Apples & Oranges (The This & That Series) (22 page)

She leaned closer. “What is going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Knock it off. Something’s wrong.” I glared at her, and she shook her head. “I mean, besides the obvious. Spill it.”

I avoided her eyes and started to wash a bowl. “We’re all stressed out.
With the funeral, and worrying about Candace, and the wedding tomorrow. I… I’m just tired.”

“We’re
all
tired.” She moved closer to me. “Is everything going all right with Demo?”

“Everything…” I gulped, swallowing down the growing lump in my throat. “Everything’s fine.”

“Did he dump you?” she whispered.

I scrubbed harder. “I said everything is
fine
.”

             
“That’s bull crap,” Lexie said, touching my arm. “Mar, stop cleaning and talk to me.”

             
The lump morphed into a cactus, and it prickled and jabbed me from the inside out. I wanted to tell her so bad. I wanted to tell somebody,
anybody,
who cared. I needed to get it out in the open, because the secret was rotting inside of me.

             
When I turned to Lexie, hot tears spilled over the edge of my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. “Oh, Lex…” I whimpered, falling forward against her shoulder.

             
“It’s okay,” she told me, rubbing circles on my back. “It’s okay. It’s okay…”

             
And then I told her
everything.

Chapter Twenty

             
Taking a deep breath of the garlic and lemon scented air, I uncovered the silver chafing dish filled to the top with dolmades. There they sat, perfectly rolled and shaped into small, bite sized bundles of Mediterranean goodness—the literal representation of my short-lived relationship with Demo Antonopolous.

             
Lexie had gone above and beyond bringing Yiayia’s recipe to life. They were picture perfect and culinary magazine spread worthy. Every employee we’d hired for the day had raved about their flavor and texture, including one young man who came from a Greek family who prided himself on eating authentic recipes. When we’d put them on the buffet line, they were the first dish to disappear, and I’d overheard the bride telling the groom that they were “orgasm inducing.”

Overal
l, after all the test recipes, the worrying, and the planning, the dolmades wound up being a
slam-freaking-dunk
.

I was just sad that I couldn’t go thank
Yiayia for the recipe.

“Hey, Marisol, can you grab some more tahini sauce from the kitchen?”
Lexie asked, whisking past me with an empty platter. “And ask the wait staff to start refilling the red wine glasses at the head table. They’re drinking like fish out there.”

“You got it.” I checked to make sure that the flames underneath the dish were still glowing, and plucked a few crumbs off of the crisp white tablecloth.

I’d spent an hour talking to Lexie the night before. It wasn’t easy. Upon hearing that Demo was expecting a baby with someone else, she’d immediately started fishing through her purse for her keys so she could go to Triple D’s to use a battery recharger on his face. But the further I went into my feelings, and why I’d walked away from our relationship, she’d quieted and eventually put her car keys away. In fact, by the time we’d turned off the lights and locked up Eats & Treats, I think she may have actually understood where I was coming from. After all, she had a man in her life she couldn’t bear losing, too.

“Thanks, Mar.” The sound of a plate breaking rang out, and
Lexie charged into the kitchen with a scowl. “Friggin’ great.”

             
I glanced around to make sure nobody was looking, then plucked a dolma out of the chafing dish with one of my gloved hands. Though the thought of eating one of Yiayia’s delicacies made my heart ache, I wanted to taste them for myself.

             
Hey, five hundred guests at a Greek wedding can’t be wrong, right?
              I popped it into my mouth and began to chew. “Oh, my gosh…” I moaned quietly, leaning against a nearby wall. The bride was right. These things
were
orgasmic. Almost as orgasmic as Demo making an omelet in nothing but his boxer briefs.

             
Demo.

             
My heart ached and I sucked in a sharp breath. Probably shouldn’t have thought about him. Every time I did, it made my insides twist and spasm, and usually left me breathless and in need of a good cry sesh. And crying in the middle of this wedding was
not
an option.

             
I used the corner of my apron to dab my eyes. “Pull it together, Vargas.”

             
“Was it really
that
good?” A deep, rough voice asked.

             
Excitement danced up my spine, and I turned in time to see Demo emerging from the kitchen door. He was in a pair of dark jeans and a clean plaid shirt, but there was an endearing streak of oil mixed with the dark whiskers on his chin. He stood out like a nun at a runway show amongst all of the white tuxes and brightly dressed guests that filled the hotel ballroom.

             
“Demo!” My voice squeaked, so I pressed a hand to my throat. “What are you doing here?”

             
He hung close to the kitchen door. “My mother said there was a wedding at the Orthodox church this afternoon. I figured it was the one you were catering, so I asked around to find out where the reception was.”

             
“Your stalking skills have taken new heights,” I said wryly, ignoring the way my heart had started thumping
Ode To Joy
as soon as he walked in. I wanted to throw myself at him, and press my face to his neck, but refrained.

             
I heard my dad’s voice in my mind:
What’s done is done. Move on.

I pushed myself off the wall and folded my arms across my chest. If I didn’t get Demo out of here, I was going to start backtracking, and that was only going to lead to more hurting. And frankly, I’d met my ‘hurt quota’ for the quarter. “First Candace’s house and now this. Can’t you take a hint?”

He frowned. “I tried. I really did.”

Irritation bubbled in my gut. This wasn’t helping. Not one bit. My heart was breaking, and I was barely keeping myself together without turning into a bitter lush, and if Demo insisted on showing up where I
worked
, I may as well sign my half of the business over to Lexie right here and now.

“Well, this is a wedding and you weren’t invited,” I hissed, grabbing his arm and dragging him into the kitchen. The hustle and bustle of the wait staff stopped as soon as I walked in. “Get back to work!” I snapped.

Demo nodded at them as they lifted their trays onto their shoulders and hustled off. “You’re right. I wasn’t invited. But as it turns out, Yiayia was, and she couldn’t be here today. So I came in her place. Problem solved.”

Rubbing my forehead, I closed my eyes. “You can’t ambush me at work, Demo. I made my decision, now it’s your job to respect that.”

He put his hands on my shoulders. “I know. And I’m sorry. But… you need to know how I feel.”

“I already know how you feel.” I nearly melted under his touch. “What we had was nice. Super nice. But I’m not the type to settle down. My life is better when it’s just me. It’s less complicated, less…” I searched for the words but nothing came to mind. Damn Demo and his magic hands.

“You want the same things I want,” he said, leaning close so that I could hear his voice over the clatter of some pans. Lexie was sautéing garlic a few feet away, and if she knew Demo was here, she would lose it. “You told me so.”

“So what?” I pulled away from his touch, immediately missing it. “I changed my mind.”

“You changed your mind?” He scoffed. “You’re chicken shit. That’s what you are.”

The irritation in my gut quickly morphed into rage. “Excuse me?”

His face pulled down in a scowl. “I didn’t stutter.”

“
¡Eres una basura!
”
Clenching my hands at my sides, I shoved past Demo. “Get out of here. I’ve got work to do.”

He followed me to a rack of pastries, where I started to slam sheet after sheet onto the counter. “You think calling me a piece of garbage is going to scare me away?”
              “I can say something worse if you like.” My chest throbbed. I wanted to crawl into the nearby walk in cooler and sob for an hour or two. “Since you’re not taking the hint.”

“You love me.” He grabbed my elbow. “
I
know you do.
”

“Go away.”

“You’re just afraid! You’re scared that if you have a life with me, it won’t be all champagne and flowers every day.” He tried to turn me so that I would face him. “You’re scared that there may be some hard times. That we may fight and yell at each other. That raising my kid might be tough from time to time, or that raising the kids we have together won’t be a walk in the park.”
              “Go to hell,” I barked over my shoulder. His words hurt. They stung like a sunburn, leaving scars on my heart. Demo was right. Every last word was dead on.

“And what’s worst of all…” Demo put his hands up on the rack, one on either side of me, so I couldn’t move. “
You’re so afraid of losing the people you love, you won’t even let yourself love them. Not really. And that, as I said, makes you chicken shit.”

Spinning on my heel, I yelled a string of obscenities that would have made even the dirtiest of bikers rush to a confession booth.

The kitchen went silent. Every waiter stopped what they were doing—again—to peer at me. What made it worse was that I’d lost the battle against my tears, and now I was crying. Me. The woman who used to
never
cry. And now I can’t seem to stop.

Awesome.

Demo touched my face, sending an electric shock through my skin down into my chest. “Marisol, don’t cry.”

I swatted at his hands. “Then go away!”

His thumbs swiped away my tears. “I love you.” When I tried to bolt, he pressed his lips to my forehead. “Don’t you understand that? I love you, Marisol Vargas. And I want—”

A pimple
-faced waiter popped up right next to us, holding a silver tray of bite-sized pastries. “Ms. Vargas, what do you want me to do with the
touloumbes?”

The look Demo gave him was positively lethal. “
Give us a minute, kid.”

It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the kitchen, and I couldn’t take a breath. Not being with Demo felt like it was going to kill me. But being with him meant taking on a world of stress and fear that made me want to curl up in a ball and suck my thumb. This is why I’d avoided falling in love for thirty-two years. If this is how relationships felt, why did so many people want them, for hell’s sake?

“I…” My eyes bounced between the waiter and Demo, looking for the answer. Waiting for someone—anyone—to tell me what the hell to do. Struggling to breathe, I pried Demo’s hands away from my face.

Straightening my shoulders, I wiped my cheeks and looked Demo dead in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Demo. I can’t do this.”

Fisting my hands at my side, I turned and walked away.

“Ms. Vargas?” the waiter repeated. “The
touloumbes?”

I gasped for air and pushed on the kitchen door. “
Bend over and I’ll
show
you what to do with the touloumbes
!”

“What the hell is going on?”
Lexie slammed a pan down and charged towards Demo. As soon as she rounded the corner of the rack and spotted him, her eyes narrowed. “You,” she growled, pointing a greasy spoon at his face. “What in the world are you doing here?”

“I needed to see her.” Demo put his hands out defensively. “Put the spoon down, would
ya?”

“Make me!”
Lexie snarled. “You wanna know why she’s rejecting you?”

I closed my eyes and pushed through the door. I didn’t need to hear
Lexie reading Demo the riot act. Nothing she said would change the fact that I was in love with him… and totally unable to commit. Blame my mother, blame my father. Hell, let’s get real, and blame
me.
But the bottom line was: I was forever stunted, and it was time to accept that.

The door swung closed behind me.

Chapter Twenty-one

             
“Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…” I stopped singing to myself and nodded at a groomsman who’d approached the buffet to grab a few more dolmades.

             
He gave me a smug grin. “Were you singing to me, beautiful?”

             
I would have laughed, had I not been singing to keep myself from weeping all over the food. That stupid song from the fish movie Candace’s kids watched approximately eighteen
thousand
times a day kept rolling off my tongue as I refreshed all of the foods on the buffet and prepared to wheel out the wedding cake. It was all I could do to keep myself in one piece after I saw Demo leave the hotel, stomping back to his tow truck with his hands shoved in his pockets.

             
At first I wondered what Lexie said to him. Then I decided I didn’t care. At least he was gone, and I could go back to being emotionally constipated again.

             
Wouldn’t Annalise and my dad be proud?

             
“Tempting, but not today,” I told the groomsman, who’d just checked to make sure his fly was up. What a winner.

             
He leaned against the buffet table, making it shift slightly. So help me, if he knocked this food over…

             
“Hey, uh, did you know this ballroom is in a hotel?” he asked, not-so-subtly, setting the beer bottle he was carrying down on the table.

             
“Please tell me you’re kidding,” I said flatly.

             
“No, really.” He nodded. “It is. I’m staying here this weekend. I’m from Arizona.”

             
I wasn’t quite sure how to react to this. A few short months ago—okay, let’s be honest, maybe a month ago—I would have asked him which room he was staying in, and then possibly enjoyed a lovely nightcap with an inebriated groomsman after the reception. After all, I could tell just by looking at him that he was wearing Gucci shoes and a Jack Spade watch. He was my type… when he wasn’t dressed like a plowed penguin.

             
However, as I looked into this man’s nice green eyes and caramel colored hair, all I longed for was Demo’s heavy, grease stained boots and his sweat soaked brown curly hair in perpetual need of a haircut.

             
“Well then, I’m glad this place is a hotel.” I forced a smile, knowing it was coming off like a grimace instead. “Otherwise you’re going to be mighty uncomfortable tonight.”

             
He laughed like I’d just done an entire stand up set. “You’re funny, has anyone ever told you that?”
              I blinked at him. “Once or twice. Well, enjoy the food. Cake will be coming up soon.”

             
I started to walk away, but he reached across the table to touch my shoulder. The bottom hem of his suit coat brushed across a dish of tzatziki sauce, making me bristle. “Hey, wait—”

             
“No,
you
wait.” Shaking off his hand, I pointed at his now soiled clothes. “First off, you need to learn how to take a hint. I’m not interested, okay chief?”

             
His eyes widened. “You got a boyfriend, or something?”

             
My hands went to my hips. “And second, if you drag your coat through my buffet again, I’m going to have to jump over this table to break your arm. That’s just the kind of mood I’m in.”

             
“Yikes.
Easy
.” He put out his hands. “Sorry to have ticked you off, beautiful. Just trying to have a good time.”

             
“Yeah, well, go hit on one of them.” I pointed across the ballroom where one of the bridesmaids was doing the worm on the dance floor, her peach satin dress flopping up over her ample bottom, revealing a lovely black pair of Spanx. “You’ve got a much better chance at one of those ladies.”

             
He grimaced, and plucked his bottle of imported beer back off of the table. “Come on. That’s just mean.”

             
I sighed, and I felt my shoulders drop a few inches. “I’m not being mean. Listen, I’m sorry. What’s your name?”

             
He flashed a grin. I waited to feel the spark of attraction flare inside of my gut, but instead there was…
nothing
. “James. James Koffer.”

             
“Well, James-James Koffer, what do you do?”

             
“I’m a criminal defense lawyer.”

             
I paused, waiting for my girl parts to start singing. But there was nothing. “Interesting,” I said, shifting some baklava on a tray. “What do you do for fun, James-James?”

             
“I like waterskiing and spending time on my boat.”

             
Again, I waited. Surely at any time my inner temptress would wake up after being dormant, and encourage me to hook up with this lawyer to get Demo out of my brain. After all, the best way to get over one man was to get into bed with another.

             
At least that’s what my mom told me.

James-James took a swig of beer, then tilted his head. “Come on. Why not?”

              I watched wistfully as the bride and groom went to the center of the floor and started to laugh and dance together. “Because I like men who have dirt and grease underneath their nails. I like to eat tacos out of a truck, and I like men who smell like gasoline, and who live two houses down from their mother and grandmother so he can score free meals off them every night.”

             
“Huh?” He made a face. “Please. I bought a house for my parents in Palm Springs so they’d get off my ass.”

             
Sighing, I plucked a crumb off of the table. “You’re just not my type. We’re complete opposites.”

             
“Don’t be a snob.” James-James waved his hand, sloshing beer. “Aren’t opposites supposed to attract?”

             
“Not this time.”

             
“Whatever… so we’re different. Maybe we’ll find out that we’re like…” He looked up and down the buffet, then grinned and pointed to an elaborate fruit tray I’d made, complete with pineapple owl and a watermelon swan. “Apples and oranges. And what’s to say that wouldn’t make for a great hookup.”

             
My mouth dropped and I stared at him. Had he really just said that?

             
James-James spoke again before I had a chance to react. “We might make a delicious fruit salad, huh?”

             
My stomach roiled, and a pain shot through my chest. “Excuse me, I’ve got to get out of here,” I said, bolting for the kitchen door. I needed air. Lots of air. And maybe a stiff drink.

A super stiff drink, with a stiffer drink chaser.

What the hell was I doing sending Demo away? He was everything I would ever want in a man—flaws and all—and by some sort of miraculous alignment of the planets, or a gift from
God
or something, he wanted me, flaws and all, right back. If Candace had known that Brian was going to drop dead of a heart attack on a golf course one day, would she have walked away from him at that frat party and never had a family with him?

Oh hell no.

So why in the crap was I sending Demo packing at the mere notion of less-than-perfect times?

I had to get to him. I had to find Demo and tell him that I loved him, too. That I wanted a life with him… and his kid… and his crazy family… and his little run down house on Lincoln Lane. In fact, I could no longer imagine my life any other way.

Shoving on the door, I was met with a muted thud, and then an “Ooof!”

“Oh, damn,” I muttered, peering around the edge of the door to find
Lexie rubbing her forehead. “Sorry. Hey, I’ve got a ten-minute break coming. I’ve got to go.”

Her eyes widened. “You never take breaks.”

“I know.” I peered at her head. “It’s not swelling. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” She gave her head a shake, then smoothed down the front of her apron. “But seriously, you can’t go. Just go check the pastry table. Make sure they’re still stocked.”

Panic started to spread through me like a fog. “Lex, I’m sorry. But I’ve got to run. Most of the guests are done with the buffet. We just need to ask the wait staff to clear, then we can get the deejay to announce it’s cake cutting time.”

Lexie’s
brown eyes flashed. “Yes, exactly. There’s so much to do. You can’t leave now.”

I used my eyes to plead with her. “I’ve got to go. I can’t explain, but… but I promise I won’t be long, okay?”

“No,” she said flatly, her jaw twitching.

“Excuse me?” One of my eyebrows rose high on my forehead.
Lexie never bossed me around. We were coworkers. Not boss-and-employee.

She squared her shoulders. “You’re not going anywhere. I need you here.”

“Actually…” I paused to suck in a deep breath and collect myself. Swearing at my best friend in Spanish would not help the situation right now. “I
am
going somewhere. In the state of Washington, where we reside, it is a mandated ten minute break every three hours. So I’m going to take my—”

“No. You’re staying.”
Lexie bit her lip. I think she thought I was going to punch her. Maybe I was.

Gritting my molars together, I rocked back on my heels. “Listen,
Lex, I’m not gonna lie. I need to go to Triple D’s. I swear upon everything holy that I’ll be back in ten minutes. If I’m not, you can take the entire commission for this wedding.” I put my hands on her shoulders and looked her square in the eye, willing her to understand how important this was to me. “If I don’t get to Demo now, I’m going to shatter into a million pieces, Lex.”

She blinked at me a few times, and the music across the room stopped. “I’m sorry, Marisol. I need you right now. You… you can’t leave. I mean it.”

I tried to step around my friend, but she just moved so that I couldn’t get through the door. My eyes blurred with tears. “Mother of God, Lexie. You are
really
pissing me off.”

Lexie
winced. “I don’t care.” She took my arm and turned me towards the buffet. “Go check the pastry table.
Now
.”

“
Vete al infierno
,” I hissed, stumbling over my own feet as I stomped away.

“Okay, everybody, if I could just get your attention turned this way for a few moments,” the deejay said, his voice booming through the oversized speakers.

I glanced up at the head of the dance floor where flashing lights were rolling from ceiling to floor. Guests were gathered around the stage, some holding drinks, others with their arm around a loved one. The evening sky was visible through the floor to ceiling windows, the purplish sky streaked with orange, and it was gorgeous.

I wanted to be enjoying it from the comfort of Demo’s arms. Not working while he thought I no longer wanted him. My heart ground inside of my chest.

Demo.

“We’ll be getting to the cake cutting very soon, folks, I know you’re all excited for that,” the deejay’s velvety deep voice announced. “But a friend of the groom’s family has gotten special permission from our happy couple to make an announcement.”

Cringing, I used the corner of my apron to dab at my eyes. This was my least favorite part of catering weddings. Listening to cheesy toasts and dedications being made by sappy, inebriated guests. Ugh. Kill me now.

“So without further adieu, folks, please give family friend, Mr. Demetr
ious Ant… anton… an… anotoff…” My head snapped up in time to see Demo lumbering up to the deejay booth with a scowl.

I gasped out loud. “What the…”

“Antonopolous,” Demo growled at the deejay.

“Yeah,” the deejay said, clapping him on the back. “What he said. Al
l right, buddy, do your thing.”

Demo walked over to the microphone and cleared his throat. His dark eyes scanned the crowd looking for me, and when he found what he was looking for, they locked onto mine like a vice grip. Sweat stung my skin, and I felt like everyone in the joint was gaping at me—though they weren’t. They were looking at Demo. But he didn’t notice them. He only watched me.
Me
.

“Uh… hello, everyone. Congratulations…” He glanced at a paper in his hand. “Paul and
Nikki, on your wedding and all that. As promised, I’m back with my Yiayia’s award winning recipe for her Melomakarona. Those of you who know my family know that my grandmother’s recipes are top secret. She only shares them with people she considers…
family
.”

A shiver rippled down my spine, and a clenched my hands at my side. I was considered part of that blessed family. Or had been. Once.