiling and frowning at her comment. “The Jetsons? And what did candy corn ever do to offend you?”
“I mean, I’m still hung up on the teacups,” Rory said with a laugh, and hell, at least Rory’s murderous mood toward her brother had fizzled a little. “So, you hate some weird things, and I get why my brother is on your list,” she added a moment later in a more serious tone. “But when did you two sleep together? Was it just one time? Do I need to kill him? Should he be on my list? And I’m not talking about my own hate list. Sounds like he deserves to be on my hit list.”
Rory probably did have a hit list. Not that she would ever kill anyone. But she’d racked up quite a number of enemies over the years during her treasure-hunting escapades that included tangoing with pirates and wildlife traffickers.
Ella removed her jean jacket and draped it over the stool to buy herself some time. “New York.”
“The trip I set you two up on? You mean my plan worked?” Rory was mid fist pump before realization hit, and her elated expression turned into a wince as she slowly sat again. “Obviously, not the way I’d wanted from the sounds of it.”
Stomach bug, my ass. Ella had known that Rory, being the schemer that she was, had planned that entire thing. She’d done her best to throw them together a few times before then, and since then, but every attempt had resulted in failure.
“We made a deal not to tell anyone. But yeah, it happened then. And only then,” Ella admitted, wanting to cross her arms, feeling a bit defensive.
“Wow, okay. And here I thought you two had never even kissed,” Savanna said softly, blinking a few times.
“Uhm, actually, we haven’t kissed.” Ella squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the reactions to come flying. But the café was eerily quiet. She hesitantly opened one eye to see Savanna and Rory sitting there like statues.
A full minute passed in complete silence while Ella stared at the ceiling. Finally, Savanna spoke, “You pulled a Pretty Woman ?” She quickly followed up with, “Before you think I’m calling you a prostitute?—”
“I thought it’d make things easier if we didn’t kiss on the mouth or”—Ella gulped—“anywhere intimate. It was my idea.”
“Oy.” Rory closed her eyes. “We’re talking about my brother. Not a visual I want burned onto my retinas.”
“Well, I didn’t let him, you know, do that, so.” Ella was stumbling through the conversation she must have had in her head a million times. She always knew she’d eventually tell her best friends what’d happened, but for some insane reason, she’d convinced herself she would share the truth after she and Jesse were finally together.
Not going to happen. Not ever.
“So, you had sex. Like a drunken-oops thing? One time?” Rory asked, drumming her fingers on the table as if deciding whether she would, at the very least, punch her brother if he’d “taken advantage” of a woman under the influence.
“We weren’t drunk. And it was maybe ten times that weekend.”
“Ten?” Rory’s eyes flashed open. “And not since?”
Ella shook her head. “No. It was part of the deal. And he made me promise to move on after that.”
“Okay, first of all,” Savanna started, “this deal you and Jesse made to not tell anyone, you do realize that doesn’t apply to best friends and spouses, right? You, of all people, who send me at least five TikTok videos a day, should know that. I think you’ve even sent me a TikTok saying those exact words. So, you could have told us. You didn’t need to carry this weight by yourself.”
“And secondly,” Rory said as if knowing Savanna’s next line of thought, “pretty sure neither of you moved on.”
“I got engaged a year later,” Ella reminded her, but Rory’s eye roll said it all. Her engagement to Brian the banker had been real, but at the same time, utter bullshit.
Even if Jesse hadn’t stood up at the dress rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding and stormed off, Ella knew in her heart she wouldn’t have been able to go through with it anyway. And when Jesse had learned she’d called off the wedding, he’d come back to town and danced with her on her would-be wedding day.
“But Jesse still didn’t . . .” Ella unleashed her hair from her ponytail only to fix it again. “Every time he’s shown me a shred of hope, he immediately yanks it away. It makes me crazy. And it’s why every other day I feel like . . . like I’m losing my mind.” She drew in a ragged breath and freed it, hoping to get rid of her negative energy along with it. “He keeps breaking my heart. Smashing it into pieces as if he wants me to be damn near as broken as he claims to be,” she said, tears welling in her eyes as she sank onto the stool again.
Her friends reached across the table, each taking one of Ella’s hands between their own. Savanna’s touch was gentle, like a mother comforting her child, while Rory’s grasp was firm and tight. Ella figured she was probably imagining her hand around Jesse’s neck.
“I’m so sorry, and sorry you felt you couldn’t share this with us. I can’t imagine how difficult the last three years have been for you,” Savanna softly said.
“Have you tried talking to him about what happened in New York?” Rory asked, still keeping a firm grip on Ella’s hand. “Or was that part of the deal? Not talk about it with each other either?”
“Part of the deal. Not that I didn’t try to talk to him, but he refused to acknowledge it ever happened,” Ella whispered, worried her tears would escape. And Jesse didn’t deserve her tears.
“He won’t be with you, but he doesn’t want you with anyone else.” Rory released her, leaned back, and tousled her hair. “Now that’s a selfish prick if I’ve ever met one. He is now officially on both my hate list and my hit list.” She let go of her long locks. “That bastard.” She jumped up as if she were on her way to raise hell.
“Don’t,” Ella pleaded. “He’s not worth it.”
Rory stilled. “I don’t understand him or how he could hurt you like this. He should never have touched you knowing . . .”
“It’s my fault. I asked him to. I, um, pretty much threw myself at him.” Ella’s cheeks heated with embarrassment. “The rules were all my idea. Sex. As well as the deal to not talk about it afterward or to tell anyone. All my ideas. It sounds pathetic when I say it, but I wanted him so much. And I know it was a mistake. A horrible mistake, because what if I can’t ever move on? I tried and failed.”
“Jesse shouldn’t have said yes,” Rory quickly replied. “He knew how you felt. He knew that no deal or pact, or whatever you want to call it, would change that. For either of you.”
“All I know is that I’m thirty-five, and I’ve spent most of my life in love with a man who I can’t be with, and somehow, someway, I have to get over him.” She sniffled. “I really do hate him, even though . . .” I still love him.
The lyrics to Maroon 5’s “Beautiful Mistakes” popped into her head as she thought back to that weekend. To the way he peered into her eyes and made her feel . . . well, absolutely everything. It’d been indescribable. And sadly, unforgettable.
“Sweetie, I—” Savanna let go of her words when someone tapped on the glass of the front door. “We’re closed,” she called out.
Ella looked up to see a handsome man in a suit standing there, his head tilted and a determined look on his face despite Savanna’s announcement. “I’m here to see Ella Hawkins. It’s important.”
“Who are you? I need identification.” Rory strode to the door but remained inside the café, her hands planted on her hips.
Ella stepped closer to see who in the world was looking for her and why.
The man pressed his ID against the glass as his brown eyes cut to her. “I’m from Rochella. We saw your Instagram account, and we’re interested in making you an offer.” Wow, a British accent to boot.
And wait. “Rochella-Rochella?” The name on the ID suddenly hit her. He was Henry Rochella. The flipping Henry Rochella was in Birmingham looking for her? Billionaire fashion moguls didn’t search her out.
“Instagram account?” Rory seemed to be more hung up on the fact Ella had yet another secret. Yeah, she had a social media presence that she preferred no one in her small town knew about. She didn’t want anyone there following her or seeing her daily silly posts and stories. She was still a teacher, after all.
Rory held her arm out to stop Ella from opening the door. “Hang on and let me google this guy first.” She pulled her phone from her pocket, and within thirty seconds, she announced, “Googled Henry’s name and matched it with his photo online to confirm his identity. He checks out. Want me to let him in?”
“Um.” This was an unexpected turn of events. “Okay.”
Rory unlocked the door, and the billionaire walked in and smiled, his white teeth perfect. His tailored suit was probably worth more than her monthly salary. A lot more. The sharp red power tie was attached to a strong neck. Clean-shaven, but the man didn’t need to wear a beard to pull off hot. He was, as Savanna would call him, “romance-novel material.”
“Coffee? Espresso?” Savanna offered him.
“Espresso. Thank you,” Henry answered with a polite smile, and Ella motioned toward one of the four-person tables. “I’ll stand if that’s okay.” He dipped his hand into his breast pocket, produced a business card, and offered it to Ella while Rory went behind the counter to help Savanna.
Her curiosity was piqued, and as Ella eyed the famous logo on the card now in her hand, she had to admit, she was downright stunned. “You want to make me an offer?”
Henry nodded. “Are you familiar with my company?”
“I’m pretty sure everyone is, even down here in Bama,” Ella drawled, feeling a bit insulted he’d think she hadn’t heard of Rochella. Makeup. Clothes. Shoes. Magazines. Rochella did it all.
As a matter of fact, Ella had grown up hoarding their magazines, along with Cosmo and all the other popular ones back then. Every month, after her mother finished flipping through them, she’d hand them off to Ella. And she’d cut out her favorite fashion pieces and place them on the “inspiration board” hanging on her bedroom wall. And she saved all the articles about travel for Rory since she was the adventurous one.
And now, the son of the famous Elizabeth Rochella, who’d graced the cover of the magazine many times herself from what Ella remembered, was standing before her.
“Your company has its,” Ella finally spoke aloud, her gaze drifting to his strong hand stroking his jaw, “big hands in a lot of jars.” Big hands, Ella? She felt the blush working over her face.
Henry’s lips twitched, revealing a hint of a crooked smile.
“Your mother was an inspiration to me growing up. A role model,” Ella told him.
“Really? Well, that makes my presence here . . . even more special.”
Ella folded her arms, fighting her nerves. “You could have contacted me through Instagram. So, why are you here?”
“My mum grew up in the South, but maybe you already know that.” He paused for confirmation.
Ella nodded because she did, and maybe it’d been one reason she’d connected so much with Elizabeth Rochella.
“My mum moved abroad after marrying my British father. She remained a fan of all things Southern, and well, my parents are retiring in June on her birthday, and my father, sister, and I have decided to surprise Mum with a special project.”
“A project,” Ella said under her breath, still clueless as to what that had to do with her.
“We’re calling it, Hidden Gems of the South. It’ll be an event that takes place in Charleston, where she was born. My sister and I are personally picking out these gems since this is for our mum.” He opened his palm toward her. “We’re looking for Southern women who possess an excellent eye for fashion as well as have a certain look my mother would love.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Ella hugged her arms tighter across her chest.
He smiled, less crooked and more dashing this time. She figured Henry to be about forty, but his skin was as smooth as that of a twenty-year-old.
“I stumbled upon your Instagram account last week. Your designs are outstanding. Your posts are witty. Hashtags hilarious.” He stepped forward and cupped the air as if cradling her cheek. “And your face, my love, is rather iconic.”
Love? How very British.
“You’re a blonde Audrey Hepburn with the body of Marilyn Monroe. My mum would love you. And your day job is a teacher.” His smile stretched, showing a dimple. “You are perfect.”
Never in a million years would she compare herself to Audrey Hepburn, the epitome of style and grace. And Marilyn Monroe? No freaking way. “Wait, you like my designs?” That important comment nearly slipped past her. “I was just posting those for fun. I have like fifty-nine followers.”
He removed his phone from his pocket and held it before her. “Make that sixty now.” His gaze cut over her shoulder where Savanna and Rory were most likely on approach with the espressos. “You’re a hidden gem.” He stowed his phone and accepted the espresso from Savanna.
“I’m still confused.” And maybe a bit dizzy.
Henry took a sip of the espresso and tipped a nod of approval to Savanna. “My team will need you for the months leading up to the event. We’d like to have you design and showcase some of your own pieces. You’ll be working side by side with our people in Paris in preparation for the fashion show and Mum’s party. You’ll not only wear the designs in Charleston for the party, but they’ll be featured in our magazine and on our lifestyle blogs and such. You’ll also be on the cover of Mum’s final magazine in June along with the other five gems.”
The cover. With Elizabeth Rochella. Did her heart just stop?
“Paris?” Ella sputtered, not sure if she actually heard anything he’d said correctly.
Henry casually nodded as if this were no big deal. “We’ll need you there next week. The other five gems we selected will be arriving then as well.”
“I’m just . . .” Ella turned to look at her best friends, who stared at her with equally stunned expressions. This isn’t real, is it?
“We’d pay you for your time and designs, of course,” he commented. “Would you like me to give you the amount in private or?”
“You can talk in front of them,” she said softly while facing him again.
“Three hundred K. But we’d own your designs. Sell them worldwide. With possibilities to buy more down the road.”
“Three hundred thousand dollars?” Ella almost choked on her words.
“Are you serious?” It was Rory who spoke Ella’s thoughts for her.
“I can’t leave my students. I just switched to teaching third grade this year,” Ella said, suddenly remembering she had a life in Alabama. She couldn’t pause her life for some fantasy. “We’re halfway through the year, and my principal and students wouldn’t want me to leave.”
“I think they’d understand. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance,” Savanna surprised her by saying.
“Smart woman,” Henry commented. “Don’t say no.” He pointed to the card she’d forgotten was clutched in her other hand. “I’m staying in town one more night. But you have until New Year’s to say yes.”
“The playground.” Ella swallowed. “The school needs a new one, and it’s over thirty grand. And the iPads are old.” She ran through a list of all the things she could buy for her school that lacked the budget to do so.
“You’d spend your money at your place of employment?” he asked, sounding as shocked about that as she was at his offer. “You really are a hidden gem.” He offered his hand, and she tucked the business card in her pocket to accept it.
“I’m not saying yes,” she said while his big, warm hand enveloped hers. “Just maybe.”
“Stay an extra day,” Savanna blurted. “Come to the New Year’s Eve party. It’s at the Hawkins Ranch in Walkins Glen. Thirty minutes from here.”
Henry searched Ella’s gaze for her permission since she was a Hawkins. “You’re welcome to come. I’ll, um, give you my answer then.”
“A ranch, huh? Do I need to wear a cowboy hat?” He lifted a brow, his eyes raking over her again, this time almost suggestively.
“You’re fine just the way you are,” Ella rasped, not wanting to come across as flirty, but she was still stunned.
“Seven o’clock,” Savanna offered. “She’ll see you then.”
He pulled his hand back and tipped his head. “Have a good day, ladies. And it was a pleasure to meet you, Ella Mae.”
At the sound of her middle name rolling from his British tongue, she nearly melted.
But then a twinge of guilt that had no right to be there cut through her. Because pretty much only her brothers or Jesse called her Ella Mae, and not all of the time, but when Jesse did it . . .
I’m not Jesse’s. He’s not mine.
And five or six months in Paris felt like not just the chance of a lifetime, but her opportunity to finally move on from Jesse.