This Thing Called Love (A Mirror Lake Novel) Page 19

  The dock was crowded in the late afternoon heat, with people milling about tasting food and wine, laughing and talking. The scent of smoked ribs from a massive grill set up on the new deck of his restaurant filled the air. He waved to Philippe, who signaled him a thumbs-up. He was in his element, wearing a crisp white double-breasted chef jacket and toque as he worked the crowd.

  Despite Brad’s worries, everything had gone on just fine without him. Squinting in the bright sun, he searched all quadrants for a head of thick brown curls, a flash of deep brown eyes. But Olivia was nowhere.

  He checked his cell again. Nada. And tried not to panic that he’d lost her for good.

  Brad’s brother, Ben, sat behind a table next to Olivia’s father, surrounded by a crowd of young, tanned women in sundresses. Both guys appeared to be loving every minute. “Thanks for covering for me, Benjamin,” Brad said, “but what’s with all the napkins?” Ben clutched little scraps of paper that fluttered in the evening lake breeze.

  “We ran out of lasagna rolls after a half hour. But the phone numbers just keep coming. Too fast to get them all in my phone.” Ben grinned widely, anchoring the papers under a leg of the serving pan.

  Tom stood nearby, tasting barbecued ribs and drinking beer out of a plastic cup. “I wanted to take your place but Alex said if I did, she’d castrate me.”

  “Where is Alex?” Brad asked, hoping he’d say “with Olivia”. Because it felt like Olivia was here. His heart fired crazily, as revved as the engine on a Jaguar, every sense on alert. She had to be here. Please, God, let her be here. Give me one last chance to get it right.

  But why wasn’t she answering her phone?

  Meg’s approach interrupted their conversation. She was holding Annabelle, who wore a ruffly white dress with red polka dots and tiny blue sandals. Meg held out her hand, palm up, to Ben. “I can put those numbers in my purse for you if you’d like. Keep them safe.”

  “Thanks, Meggie.” As Ben handed them over, the wind caught and blew them over the water.

  “Hey!” he exclaimed, watching them flutter like ticker tape after a parade.

  “Oops,” Meg said, putting her fingers up to her mouth in mock surprise. Her tone would be called sassy if it was anyone but Meg. “So sorry about that.”

  Brad accosted Ben, who was still getting over the shock of losing all those numbers. “Ben, I was wondering if you’d take my place in the bachelor lineup tonight.”

  “Great idea, Brad.” Meg turned to Ben. “You’ll get plenty more floozies’ numbers that way.” Then she stalked off with Annabelle.

  “Wonder what she’s in a huff about,” Ben said.

  Brad shook his head. “For an ER doc, you’re pretty clueless.”

  He didn’t have time to elaborate. A female hand snaked around his arm. Brad spun, his breath catching. Just Erika, in a clingy leopard-print dress accentuating her big boobage. Holding a zipped-up dry cleaning bag. “Oh, my God, you’re here,” she cried on a deep sigh. “Where the hell have you been all day?”

  “I had . . . urgent business.” Still did. Where was Olivia?

  “Ben cannot take your place. The whole town is cheering for you, for the restaurant. You’ve got to be part of the auction.”

  “I can’t do it. I can’t be auctioned off.”

  “Oh, yes, you can.” Erika thrust the bag into his hand.

  “What’s in here?”

  “Your tux,” she huffed.

  “Attention, everyone. Can I have your attention?” Everyone swung their gazes over to the brand new deck of Brad’s restaurant, where a man with bright red skinny jeans, a yellow shirt, and hipster glasses held a microphone. He stood under a large banner that said Bachelors Who Cook—for the Benefit of Mirror Lake Community Hospital. “I’d like to call all of our cooking bachelors up here for the next part of our program.”

  “Who is that?” Brad asked.

  “Marc Daniels cancelled, and that’s his replacement. His name is Julian, he’s an artist from New York, and he offered to help. Now go!” Erika gave him a shove that wasn’t at all playful.

  Julian’s voice carried over the marina. “That famous chef, Marc Daniels, couldn’t make it. I’m Julian Morris, your new MC. So come on up here, all you gorgeous bachelors!”

  The crowd whooped and hollered. Everyone from town was there plus tons of foodies and tourists. The marina was jammed with boats, too, strung with strings of lights and flags in preparation for the big boat parade tonight.

  No sign of Olivia. Dammit, she hadn’t come after all. Disappointment prickled his insides—no, something far worse. Once, when he was in college, he’d driven through the plains states—Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas—through long stretches of flat land and frozen, waving grasses. It had been snowy and cold, the heater had been broken in his beat-up old car, and he’d never felt such desolation. He felt it now, despite the sunny eighty-degree day and the smell of great food and laughter spilling everywhere.

  He’d lost her. The road ahead looked lonely and he was completely off course. And the last thing in the world that he wanted was to be fawned over by a bunch of young women flashing their cleavage and shiny white teeth and licking their glossy lips.

  There was only one woman for him. Too bad she didn’t want him.

  He pulled out his phone one last time before he broke through the crowd. Nothing.

  Brad changed in five minutes in the restaurant restroom. On the way out, Tom and Alex accosted him.

  “Are you all right?” his brother asked.

  Alex stepped forward to adjust his tie. “You look like hell.” She actually spit on her hand and aimed to flatten his hair like he was one of her boys but he dodged. She got him anyway.

  “I’ve been in New York all day.”

  Alex brushed lint off his jacket. “Tuck in your shirt.”

  “I can’t find her. She wasn’t there and she’s not answering her phone.”

  “Get a grip, bro. She’s here.” Tom looked him in the eye, shook him by the shoulders, and gave him one last shove onto the deck, where a stage had been set up.

  She’s here. Tom’s words echoed in Brad’s ears as he half tumbled onto the makeshift stage. His heart galloped faster than a horse thundering into the final leg of the Preakness. He scanned the crowd, his gaze skimming back and forth over a sea of smiling faces.

  Where was she? The faintest spark rekindled all his dashed hopes. He’d been given one last chance to fight for her. It would mean baring his soul to make it right and this time he wasn’t holding back.

  When Brad stepped up, everyone cheered, but he barely heard the noise. He stood next to the eleven other bachelors in evening wear and forced a smile, waving to Effie and Rosie and the boys and all the friends and neighbors he’d known for most of his life. But his eyes sought one woman, scanning the sea of faces tirelessly but coming up with—zero.

  Julian herded the men together. “Okay, everyone. We’re here to raise some money for the hospital, so come on, ladies, dig down deep in your pockets to bid on these hot guys. Top bidder wins a date with the bachelor, and the guy who goes for the most money gets to be on the cover of Connecticut Foodie Magazine. So, let’s go!”

  The bidding began. Heat gathered under Brad’s collar and he yanked it to loosen it a little. He kept a smile painted on his face, but inside he was dying.

  And then his cell phone buzzed.

  Pulling it from his pocket, he read his text. The most precious two words of his life.

  I’m here.

  People pressed from all sides and Olivia felt her hair starting to spring out wildly in the humidity despite the gallon of hairspray her friends had generously applied. Sweat beaded on her lip and her pretty dress stuck to her skin.

  It was a black chiffon halter dress, a reject Alex had found in the stock room from an all-black wedding. She’d taken shears and
mercilessly whacked off the large red satin flower that had been sewn onto the waistline so it now looked slightly less wedding-ish. The shoes were strappy black sandals that Meg had pulled from her own closet. Who suspected that Meg even owned fuck-me shoes?

  In Olivia’s haste, she’d forgotten her phone in New York but now she held Meg’s. She jumped up and down, waved her hands, trying to attract Brad’s attention while she slogged through the sticky bodies to the stage. She had to get to him before it was too late. Before every single woman went wild over him.

  Julian’s voice boomed over the mike. “We’re going to start the bidding on our most popular bachelor, hometown son, entrepreneur, benefactor of many Mirror Lake charities . . . Mr. Brad Rushford!”

  Sweat rolled down her back as Olivia flung herself through the tangle of arms and legs, children eating hot dogs and cotton candy, and toddlers clinging to their parents’ legs.

  The crowd clapped as Brad took the mike.

  “Olivia. Olivia, where are you?” Brad’s voice echoed along the lakefront as he looked about.

  Olivia’s muscles froze in place. Oh my God, did he just say my name? Out loud? Or am I hallucinating?

  Everyone hushed, sensing something extraordinary was happening.

  “I’m here!” she yelled as loud as she could. She pushed forward, waving her arms wildly. “Right here!”

  This time, the bodies parted. Not only that, but a thousand eyeballs turned to stare at her. A buzz tore through the marina.

  Brad finally caught her gaze and held out his arm. “Come up here, sweetheart. Come up here right now.”

  She locked her eyes on gorgeous, handsome Brad, in a slim-fit tux, looking like the one and only man she’d ever loved in her life. He was there, waiting for her, his worried gaze fixed on her, only her. As if the thousand people surrounding them didn’t exist.

  Behind him, the sun was setting over the pier, an orange ball of fire in a smoky blue sky. How many times had she seen that same sun set over this old town? Except that now its beauty seemed precious to her. The sunset blurred in a haze of sudden tears. All she could see as she blinked them back was Brad, center stage, taking the mike to speak.

  “I’m Brad Rushford, owner of Reflections, sponsor of this event, and I just wanted to say a word. Is that okay?”

  “Say away,” Julian said, stepping back.

  “First, I wanted to thank everyone for coming out today. The Bachelors Who Cooked, I wanted to thank them, too. The event was a big success. And tonight, our auction is for a great cause.”

  Amid the applause, Brad handed the mike back to Julian. Whispered something in his ear.

  “But we’re in the middle of auctioning you off,” Julian said, his voice a little panicked. “What am I supposed to do with this crowd?” Realizing he’d accidentally announced that into the mike, Julian’s face turned the color of the setting sun.

  Brad, grinning, patted him on the back, then dashed to the edge of the stage. His gaze singled out Olivia and fixed on her like a tractor beam as she pushed through the last few rows of bodies.

  Julian faced the throng gamely. “Okay, party people. Our auction has been delayed for a few minutes while our bachelor takes care of some . . . business. I know Marc Daniels couldn’t make it, but we have a real celebrity in our midst who I know would love to give you some tips this Memorial Day weekend on being assertive. Let’s have a big hand for New York Times best-selling author, Ryan Connor!”

  Everyone went with it and roared.

  Ryan stepped up to the stage and hugged his partner.

  “Thanks, Julian.” He beamed at the masses before him. “Let’s take a few moments to talk about working hard to get what you want.”

  CHAPTER 21

  When Olivia finally reached the makeshift stage, Brad grasped her hands and lifted her up the stairs as if she weighed as much as a ball of cotton. He wasted no time crushing her to him. “You’re here.” Emotion weighed down his voice.

  Engulfed in his arms, she breathed in the scent of him, familiar and wonderful. She was home at last.

  “I had to see you,” she whispered. “Nothing’s been the same since I left.”

  “I went to New York to find you but you were gone. And you weren’t answering your cell.”

  “I accidentally left it at my apartment.”

  He caressed her face. His startling green eyes blazed with intensity. Passion. Relief. “I love you,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ve decided to start a new restaurant in New York. Hell, I’ll open one in Siberia if that’s what it takes to have you.”

  Her heart stuttered as a big, blooming chunk of hope took hold in her chest and clung. “You mean Annabelle’s not your number-one concern?” she choked out. She touched his hair, his cheek, making sure he was real. That this was real.

  “I love Kevin’s child with my whole heart and I would give up my own life to protect her. But what I feel for you”—he took a deep breath—“what I feel for you is more than I can even express. I was afraid to say it, afraid you’d leave again and not look back. But I love you, Olivia. I can’t imagine a life without you and Annabelle.”

  The precious words misted her eyes. All the joy in her heart prepared to flood out. Except there was just one last thing. “I thought you didn’t want to raise any more kids.”

  Brad’s gaze, bright with emotion, drilled directly through her. Set her to trembling, but his hold on her was unrelenting. “I’d be lying if I told you it didn’t still scare me. But my sister made me realize that maybe I’ve been so afraid of screwing up that I forgot to notice what I did right. No one can predict the future, but I can guarantee one thing. Our children will be loved, Olivia. We can share all the ups and downs together.”

  “No.”

  He quirked a brow. “No?”

  “No, I don’t want you to move to New York.” She took a deep breath and plunged in. “These past few weeks have taught me I’m not my mother. And being in New York made me recognize I’m not my job, either. So I’ve decided to do something a little different. Going through this experience has made me realize there aren’t any books out there for people who suddenly become parents, like I did, with little notice. So I was thinking I could write one. It’s going to be full of resources and advice—as soon as I learn it all myself.”

  A tiny smile played at the corners of his mouth. “You’re going to write a self-help book instead of edit one.”

  “And I want to live right here, in Mirror Lake, with our family and friends.”

  “Won’t you miss the City?”

  She shook her head. “Home is where you are, Brad. Besides, it’s close enough that I can go back and forth when I need to.”

  He dropped to one knee, and this time he looked her straight in the eye. Her limbs went numb with shock. Blood heated her cheeks and her heart pounded so loud she was afraid she would miss the question. She was vaguely aware that Ryan had stopped talking, of the sudden silence of a thousand people waiting on bated breath with her.

  “Marry me, Olivia.”

  She nodded, tears blurring her vision. Brad stood and pulled her tight against him, planted his lips firmly over hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave it back with all she had.

  The crowd went wild.

  He murmured something in her ear. Drew away, groped in his jacket pockets.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Dammit, it’s in my other pants pocket . . .”

  She tugged on his arm to get him to look at her. “I don’t need that now.”

  A huge smile spread over Brad’s handsome face as he gathered her back into his arms and looked deeply into her eyes. “I loved you a long time ago, I love you now, and I’ll love you forever.”

  All she could see of his face was a huge watery blur. But she felt his strength surround her, smelled his warm cologne and sunshine
scent carried on the familiar lake breeze. “I’ve always loved you, Brad. I always will.”

  Cheers exploded all around them. Meg walked up and handed Annabelle to her, and Olivia kissed and hugged the tiny baby she would love as her own forever.

  Ryan finally took the mike. “Brad Rushford, you’re officially disqualified from Bachelors Who Cook.”

  Brad gave a who, me? shrug of innocence.

  “You want to know why? Because you’ve just revoked your bachelorhood!”

  Amid more cheers and more than a few disappointed boos, Brad leaned toward the mike. “I want to call a substitute.” His gaze flicked through the masses of people. “Frank Marks, get up here.”

  Somehow, amidst all the commotion, Brad helped Olivia and the baby down and Alex and Tom steered the three of them to a quiet spot near the restaurant. Effie had tears in her eyes. Olivia kissed her and handed her Annabelle to hold.

  Then she hugged Alex and Meg. “Thank you both for helping me.”

  Alex, the softie that she was, was full-out bawling. As she dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex, she pointed at the stage. “Oh my gosh, your father’s up there. He’s about to be auctioned off.”

  Later that night, Brad and Olivia gathered at Alex and Tom’s house with the rest of the family to watch the 11:00 p.m. news coverage of the event.

  Samantha walked in just before eleven, looking flustered, and made her way to Olivia and Annabelle on the couch. “My cell battery died so I was checking my e-mail on Trish and Kevin’s computer, and when the e-mail came up, it was still logged in to Trish’s account. I hope you don’t mind, but I copied these for you. It’s from a couple weeks before the accident.”

  She handed Olivia a page of cut-and-pasted e-mails. The first heading said RE: The Will. Her sister’s own words blurred in front of her. Olivia’s hands shook as she stared blankly at the paper.