Authors: Kate Willoughby
Chapter Two
Claire stalked away from Alex Sullivan, angrier than she’d been in a long time. First of all, she
did
know shit about hockey. Back when Erin and Tim had first met, she’d attended a lot of games so Erin wouldn’t have to go by herself. In a short amount of time, she’d come to really enjoy the sport and even become sort of a novice superfan. She might not be able to quote from the NHL rulebook, but she could tell the difference between hooking and slashing, and she probably owned more Barracuda clothing than Alex did. It felt good to walk the corridors of the Mesa Arena bedecked from head to toe in ‘Cuda colors.
What did
not
feel good was wondering if Alex had told all his hockey buddies about what happened that night at the bar so they could all have a good laugh at her expense. The thought of being a hilarious locker room anecdote had bothered her for a long time. She’d imagined the conversations...
Yeah
,
you know
“
kiss and tell”? She was more like
“
kiss and cry.
”
Sad.
She should get some therapy.
Dude
,
stay away from the drama llamas.
That
on top
of her marriage imploding because of her two-timing husband. It had been a beyond-shitty time in her life.
But that was then. This was now.
“Is something going on between you and Alex Sullivan?” Erin asked Claire as they waited for their cue. Quentin, of Events by Quentin, was near the end of the aisle giving directions to Tim and the groomsmen. “It looked like you guys were having a pretty intense conversation.”
“We were, but it’s nothing important.”
“Really? Because if you guys are going to cause a scene...”
Claire frowned. “Do you really think I would cause a scene at your wedding? Really?”
“Well, there
was
that thing at Moe’s...”
“
Was
, being the operative word. There’s nothing going on with us. Nothing.”
Except I can’t seem to get him out of my mind
,
and I’ve been trying for months.
Erin sighed. “Okay Sorry. I know you wouldn’t cause a scene. I’m...I’m just so scared.”
“Oh, honey, it’s normal to feel nervous the day before your wedding,” Claire replied.
“It’s not just nerves. I feel...dread. I feel like someone is just waiting for the right time to pull the rug out from under me. I’ve felt like this on and off, almost from the first day I met Tim.”
“Hey, that’s just human nature. I think it comes of being an adult, you know? When you’re little, you just enjoy everything freely, you live a life of optimism and innocence, but then, as you get older, you begin to realize sometimes bad things happen.
“But here’s what I think. That’s all part of the grand plan. We can’t appreciate what we have if we have no knowledge of what it’s like without it. When you feel that sense of dread, I want you harness it, just like Tim harnesses his emotions during games. Make that emotion your bitch, Erin. I’m serious. I want you to look that dread in the face and you say, ‘Eff you, dread. I met Tim for a reason and that reason is so that we can live happily ever after because we were meant for each other.’ Do you think Tim is worrying when the other shoe is going to drop?”
“Not as much as me, but maybe. He has even more reason to worry about that than I do.”
Claire had to admit, Erin had a point. The tragedy of his daughter’s death and how deeply it affected him was well-known.
“Okay, so what if he does worry? It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you have each other. That’s what the vows are all about, right? For better or for worse. Through thick and thin, together forever. You guys are a team from now on and anything,
anything
, life throws at you, you’re going to face together. You guys love each other so much and love is the strongest power in the world.”
Tammy, Erin’s best friend, leaned in. “That was quite a speech, Claire. I feel like I should start a slow clap.”
They laughed and the frown line that had been marring Erin’s forehead disappeared. Claire sighed in relief. Bridal panic attack averted.
* * *
After the rehearsal, Elliot Fleming hosted a dinner for the wedding party. His dining room was like the man himself—refined and rich—and reminded Claire of a great hall in a movie with knights and kings. She wondered where a person got a table this big, because it
was
one big table, not several tables pushed together. There was art everywhere, not all of it on the walls.
She’d become an art lover herself over the past ten years. Watching her siblings flourishing in careers of their own, Claire had struggled to find her purpose in life, but none of the things she tried panned out until she and Vic attended a charity event for the museum. There, she’d met Elliot, who encouraged her to get involved as a volunteer. Having nothing better to do, she signed up the next day.
The training to be a docent took her eight months, but unlike in high school she’d found the reading to be fascinating. The actual work as a docent was even more interesting. She discovered she loved educating people about art, especially the kids. In her opinion, art education in schools was an endangered species, which was why she’d proposed an art summer camp idea to the museum board.
She successfully avoided Alex during the cocktail hour. It was handy but disturbing that she had a sixth sense about his location in the room, enabling her to be where he wasn’t. However when dinner was served, there were place cards. Elliot sat at the head with Erin and Tim on his right and she and Alex on his left.
She didn’t miss Alex’s smug smile as he sat down. “Hello again.”
She nodded in greeting as she placed her napkin on her lap. She’d heard the phrase “animal magnetism” before but hadn’t experienced it until Alex. When he was near, she felt a tingling all over, especially down below, and she became hyperaware that he was a man and she was a woman. He was tall and confident and strikingly handsome—deep-set dark brown eyes, thick eyelashes that she’d kill to have, a strong jawline with sexy stubble she wanted to feel against her lips.
Was it wrong of her to wonder if he had chest hair?
Yes. He was an inconsiderate womanizer.
And yet, he’d been kind to her the night they’d kissed. She’d seen true empathy in his eyes after she’d blurted out the sordid story of Vic and his mistress. He’d even tried to talk to her about it, but there was no way she’d wanted to stick around after her embarrassing mascara-down-the-face confession.
And now she was stuck sitting next to him for the next couple of hours, judging from the list of courses on the menu set at each place.
Erin smiled at their host. “Elliot, I’ve been meaning to tell you how much I enjoyed the exhibit at the museum. Claire told me you were instrumental in pushing the summer camp project through in the first place. The artwork was amazing. I couldn’t believe some of that was done by kids.”
“Anyone can create wonderful art,” Claire said. “They just have to let go of their inhibitions, like children do so naturally.”
Alex shook his head. “So it’s your opinion that I could make a great piece of art, if only I were drunk enough?”
Claire smiled tightly. “I didn’t say drunk.”
“Well, that’s the only circumstance that I can imagine where I’d have a paint brush in my hand.” He tasted the wine and nodded. “Why are you showing kids’ work in the museum anyway? Is this a real museum?”
“Yes, it’s a real museum. It’s the Bayside Art Museum in Oceanside,” Claire said.
Alex shrugged. “Never heard of it.”
“Of course not. There’s no alcohol served there.”
Across the table, Tim laughed.
“Not even apple martinis?” Alex asked with a devilish grin.
While surprised he remembered the specific drink she got tipsy on that night at Moe’s, she ignored both the comment and the smile. He was trying to get under her skin and it wasn’t working. She was immune to his charm, absolutely, positively immune.
Elliot cleared his throat. “It was Claire’s idea to fund a summer camp revolving around art and, as expected, it was a big success. After we saw what the children produced, we decided to exhibit the work.”
“I liked art in school,” Alex said. “But I went to hockey camp. Every summer.”
“Hockey camp,” Tim said, raising his glass. “Good times.”
“Did you go to camp, Claire?” Alex asked.
“No,” Claire replied. “We just did family vacations.”
“Where did you go?” Elliot asked both Claire and Erin.
“We went all over, but I liked visiting the national parks best,” Claire said. “Yosemite was beautiful. The Grand Canyon and Yellowstone were great too.”
“Channel Islands was my favorite,” Erin said. “Remember the hermit crabs?”
“Yes!” Claire smiled as she explained. “Erin and I were exploring these tide pools and we noticed that some of the little hermit crabs had no shells to protect them and we were worried something would eat them.”
Erin picked up the story from there. “So we found empty shells, put them next to the crabs that had no shells and wouldn’t you know it? They scooted right inside! We cheered every single time.”
“Our dad called us chips off the old block since he was a real estate agent and we spent hours finding homes for so many homeless crabs.”
Elliot chuckled. “As for me, I’m partial to the Sequoia National Park, somewhat north of the Channel Islands. Ask me why.”
Tim nodded. “I’ll bite. Why are you partial to the Sequoia National Park?”
Elliot grinned like a Vaudeville performer. “It’s nice to see that something on earth is older than I am.”
“I’ve never been to one of your national parks,” Alex said.
With that remark, Claire realized, even though she’d never heard him say “eh,” he was probably Canadian. It made sense seeing as how the majority of the NHL players were from Canada.
“Not even the Grand Canyon?” Tim asked.
“Nope.” Alex shrugged as the first course was served, a cold gazpacho. “This looks great,” Alex said smoothing his napkin in his lap. “Very fancy how we all get our own but where are the chips?”
“The chips?” Claire asked.
Tim burst out laughing.
“It’s not salsa?” Alex asked in a somewhat softer voice, clearly confused.
Tim laughed harder and Erin elbowed him.
Alex laughed too, as if he’d been making a joke, but Claire had seen him wince and he was flushed. Well, damn. Even if he was being a jerk about the kiss, she hated seeing people embarrassed.
Surreptitiously, she slid the menu card toward him. He glanced at her, then at the card.
“It would probably make a great salsa,” Elliot said. “But it’s soup.”
“Served cold,” Claire added, just as Alex made as if to blow on the spoonful he’d scooped up.
With a cautious expression, he nibbled a bit of tomato off the spoon. “You know, as rich as you are, Phlegmy, I’d think you could afford to have a stove in your kitchen.”
Claire glanced at the rest of the courses and just as she was about to give Alex a heads-up about the entree, he nudged her with his arm. “Is that really the menu?” he asked in a low voice. “I mean, come on, they’re not really going to serve us pig stomach?”
Claire pressed her lips together. She said sotto voce, “Pork belly isn’t pig stomach.”
“Are you sure?” he asked out of the side of his mouth.
“I’m positive. It’s the cut they make bacon out of, but it’s not cured like bacon. You should try it.”
“Do
you
eat it?”
“Truthfully, I’ve never had it, but it’s supposed to be very succulent.”
She had learned a lot about food, being married to Vic. He had always liked “eating elegant,” as he called it. He insisted he liked haute cuisine, but Claire had always been of the opinion that he only ate it to prove he had taste. That had actually been a theme in their marriage. For ten years she’d felt like a living paper doll. Vic wanted to present a certain image, and Claire had obliged. It hadn’t been until the divorce that she’d realized how much of a follower she’d been. She didn’t want to eat elegant anymore.
As if reading her mind, Alex consulted his watch and said under his breath, “I wonder if dinner will be over in time for me to hit Q Burger for a cheeseburger with fries.”
Claire glanced at Elliot, who was talking to Erin. “Just eat a little. It won’t kill you.”
“It won’t kill me, but it might make me hurl. Right here at the table.”
At that moment the server brought the pork belly. Claire eyed it suspiciously. There was so much fat there, a whole stripe of it. Crispy bacon was one thing, but this was a block of solid pork with strata of shiny fat just itching to attach itself to her hips.
“Yeah,” Alex said, reaching for a roll. “This is not happening.”
“Come on, don’t be a chicken.”
Alex gave her a look and cut off the tiniest bite. She cut one that was larger, but not by much.
“It’s...interesting,” she said, chewing.
“I still want a burger. With cheese and a pile of real bacon on it, maybe a couple of onion rings too. And barbeque sauce.”
She had to admit, that did sound good. The pork belly was too rich for her, but she ate enough of it to be polite.
When they took the plates away, Alex leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Burger run. After dessert. You and me. I’ll buy.”
She smothered a giggle. “No.”
“You know you want to. Bacon cheeseburger. Fries. Vanilla milkshake.”
“Oh my God. Stop it.”
Erin gave her a questioning look from across the table and Claire shook her head slightly. “That pork belly was very interesting.”
“Did you like it?” Elliot asked. “I chose the menu. Pork belly is one of my favorites.”
No one answered him.
When dessert came, Alex nudged her.
“Stop it,” she whispered.
He leaned over and murmured into her ear. “Nice, thick, creamy vanilla milkshake.” She shivered as his warm breath spread down across the side of her neck.
“You don’t even like cheesecake?” she asked.
“I like cheesecake. This is not cheesecake.”
On the plate looking very beautiful was a small round thing that resembled cheesecake with approximately seven brown crumbs thrown on top like an afterthought.