This Thing Called Love (5 page)

Olivia cleared her throat. “This place still smells the same as ever.”

“Rotty hundred-year-old wood and this morning’s burnt coffee. What’s not to love?”

“I was thinking more in terms of lilac and rose sachets. They were stored in that closet with us, remember? You know, for the brides.”

Brad couldn’t tell one flower from another if it came down to his life, but as far as smells went, the smell of rain always reminded him of her. When they were seventeen, he’d walked her home from his soccer game and they’d gotten stuck in a downpour. They’d run into the gazebo in the middle of the town square to wait it out. One minute they were running and laughing and out of breath, and the next he was just staring at her, mesmerized by the raindrops coating her long lashes, her smooth, soft skin, and the sudden serious look in her eyes. Their gazes locked, their smiles faded, and he’d kissed her. The perfect beauty of that moment had stayed with him all this time.

Olivia looked over at the runway, as if she was eager to change the subject. “This is a magical place. Generations of brides have come through here to start their happily-ever-afters.”

He snorted, mostly to try and push away the nostalgia that had socked him so hard in the gut. “I’m sure Alex and Meg buy into all that baloney.”

Olivia frowned. “Wow, who soured you on love?”

A loaded question, considering their past.

“I’m just being realistic. Love isn’t a fairy tale. It leads to a lifetime of responsibility—kids, a house, car payments, college expenses.”

“I’m sure it was hard raising your siblings but you’ve done a great job. Aren’t you proud?”

She had no idea how badly he’d messed that up. Especially his little sister Samantha, who rebelled every blessed chance she got. “Love is a luxury for teenagers who have time to be moony about it,” Brad said. “For everyone else it leads to harsh realities.”

“I don’t care what you say. Love is magical. The feeling when it’s right is the best, most perfect feeling in the world, and you have no choice but do everything in your power to make it work.”

Brad hadn’t understood that at nineteen. He’d been too overwhelmed by work, by the feeling that his own future was on hold for his family. What could he have offered her, when her life was beginning to soar and his was grounded by financial and family burdens and cares? He would only have dragged her down.

What they had way back then had been special, but they’d been kids. He wondered what she thought about it. But he couldn’t go there—it was too personal, too deep.

Or maybe it was just too damn scary.

He adjusted the nearly empty bottle so Annabelle didn’t swallow air. “Frankly, I’m surprised you think that way after your mom took off.”

He had little recollection of Olivia’s mother. But his grandmother had told him she’d been an archaeologist who’d felt suffocated in Mirror Lake. One day she left for a dig in Rome, met a guy there, and never came back for as much as a stitch of clothing or a single possession.

And definitely not for her two little girls.

“Maybe that made me believe in it even more,” Olivia said. “I constantly dreamed of what life would be like if she suddenly decided she couldn’t live without us, if she came back.”

She kicked off her shoes and sighed. A simple movement, but it fascinated him, like so much else about her. Much to his chagrin.

“The fairy tale never lasts. Like what we had in high school.” He shouldn’t have brought it up. But part of him needed to know, did she feel like he had back then? Or had he just embellished it for all these years?

Olivia removed the ice pack and sat up a little. Their gazes locked. Bridal Aisle fell away. Had any woman—and there’d been plenty—ever possessed the ability to stop him dead in his shoes like she did, with that clear, honest gaze that drilled right through all his bullshit with a single glance?

“That was first love,” she finally said, her voice low and quiet.

“What’s your verdict on that?”

She shrugged. “It was wonderful, intense, scary, and . . . I was completely swept off my feet.”

Loving her had been a wild, uncontrolled, crazy ride. He’d put his whole heart out there, gave her everything he had. It had been an impossible love from the start, between a brainy girl who was going places and a hack like him, barely getting by in school. But somehow it was magic.

When he’d visited her that first fall at NYU, he’d been as out of place as a Picasso in an antique shop. By Christmas, they’d become more uncomfortable around one another. She talked of studying abroad and internships in the City with publishing companies. He hadn’t even considered college a possibility with his family’s financial status teetering as precariously as a high wire in a big wind.

That Christmas, she’d come home. It was snowing, and they’d gone for a walk in the town square. The Christmas tree that she’d always loved was decorated and lit, right next to the big white gazebo where bands played and kids caroled. Where he’d first kissed her when they were seventeen.

But that year, all she talked about was the millions of lights on the Rockefeller Center tree, how huge it was, how it was the greatest tree she’d ever seen. That—yes, that simple comment—was the beginning of the end.

Her dreams were as big as that Rockefeller tree. Too big for him. He was like that puny tree—simple, unsophisticated, not glitzy. His love would drag her back here and crush her dreams and he couldn’t abide that. He’d had no choice but to let her go.

Lots of high school lovers break up. It’s a rite of passage for many. People realize they’ve grown apart and move on, and soon the old love is forgotten. He’d told himself that for many years, yet it sometimes seemed that his feelings for Olivia were like gum on your shoe—persistent, still there after you’ve scraped it off a zillion times.

Olivia’s voice brought him back to the present. He was glad to see she’d changed the subject. “Look,” she said. “I know I didn’t have the best example in my life to show me how to be a mother. But you learned to be a father to your siblings and I can learn how to take care of Annabelle, too. Even if it is the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

Her determination in the face of her fear got to him. His impulse was to comfort, but he bit back the words. Ones that would tell her she was doing her best and it would all work out, regardless of the scars her mother had left behind.

“I know you’ll do the right thing for Annabelle.” Weak, but what could he say? In Brad’s experience, people didn’t change. He’d almost forgotten that Olivia would always be a hard-driving, high-achieving woman. And Annabelle would suffer for it.

From the diaper bag, Olivia’s cell phone rang. Brad picked it up and read the caller name. “It says
Sylvia
,” he said.

“My boss. I have enough headaches now.” She hand signaled to him to put the phone back. “I’ll talk to her later.”

“How is your job? You edit self-help books?”

“Relationships, self-esteem, work-life balance, overcoming adversity, getting organized.” She smiled. “I love it.”

“Why?” She’d always read a lot as a teenager, but he’d usually seen her with romance novels.

“When you have as messed up a childhood as I had, self-help books are tantalizing. They teach you that there are a whole lot of other people just as screwed up as you are. And that gives hope.”

Interesting. “Which one’s your favorite?”

“Hard to say.
Putting Karma Back into the Kama Sutra
was a blockbuster. Huge.”

“
You
edited that?”

She laughed, a deep, belly laugh with a little snort she couldn’t control. He hadn’t heard her laugh like that in years. “I’m teasing, Brad. Just teasing. I just wanted to prove you’re not beyond looking at self-help books, either.”

“Honey, I’m never ashamed to be an innovator. Not that my skills need improvement, mind you. But I’m always open to new ideas. Especially
that
kind, if you know what I mean.” He waggled his brows for emphasis.

He’d made her blush. Good, because she deserved a little payback. He’d forgotten how funny she could be. Together, they could joke and tease and play off one another like the old days. And that was a very scary thought.

Meg popped her head around the door. “They’re gone. Oh, can I hold her?”

“She . . . needs to be burped, and I’ve got to get back to work.” Brad handed Meg the baby, suddenly desperate for some fresh air.

“Oh, I love burping babies,” Meg said as she hoisted Annabelle over her shoulder and rubbed her back.

Alex handed Olivia a cold can of diet soda. “Here, honey, thought this might hit the spot.”

“Thank you all for helping me,” Olivia said. She turned to Brad. “And you for tormenting me.”

“Always a pleasure.” He made certain to sweep his gaze slowly up and down her body, lingering at all the right places just to piss her off.

And he was pleased to see another bright scarlet flush spread up her face.

As Brad walked out, he caught a whiff of lavender and the faint, sweet smell of roses. All that sappy talk must have gotten to him. He breathed in a big lungful of lake air to clear his head.

Olivia was clearly a woman struggling to come to terms with events that had pitched her whole world into a careening tilt. But he preferred the Evil Editor version. Less complicated, less hard on his libido. Not to mention his heart.

The way he saw it, he had a few choices. He could get her into bed and do certain things that would drain the fight right out of any normal woman and reduce her to a whimpering, sated heap of jelly. The sexual currents certainly still buzzed strong between them.

But knowing all the kick and fight in Olivia, she’d brawl with him to her last gasp.

No, with a sassy chick like her, he’d have to approach it more cerebrally. She’d admitted her soft spot, the one part that wasn’t protected by that sarcastic coat of armor. So he’d use it, all right—and find a way to get her to realize on her own she wasn’t the right person to raise Annabelle. He might have helped with her headache, but he was not going to help her become Annabelle’s mom.

CHAPTER 5

Later that afternoon, migraine tamed, Olivia stepped into the sunny lobby of Mirror Lake Assisted Living, expecting to find Brad’s grandmother patiently waiting on one of the sprawling, comfy couches in the theater-style reception area. What she hadn’t expected was to see Brad’s image, supersized, on the giant television screen.

She set down Annabelle’s baby carrier to stare. The bright green eyes that haunted most of her waking moments crinkled as his lips curved into a smile. He full-out laughed, taking him from handsome to off-the-charts dangerous and shooting an electric frizzle clear down to her toes. Normal-size Brad was mesmerizing enough, but this was flat-out ridiculous.

The ring of Olivia’s cell phone forced her attention away. The name
Sylvia
appeared on the screen. Her boss again.

“Ryan Connor’s upset you’re gone,” Sylvia said.

Their biggest client. America’s self-help guru, who was writing a sequel to his book on being assertive that was certain to be another blockbuster.

Olivia straightened one of Annabelle’s socks, which were perpetually on the verge of falling off. “I e-mailed him I’d be back in two weeks. Helen can handle things until then.”

“He’s not used to working with Helen. He wants you. And you know how obsessive he is. He’s insisting on face-to-face meetings.”

“Tell Helen to forward me any e-mails she’s concerned about. And tell Ryan I’ll meet with him all he wants when I get back. There will still be plenty of time to go through the whole book again.”

“And how’re the relationship book edits coming? I know you’re dealing with some tough shit but I was wondering if you’d had a chance to get to any of that?”

Ah, Sylvia. Always such a soft heart.

The answer to her question was, yes, Olivia had. For the ten free minutes she’d had last night before she passed out at the kitchen table. At midnight, she awakened to Annabelle’s cries, only to find her cheek had been pressed to the keyboard and the screen was full of hundreds of
ZZZZZs
.

“I’m working on it,” Olivia said. “I promise to deliver everything by deadline. You know I always do.”

“You’re a talented editor and a hard worker. But Ryan Connor is a major, major player and I simply can’t risk his unhappiness.”

“I’ve never let you down before, Sylvia. I won’t now.”

Olivia rubbed the right side of her forehead. Was that her migraine returning? She had to have a real discussion with her boss. One that involved the issue of cutting back her hours, because how else could she make this work? But instinct told her now was not the time.

She finished the call and slipped her phone back into her purse just as a snow-white cap of hair appeared over the back of one of the reception area couches, followed by the bespectacled face of Brad’s grandmother, who waved her over. “Olivia, there you are. Yoo-hoo, dear, come sit and get settled while the show is on commercial.”

“Effie,” Olivia said with relief, picking up Annabelle’s carrier and walking over to hug the older woman. “What show?” She hadn’t come here to watch TV, or be exposed to larger-than-life Brad. She needed to talk, to be the recipient of some of the wraparound comfort Effie had always supplied in times of distress. A little selfish maybe, but these were desperate times.

Effie sat down carefully and patted the couch cushion next to her. She wore a bright pink cardigan and spotless white tennis shoes, and smelled of old-fashioned drugstore fragrance . . . like Emeraude or Chantilly. Familiar and comforting.

“Bradley’s being interviewed about that charity event he’s hosting over Memorial Day weekend.” Effie perused Annabelle, who sat quietly in her carrier, four fingers stuffed happily in her mouth. “My goodness, she’s grown since last week. And she does look like Patricia!” Effie patted Olivia’s hand. “I’m so glad you came, dear.”

“I wanted to see you.” Olivia looked into Effie’s eyes, the same startling green as Brad’s. Uncanny, how much that gaze was like her grandson’s. Olivia quickly shifted her own gaze to the baby, who was dressed in a tiny sundress sprinkled with strawberries and bumblebees and a matching sun hat. Olivia squatted down next to her and ran a finger over her velvety cheek before undoing the straps of her carrier.

She wanted to tell Effie so many things. Things she couldn’t share with her grieving father, but that she surely would have told her sister. Like how her heart squeezed when she thought of this baby, so alone. Except for her, the scary caretaker.

The last few hours had become a comedy of errors. She’d slept off her headache while the baby napped, but then it had taken another hour between soothing, feeding, and changing before she finally got herself decently dressed. Another hour before she could put on makeup—at least enough to camouflage the dark circles. She’d finally dressed Annabelle and set out again.

“Oh, it’s starting.” Effie clasped her hands together in excitement then gestured to the remote. “Turn it up, would you, honey?”

Olivia placed Annabelle on Effie’s lap and sat.

Olivia cranked the volume and stared at Brad’s chiseled body, secretly enjoying the opportunity to stare that she wouldn’t have in real life. He reclined gracefully at an outdoor table in a finely tailored suit, his shirt as white as his straight, beautiful teeth. The wind gently stirred the thick layers of his dark hair, the sun picking up its golden highlights. Olivia felt like she was watching a movie shot in the Riviera with a sexy male lead instead of a local news interview.

“That’s Erika Peters, from Channel Five. She’s working with Bradley on the Bachelors Who Cook event.”

Next to him sat a sultry woman with glossy black hair and pouty lips who could have been the missing Kardashian sister with her defined cheekbones and sexy curves. She spoke into the camera. “I’m working
very
closely with successful entrepreneur Brad Rushford, who’s kindly offered to host Bachelors Who Cook at his newly remodeled restaurant Reflections.”

“Brad owns four other restaurants in the southeast area, including the new Vino
in New London, which just got an excellent Zagat rating,” Ms. Peters said. “What’s next, Brad? We’ve heard rumors of a new restaurant in Philly or some even say Paris. Talk about a local boy making good.”

“My restaurants are doing well,” Brad said. “But I’m especially proud of the one here in Mirror Lake. If it helps bring people to town where they can discover everything we have to offer, all the better.”

Effie beamed. “I’m so proud of him. He was fifteen when his parents passed, you know. And then I had that heart attack and couldn’t work. And trying to feed and clothe and get five children through college on a nurse’s salary—Lord, we’ve been through a lot. But I feel like he’s my own child.” She sat with her hand pressed over her heart, proudly beaming at the TV and holding Annabelle tightly.

As the camera panned around the restaurant, Brad explained the renovations. It looked like a pretty, open place, right on the water, and nothing like the crab shack of its previous incarnation. He used to dream about owning his own restaurant. How did he feel now that he’d become more successful than he ever imagined?

“Tell us what you love about your home town,” Erika Peters said as she fingered his biceps, then made an “oooh” expression at the camera with her pretty, pouty mouth. She was perky and sexy, and
way
too familiar with Brad. Olivia cleared her throat of the thick, distasteful feeling caught there.

“Well, I like lots of things about Mirror Lake. I like the people—especially my grandma Effie, who’s out there watching. Hey there, Effie, love you!” Brad, wearing a big grin, waved unabashedly at the camera.

“He always was a ham, wasn’t he?” Effie mumbled, clearly pleased.

“Sure was.” So clearly, Olivia remembered a younger version of that handsome face, showing off on her eighteenth birthday just for her. She could still see the pom-poms swaying on his sombrero as he sang “La Bamba” at her front door, accompanied by a Mariachi band comprised of their school marching band friends. Much to her father’s chagrin.

And a more serious version, leaning against a big oak near the moonlit lake, shooting her a smile that sent tremors through her body and reduced her to a boneless pile of shivers. He’d cradled her face so gently in his big hands, his gaze bright and intense, his voice low and caressing. “There’s no one else for me, Liv. No one.” Then he’d kissed her, slow and gentle, till her toes curled and her knees buckled and every last thought in her head turned hazy and indistinct.

Dramatic and intense, or comedic and crazy. That was the Brad she once knew and loved.

For the millionth time, she tried to piece together exactly what had torn them apart. Brad had come to visit her, once, in the fall when she’d left for college. He hadn’t even been able to stay an entire weekend. Maybe she’d been too exuberant about all the fun she’d been having. He hadn’t liked her friends. Wasn’t interested in hearing about her classes. Their differences had created a chasm that only seemed to widen with time.

It hadn’t mattered to her that he wasn’t in school. God knew he was working multiple jobs, struggling to keep his family afloat. He had more maturity and determination than so many of the boys she’d met in college.

But it had mattered to him. Brad had grown more sullen and distant, their fights more frequent. One evening at Christmastime, he’d sat with her on a bench on the town square and said it just wasn’t working for him anymore.

She’d begged him not to break up with her. With a love as big as theirs, they could overcome anything, couldn’t they? But it was too late. Their relationship train was pulling out of the station, and he’d refused to board. She’d stayed there alone, in the park at dusk on a snowy evening, watching the snow swirl around the lamplight, feeling the big, fat flakes land on her face and melt there with her tears, until she could no longer feel her fingers or toes.

And that was when she vowed never to come back to this small town. She’d make her future far away from all the heartbreak of a mother leaving and of the biggest love she’d ever known gone bad.

“Oh, listen,” Effie said. “They’re talking about the event. You know, I think that woman has a crush on Bradley.”

“Whatever makes you think
that?
” Olivia crossed her one leg over another and bounced her foot up and down.

“. . . and it’s for a great cause, isn’t it, Brad?” Erika scooted a little closer and nudged him with a bare shoulder, tapped his thigh with her hand. Olivia felt a pain in her own thigh. She glanced down to find her fists clenched, fingernails digging into her skin.

They’re just playing up the Bachelor event. It’s all about advertising and making Brad look appealing.
Then why did the slow burn in her chest make her feel like mainlining Tums? And why did she nurse a deep desire to track Erika down and bind her up with microphone cord so she couldn’t touch Brad?

“All the money’s going to Mirror Lake Community Hospital,” Brad said. “We’re going to have live music and great food, and the bachelors are getting auctioned off after the cooking competition, so everyone should come on down to the waterfront.”

“And how many bachelors will be showcasing their cooking talents?”

“We’ve got a dozen, all of us Mirror Lake businessmen and professionals.”

“I’m excited to announce that you’re one of the bachelors, Brad. So ladies, come prepared to bid. That’s Memorial Day, at the waterfront, 6:00 p.m.” She reached out and grasped Brad’s jaw and shook it playfully. “You are so cute!” She let out a giggle. Brad raised a brow, but didn’t move away. “Sorry,” Erika said into the camera, “I just couldn’t resist sampling the merchandise.”

“Did she just
touch
him on the
face
?” Olivia’s mouth dropped open. She snapped it shut before she realized she’d just said that out loud. Fortunately, Effie was too engrossed to hear.

Olivia rose from the couch and walked to a side table with an automatic beverage brewer where she busied herself with making tea, grateful for an excuse to collect her thoughts.

Seemed like everyone in Mirror Lake was smitten with Brad. Men liked him, women were crazy for him. And he was clearly very involved in the community. She scowled at his image, still grinning widely on the television. He certainly seemed to be enjoying promoting his event with Erika.

The reporter was outgoing, sexy, and flirty. She was probably fun-loving, too. Olivia could see the appeal, and the stark contrast to her own life. She tended to date men who were working their way up the professional ladder as she was, with little time for relaxation. Her relationships got sandwiched in between long work hours and high-pressure deadlines. She wondered for the thousandth time if putting her personal life on hold for so many years to achieve her goals had been the right thing to do.

She wished Effie weren’t so into the show so they could have a real talk. Olivia placed the tea on the coffee table and sat down again.

“Effie, I—”

“One second, dear. Brad’s talking to the mayor and the business council.” Effie remained mesmerized. At last she glanced down at Annabelle, who had fallen asleep in her arms. “Oh, would you take the baby? I’m getting a crick in my elbow.”

Olivia lifted Annabelle and set her gently in her car seat. At last the show went to break. Effie grabbed Olivia’s hand, held it in both of her old, soft ones. “You’ll have to forgive me for being so excited about this crazy bachelor event. If you two had stayed together, I wouldn’t have to be so concerned about Brad meeting a nice woman and settling down.”

“That was high school, Effie. We were just kids.”

“Well, you’re not children anymore, are you, and neither of you is married.” She patted her hand and smiled a matchmaking grandma smile. “Oh, but things are so different now, aren’t they?”

She said it facetiously, but they
were
different. In too many ways to count. Suddenly, the lump was back blocking her throat.

Effie squeezed Olivia’s hands tightly. “Your whole life has changed faster than a gambler can bet away his fortune.” Effie hadn’t lost her talent to read her so well, even after all these years. “We’re all feeling lost, after all that’s happened. But look right there.” She canted her head toward the baby. “At that little bundle of trouble sitting in that fancy baby contraption. Both her parents live on through her.”