You're Still the One (18 page)

“You’re making me kind of nervous,” Cathy said. “Is that safe to lean on?”

Suddenly, a creaking sound rose above the blare of the trumpet and it felt as if the railing was moving. What was happening? Were the vibrations of the music giving her the illusion of movement? Something bad was happening, she could feel it, but she still didn’t know what. This time when she gasped, everyone heard. Heads from below snapped up, and other gasps joined hers. It wasn’t until she heard someone shout, “She’s going to fall!” that she realized they were talking about her. A small section of the balcony was tearing off, teetering over the edge, and she was going to plunge to her death.

I’ve ruined his night
, was her first thought as she began to fall.
I hope I don’t kill anyone
, was the second.

 

 

Grant Dodge sprung into action. He couldn’t believe what was happening, but he didn’t have time to analyze it. It wasn’t a long fall, and he knew there was a space between two tables where the woman would land. As he sprinted to the spot, he yelled at others to get out of the way, which most of them were already doing. It happened so fast, and yet in some ways seemed in slow motion. Right behind him were his bouncer and a couple of his bigger jazz players. Thank God the balcony almost directly overlooked the stage. They all held their arms out, like a human net, and braced themselves. Still, the impact took most of them down. Grant ended up with his hands on the floor, the woman’s bottom pinning them down. Even before he knew if everyone was all right, his testosterone kicked in and he found himself thinking it felt like a nice ass, even if it was crushing his wrists.

“You okay?” he said to the stunned woman. “Everyone okay?”

One by one, his musicians and bouncer helped everyone up. The woman who fell was shaking, but appeared to be unharmed. With help, she was able to stand. She had a gorgeous hourglass figure, something else he shouldn’t have been thinking about given the circumstances.

Grant held his hand up to the crowd. “We’re okay,” he shouted. “Everyone is okay.”

There was a second of silence, then from the stage came a drum roll topped off with a couple of hits to the cymbals, and the crowd went wild with shouts and applause.

To Grant’s bewilderment, his bouncer leaned in to the lady and said something strange. “See how handy a beef kebab can be?”

“Just like we rehearsed it,” one of the large musicians called out. “Just in time for us to play a little tune we like to call ‘I Fell For You.’ ” Laughter again from the crowd.

Grant put his arm around the woman’s waist—she was still shaking—and he gently walked her over to the stairs, where her friend was waiting, frozen in place. The band began to play as if nothing had happened, and soon the crowd settled back in, seemingly enjoying themselves more than ever.

They bought it
, Grant thought.
They thought it was planned
. He’d have to give Reggie a bonus for coming up with that one. Now he was going to have to figure out how to avoid a lawsuit from the woman who almost died in his club. How in the hell did she get up to the balcony? What happened to his strict orders not to let anyone up there? He even had it roped off, just in case. He should have known some idiot would try to get around it. He was going to have to be careful not to let the woman have a piece of his mind. The more he thought about it, the more furious he became. In fact, he wanted to shake the living daylights out of her. Instead he gently sat her on the step.

“Do we need to call an ambulance?” he asked her. The woman quickly shook her head no. He couldn’t see her face; she was keeping it down, her long black hair covering it. It was hard to stay mad at someone who was so shook up. He sat next to her on the stairs and put his arm around her. In seconds, he’d gone from wanting to kill her to wanting to take care of her, comfort her.

“I tried to rope off the balcony,” he said to her friend, who was still hovering above them. “I told them not to seat anyone up there.”

The friend leaned down next to the woman. “Are you okay?” she said. “Rebecca, look at me.”

Rebecca? Grant started at the name. Well, what about them apples? Imagine the headlines. Stranger named Rebecca killed at the opening of Rebecca’s. He almost laughed.

“Your name is Rebecca?” he asked. And then she looked up, and into his eyes. And then he couldn’t tell if he was shaking because she was shaking, or if his body was doing it all on its own. He literally felt a series of jolts, as if a firing line had just unloaded on him and not one of them had missed. It was her. It was her, it was her, it was her.

“Hello, Grant,” she said. “Sorry to just drop in on you like this.”

Rebecca didn’t get another chance to apologize. Grant was beside himself. “This is unbelievable,” he kept saying. “It’s you. It’s really you.” He quickly set Cathy and Rebecca up at his reserved table downstairs, and saw to it that they were treated like queens. He squeezed Rebecca’s hand and whispered that he’d talk to her after his set. He played with his eyes fastened on her and as soon as he finished, a huge grin lit up his face. It didn’t take long before his ex-wife, Amy, was glaring at Rebecca’s table. Megan, on the other hand, was a delight. During his next quick break, Grant introduced them.

“This is my daughter, Megan,” he said.

“Stepdaughter,” Megan corrected. “But he’s like a real dad.” She glanced at the table where her mother was sitting.

“Sorry,” Grant leaned in and whispered. “That’s the biological dad there. No disrespect meant, Megan.”

“None taken, Dad,” she said good-naturedly. “He’s the real deal,” she said with another flash of a smile.

Stepdaughter, Rebecca thought. And although it was obvious they had a true father-daughter relationship, it conjured up strange feelings in Rebecca. Grant had a biological child as well. She felt ashamed of herself for thinking it would be a stronger bond. After all, he’d actually known Megan most of her life, raised her, sang to her, tucked her into bed, laughed with her, played games with her, and on and on and on. He’d never even set eyes on his son.

Grant carefully dodged the question when Megan wanted details of how he and Rebecca knew each other. It wasn’t hard to do with all the commotion. During the second half of the evening, patrons took to the dance floor, and there was so much merriment, there wasn’t much time for chatter.

“So, will I be going back to the hotel alone?” Cathy asked with a smile.

“Absolutely not,” Rebecca said. “Whatever you do, do not go home without me.”

“Miles looks just like him,” Cathy said.

Rebecca looked up. Grant was smiling at her from onstage. It was true. They even had the same dimple in their chin when they smiled.

“Next break, we’ve got to go,” Rebecca said.

“Are you okay?”

“No. I can’t keep this secret bottled up, not after drinking all this champagne. And I can’t tell him tonight. This is his night. So next set, we say our good-byes and we’re out of here, okay?”

“Whatever you think.”

At the next break, Grant appeared. Just as he started to sit down, Cathy and Rebecca stood.

“I’m afraid we have to go,” Rebecca said.

“You’re kidding,” Grant said. He seemed truly surprised, but to his credit, he quickly recovered. “By all means. I just—it’s just—it’s so incredible seeing you.”

“She has all day tomorrow,” Cathy said. Rebecca wanted to kill her, but Grant didn’t give her a chance.

“Fabulous. Will you see me tomorrow?” he said. “I might need a bit of a lie-in after tonight, but what about getting together in the afternoon?”

“I’d love that,” Rebecca said. She told him the name of her hotel, and he agreed to meet her in the lobby at one. She and Grant did an awkward dance, not knowing whether to hug, or kiss, or shake hands. He ended up extending his hand, but when she went to shake it, he held it instead. Then he brought her hand up to his lips, and without breaking eye contact, he slowly turned her hand over and kissed her palm. It was so erotic, she wanted to kill him for turning her on in public.

It was still there, as strong as ever, that current of electricity between them, Rebecca thought. It was good to know that some things never change. That is, until she spilled her secrets.

As she and Cathy walked back to the hotel, doubt began to creep in. Was she making the biggest mistake of her life? Should she stay and dance, and end the night in his arms? Have one more night to cherish before she ruined it once and for all? She couldn’t imagine someone telling her she had a grown child, a whole life that she could have been part of. She only prayed that no matter how angry they were at her, Miles and Grant would have a chance to get to know one another. Better late than never? She could only pray that would be the case.

Once they were back in their hotel room, Cathy hung out in Rebecca’s room. She kicked back on an easy chair, but Rebecca couldn’t sit still. “I don’t know who to tell first,” she said, pacing. “Grant or Miles. Who should I tell first?”

“Oh, sweetie. I don’t know.”

“I think I should tell Miles first. Miles at least knows he has a father, so it might be less of a shock.”

“True, but he thinks his father was killed in a car crash before he was born.”

Rebecca sat on the edge of the bed and put her head on her knees.

“Sorry,” Cathy whispered.

“Don’t be,” Rebecca said. “I need a cold, hard dose of the truth.”

“It’s been twenty-one years,” Cathy said. “I know you’re feeling all guilty, but I don’t think there’s any reason to rush your decision now, is there?”

“Other than a ton of bricks weighing me down every day?”

“I just think you need to calm down, get to know Grant again, and take it a step at a time. Maybe you can invite Miles here and tell them at the same time.”

“Miles is my son. He’s the one I have the real relationship with. I should tell Miles first.”

“Okay.”

“But I robbed Grant of the joy of finding out he was having a child. In an ideal world, he should have been the first person I would have told. But what if it’s too late? What if he doesn’t even want to get to know Miles? In which case, if I tell Miles first, then I’ve set him up for a huge rejection. Then again, after all these years, maybe Grant has a right to choose whether or not to step in now.”

“That makes sense.”

“So I’ll tell Grant first.”

“I agree.”

Rebecca leapt out of bed, pulled a pair of jeans out of her suitcase, and began to dress.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going back to the club. I’ll bet he’s still there.”

“It’s two thirty in the morning.”

“You think I should wait?”

“Yes, my dear friend, I think you should wait.”

“You’re right.” Rebecca left her jeans on but got back into bed. Cathy started for her room.

“I know it’s silly but—”

“Do you want me to stay in here for a bit?” Cathy guessed.

“Please,” Rebecca croaked. “I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts. Oh God, I’m like a crazy person. I think she really did curse me.”

“Relax,” Cathy said. “I’ll just lay here for awhile.” Cathy clicked off the light. “It’s going to be okay,” she said.

“Promise?” Rebecca said.

“You were only sixteen,” Cathy said. “A child.”

“Okay,” Rebecca said. She closed her eyes, hugged her pillow, and began counting the seconds until one p.m.

 

 

Grant was already standing in the lobby, hands in pockets, looking out at the back pool, when she came down. He turned as she descended the staircase, and she saw him take her in. She felt like the star of a romantic movie, making her grand entrance. He was so handsome, and tall, and clean shaven—she wanted to reach out and rub her hand along his smooth jawline—and he wore cologne that should be illegal in public. Instead, she smoothed her hair and laughed nervously, and this time they decided on an awkward hug. It lasted longer than your average friendly hug.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Starving,” she lied. How could you eat when your stomach was in total knots? How could you choke down a single bite when you knew you should be using your mouth to say
I gave birth to your son
?

“Great. I know a little place near the Garden District. Then I thought we could have a stroll around the mansions. I can point out where all the celebrities have lived.”

“Just what I came for,” Rebecca said. She laughed again.

“I never thought I’d hear that laugh again,” Grant said.

“Before we go,” Rebecca said, “I hate to do this.” Grant looked as if he were bracing himself for really bad news. Rebecca made note of it: he wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions, anxiety clearly splashed across his face. “My friend Cathy is only here for one more day, and—”

“Is that all?” Grant said. “The more the merrier.”

“Are you sure?”

“We couldn’t just leave her here by herself on her last day.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Rebecca started toward the stairs to go and tell Cathy.

“How many days are you staying?” Grant asked. It was almost a whisper.

Rebecca turned. “I’m—here for a while,” she said. “On business.”

He immediately relaxed, and broke into a huge grin. “Good. That’s very, very good.”

And she knew, as she walked back up the stairs, that his eyes were glued to her every step of the way.

 

 

They ate in an adorable little bistro with a back garden patio. It was somewhat obvious that Grant had picked a romantic place, but the three of them chatted away and enjoyed themselves nonetheless. When he casually asked Rebecca what brought her to New Orleans, Rebecca couldn’t speak. Cathy jumped in.

“She’s checking out possible locations to open a jewelry boutique.”

Rebecca just looked at her.

“You mean you might stay?” Grant said. He sounded excited.

“Everything’s up in the air right now,” Rebecca said.

Grant grabbed a napkin and wrote down a name and number. He slid it to Rebecca.

She looked at it and said the name out loud. “Mae Lin.”

“She’s looking for someone to sublet her apartment. She’s already in San Francisco, but a friend of hers has the key and can show it to you anytime.”

Cathy grinned. “It’s fate,” she said.

Rebecca smiled but went back to being mute. Cathy picked up the slack, talking about her husband and kids and job. So far, Rebecca had talked of her jewelry business and where she lived, but little else.

Every once in a while, Grant would say “Buffalo,” as if he were fascinated by the word. Finally, after about the third time, he caught Rebecca looking at him. “I just . . . always wondered,” he said. “Where you lived.”

A wounded feeling came over her as if she were that rejected teenager once again. Sitting by the phone, touching her belly, praying for him to call. “I told you where I lived, and I gave you my phone number.”

He looked stunned for a second, and then sheepish. “I wasn’t always listening to you.”

“You. What?” All these years of replaying every word he’d ever said to her like a favorite song, and he couldn’t even remember where she lived? Maybe this wasn’t the fairy tale she thought it was.

“You were so bewitching,” Grant said. He turned to Cathy. “She was so gorgeous.”

“I know,” Cathy said. “I was here that weekend, too.”

Once again, Grant didn’t try to hide his genuine surprise. “You were?” He snapped his fingers. “The scavenger hunt!”

Cathy grimaced, gulped her wine, and poured them all more. “Guilty,” she said, sneaking a look at Rebecca.

“Who won that, anyway?” Grant said.

“I did—” Rebecca said.

“It was a trick,” Cathy said.

Rebecca wished her friend would have stuck to the lie, but Grant’s ears were already perked up.

“We were horrible to Rebecca that weekend,” Cathy said. “Three nasty girls out to set her up.”

“No,” Grant said.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Cathy said. “We dared her to get drunk and seduce a handsome stranger while we went dancing.” Cathy immediately flushed, and for that matter, so did Rebecca.

“Well,” Grant said, “I can’t say I’m completely sorry.” He stared at Rebecca across the table. She was the first to look away. “The two of you obviously patched things up—friends to this day.”

“Oh yes,” Rebecca said. “She made up for it. Stood by me when everyone else—”
Shunned me for getting knocked up.
Rebecca let the sentence drop.

Grant must have sensed the subject put Rebecca on edge, for despite looking as if he had a sea of follow up questions, he didn’t pursue the matter any further. “Anyway,” he said, “you wrote your number down—but it was smeared—”

“Yours too!” Rebecca said.

“If only I had remembered you said Buffalo,” Grant said. “I’m sure I would have called information. I was so mad at myself. For being so entranced with your beauty that I wasn’t a very good listener.”

Okay, maybe she could forgive that. “We were so young,” she said.

“Nineteen and twenty-two,” he said.

Cathy started to cough.

This was it, Rebecca thought. Time to drop a little bit of the truth and see what kind of detonating power it had. “Sixteen,” she said. “I was really sixteen.”

Cathy froze with her wineglass poised midair, as if she couldn’t believe Rebecca had just spit that out. Rebecca stared at her plate.

“Oh,” Grant said. Then, after a minute, “Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” he said. “So I—oh my God. I would have never—” He glanced at Cathy.

“It’s okay,” Rebecca said. “She knows.”

“I. It’s just. Wow. Sixteen. I feel like such a jerk.”

Rebecca immediately put her hand on top of his. “I was the jerk,” she said. “I was the jerk.”

“You were completely blitzed on Hurricanes,” Grant said. He stopped eating, pushed away his plate. “I was an adult. And you were a drunk sixteen-year-old girl. Sixteen.”

“Grant. It wasn’t like that. I—”
Was madly in love with you
. No, that wouldn’t sound right.
Was under a spell
—

“Megan is fourteen,” Grant said. “You were only two years older than my stepdaughter, Megan.”

Oh no. Rebecca had forgotten all about his teenage daughter.

“She had an older boy hanging around her last year and it scared me to death. I wanted to kill him. I absolutely wanted to kill him.” He pushed his chair back from the table. “I was him,” he said. “I was no better than him.”