Chapter 4
Shannon walked through the front door. “I saw your car in the driveway. You’re home!”
“I am.”
She followed Javiar’s voice to the kitchen and found him pulling out fixings for salad while a couple of very nice-looking
steaks sat on a plate.
He grinned at her. “Don’t sound surprised I’m here. You’re the one who hasn’t been home in days. Getting in a little Aaron
time?”
“I was.”
He pointed at the second raw steak. “Hungry? I can grill that up for you.”
“Sounds perfect. Thank you. Let me go get changed, then I can help.”
She started to turn away, but Javiar called her back.
“What?” she asked easily.
“I don’t know.” He studied her. “There’s something.”
She’d known Javiar and his family since she was about eight years old, when her mother went to work for his mother. She’d
grown up alongside Javiar and his older brother, their families blending together easily. He’d always been there for her,
like the brother she’d never had. Despite the fact that he was the clichéd tall, dark-haired and handsome, there’d never been
anything romantic between them.
Javiar worked for his father as one of the real estate salespeople.
He was charming and thorough—an excellent combination that led to his success.
Two years ago he’d bought the small house they now shared.
She’d moved into the second bedroom—an arrangement that worked for both of them.
She got relatively cheap rent, and he had someone to hang out with.
They divided the chores and the utilities.
Now he looked at her, frowning slightly. “What happened?” he asked. “It’s not bad. It’s . . .” He let the silence build.
She stared at him unable to believe he was being so insightful.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she hedged.
“Liar.”
She grinned and pulled the chain out of the V of her blouse. “Aaron proposed.” She waved the ring.
Javiar grinned as he rushed toward her and hugged her tight. “Good for you. He’s a lucky guy. You two are great together.
Engaged.” He looked at the ring. “Nice. Big enough to be impressive, but not too over-the-top.”
She took it off the chain and slid it onto her ring finger. “I know, right? It’s perfect. I’m so happy. I was having a really
crappy day, and in the middle of my rant, he proposed. It was magical.”
Javiar hugged her again. “Way to go, kid. I’m sure you’ll—” He took a step back. “Shit. What about Cindy? You haven’t told
her. The world would have heard if you had. What are you going to do?”
Shannon stiffened, fighting a weird combination of guilt and defiance.
“It’s fine,” she murmured. “Aaron and I agreed that we’re not going to, you know, say anything for a while. She’s busy with
planning her wedding, and we don’t want to detract from that.”
Javiar stared at her. “That is so much bullshit. You’re not going to be able to keep your engagement a secret. You two can barely go to the bathroom without wanting to share with each other. How do you plan on not telling your mom that you’re engaged?”
“I haven’t figured out the details,” she admitted, then sank onto a barstool at the island. “Or any of it.” She looked at
him. “Am I horrible for not wanting her to know? I mean I want to tell her, but there’s the whole double-wedding thing.”
She paused, hoping Javiar would laugh and tell her not to be silly. That her mom would never be serious about a double wedding.
“At least then I’d only have to wear a tux once. Better for me.”
“You look good in a tux.”
He smiled. “I know.” The smile faded. “You don’t have it in you to keep this from your mom.”
“And yet I’m going to try.” She sighed. “I don’t have a choice. As we speak, in my handbag is a brochure for some technical
college. She’s suggesting I look into environmental horticulture, which almost makes sense, but then she circled something
called logistics and supply chain management. I don’t even know what that is.”
“You got me, kid. Ask me about the upward trends in Culver City and I can quote numbers, dates and times, but logistics and
supply chain management?” He shook his head. “Not my thing.”
“Mine either.” She stared at her ring. “Aaron did good.”
“He did. More important, he makes you happy, so I won’t have to kill him. A win-win for both of us.”
“You wouldn’t kill for me.”
He gave her a quick hug and kissed the top of her head. “Probably not, but I’d threaten. You’re my only sister. Part of my
job is to look out for you.”
“Thank you. I love you, too.” She waved her fingers at him. “When are you going to find someone you want to give a ring to?”
She expected his usual I’m not ready to settle down comment, but Javiar surprised her by shrugging.
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t mind finding the right woman.”
“Really?” She drew out the word. “Oh, that’s fun. Can I start looking for you?”
“No.”
“But what if I find someone amazing?”
“No. I can get my own woman.”
“Over and over again,” she teased. “The problem just might be the volume.”
“Not everything should be in moderation.” He picked up the steaks and started for the back door. “You’re really not going
to tell your mom you’re engaged?”
“Not for now.”
He chuckled. “Good luck with that. You’ve never kept a secret from her before.”
He was right about that, she thought glumly. But this time she was motivated. She loved her mom, she really did. But a double
wedding? No. Not happening. Which meant keeping her delicious secret to herself. At least for now.
Victoria stared at her computer screen in front of her, doing her best to keep her mind open and not focus on the individual
words. Often her Morning Pages made no sense—but that was the point. The technique from Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way was to free her mind and let her creativity flow through her, onto the screen. It wasn’t about having something to show for
her time, it was about staying true to the process.
Technically she was supposed to be writing them by hand, but she didn’t have the patience for that. Every time she’d tried,
she’d ended up doodling butterflies or scribbling Why does my mother have to be so annoying? over and over again. Giving up the mind-hand connection meant her free writing went more smoothly, and she figured that was
a good compromise.
The timer on her phone dinged, freeing her from the exercise. She scanned what she’d completed, saw it was complete crap and deleted every word. She’d just opened her screenplay document when her phone issued another notification.
The text was direct. Want to do something?
Ethan, the guy asking the question, wasn’t inviting her to lunch or even on a date. He was, instead, suggesting sex. An hour
or two together with no expectations beyond orgasms for all. She’d hooked up with him in the past and had always enjoyed herself.
Under other circumstances, even at—she glanced at her phone to confirm the time—eight forty-five in the morning, she would
be tempted. But even the thought of someone trying to touch her, let alone getting on top of her and moving made her wince.
She quickly typed I’m recovering from being thrown out of the back of a truck so I’m out of commission for a couple of weeks.
Three dots appeared instantly, followed by No problem. Feel better soon.
And then he was gone. Victoria dropped the phone on the bed, telling herself that she preferred her relationships to happen
from a distance. She didn’t need or want any kind of emotional connection. Guys could get clingy, and who wanted that? She
hardly needed Ethan to offer to check on her or maybe bring soup or something. She was independent. Totally fine and not in
the least bit . . . lonely.
She glanced around her childhood bedroom with its tasteful wallpaper and extra cushy carpeting, thinking that living with
her parents, however temporarily, kind of belied the whole independent thing. But in a matter of another week or so she would be back to her I-don’t-need-anyone self.
She looked up as her mother knocked on her half-open door.
Ava walked in, dressed for the office in one of her expensive power suits.
She had the body to carry it off, for sure.
Her mother was tall, with long legs and a naturally lean build.
Victoria, on the other hand, was short and strong, with curves that leaned toward chubby if she wasn’t careful.
She could still do a quick tumbling routine without missing a beat, but a tailored suit like the one her mom was wearing made her look dumpy.
Not that there was a lot of call for suit-wearing in her business, thank goodness. And given her incomplete fracture of the
fibula, a tumbling routine was really nothing more than wishful thinking on her part.
“Hey, Mom,” she said. “You heading out?”
“I am. You and I had talked about going to look at the venue on Thursday for your father’s sixtieth birthday party. How did
you want to handle the appointment? I could take several videos to show you, or I could postpone for another week or so. I’ve
already given them a deposit, so they’re holding the date we talked about.”
She and her mom might not agree about much, but they both adored Milton and wanted him to have a blowout sixtieth. Ava’s suggested
venue—a gorgeous former mansion overlooking the ocean with plenty of outdoor space and the promise of a killer sunset—had
looked amazing online and seemed to be just the kind of place Milton would enjoy.
“We go like we planned,” Victoria said.
Her mother frowned. “You’re on crutches. It’s supposed to be on one level, but there are bound to be a few stairs.”
“I’ll be fine. My ribs barely hurt, and I’m getting stronger every day. I’ll go with you so we can get everything finalized.
We’ll go Thursday.”
Her mother looked doubtful. “If you’re sure.”
“I am. You’ll see. We’re doing this. Thursday.” She grinned. “I’ll be the one with the black eyes.”
Cindy hovered just outside of Shannon’s office. Shannon waved her in while continuing her phone conversation with the owner
of the cleaning service they used.