Chapter 5
5
Cate
Skipping is probably too much.
Running would be worse.
Shane is here, and my heart wants me to burst through those doors to see him and to hear him call me Nurse Cate again. But most importantly, to settle this husband-wife thing we’re tangled up in. But I walk because I’m an adult, not a giraffe-limbed teen anymore.
I do my round of usual goodbyes and then head for the exit. My eagerness to see him wanes as dread sneaks in, reminding me this isn’t a date or a reunion of two friends. I have news to break to him, news that will change his life like it did mine.
It’s not good to be the messenger. I know how that usually turns out.
Tugging at my collar, I push through doors, then scan the visitor’s lot out front. I’m not sure what he’s driving or where he parked. Hmm. I shade my eyes with my hand and even stand on my tiptoes to look around once more before heading in the direction where I parked.
Surely, he didn’t leave . . . I check my watch. It’s only been just under thirty minutes. Maybe he changed his mind and left. I hope not.
“Have a good night, Cate,” a familiar woman’s voice pulls my attention to a car in the front of the building.
Raising my free hand, I wave. “You, too, Misty.” Parkdale’s bookkeeper has her window down and gives me a little wave before driving away.
When it rolls forward, I’m caught by blue eyes that steal the show even under a cloudless sky and a smile that makes me forget who I am. Temporarily. My feet don’t leave the spot where I stopped, trapped in a net of Shane Faris’s attention.
Him, the rock star.
Me, a woman who decided it was a good idea to wear all beige today . . .
Shane Faris is waiting for me.
Me.
In spite of my early morning fashion decision, my heart beats loud like his drums, my breaths come hard and heavy from my chest, and those butterflies start fluttering wildly inside my tummy again. I’m not sure I’m the luckiest woman in the world, but I imagine this feeling is pretty close.
Giving me a wink, he pushes off his sports car and starts the short walk to greet me. Stark gaze, determined shoulders, his shirt ruffling lightly in the wind. Shane should come with a warning, He is a performer, but damn, I was not prepared for this show.
With brazen disregard for discretion, he takes me in from top to bottom like I’m his chosen dessert before dinner. I’m not even mad about it. Latching his eyes onto mine, he says, “Hey there, Nurse Cate.”
My entire body blushes under his gaze, especially when it travels to my mouth. “Hi,” I somehow manage to reply, though I’m not sure if I’m even breathing right now. I force myself to take one before I pass out in his arms even though I’m not totally against the idea. “What really brings you to the Valley, Shane Faris?” I ask, my throat raw with nerves. “You could have just called.”
“I think this is more fun. Don’t you, Catalina Farin?”
He remembers my name, my full name , saying it like he never forgot. I try to smother the giggle threatening to burst. “It’s all fun until someone gets hurt.”
“Are you going to hurt me?” Judging by the smirk on his face, pain is the last thing on his mind. Or mine.
I shift my bag in front of me, needing something more to hold on to. “It’s not what I had in mind.”
Tilting his head, he glances away briefly, and then asks, “And how do you know I don’t live in the Valley?”
“You’re . . .” I’m not sure if I need to point out the obvious, but he seems to be waiting. “Figured you would live in the Hollywood Hills, not by choice, but for proximity. The location is great, but Manhattan Beach or even Malibu might be more your jam. Ocean waves over city or hill views.”
He chuckles and leans in, lowering his voice. “How do you figure?” he asks as if this is the most interesting thing he’s ever heard.
“You’re from La Jolla and grew up in a house with an ocean view.”
“That was my cousin’s house. I take it you went to a party over there? They had a few.”
“Once. I wasn’t invited. Just showed up like I could blend in. I didn’t.”
“You never could.”
“Wow, okay . . .” I turn away, letting the insult sink in.
“I didn’t mean it that way. You were never like other girls. You were too pretty.”
I turn back, giving him my attention. “Go on . . .” Might as well soak it in and feed the pride demon.
When he laughs, I do as well. The release feels too good to let the tension remain between us. He says, “Nice. Too nice. You were so damn nice, a target for assholes in high school.” I hadn’t noticed we’d moved closer, the invisible line keeping us apart, broached by a few steps on both our parts. “How long were you at that party? I don’t remember seeing you.” I don’t think he meant it rudely, but the comment still stings.
He and his cousin Laird were the kings of everything, including every girl’s admiration. There was no reason for him to go looking for anything else when it was served on a silver platter to him. “Long enough to know I didn’t belong.” Making small talk with Shane Faris is not something I expected to be doing, but it’s easier than I thought, considering he was so popular in high school and even more so now that he’s famous.
“That’s too bad. We could have hung out prior to the bonfire and gotten to know each other better.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. Sure, it would’ve been nice to spend time with Shane back then, but life didn’t end at the after-graduation party, and we both moved on. So, although my stress lessens the longer we stand around, deep down, casual conversation only delays the inevitable. I rip the bandage off. “You said you got my message?”
“All five.” He may be smiling, but I cringe, tightening my hold on the bag’s handles.
“Yikes. Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I go after what I want as well.”
“Trust me, it was the most awkward call I’ve ever had to make. But it’s such a relief that you already know.” That he’s not mad takes the pressure off from having to deal with that aspect before I beg him for this favor.
“Looks heavy.” Reaching over, he wraps his hands around the handles, the sides of our hands together sending heat through me from the briefest encounters. “May I?”
“Thanks.” Realizing we’re still standing for all of Parkdale to gawk at from inside, I nod toward the larger section of the lot. “My car is around the corner.” We walk in that direction, him holding my bag like it’s as light as air while I still struggle to comprehend that he’s here in the flesh. “I didn’t expect you to show up at my work. How’d you know where I was?”
“A stroke of luck?”
“Doubt it.” I quirk a quick smile, but then playfully bump into him. “Did you hire a detective to track me down?”
“I’m not that cunning. Deciphering the messages was a challenge. The new hire didn’t include a seven-digit number. To her credit, she got the area code and first five on there.”
I’m not sure if he’s joking or not, but I go with it. “That’s promising.”
He stops and looks at me by his side. “To be honest, I asked a friend to do a search, and Parkdale’s address came up for you.”
I look at him, still stunned to see a rock star of his magnitude walking with me like this is normal. Maybe for him, but it’s not for me. “Well, you found me. What are you going to do with me?”
He studies me out of the corner of his eye before his gaze shifts to the sidewalk in front of him. Sucking in a harsh breath between his teeth, he holds my undivided attention with his hiss. “Don’t tempt me.”
I’ve never wanted to tempt someone more.
I bite my tongue instead, knowing we have other business to tend to first. First? I need to get my mind out of the gutter. Just because Shane is stupidly handsome to the point of making me want to poke him to see if he’s real doesn’t mean I should be having thoughts about him shirtless on a beach or naked on a— stop, Cate.
I need to stop worrying about what happens next with this man on a personal level. There’s time for that if he’s still speaking to me once we’re divorced. “I’m not sure if you’ve had time to think about what we should do, but I have some ideas.”
His brow rises, breaking the evenness of his expression prior to a wry grin sliding right into home base. “I’m hoping Nurse Cate makes an appearance.”
“It’s such a relief to hear you say that. I’ve been worried you wouldn’t include me, do it without me, or want to get others involved.” I breathe easier, the burden lifted from my shoulders, knowing I’m not alone in this mess. “I’m glad it will be just the two of us. Well, us and Roberta.”
His brows are squeezed so tightly together he could juice lemons between them. “Who’s Roberta?”
“She’s the one who can help us.”
Chuckling, he says, “We won’t need help, baby.”
“Baby?” I giggle as if the word commanded it. I hate that I kind of like the nickname. “Do you say that to all the girls?”
“Just the ones I’m going to fuck.” He starts walking, the distance growing when my entire being refuses to take another step.
I’m still choking on his words when he finally discovers I’m not there. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” I take a few steps closer, not wanting a scene in front of my biggest job assignment, so I keep a couple of feet between us. For his safety . I cross my arms over my chest, trying to restrain my anger. “Everything about what you just said to me is wrong.”
“Which part?”
“The fucking part, Shane. That’s what part.” I march past him to the corner and nod so hard for him to follow that I might have pulled a muscle.
Shane catches me in only a few strides, but he then lets me stomp my way into the lead. I stop in front of my vehicle, my anger still burning in my gut. I poke him in the chest. “You may be big stuff—” He catches my finger before I land another, taking me by surprise.
“We don’t have to do anything,” he says as if sex is so casual that we’ll be discussing the finer points before hopping into bed. “We can just get to know each other again.”
“We didn’t know each other the first time around. We talked, what? A handful of times and?—”
“Kissed.” I hate that his eyes seemed to have softened, reminding me not to jump to conclusions. Although his voice comforts like hot chocolate on a winter’s night, he doesn’t hide what’s on his mind. “I might not remember seeing you at a party, but I remember that kiss.” Releasing me, he runs his hand over his head, then wraps his palm around the back of his neck. “My apologies, Cat. I misread the situation. I assumed you called me to hook up, but there’s no rush to do anything.”
Taking my bag from him, I set it down beside me. I’d rather have it on the sidewalk than in this man’s possession. “There actually is.”
He shifts, confusion narrowing his eyes. “Help me out here,” he says, “I’m getting whiplash.” Keeping his eyes on me, he drops his chin. “You do want to fuck?”
“Stop saying that. Good God, you’re worse than Maggie. There’s no fucking involved.” I wish I hadn’t swung my hands low in front of me to highlight that region of my body. The point could have been made without me redirecting his eyes below my waist. My face flares, and the burn in my cheeks causes me to sweat under the collar. I tug the bow loose and undo the top button of my blouse to cool down, but my mind travels at warp speed, causing chaos to my typically responsible self. “Like, none, it’s been so long that we don’t need to keep going on about the sex I’m not having.”
Please Lord, take me now. I’m done here on earth. Toast.
“I don’t know what you want, Cat.”
“Cate.”
“Cate,” he says so quickly that it’s hard to determine whether it’s a jab or an innocent correction. Hmm. “What do you want? Just say it.”
“I want a divorce.” Throwing my arms wide, I say, “I figured you didn’t want to stay in this marriage either.”
So many emotions roll through his features that I’m unsure which will win out. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Annoyance takes the gold. Though anger might be trying to squeak in for a second-place finish.
“You know what?” I plant my hands on my hips, my good mood now soured by him. “I didn’t cause this mess, so I don’t appreciate your tone.”
“My tone?” He laughs, but it’s filled with a lack of patience instead of humor. Looking around, he asks, “Is this a prank?”
“A prank?” Now, he has me paranoid. “ Is this a prank?” I poke him hard in the chest again, accomplishing two things.
He’s real. And he’s hard. So hard my finger hurts.
A prank makes so much more sense.
I don’t spot any cameras when I scan the parking lot and beyond, but technology is so good these days. Dropping my head back, I exhale, closing my eyes and soaking in the relief this brings me. When I lift back up, I cover my heart. “Thank God I didn’t lose the house.”
Good, now I can drop my guard and enjoy the reunion instead of dealing with this difficult situation. It feels so good to laugh. Resting my hand on his chest, I use him for support as the tension fades away like a cloud on a breezy day. “This week has been pure hell. I’m going to need a margarita after this.” Looking around once more, I try to see if I spy Ross hanging around the bushes. I don’t see him. Or anyone . . .
Maybe it’s the silence or the way Shane’s staring at me like I have two heads, but my gut tells me something isn’t quite right. I lower my hand, but Shane takes a step back.
Anxiety returns, and I look at him to make it go away. “This was all a prank, right? Me losing the house. The marriage. You showing up here instead of calling. Feel free to hop in at any time.”
That’s when he takes another step backward. “The marriage?” The sensual roll of his dulcet tone clips at the ending. “I’m not marrying you. No offense.”
I throw my hands up in surrender, and a shaky laugh escapes me. “None taken. This wasn’t ideal for me either. No offense back at ya. I’m just glad this was a joke.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m not in on any joke and didn’t set out to prank you.” He’s backing away with every word coming from his mouth. With a shake of his head, disappointment fills his irises. “I thought you were different, but this crosses a line I’ve never seen before.”
“What line have I crossed?” I walk behind him, baffled as to why he’s making me feel foolish when I thought we were on the same page.
His pace picks up, and he doesn’t bother to look back. “Married, Cat, really?”
“So it’s not a prank,” I whisper as reality dawns, burying me back in the nightmare I’ve been dealing with all week. “I’m really losing the house?”
There’s no reply, but I can’t let him get away. “We only have forty-eight hours, Shane.”
Turning back, he looks at me from the end of the sidewalk. “For what?”
“To get to the county clerk’s regarding the marriage license.”
“Marriage?” he says. “Carriage. Fuck me. Fucking messages.”
I move closer but don’t want to alarm him anymore since he appears in dire peril. “I need you to go with me.”
“No, Cat, Cate, whoever you are. I’m out of here.”
“No, you can’t. Don’t leave me.”
With his hands in front of him, he isn’t surrendering. He’s preparing. Why? “I can. Watch me.” He turns his back and cuts through parked cars, but I see how he looks back as if I’m stalking him . . . Hit all at once with reality, I gasp, covering my mouth in disbelief. He doesn’t know.
“You don’t know,” I voice barely above a whisper as if he can hear me.
The messages messed up by the new hire.
Me talking about marriage licenses.
Him rushing to his car like I’m about to attack him.
“Shane? Wait!” I run after him. “I’m not a stalker. I promise.”
“Sure you aren’t.” Turning around in the middle of the lot, he scoffs. “That’s what they all say, sweetheart. It’s been . . . interesting.”
“We need to talk.”
“See you at the reunion, then.” He has the decency not to run while I’m left ticking through the math of when the last reunion was held and counting the years until the next.
I panic. “The reunion isn’t for another eight years?”
Nodding, he calls back, “I know.”
“The messages were messed up.” Cupping my hand to the side of my mouth, I shout, “I can explain the misunderstanding?—”
“I got your messages. That’s why I’m here. But I’m receiving this one louder and clearer. I’m out of here.” He reaches his car, glances back, then ducks inside his vehicle. I hear the locks latch in place.
The heaviness of the disappointment and embarrassment I feel weighs on me, but I still make an effort to try again. “I only have forty-eight hours left to close this deal. I need you, Shane.”
But I already know it’s too late. He’s reversed and ready to take off. “Shane? I can explain,” I say, running up to a rolled-up window. And then I realize this is my last chance. I run in front of his car, reminding myself that a responsible adult wouldn’t do that. It’s not safe, but it’s my only shot at getting through to him. “There’s been a massive mistake.”
Cracking his window, he commands, “Move out of the way.”
“No, you don’t understand. I tried to warn you in the messages.” I dare to put my hands on the hood of his— Oh my God, is this a Ferrari? Matte black with the emblem between my hands confirms that, yes, it is indeed a Ferrari, and as stunning as he is.
A horn blaring startles the crap out of me, and I jump to the side, my natural instincts kicking in. He pulls around me, but the window is still sealed shut. Throwing my arms wide, I yell, “We’re already married.” But then I realize that will only make him drive away faster. I’m about to shout something else, but there’s nothing I can say that won’t make me sound like the stalker he already thinks I am.
I can’t blame him. I wouldn’t believe me either. Nothing about this situation makes any sense to a logical person.
Defeat sinks in, and my shoulders fall, watching him pull onto the main road. I tried . . . Insult to injury, the car’s horsepower kicks into gear like he can’t get away fast enough.
Now what? Hire a divorce attorney I can’t afford to draw up the papers and hope they get filed before he obtains a restraining order?
The emotional toll of the past fifteen minutes have made every minute feel like a year of hard labor. I walk back to my car, more confused than ever about what I should do.
The first will be adding this encounter to the list of most mortifying things I’ve ever done. It definitely earns the top spot.
I load my bag into the back seat, then yank open the driver’s door, ready to take a long bath and pray I can forget this ever happened. Tomorrow is another day to untangle this web.
Just before I sink in, I hear, “Why did you say we’re married?”