The Cinderella Project (A Comedy of Love, #1) (17 page)

I pressed on harder and I heard them falling behind. Just for good measure, I tipped over a chair at one of the outdoor café tables; that should slow them down. Maybe.

Stores, people, kiosks all blurred together. My heart threatened to hammer a hole in my chest. My dress shoes reminded me they were made for dancing and standing around. So this was what it was like to be chased by the Devil. Note to self: despite it all, I felt more alive than I had in a while.

The mezzanine wound lazily to the right and I saw an escalator and an elevator in front of me. I glanced over the railing again, surprised to see Moiré ahead of me, heading out of the shopping plaza by the east avenue. Dang. Quick little filly, especially in a dress.

Turning my attention ahead, I saw the escalator was barred. Orange road cones blocked my way like dwarven construction workers and debris littered the top of the stairs. A sign said, “Escalator closed for remodeling.” I slammed into the elevator door to stop myself; I didn’t feel a thing. I crushed the “down” button and willed the elevator to move. Hey, it worked in the movies, right?

Turns out, I wasn’t in the movies.

Any ground I’d gained was disappearing quickly, while the elevator decided whether it really wanted to heave itself to the upper level.

“Stop right there!”

Time’s up.

I scrambled away from the elevator, shoving aside a few more people as I flew around the curve of the sidewalk. To my horror, the curve hooked hard around a building only to dead-end in a small balcony flanked by decorative street lamps. I had maybe fourteen seconds if I was lucky.

I ran to the balcony rail, frantically looking at the street below. I guesstimated a ten, fifteen-foot drop. There were no convenient awnings to jump onto. The store next to me was vacant and locked. Ella and her boys were closing and I didn’t feel like breaking my legs. There! A long, low planter might break my fall. No, too narrow a target. I couldn’t think clearly through my adrenal haze. Seven seconds—only enough time for instinct. I whipped off my jacket, rolled it up tight as I could and wrapped it around one of the lamp poles. I employed my best death grip and awkwardly hitched myself over the guardrail.

The first cop appeared. I swore he was starting to reach for his gun.

Three cheers for unintentional suicide attempts.

Then I was falling, fighting hard to brake myself with shoes designed to slide. I hit the ground hard amid a chorus of gasps. Without thinking, I barrel-rolled over the planter (another rip) and flattened myself behind it, praying it was enough.

From above I heard Ella yelling in surprise and the cops muttering something that was probably meant to soothe her. Their voices faded after half a minute. I could only hope they’d assumed I was gone.

People were gaping
. A small crowd was starting to gather. Blast
. This would give me away for sure.
I carefully poked half my head up above my hiding spot. The coast was clear, so I got to my feet.

Brushing myself off, I looked around at the crowd all pointing and talking. I decided to try an old trick I’d seen on TV once.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said in a loud, clear voice, “you have all been privileged to be part of a real live chase scene. Look around and you may even see some cameras. Thank you all for participating.” I made a grand bow and an old woman started clapping. Soon, everyone was clapping. I heard women wondering aloud whether I was “that handsome on the screen,” and several pulled small note pads from their purses.

“No autographs please,” I blurted. “We’re not done here. Thank you again and have a great day.” I bowed quickly and looked for an exit.

“Police! Stand where you are!”

Game on!

I parted the crowd like Moses did the Red Sea and they sent me off with cheers as I broke for the main thoroughfare. Soon I was clear of the shopping plaza, but the sidewalks were still packed and I was out of places to hide. That left one option—a straight sprint for the cathedral. And so it was me hoofing it at speeds nudging the sound barrier while Ella and her police escort bulled their way up behind me. I hopped cars, pirouetted between bystanders and even put a hole in a small hedge (do
not
try that at home, kids—it really, really hurts), but finally, the Cathedral of St. Mary Magdalene came into view across a long, cobble-stone courtyard.

My breath was faltering and my legs burned. From the far side of the courtyard a new pair of cops appeared, hesitated and then started for me, pointing. I swerved left to keep from being intercepted and plowed through a fountain I hadn’t seen. I nearly went down hard, but somehow stumbled out the other side with my feet under me.

The doors to the Cathedral were stout enough that I didn’t break them with my body slam, though I wasn’t so sure about my ribs. I made it in safely and slammed the door shut behind me. Nearby, a nun gave me a stern look and shushed me.

“Sorry,
Sister,” I said and attempted a genuflect. Her face told me she wasn’t buying it.

Okay. Safe, but where to hide? I needed a way to shake Ella, not just keep dodging her. I forced myself to think and a plan began to coalesce.

“Confession… booth?” I asked the nun between breaths.

She looked skeptical, but pointed toward the distant front of the chapel and a little to the side. I followed her gesture and my heart raced again as Moiré emerged from a doorway. Her face lit up instantly and she hurried toward me.

“No… no…,” I called.

“Shhh!”

“Sorry, Sister,” I apologized. I gesticulated at Moiré. “To… the… front.” Moiré glanced behind, nodded and walked quickly up the long aisle. I thanked the nun again and hustled to the confessional. I clambered inside and the little partition window slid open.

“May I help you, my son?” a paternal voice asked.

“Forgive me, Father, for I am about to sin. Can I borrow you for a moment?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Dad?”

“Yeah, Son?”

“So… you remember that girl I was telling you about? Jennifer Chauzer?”

“She’s the redhead, right? The new one?”

“Yeah. How… how do I actually ask her out?”

“Have a seat, kid. There. Okay, First, you need her phone number.”

“Duh.”

“Right, right. Anyway, then you need to dial the number.”

“C’mon Dad. This ain’t helping.”

“Anyway, kid, you just gotta grab the bull by the horns and take the plunge.”

“I’m asking a girl out, Dad, not joining a rodeo.”

“How about you just go ask your mom. Get back with me on that.”

“Sure, Dad. Thanks for playing.”

The dim silence of St. Mary’s was shattered by a resounding, “NICHOLAS CAIRN! WHERE ARE YOU!”

I only hoped the altar I was kneeling at was far enough away to hide my familiarity from her. If not, Moiré’s veil was my last chance.

I nodded hastily to the priest, but before he could speak, I heard a grunt, a yelp and a thud from the doorway. The priest's eyes ballooned and I turned just enough to see Ella sprawled on her back between stunned cops.

“
SHHH!” hissed the nun. She looked quite pleased with herself, as she rubbed a clenched fist.

The da
zed priest cleared his throat. “You may kiss your bride.”

I swear on my grandmother’s grave I didn’t mean to actually make contact with Moiré’s lips. I don’t know how it happened; she was just supposed to block my face from view. So many spasms. Head spinning in a whole new way. Stomach doing an Irish jig. It was so,
so
wrong, but as our mouths met, I was gone, totally melted into the moment. I pulled her closer to me and felt her body rise as I tilted my head and pressed deeper into the kiss. Her lips slid into mine as I breathed her in; I knew I could die happy if that breath were my last.

Her hands came up around my neck and I cupped her face between mine. It was as if my whole life had waited for this one, specific kiss to know what “right” was.

The nun had herded Ella and the cops out of the “private ceremony” by the time my body started screaming for more air and I broke the kiss. The priest moved to catch me, but I wound up on my tuxedo-tailed rear anyway. Moiré stared at me for probably a minute and broke into the kind of smile a man can never forget. That smile went clean through her eyes, too. She was really, honestly smiling at
me
.

I passed out.

The ride home with Moiré felt like driving away from divorce court. That tantalizing glimpse of what might have been had seared a scar into my memory.

Moiré and I had returned to the bridal shop, straightened things out and left with thanks. Once we were on the road, I closed my eyes and tried to forget the mess I’d just made. Moiré was her usual, chatty self, but I found it hard to engage; after that kiss we shared… I had failed. Utterly.

We parted ways at the lab and I made my way aimlessly home
. When I arrived, I tried diverting my mind by packing for the family reunion that weekend. I couldn’t hold the focus, though. Even before I finished the task, the full weight of my guilt crashed down on me. Sure, it had only been a kiss, but it meant I had broken nearly every rule I’d set up to safeguard my engagement and my integrity. Even if Ella never discovered my deception, my infidelity, I wasn’t sure how long I would need to trust
myself
again. In my mind, my father’s reproving face saddled me with the responsibility for betraying my honor.

And what of Moiré’s work in the lab? She was there three to five times a week. The thought of simply “laying her off” flitted through my mind, but there was no reason to punish her for
my
wrongdoings. I’d given her breaks before; I guess I’d have to do it again. She’d understand. She always did.

Dinner conversation that night was unusual. Over chicken cutlets in white wine sauce, Ella waxed eloquent about some insane guy who had run all the way from her bridal store to a nearby church. She had followed him “out of curiosity,” and ultimately found him kneeling with his bride at the altar.

“It was so sweet, Nicky,” she sighed. “To think that he loved her so much that he’d run
that
fast just to be on time to his wedding. That girl is
so
lucky. He even looked kinda like you, so I knew she was getting something good.” Ella giggled and winked. I faked a chuckle to hide the pain of the shame that pared away at my heart, one layer at a time.

“And they had the sweetest kiss,” she added. “Oh, Nicky, I wish you could have seen it. I want our first kiss as man and wife to be just like that one I saw today.”

I thanked her for her flattery and made the appropriate remarks that were expected in response to such a wild tale. I quietly filed away the rest of the facts, hoping desperately that she never learned them.

“Dinner’s great, Ella,
” I said, steering the conversation. “Speaking of which, would you mind some company on Friday?”

“Company?”

I nodded. “My old buddy Russ called me. I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted him to know just how great a cook you were. I invited him and his wife to dinner.”

“Really? You think I’m that good?”

I put a piece of chicken into my mouth and savored it for a long while. “Does that answer your question?”

She smiled sweetly. “Oh, Nick. Okay. What should I make?”

I shrugged. “I’m a psychologist, not a chef. Surprise us.”

Her smile grew and I saw that familiar twinkle of ownership in her eyes. I knew the dinner with Russ would be one to remember.

Friday night started out well. I freshened up and made my way to Ella’s apartment. As promised, she had evicted her roommates. Russ showed up right on time and after pleasant greetings, he introduced me to his wife Audrey (seven months pregnant). In turn, I introduced Ella; she was an absolute vision, of course.

Supper was stellar. I think. Most of the flavor was drowned in a cocktail of worry, doubt and embarrassment. Eating such a meal only reminded me that, after Monday’s fiasco, I didn’t deserve half as good as Ella. All the more reason to redouble my commitment and efforts.

After dinner we all squeezed into the living room for chit-chat, while Ella served a killer cream custard for dessert. Things were fine until Russell and Audrey had to leave.

“We had a great time, guys,” Russ said, rubbing his stomach. “We’ll definitely have to stop by your place next time we’re in town. With cooking that good, we’d be stupid not to.”

Ella glowed. “You liked it, then?”

Russ nodded vigorously. “Veal is better than the rumors said.” He looked over at me. “You scored, bro. Keep this one.”

I faked a grin. “Right,” I said.

“It’s been great, Nick,” Audrey cut in. “Thanks for having us, but we really need to be going.”

“Right, thanks for coming,” I said and I hurried to help them out the door.

“Oh, you two will be coming to our wedding, right?” Ella called after them.

“Yeah, sure,” Russ said. “When’s the day?”

“September thirteenth! It’s a Saturday!”

Russ gave me a sly look. “No cold feet for the Nickmeister, I see. Awesome.”

A half-hearted “Heh” was all I could manage. I somehow managed to wave goodbye and as soon as Audrey and Russell were out of sight, I whirled on Ella. “
September thirteenth
?” I didn’t quite hiss. “Were you planning on
telling
me about that, any time soon? What on this green earth happened to October? I mean, what even happened to
December
? When did our
wedding
date get put on a revolving schedule?”

She gaped at me in shock. “You’re… you’re mad at me, aren’t you, Nicky.”

I groaned. “I’m a little miffed, yeah.”

Ella started to sniffle. Please, no. Not the sniffling again. The timing was too perfect. I began to wonder how many of her tearful outburst
s hadn’t been fleece jobs. “You… you don’t love me anymore, do you, Nicky? You
are
getting cold feet, aren’t you? Oh, I knew this would happen. I
knew
it! I’ve seen it coming for the last month now!” Then she burst into tears.

Once, in the lab, Moi
ré had reminded me that love was supposed to be a two-way street. She was right. “Let’s talk about this when I get back Monday, Ella,” I said quietly. I walked out the door. Turning back I added, “I don’t think I can discuss this rationally right now. I haven’t the slightest idea how you took me asking about the change of date as some sign that I was having second thoughts. I think we’re going to both need some time to cool off, first.”

“So
what
, Nicky? So you can have enough time to think up a good alibi for why you suddenly want to call things off?”

“Whoa, hey! What is it with this ‘calling off the wedding’ thing? I never even hinted about anything like that. I just think that if we’re going to make significant date changes, that maybe I oughta be consulted first. Is that a crime?”

“Oh, so
now
it’s ‘us,’ is it? You tell me that
I
have to deal with all the plans, you leave
me
to do all the work by
myself
. You barely even look at the new china and you didn’t even comment on the fact that
I
arranged our engagement pictures.
I
called the caterer. I set up the honeymoon, booked our flights and made the guest list. I picked the colors. I practically designed the bridesmaids’ dresses and now,
now
you want a hand in things? It’s
my father
that is paying for this whole thing. What is wrong with you, Nicholas?”

Enter Twilight Zone scene, stage left. This was not the Ella I’d seen at the ball. This was not the Ella I’d asked to marry me. This was instant demonic possession and it was frightening. A retort, under the circumstances, would fall flat on its face. Strategic retreat was the best option now.

“Ella,” I said, forcing a calm tone, “you seem… really tired. You’re not yourself right now. I’m not myself right now. You’re scaring me and this conversation is only going to turn nasty if we keep going.”

I stopped her interruption with a hand. “Look, I’m going home. We’ll discuss this on Monday and not before. No phone calls, no e-mails, no text messages. This doesn’t need to be a problem if we’ll both just be mature about it.”

“I am being mature about it,” she shrieked. “I’m an adult woman who’s trying to hold on to her man before he runs away and leaves her!”

That smarted.

“Look, Ella—I’m just… going… to go. You need a little space to calm down and think things through. Love ya’. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“I need some space? Who’s the one running away, Nicholas? I bet you’re driving off to see some skanky little sorority girl who’s letting you get something on the side, aren’t you? Aren’t you?”

I refused to bait, but I was more than a little worried about what the insta-witch transformation portended for our marriage—especially if she was trying to pull it off in less than a month. I left her ranting on the doorstep, shuddering as I hurried to the shelter of my car. This situation demanded distance, but I knew Ella would just follow me to my place. I wasn’t likely to get sleep tonight. Unless…

Mom and Dad always went to the cabin a day or two ahead of our reunions.

Perfect.

I switched off my phone as I climbed into my battered Datsun. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I could see Ella running down the stairs, still screaming and flapping her arms like a bird on fire. I was glad I’d pulled into a parking space that didn’t require me to back up. I gunned out of my spot and turned my radio on at full volume. I didn’t even care which station it was—I couldn’t hear the screams anymore. A voice in my heart told me I wasn’t trying to drown out Ella so much as I was trying to drown out Moiré’s advice—and the thought that despite my guilt, I wanted very much to be with her.

I was on the freeway ten minutes later. I popped in my special road trip CD, reduced the volume to a comfortable level and lost myself in the miles falling away behind me. Town faded swiftly to suburbs. Suburbs gave way to plains and hills. Plains and hills grew into mountains and I basked in the sight of fragrant pines and felt the songs of mountain birds in my ears. Some of my earliest and best memories had been born in these wooded crags. Not only was it a scenic paradise, but it had always been a haven for me. For some reason, Mom and Dad didn’t seem to fight quite as much when we were up here. Unfortunately, they had no problems releasing on the drive home.

As the road narrowed and began snaking upward, I turned to the passenger’s seat to tell Ella some of my childhood memories of this area. The empty seat was a slap in the face. I froze for a moment and nearly missed a turn. I jerked the car back onto the road and slowed. No reason to hurry.