Unravel Me (21 page)

“My father was a general.”

He shrugged. “Yeah? Only worse. My father didn’t have near that kind of clout, and when I was a kid, he still pissed me off.”

The amulet’s silver chain strangled her forefinger. “I adored my father.”

“I’m sure the feeling was mutual, though imagining Marlys Weston, teen angel, makes even a battle-scarred dude like me shiver a little. How’d the general deal?”

“The general didn’t deal at all,” Marlys heard herself confess. She whipped her hand from the silver tear in her pocket and flattened her fingers against the table as if it could flatten her own emotions. “My mom asked for a divorce when I was twelve.”

Dean brushed her fingertips with his. “And?”

“If I recall correctly, he wasn’t in the country at the time. He didn’t protest. We moved off base, I lost my friends.”
I lost my security, my place.
“I never spent any more time on a military base.” The rare occasions she saw her father, they’d go to the mountains to ski or to the beach to swim. They never went anywhere and worked,
lived
like a family.

She’d never belonged anywhere again, she thought, staring off into space. Or belonged to anyone. Sometimes it made her so damn mad, and other times—

“Marlys? Angel?”

Blinking, she focused on Dean. He was tossing some bills onto the little black tray that had come with the check, then he tucked his wallet in his back pocket.

Leaning across the table, he rubbed his thumb over her mouth. Her lips tingled. “I don’t like to see you sad.”

“Sad?” The word shocked her out of her reverie. It wasn’t close to mad and sounded too much like serious. “Sad! Marlys Weston doesn’t do sad. Marlys Weston is much too happy for sad.”

“Whatever you say.” He stood, then lifted her out of her chair. His posture was familiar, soldier-straight, and she had a sudden urge to see him in uniform. Crisp, correct, everything in its place. In the military, you knew the rules and you played within the fences.

It might sound weird to other people. Stifling, instead of comforting. But she could see herself in on-base housing again. It was a harmless little fantasy, just more playing, but she could see it. A house, with herself inside of it. The front door opened, and a uniformed man strode inside.

Not her father. Not some anonymous military man.

Dean. And her heart thrilled at the sight of him.

On the sidewalk outside the café in Santa Monica, he was gazing down at her. When he cupped her chin, their gazes met, and just like that, the chemistry experiment bubbling between them blew up in their faces.
Ka-boom.

“Jesus,” he said, all of him jerking away from her except for those fingers gripping her jaw. “Jesus, you do something to me.”

Her heart jittered in reaction to the stark truth in his voice. This wasn’t fun, or funny, or playful, or like the prank she’d played when she’d kissed Pharmaceutical Phil in his presence. This was weakness and want and everything she’d sworn that a man would never make her feel.

This was serious.

 

Juliet drove to Malibu & Ewe, eager to put distance between herself and Noah. He’d left her bedroom shortly after eleven, while she—what a chicken—pretended sleep. After a brief shower during which she acknowledged she could never look at those tiled walls the same again, she’d scampered to her car and instinctively headed for the first person she thought of.

Cassandra.

Her sister.

It was a notion still almost as unfamiliar as a man in her bed. But unlike that idea, it was a comfort to her, a promise of unequivocal support, and all she wanted right now was to sit on one of Cassandra’s couches. In the other woman’s calm, warm presence, she would draw out her needles and her yarn and work on the wrap she was making as a long-term substitute for a man’s arms. In Malibu & Ewe, there would be time and quiet to get her bearings.

The parking lot the shop shared with Gabe’s fish market/ café was crowded, but she found a just-vacated spot and strode for Cassandra’s place. It was another incredible day, November now, she realized, but the sun bounced so brightly off the ocean that she was forced to tent her hand over her eyes.

It wasn’t so much easier in Malibu & Ewe, she discovered, as she pushed through the door. Colors came at her, clearer and brighter than she ever recalled, and not just from the bins of yarn around Cassandra’s shop but from the outfits worn by the crowd of customers and in the tones of their upbeat, excited chatter.

By the register, Cassandra looked less calm than harried. A line had formed and she was obviously struggling to be efficient with the transactions while still answering the questions that were thrown her way from about the room. Juliet caught her eye, but she got barely a smile before her sister’s attention was split by yet another request.

The couches were full, and in the chaos, no one but Juliet seemed to notice that ensconced in the middle of the cushions was One of the Most Famous Actresses in America. Oomfaa, her long, lean legs crossed at the knee, appeared to be knitting a red-and-white striped mitten. Juliet had to grin to herself. She wasn’t the only woman who considered Cassandra’s shop a haven. And apparently the paparazzi were as ignorant of Oomfaa’s hobbies as they were of her home address.

A muffled, frustrated curse directed Juliet’s attention back to Cassandra. She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Out of register tape,” she muttered.

It wasn’t clarity, but it was industry, and Juliet welcomed that almost as much. “Move aside,” she ordered the shop owner. “I’ve got this.”

She took care of more than inserting a new role of tape. Cassandra had been snagged by a customer when Juliet took over, so she stayed behind the register. It was the Accucount 480, and she knew how to work the thing. Yes, she had to call Cassandra back for a brief lesson on her preferred procedures for credit cards and checks, but even that was mostly familiar.

An hour and a half later, she was tidying the countertop. Her feet hurt, and she’d made zero inches of progress on her wrap, but a sense of satisfaction filled her anyway. Cassandra was moving about, returning skeins to their bins. Oomfaa and everyone else, for the moment, was gone.

Cassandra looked over. “I owe you, big. What would you like?”

A game plan for what comes next with Noah
. Instead, she said, “That was crazy busy.”

“My version of what Nikki calls the ‘lunch rush’ in restaurant speak. Everyone comes in before the kids get home from school or before the highway gets too bad with the commuter traffic. It’s worse, for unknown reasons, on midweek afternoons.” She sighed. “I suppose I should be looking for some part-time help. Strictly minimum wage plus discounts, but the location’s stellar.”

“You should hire me.” The suggestion just popped out, and Juliet blinked, surprised by the thought. “Of course, you don’t—” she started, and then swallowed the rest. She wanted the job, she decided—even at strictly minimum wage plus discounts—so why demur?

“Done.” Cassandra grinned.

Juliet grinned back. Maybe it wasn’t a career—finding that could come later—but this was a start.

My, wasn’t this turning out to be an interesting day? Job in the afternoon, sex in the morning. Oh, that’s right, there was that. Her mood dipped and she felt her smile die. Sex in the morning. Sex in the morning with Noah.

And now what?

He said he was moving out. Her stomach jittered a little at the thought, and she felt stupid at her dismay at the idea of him leaving.

It wasn’t that she expected he’d stay forever. She knew he was going to move on, she’d said that to him herself. He’d move on, start his own life, find the woman he wanted to marry.

That wasn’t her. For certain, that wasn’t her.

Not only had she had her love-of-her-life and been wedded to him, but she wasn’t sure she could satisfy a man like Noah, even for a little while. Because he’d said:
I’m no officer and gentleman outside the blankets or underneath them either. I’m a guy from the streets who likes his sex sweaty and raunchy and more intimate than you can imagine.

Because he’d said that, and then, once they were in her bed he’d acted as if she were fragile. Delicate. Like a heart about to break.

“Uh-oh,” Cassandra said, coming to the register. “Don’t tell me it’s nothing. Something’s bothering you.”

“It is,” she said, nodding. “I came over here to ask your advice.” There had to be someone who would tell her what to do when it came to Noah, and she was banking on this down-to-earth, warm-hearted woman.

Cassandra grabbed her hand and drew her toward the couches in the center of the room. “Sit down and tell me all about it.”

As Juliet opened her mouth, the bells on the shop door rang out with an angry jangle. Her head turned in time to see Nikki storm through the door, her hands balled, her face and neck flushed, her blue and green eyes glittering like jewels.

Her gaze zeroed in on Cassandra as she stalked toward the center of the room. “Explain that e-mail,” she spit out.

Juliet stared. Good God, the younger woman was steaming with fury
. That’s how I’d look if I ever really let go
, Juliet thought to herself.
In passion
or
in anger
.

Nikki came to a stop in front of the shop owner and slammed her arms over her starched cook’s tunic. “Cassandra—”

“Wait.” She flicked a glance at Juliet. “Can’t we . . .”

Juliet took the hint and jumped to her feet. “I’ll just—”

“Sit right back down.” Nikki pointed to the cushions. Then she addressed Cassandra once more. “What? You didn’t e-mail big sister? You’re keeping secrets from her just like you once kept them from me?”

A cold chill rolled down Juliet’s back. “I don’t like secrets.”

“Cassandra’s an expert at them.”

“That’s not fair!” Cassandra rubbed her palms against her flowing paisley skirt. “I apologized for that, for not telling you right away we’re sisters. You know my reasons.”

“What are your reasons now?” Nikki said, a brow rising over her one green eye. “Why would you consider contacting our sperm donor without—”

“Our
father
,” Cassandra corrected, her voice rising, too. “The man fathered us.”

Nikki’s slashing gesture dismissed the idea. “Not me. Not Juliet. And not you either, Froot Loop.”

The other woman’s eyes now glittered, too. “Don’t.”

“Fathering goes beyond petri dishes and turkey basters. Even you should know that.”

“And even you should know that every time you reach out a hand it won’t be slapped.”

Both fuming, they stared each other down and Juliet remembered she’d come to the shop for some calm. Before that, she recalled she’d been intrigued at being part of a trio. At the idea of sisters. But this was messier than she’d expected, not to mention—her train of thought derailed as the source of their argument finally sank in.

“Wait,” she said. “You contacted our sperm donor?”

Cassandra glanced over. “Not yet. I just floated the possibility to you
both
in e-mail. I guess you haven’t checked yours yet.”

“I thought the donor process was anonymous,” Juliet said.

“It was at the time,” Cassandra answered. “But there are ways—”

“Sneaky ways,” Nikki put in hotly. “The same sneaky ways you used to find me.”

“It’s not like I stole your identity,” Cassandra shot back. “Thanks to my ‘sneaky ways,’ I gave you something. I gave you us, your sisters.”

Nikki’s mouth set in a stubborn line. “Well, fine. But I don’t want or need anyone else. And we have no right to be poking into this man’s life after all these years.”

“Didn’t you finish reading the e-mail?” Cassandra’s gaze narrowed. “Oh, no, you didn’t. You read the first line and then came stomping over here, breathing fire like a dragon.”

Nikki didn’t soften. “So what? What did I miss?”

“Donor 1714 registered on the website set up to connect biological fathers to their offspring. Once I provide the data I have, the site administrators will release his e-mail to me.”

“Big whoop. You’ve known his name for months.”

“A name?” Juliet realized she’d not asked enough questions of Cassandra and Nikki—or they’d been wary enough of her to hold some pieces of information back. It stung a little to think they hadn’t trusted her with everything. “You know his name?”

“
I
do,” Cassandra answered. “But Nikki—”

“Thinks knowing his donor number is knowledge enough,” the younger woman finished.

Cassandra’s eyes rolled. “You’re such an ostrich sometimes.”

“And you’re such a meddler all of the time.”

“Don’t be childish,” Cassandra snapped.

“Don’t be judgmental.”

“Judgmental?” Cassandra lifted her hands, let them fall. “You’re a big snot, you know that?”

Nikki shrugged. “So says the Froot Loop.”

Cassandra heaved in a short breath and took a fast step forward.

Nikki held her ground. “What are you going to do, poke me with a knitting needle or just pound me with a granola bar?”

Cassandra let out a strangled sound and her jaw tightened. “Nik—”

“Enough!” Goaded by their ridiculous behavior, Juliet stepped between the two of them—and into the fray. “Both of you cut it out.”

The two women stared at her with round, startled eyes. Juliet crossed her arms and gave them a quelling look—something she didn’t, before, realize she possessed. “I, for one, am thanking God right now that I wasn’t around to referee your teenage spats over boyfriends and sweater-borrowing.”

“Yeah.” Nikki smirked and jerked her thumb at Cassandra. “Especially because the girls on that one would have overstretched any top we shared.”

“Hey—” And then Cassandra laughed, the temper in her eyes cooling. “Okay, we sounded fifteen.”

“Try thirteen,” Juliet corrected. “So now let’s all sit down and be civil like grown-ups.”