3. Glimpse of the Past
3
GLIMPSE OF THE PAST
RICHARD
“Was Operation: Save the Cake successful?” Rex asked as I rushed into the church with barely minutes to spare. I joined him and his groomsmen in a waiting room before the ceremony began. Dressed in our custom tuxedos, we looked every bit the debonair, well-to-do group—some of the finest bachelors in the city, all close friends of Rex’s, and by association, mine.
“I saved the day. The cake has arrived, only you didn’t tell me how beautiful the woman was that I’d be playing hero to.” I grinned. Vivian had turned down my Paris trip, but that didn’t kill my desire to pursue her if another chance arose. “Tell me everything you know about her.”
“She’s Chelsea’s cousin and I knew she’d be your type. She’s single and staying in a suite at the Plaza tonight. And she has the cutest little girl?—”
“What?” My hand shot up immediately. “Stop right there. I enjoy women, but I make a particular rule to avoid single mothers.” Well, shit. Any hope for a bit of fun with the alluring Vivian dashed away. Since my ex broke my heart and I cancelled our wedding, I’d sworn off commitment—I wasn’t about to get tied down with a mother and child and jeopardize my rich rogue lifestyle I’d worked so hard to achieve.
“Come on. Don’t you think you’ve kept that wall of yours up long enough? Tear it down and start fresh with someone new. It might amaze you to find something really special, and Vivian is an incredible woman.” Jesus, Rex sounded like he’d joined ranks with our matchmaking mother.
“Thanks for the pep talk,” I snidely retorted. Lifting my glass of Macallan, I declared, “Here’s to my brother. About to make the stupidest decision of his life.” The men laughed, but Rex appeared ready to knock the glass right out of my hand. “Just kidding. Don’t turn all red on us now. It’s not a good look for the groom. But honestly, if you want the truth, Chelsea is one lucky woman, because she’s getting you. And I know she must be amazing because she’s putting up with your ass.”
Rex pretended he’d hit me, only to switch and pull me in for a hug instead. “Brace yourself, Richard. Miriam’s about to transfer the full pressure on you to get married next, brother.”
Great. That wasn’t exactly what I needed to hear.
After a joyful ceremony and a million photos in Central Park, the reception got underway. For most of the cocktail hour, I dodged Mother and her tireless introductions to her circle of friends, many of whom had eligible daughters. There’d be no avoiding her over dinner either, as the seating chart showed me positioned right by her side.
Oddly, I couldn’t find Vivian’s name on the chart. As a cousin to the bride, she ought to have been there somewhere. But why was I even hunting for the single mother in the first place?
After dinner, I drifted through the ballroom, my eyes on constant alert for her when they shouldn’t be. A sea of five-hundred people in a room full of red roses, gold, and china, all the holiday wedding finery the Buchanan’s could afford, made it a chore.
I was in one of those moods—my signature scowl probably deterred everyone from approaching, which suited me fine since these high-society acquaintances meant nothing to me unless they were useful in my business ventures. Eventually, I bumped into Brooks and Archer Bellamy.
“There’s the investor of the year,” Archer joked, offering a handshake.
Brooks slapped my back. “According to Investment Today, you’re the one to watch.” The fraternal twins, who ran one of the most coveted architecture firms in the city, had been friends of Rex’s and mine for years.
“Thanks. That’s also what she said, ” I laughed with them. “Do you think I could use the award to pick up ladies?”
Not exactly one for basking in the spotlight, I did relish the accolades. Since stepping away from my CEO role at Buchanan Energy, I’d been globetrotting, carefully investing in businesses and people, and my reputation had grown along with padding my bank account and investments nicely. That recent feature on me was just—the icing on the cake.
Speaking of… I finally glimpsed Vivian emerging through the service doors by the cake table, and suddenly the world around me faded away.
Damn. If she weren’t a mother, I’d be all in, especially with this feeling like we’d known each other in another life. I sensed it in the helicopter ride. The way she’d swept her hair over her shoulder, the slight tilt of her face in my direction, and the lilt in her voice… all so achingly familiar.
Had we met before? Perhaps we’d often crossed paths at a quaint Paris café? I would have noticed her. Rarely did I not approach a woman like her and shoot my shot, but if we had met, she’d probably have brushed me aside, just like in our helicopter ride to the city where she turned down my invitation to Paris.
This was new—a woman not falling at my feet for a chance to tie down Richard Buchanan. The society papers were responsible for that, on constant watch for the next female on my arm at the various galas I attended. The speculation about my relationship status proved good fodder for newspaper sales, according to Mother, who could very well be the society page writer’s best source fueling that fire for all I knew.
Noticeably, Vivian had changed into a simple black dress, demure yet elegant. Her chestnut hair swept up to reveal a graceful neckline. Curvaceous and captivating, she drew the admiring gazes of many men around her. Especially mine.
I had a suspicion Brooks’ eyes were more on Maisy, though, Chelsea’s sister, who stood by the table speaking to Vivian.
“Go over to her and talk,” I suggested to him, wishing someone would give me the go ahead to do the same with Vivian.
“Not sure there’s any point. She won’t return my texts. Besides, I just got an offer to teach architecture in history over in London on a fellowship for a year. We’re like two ships heading in different directions, literally,” he explained, and smirked when the date at his side huffed about his talk of another woman.
“But you’ll be passing on the offer because I refuse to let you leave our business for a year, correct?” Archer eyed him sternly.
I left them arguing over it, while their dates feigned boredom. Little did they all know, my eyes tracked Vivian’s every move. My feet, too, had carried me directly toward her until she slipped behind a service door once again. Miriam’s hand on my shoulder suddenly stopped me from following any further.
“Isn’t this grand, Richard? Look at the ballroom. So beautiful. The wedding I’d always dreamed of.” A tear sprang to her eye as she spoke like this event belonged solely to her, not to Rex and Chelsea.
Dear God. If I ever married again, hopefully he’d spare me from this torture with her. When I suffered through wedding planning with my ex, Miriam made the experience hellish. Once was enough for one lifetime.
If—and this was a very strongly worded if— I ever married again, I’d elope, and then I’d ask my mother for forgiveness after.
“Yes. The entire soirée is splendid—especially the open bar. Excuse me,” I mumbled and moved away, but she kept pace, linking her arm with mine.
“Don’t think I’m oblivious to what you’re doing—avoiding me? Fine. Enjoy your fun now, but soon, Richard, we’re going to have a serious chat about your future. It’s time to let go of your past and move on with your life.” With that veiled threat, she slipped away before I could protest. I sulked at the bar, seated and drinking, while the good bartender kept my glass full.
When the band announced it was time for the happy couple to cut the cake, I stumbled my way over, by now fairly inebriated, and stood nearby as Vivian gracefully oversaw the whole ritual.
She handed a shared slice to Rex and Chelsea, and true to his promise to Mother, he refrained from smashing it into his bride’s face. Instead, he decorated her nose with a mere dab of icing followed by a loving kiss, causing whispers of adorableness and clapping from the guests all around.
When Chelsea’s turn came, she playfully threatened him with half the slice. I would have loved to see Rex’s face covered in cake, but she resisted.
My jealousy surged. That moment should’ve been mine with Janet—a name I despised even thinking—but luckily it wasn’t. Just hours before my own wedding ceremony, I’d caught her in another man’s arms, scheming to marry then kill me and run off with my money—because I had loved and trusted her enough to forgo a prenup. Ouch, my stupidity still hurt now.
Until that moment, I’d believed in the institution of marriage and raising a family, and wanted my own. I had dreamed of having what my father had—success in business, an adoring wife, and two kids.
That dream left along with Janet’s shit the day the movers came and hauled it all away. It’d be a cold day in hell before I ever trusted another woman to “have and to hold from this day forward.”
Now, as a wealthy, virile man, all I desired was a parade of beautiful women I could enjoy in bed for just one night before moving on. But for Vivian, I could make an exception… with a trip to Paris, and a week in my bed. I’d hire a nanny for her daughter, and my mind spun with possibilities from there as I wandered the reception, lost in my head. What was this woman doing to me?
About an hour after the cake was served, I finally spotted her again, hugging Chelsea and Rex, then heading off to the lobby. I caught up with her at the elevators, where she stood wiping her brow with the back of her hand, utterly exhausted—as if she needed a day at the best spa in France. I could arrange that in a heartbeat if only she’d say yes.
I sidled closer, the faint scent of vanilla drifting towards me like an irresistible temptation, inviting me to feast. “Vivian. Job well done tonight.”
“Thank you,” she clipped, pressing the up arrow while keeping her eyes fixed ahead.
“The salted caramel cupcakes were my favorite. Good… So good. ” I dropped my voice to the lower decibels, while my eyes trailed down the side of her body. “And was that a hint of ginger I detected?”
Aside from the grand cake, Rex had ordered tiers of every flavor of cupcakes from Vivian, too. Plus he’d arranged for a table full of pies baked by Chelsea’s mother, which made his bride happy. I understood that was the name of the game for a successful marriage.
With a warm smile softening her features, betraying her passion for baking, Vivian turned toward me. “They’re one of my specialties. I can hardly keep them in stock when I bake them at my shop.”
“I bet. With such delights, business must be booming for you in that small town.”
“I do okay.” She shrugged. “Every now and then, I even whip up some mille-feuille or tarte tatin. ”
“Bringing a bit of French culture to your hometown?” I teased, raising an eyebrow as my mouth watered, dying for a taste—of the delicacies.
Her lips twitched. “Perhaps. Next time you visit, stop by. I’ll treat you to whatever you fancy. I owe you for saving me and the cakes tonight.”
Oh, I’d definitely stop by—for a taste of her. “I rarely venture out that way; the city is more my scene.” But I could make an exception to spend more time with her. Though Rex might kill me if I toyed with Chelsea’s cousin—the temptation was just too real.
Her phone rang from her purse, and she fumbled to retrieve it. “That’s a shame. Holly Creek might not be as glamorous as Paris, but it has its own charm.”
“Speaking of Paris, the offer still stands. A week away. The finest spa treatments. Fine dining. Wine. And me…” I longed to run my fingertips down the creamy skin of her arm, and test the electricity between us, though she hardly seemed to notice, absorbed as she was in her phone.
“Oh. Excuse me. I have to take this.” She hurried off, and I frowned—did I have competition? A rival for her attention? Or was it about her daughter? After all, Rex said she was a single mother, a fact that should ward me off but strangely didn’t.
Compelled, I followed at a respectful distance to eavesdrop.
“Ramona? Is everything okay?” I heard her ask. “A fever? Oh dear. I should take her to the doctor soon. She’s had several lately. I have some children’s pain reliever in my bathroom cabinet. Could you start her on that?”
I edged even closer, intrigued.
“Yes, put her on… Hi, ma chérie . I’m sorry to hear you don’t feel well. Ramona’s going to give you some medicine, and you’ll feel better soon. I’ll leave right now and be home as soon as I can… Yes, you can watch a princess movie in my bed until I get there.”
She shifted and caught sight of me, her eyes wary, then she walked a few feet further away. “Listen, put Ramona back on. Be good and take the medicine. Mommy loves you… Hello again, Ramona. I’ll rent a car and come home. I’ll be there in a few hours… I know I’m supposed to stay the night… Yes, I know Chelsea treated me to the suite tonight and the morning massage would be Heavenly, but how can I when my daughter’s not feeling well? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
After clicking off the call, she tucked her phone into her shoulder bag. I had somehow come within a foot behind her, drawn to her like a magnet, when she turned and collided with my chest. I caught her by the arms, staring into her face, my breath taken away by her beauty.
“You’re leaving?” I asked.
“Yes. My daughter is sick.”
“Oh. Um…”
She smirked, cocking her head. “Guess that Paris trip is off the table for a single mother like me, huh?”
“Vivian—”
“ Viv, ” she sighed in frustration, as if exasperated. “Enough of this. You must not remember how we first met in Paris, Richard. I was Adrien’s girlfriend back then. My friends called me Viv.”
My head snapped back, and, this close at last, I stared with my mouth agape, squinting, taking in every detail of her face. Those expressive blue eyes broke through me—like they had long ago. “Your hair was blonder back then, wasn’t it?”
She huffed, left my arms, and returned to the elevators.
Fragments flooded back of that night long ago… The deal with Adrien for his Club Aces expansion across Europe could’ve made me a fortune. But I walked away from it because Adrien raised his hand to strike her—and I stepped between them to stop it.
I left the club with her, believing I had dodged a bullet. But dammit, I wished the haze of the drug that had been put into my drink that night would clear out like the sun repelling the fog. All I knew, the next morning when I awoke, Viv was dressed and headed out the door. I never saw her again.
“This is unexpected to meet once again after all these years,” I said, reaching her side, scrubbing the back of my neck. “You know, that morning you walked out on me in Paris? If you’d have stayed, I would have liked to have seen where we might have ended up.”
She scoffed and squared off with me. “I’m not proud of this, but I ended up getting back together with Adrien, and then I found out I was pregnant. We married, but I left him within a year and we divorced,” she explained, crossing her arms.
“That asshole? How could you have gone back to him, even after he raised his hand to you?” I muttered, clenching my fists in my pockets as if he were here and I needed to protect her all over again.
“Don’t judge me for how I chose to live my life. You have no right,” she snapped, raising her voice as the elevator doors opened and she stepped inside. I didn’t follow, but I held the doors from closing.
“That was rude of me. I didn’t mean—look, I gather from the call your daughter is sick? I’ll arrange transportation back to Holly Creek as soon as you're ready. If conditions are clear, then the chopper?—”
“You’re hardly in any condition to fly,” she cut in sharply. And she was right—I’d had too much to drink tonight.
“True, but I have a pilot and driver on call. They’ll get you home promptly and safely.” I offered sincerely, feeling compelled to help for reasons I couldn’t quite explain. “Please, let me do this for you—on behalf of the Buchanans for the fantastic cake service tonight. Besides, you’re family now. And fuck, you’re gorgeous—” I trailed off, letting the Macallan talk for me on the last few words.
Her eyes snapped to mine in an intense stare as if she weighed her options, then she nodded. “Fine. But I’ll reimburse you for any expenses.”
I let the door go, letting her go, unsure if I’d ever see her again. I stood there and closed my eyes, swaying slightly. With Vivian, I could imagine the possibilities of more, because she could set my world on fire if I let her. But where would that lead? To the altar? To the bank where I’d find she’d taken all my money? Oh, how my ex had turned me so cynical.