Take Me Home Tonight (31 page)

“And this time he selfishly got carried away with you. He took his eyes off his family.”

Oh, fuck a dozen daisies.
“It's too much, Mom. The guilt he carries, it's too much. But he doesn't understand. What he calls getting carried away is really just passion. And that's a good thing. A great thing. He can't see that because he thinks it cost him his brother.” Energy flooded in. She had to talk to him. Make him understand. “Mom, I have to go.” Racing into the street, she hailed a cab.

“Hang on, sweetheart. You're not going to see him now, are you?”

“I have to. I have to make him understand.”

“Mimi, darling. Give him some time. He might not be ready to see you yet.”

“But he's hurting, Mom. I have to—”

“You have to give him time.”

But she loved him, and he was hurting. And it wasn't in her nature to sit back and wait. “I don't know what to do. I have to talk to him.”
I miss him.

“It just happened today. His family's still reeling from the accident.”

The rational part of her agreed with her mom. But the scared, vulnerable side feared time would cement his resolve to stay away from her.

But it wasn't about her. It was about him. What was best for him in this situation.

So she'd leave him be.

For as long as she could stand it.

She lasted two days.

In a borrowed truck, Mimi pulled into the Bourbons' driveway. While Gus's injuries turned out to be minor, the experience had to have hit the family pretty hard. She hoped Jo hadn't retreated into her cave.

Calix, though . . . she couldn't stand it if he blamed himself. She had to talk to him.

Getting out of the truck, she took a fortifying breath. From the outside, this property looked like paradise. The lush gardens, the vineyard and orchard, the patch of healthy green grass in front of the house. Everything outside thrived thanks to Terrence's loving care. He'd diverted all the energy from music, his true passion, into the land.

She thought of Jo giving new life to discarded objects. They'd done their best to survive a tragedy, and Mimi had carelessly inserted herself, thinking she knew better. She wished she'd minded her own business.

Dragging her damp palms down her shorts, she walked on shaky legs to the door and rang the bell.

No one answered.

But she could hear the thump of bass, punctuated by
squeals of laughter. Sounded like they were on the patio. Maybe she should text him, ask him to come out front so they could talk privately. No, she wanted to talk to all of them. Give them hugs and let them know how happy she was that Gus was all right.

The noises grew louder as she headed around the side of the house. Maybe Calix was all right. His brother had a broken wrist and some bruises, so maybe they were just regrouping as a family. Calix would be glad to see her. She could see his features softening the way they did, apologizing for pushing her away so coldly.

He hadn't meant it.

He couldn't have.

She found Terrence on his knees in his glorious garden, surrounded by plants of every texture and height under the sun.

“Hey, Terrence.”

The giant of a man sat back on his heels, wiping a gloved hand across his sweaty brow. He shot a quick look over his shoulder. “Mimi.” Standing up on knees that cracked, he reached for her. Brushed a kiss across her cheek.

“How is everyone?”

Terrence gave her a gentle smile, but he lacked his usual spark of energy. “Gus is just fine.”

“And Jo? How's she doing?”

“Ah.” He looked away. “Still a little rattled.”

“I'm scared because I've grown so close to all of you, and I'm afraid you blame me for what happened.”

“No, Mimi.” He shook his head. “Not at all.” He reached out and patted her shoulder. “Real sorry about the competition.”

“I'm disappointed, but  . . . ” She batted a hand dismissively. “I'll find another opportunity.” And she would. But the only thing on her mind at the moment was making things right with Calix. It killed her thinking about the guilt he suffered, the blame he shouldered.

“What's next for you?” he asked.

She didn't want to talk about her career. She wanted to flat-out ask about Calix, but she couldn't put Terrence in the middle. “I might take that job in Miami.”

“Miami?”

Somebody squealed, and then laughter rang out. Mimi looked past Terrence to the patio. Stretched out on a chaise, caramel-colored skin warming in the sun, Calix flashed a devilish smile.

He was
laughing
.

He looked relaxed, happy. She started toward him. While she'd been devastated—God, he'd discarded her like a fresh turd—
and
she'd lost the competition—he'd been hanging out with his friends.

What an
asshole
.

“Mimi.” Terrence's warning tone only irritated her. Nothing would stop her from confronting the man who'd played her so carelessly.

She made it to the edge of the patio when she saw Shay pulling off her T-shirt and shorts, wearing nothing but a tiny bikini and tossing them both at Calix. He swatted them away, smiling up at his ex-girlfriend.

Mimi recognized his friends from the beach.

Anger—God, so much wild, unrestrained anger—burst out of her core. “Calix.”

Everyone turned to her. Calix's smile slowly died. But he didn't move.

Fury burned a path through her body, making perspiration pop out under her arms and over her lip. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. “We need to talk.”

Looking completely put out, Calix got up. The jerk took his time getting to her.

How the hell had she ever thought she'd broken down his barriers and gotten in? She'd thought they'd had something so special he'd fought his way through all his fears just to hang on to it.

But she was a fool. He'd only taken what she'd freely given.

Calix towered over her. “What's up?”

“What's
up
?” She was so angry, she shook. “Ever since you kicked me out of the emergency room, I've been beside myself with worry. I can barely sleep. You had to know I'd worry, but I haven't heard a word from you. So I came here
to make sure you're all right. But you're not upset, you're not freaking out. You're having a great time with your friends. I don't even know what to say to you.”

“I'm not having a great time. I'm doing anything but having a great time. My mom's back in the goddamn guest bedroom. Nothing's okay.”

“And let me guess. You blame yourself for it. So you've gone right back to making her omelets at midnight.” She shook her head in exasperation. “And I thought
I
was a wind-up toy banging into the wall over and over again.”

He held up a hand. “Not talking about it with you.”

“No, of course not. Because I tell you the truth. Your pesky little problem of getting carried away with the things you enjoy? It's called
passion
. And it's what makes you such an amazing man. It's why girls want to sleep with you and men want to be you. And for you to try and shut it down . . . Well, guess what, buddy? You can't. Because it's
who you are
. And it's beautiful. Gus didn't get hurt because you like spending time with me. It happened because he's been so sheltered. He hasn't had the kinds of experiences that teach him that running off with an unstable groupie leads to bad things. But he's learning that now, just like we all learn from life's lessons. I'll bet he won't get involved with crazy nymphs again no matter how great the sex.”

All the while she'd unleashed her thoughts, he'd grown harder and angrier. But when his lip curled back, she shut her mouth.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? You're blaming my
mom
for what happened to Gus?” He stepped even closer to her, a dark shadow blocking the sun. “You know what? I do blame myself. I told you from the start it wasn't the right time for me to get involved, and I was right. I fucked up. You don't know. You've never lost a sibling. You don't know what it does to a family. I never should've listened to your bullshit.”

“Okay, I'm done. You don't
want
to get it. You want to roll around in your guilt and live right here in the stuck zone. Have at it. I'm out.” She started to go, but he caught her arm.

“You don't know what you're talking about. My mom's not
eating, she's not sleeping, and she's back in the fucking guest bedroom. That's all I can think about right now.”

“Yes, Calix. You've made it perfectly clear you don't think about me. Thank you for killing any last shred of hope I might've had for us.” She yanked out of his hold and strode off. But she only got a few steps away before she swung back around. She'd never be close enough to talk to him like this again, so she'd damn well say it now. “I loved you, and you screwed up by letting your guilt over what happened with Hopper keep you from living your life. Shame on you. Shame on you for letting Hopper down so badly. He would hate the man you've become. I know I do.”

She turned and somehow made it back to the truck. When she sat down, the seat so hot it burned her legs, her hands shook, making it hard to fit the key into the ignition.

But she got the hell out of there.

She was moving on.

*   *   *

The
smell of espresso filled her dad's apartment. In her Columbia sweats and Cornell T-shirt, Mimi shuffled into the kitchen. She wanted to curl up on the couch and fall back asleep.

“There she is.
Mia bella.
” Her dad leaned against the counter, cell phone in his hand, glasses low on the bridge of his nose. “You want me to cook or do you want to go out for lunch?”

Mimi glanced at the clock on the microwave. God, it was
noon
. She'd had a terrible, restless night. “I'm not hungry.”

She didn't know who she hated more—herself or Calix. She'd thought he'd broken through his barriers, gotten back down to his molten hot core. But then one thing had gone wrong, and he'd washed his hands of her.

Oh, God. The pain cut so deep she nearly doubled over. She needed to lie down.

Why had she fallen for someone so clearly incapable of loving her back?

Well, no more. No more emotionally unavailable men. It
wasn't like she hadn't known from the start—she'd just chosen to fight for his attention.

Which, of course, was the most familiar battle in the world for her.

Her dad set his phone down. “You have to eat something.”

“Well, I'm not going out. I'm not even showering.”

“Ah, Melie. You're killing me.”

“It's fine. Everyone gets her heart broken.”

Her dad tipped her chin. “I don't care about everyone. I care about my daughter.”

But not enough to spend time with her.
Got it.
She turned away from him. God, she wanted to collapse in a heap. Since the band was taking a few days off so Slater could tend to Emmie and Terrence could deal with his family, she didn't have to cook for them until Monday.

“Mimi, come.” He sounded worried about her. “We'll make fettuccine.”

“Dad, just let me be a mess for a few days, okay?” In the city. Away from the farm and Calix Bourbon.

Oh, God
. She'd lost him. Was there anything more potent than loss? Its inherent powerlessness? There was simply nothing she could do to make someone want her. She just had to accept it.

She let out a shuddery breath. “I'm sad—no, I'm heartbroken—and I'm incredibly bummed that I lost that competition. So I'm giving myself a couple days to just feel miserable. But I'll bounce back. You know I will. And I'll fall in love again, blah, blah, blah.” It was just . . . she'd thought she'd found . . . what? The one?

She'd thought they'd had something special. Something real. She'd thought he'd seen into the heart of her and fallen in love.

Stupid, stupid girl.

“So.” He clapped his hands. “The competition is done.”

“Yup.”

“You did a great job, Melie.”

“You watched?”

“My daughter's on national television. Of course I watched.”

“It was fun.” She'd loved it. She really had.

“You were a dynamo.”

“I was?”

“You were. So, now we need to talk about what's next.”

“That's the last thing I want to talk about. Like I said, I'm going to curl up in the fetal position and feel sorry for myself until Sunday night when I'll take a shower and head back to the farm. And then I'll figure it out.”

“You have an opportunity waiting for you.”

She was well aware. “I'll consider it. But don't get your hopes up. Moving to Miami is for when I hit rock bottom.”
Wait, this isn't rock bottom?
It scared the crap out of her to think there was a lower level to fall.
This one sucks donkey balls.

“I don't know why you're being so close-minded about this. It's the best possible path to working with me. Five years with that kind of experience under your belt, and no one would challenge your position in my office.”

“Oh, is it five years now? Way to keep moving the bar.”

“What does that mean?”

“You said a year or two.”

“I said to close a few deals. It takes time to do that.”

“Okay, whatever.”

“One significant deal, and then no one will care that you're my daughter.”

“God, Dad. I'll earn their respect on the job like I would anywhere else. But you know what? I'm not talking about this anymore. I'm done jumping through hoops for you.” She headed out of the kitchen, calling to him over her shoulder, “And now that you've gotten me all stirred up, we might as well go out to eat. Let me grab a shower first.”

“That's my girl.”

*   *   *

She
needed a walk more than she needed food, so she and her dad set off from his Upper East Side co-op toward Avenue of the Americas.

Every week after the taping, she'd pass the same bakery on her walk home, but with the extra weight she was carrying
from a year living on the farm, she'd never gone inside. Today, though, she'd get whatever the hell she wanted. An almond croissant and a latte would hit the spot.

As they neared the bakery, her heart gave a little jump. “This is it.” She peered through the window at the gorgeous display of cakes and pastries. And she couldn't help superimposing Violet's wedding reception, with the fairy lights, the striped paper straws, and the polka dot–frosted cupcakes.

“What're you doing,
amore mio
? Are we going in or dreaming about it?”

“Hold your horses,” she said with a grin. “Anticipation is the best part.” Cupcakes with swirls of chocolate frosting, thick slices of strawberry cream cake, mounds of
biscotti
 . . . it all made her mouth water.

“Look at you. You should own a bakery.”

“I don't want to make the same things every day of my life.”

A thought had been brewing in the back of her mind for a while now, but since her dad invested in and developed high-end restaurants, she'd never bothered to pitch it.