This Time Around, page 2
Just like that, out of the blue. She’d heard he got married a few years after they split, but she never knew his wife’s name, or even that he’d gone back and finished college after dropping out their sophomore year. The last time she’d seen Jack Carpenter, he’d been sitting on a sagging futon with a video game controller in one hand and a can of beer in the other. He’d worn a paint-stained shirt and a dumbstruck expression that was as likely a reaction to something in the game as it was to Allie’s request that they pull the plug on their engagement.
“We want different things out of life,” she’d told him back then.
“Not really,” he’d replied, shaking his head in disbelief. “We just have different ideas about how to get there.”
“So what are we having for dinner?” Wade asked, jarring Allie back to the present.
“Seafood en brodo with tarragon pesto,” she said. “And bourbon-roasted peach cheesecake for dessert.”
“Pulling out all the stops.”
Allie shrugged, not wanting to admit how much thought she’d given the menu. How she’d remembered their sophomore year in college when she and Jack dug change out of the overstuffed sofa to find enough gas money to drive to the coast. They’d rolled up their pant legs and walked barefoot in the sand, digging clams until they had enough to fill their small red bucket. Later, they’d nestled together in an ocean of pillows on their living room floor, licking butter from their fingers in the flicker of candlelight.
“The meal is no big deal,” Allie said as she pulled out her phone to review the evening’s menu for the millionth time. “I just needed something I could make in advance. The brodo, the pesto, the dessert—I did it all last night. All I have to do is heat it up, add the shellfish, and drizzle in the pesto.”
“I grabbed a loaf of that bread you asked for. The crusty stuff.” Wade reached over to tousle her hair. “You’ll do fine, Albatross. Stop worrying.”
Albatross. Wade had given her the nickname several years ago after Allie threw in the towel on yet another relationship that wasn’t going anywhere. Allie Ross the Albatross, the bird who’d rather fly alone.
It wasn’t entirely true, but Allie had liked the way it made her sound strong and independent instead of like a loser whose romantic aspirations never turned out the way she thought they would.
“Go get ready,” Wade said, and Allie looked up, startled to realize they’d arrived at her small, shoebox-shaped duplex already. “I’m sure you need to preen before your long-lost ex arrives, and I need to text Francesca.”
“Who?”
“My date from last night.”
“I thought her name was Vanessa.”
Wade waved a hand. “Something like that.”
Allie hustled inside and threw her bag down on the bed, grateful to have a few minutes to herself before Jack and Paige showed up. She glanced at the antique clock on her wall, calculating the primp time required to craft an image that said, “My life’s fantastic! How about yours?”
She only had an hour, so she’d settle for, “I’m fine, thanks. Pass the wine?”
She wriggled into her Spanx, then zipped herself into a sheath dress in plum silk. The color brought out the green in her eyes, and the cut showed her Pilates-toned arms while assisting the Spanx in hiding her not-so-toned tummy. There was no hiding the laugh lines around her mouth and eyes, so she didn’t bother trying. Her hair still looked good, long and loose around her shoulders with caramel highlights she’d gotten at the nearby beauty college because it was cheaper than the fancy downtown salon she’d frequented in her other life. The life her wealthy parents had wanted her to have.
Allie turned and surveyed herself in the mirror. Sucked in her stomach. Turned to the side. Not bad. Not fantastic, but not terrible. She’d aged pretty well in the sixteen years since she’d last seen Jack Carpenter, all things considered.
Things, meaning her parents’ arrest and imprisonment, a career path that hadn’t gone according to plan, and a love life that never seemed to match the one she’d always imagined.
Allie turned again in front of the mirror, swaying a little on heels she’d almost forgotten how to walk in. Back in college, she expected to strut into courtrooms on her Louboutin stilettos, then kick them off at home so her handsome husband could rub her feet by the fireplace.
Her little house didn’t have a fireplace. And though she loved lobbying and planning and developing public health policy in her role as a Certified Association Executive for a state medical association, she knew the job title itself sounded made-up, and that heels were too impractical at her stand-up desk.
Allie swept some bronzer over her cheeks, then stabbed herself in the eye with an eyeliner pencil. Started over. Her hands were shaking, and she cursed herself for giving a damn what Jack Carpenter and his wife thought of her. In sixteen years, she’d never once Facebook stalked him. She hadn’t cared, or at least that’s what she thought before she got his stupid email about coming to town for his reunion.
“Hey, Albatross,” Wade called from the other room. “A car just pulled in. I think it’s them.”
Allie took a deep breath and stepped back from the mirror. Showtime.
She turned and pushed open her bedroom door and strode down the hall, projecting a confidence she didn’t really feel. If nothing else, she knew how to fake it. That had always been her superpower, the skill that proved more useful than any law degree would have.
Wade gave a low whistle as she marched into the living room. “Lookin’ good,” he said from his perch on her sofa. He shoved his phone in the pocket of his jacket and stood. “Want me to hover possessively beside you, or go fiddle around in the kitchen like a devoted fiancé?”
“Just hang back,” Allie said as footfalls echoed up her front steps and she wished, not for the first time, that she had a peephole on her front door. She hated the clamminess in her palms as the footsteps got louder. “If I signal you by tugging my left ear, it means lay it on thick with the affection. If I signal you by tugging my right ear, play it cool.”
“Should I write this down somewhere?”
“Hush.”
Allie took a shaky breath and glanced at the crystal vase of lilies she’d set out the night before. The doorbell chimed and she reached for the knob, then hesitated, not wanting to look too eager. She took a few more breaths as her heart thudded in her ears and she ordered herself to smile warmly, to greet Jack with a firm handshake and his wife with a friendly hug. Or maybe a double cheek kiss, European style?
Her fingers were sweaty as she gripped the doorknob and twisted right, then pulled open the door. Her gaze landed on the two people standing on her porch.
She stumbled back, too stunned to form a polite greeting.
“Oh,” she said, and clapped a hand over her mouth.
CHAPTER TWO
Jack took one look at Allie’s face gone pale as a soda cracker and wondered what he’d done this time to make her throw up.
“Here, use this.” He set down the bottle of wine he’d brought and yanked the plastic off the bouquet he was holding, offering it to her as a makeshift barf bag. He’d made similar offerings in college when nerves or emotion got the best of his stoic fiancée and she turned this exact shade of white.
But Allie just stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
“I’m not going to throw up,” she said, waving the bag away. “I’m fine. I just—” She took a sharp breath, and her gaze darted to Paige.
Paige.
He felt a surge of pride seeing his ten-year-old daughter standing beside him looking cheerful and well-mannered in the blue dress she’d picked for the occasion. She’d French-braided her own hair in some complicated twist Jack could never figure out. Sensing his gaze on her, his kid gave him a grin so wide he saw the gap from the newly lost molar he’d hidden in a silk pouch in his sock drawer.
Emotion welled in his chest, so Jack looked back at Allie. She’d recovered some of her color, which probably had something to do with the possessive male hand resting on her shoulder.
“Jack,” Allie began, licking her lips. “I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Wade.”
The guy slid his palm from Allie’s shoulder and reached out to shake Jack’s hand. Jack returned the handshake, impressed with himself for not feeling any twinges of jealousy at the word fiancé. He was over her, obviously. Had been over her for years, long before he’d gotten married and had a kid.
The reminder prompted Jack to offer his own introduction. “Pleasure to meet you, Wade,” he said. “This is my daughter, Paige.”
Paige stuck out her hand, beaming like she always did when given the opportunity to socialize with grownups. Still looking dumbstruck, Allie grasped the small hand in hers and gave it an awkward shake.
“I’m Paige Carpenter,” his daughter announced, her dimples on full display as she looked from Allie to Wade and back again. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Paige.” Allie gave her a nervous smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Such nice manners. How old are you?”
“Ten. How old are you?”
Allie laughed, breaking the spell that seemed to have held her for the last thirty seconds. Her face creased into familiar crinkles around her eyes and mouth, into laugh lines Jack couldn’t help noticing had grown deeper in the sixteen years since he saw her last.
Laughter he hadn’t been part of. God, had it really been that long?
“I’m thirty-six,” Allie said, answering Paige’s question at last. “Same as your dad. Please, come on in.”
She stepped back, and Jack tried not to notice the way the wine-colored dress swept around her thighs and moved over her hips. Hips that were still full and beautifully rounded. Hips he used to grip with both hands as she moved over him, her breasts bare and—
Jesus Christ, was he really doing this? With his kid standing beside him, and Allie’s fiancé next to her?
Jack looked at the fiancé, reminding himself that Allie belonged to someone else now. The guy’s suit screamed lawyer, which made perfect sense. Allie had obviously gotten what she’d wanted out of life.
So did you, his subconscious reminded him. That’s why you’re here, to rub her face in the fact that you turned out great without her.
It was a shitty thing to think, but there it was. Jack squeezed his daughter’s shoulder as she stepped through the front door. He followed behind her, bringing him closer to Allie than he’d been since he was twenty years old. He stepped back quickly and turned to pick up the wine. Then he moved past the lawyer fiancé and into a living room that was well-decorated, but small. Smaller than he would have expected. Silky-looking throw pillows lined a leather sofa that looked vintage. There was a crystal vase of lilies on the coffee table, and an earthy-looking clay vessel on a nearby bookshelf. Jack remembered it from their college apartment. Her grandma had made it, and Allie used to keep it on her desk to hold dried flowers from the first bouquet he’d ever given her.
It held something metallic now. Daisies? Stems of copper twisted up to meet petals made of iron and steel, an effect that was both artistic and tasteful. And expensive. Probably very expensive.
He looked back at Allie and handed her the bouquet of sunflowers he’d brought. “Thank you for inviting us to your home.”
Too late, he remembered he’d taken the bag off the flowers and they dripped water on her shoes. The Allie he used to know would have freaked out about ruining the leather, but this one didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she had plenty of other pairs of fancy shoes in her closet. That seemed likely.
Jack cleared his throat and held out the bottle of wine, feeling a little like an asshole for deliberately leaving the wine shop’s price tag on the edge of the label. “I brought this, too.”
The fiancé took the wine and gave him a pleasant smile that looked genuine. “Very nice,” Wade said. “I had this one at a tasting event for New Zealand wines. This will be perfect with Allie’s seafood en brodo.”
Jack glanced at Allie, who was watching Paige like she was some kind of exotic butterfly that had fluttered into her living room. Seeming to sense his eyes on her, Allie turned toward him and offered a sheepish look. “Sorry, I didn’t realize—I, um.” She licked her lips. “Does Paige eat seafood? If not, I’m sure I can throw together chicken fingers or peanut butter and jelly or—”
“I love seafood!” Paige looked up from the collection of photos she’d been studying on a bookshelf and grinned at Allie. “Especially salmon and shrimp.”
Allie blinked. “That’s great. You have a very refined palate.”
“Thank you,” Paige said automatically, even though Jack was pretty sure she didn’t know what palate meant. In that moment, he felt so damn proud of his kid he wanted to pick her up and squeeze her.
“You’ll love the wine,” Paige continued solemnly. “It’s very itchy with notes of tulip stem and green Crayola.”
The fiancé barked out a laugh that made Allie jump. Paige beamed, pleased with the reaction from her audience. Jack hustled to explain.
“It’s our inside joke,” he said. “Paige and I try to see who can come up with the craziest descriptors for wine. Things like ‘old shoe leather from a 1978 Birkenstock’ or ‘mango Trident gum found under the third-row bleachers at Autzen Stadium.’ Stuff like that.”
He didn’t add that they’d started the ritual after watching some hoity TV show about food and wine pairings recommended by snobby rich people. He’d wanted Paige to know she didn’t need to aspire to be the sort of woman who sipped tea with her pinky up and spoke in condescending tones about the amuse-bouche.
From what he could guess, Allie had grown up to be one of those people.
“It’s great you’re such a fan of wine.” The fiancé was talking to Paige, not him, which made him like the guy and also made him resolve to use his name instead of branding him the fiancé like a character in a play. “I always love talking with a fellow connoisseur,” Wade continued, smiling at Paige. “Maybe you could give me some good pointers on wine.”
“I don’t actually drink wine,” Paige said, pronouncing actually with an extra syllable the way her mother used to do, which was crazy. Paige barely remembered her mom, so there was no way for phonetics to have fixed themselves in his daughter’s memory.
Focus on the present, Jack ordered himself as he felt a familiar tightening in his chest.
“I like grape juice, though,” Paige was saying. “And seltzer. And root beer.”
“I’m pretty sure we have at least one of those things in the fridge,” Wade said. “Would you like something to drink?”
His daughter looked back over at him, a question in her eyes. Jack nodded once before glancing at Allie to see her exchange a questioning look of her own with Wade. Allie gave the guy a quick nod, and the next thing Jack knew, he was standing alone with her in her living room.
Alone. For the first time in sixteen years. It felt awkward. And familiar. But mostly awkward.
“So,” Allie said, resting her perfectly manicured hands on the back of the sofa. “It’s wonderful to finally meet your daughter. She’s adorable. Just like I pictured her.”
Jack snort-laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Liar.”
Allie frowned. “What?”
He shook his head and took a step closer, lowering his voice so Paige wouldn’t hear. “Until five minutes ago, you had no idea I even had a daughter.”
“That’s not true!” Allie tossed her hair. “She looks just like her mother. Very beautiful.”
Jack rolled his eyes. She sounded so convincing, so sure of herself. If he hadn’t seen her face when he’d stood there on the doorstep, he might have even believed her.
“Paige’s mother died when she was eighteen months old,” he said, making Allie’s face go pale again. “And you might still be the world’s best liar, but you can’t fool me. Admit it—you haven’t cyberstalked me once in the last sixteen years.”
Allie folded her arms over her chest and met him with a level gaze he remembered with something less than fondness. “So what? Are you accusing me of that like it’s a bad thing?” She frowned. “I meant the stalking, not the lying. And I’m sorry about your w—about Paige’s mother.”
“Thank you.”
Her expression softened again, something he hadn’t seen often when they were together. The Allie he remembered never backed down, never apologized. “I mean it,” she said. “I’m really sorry.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say, “Me, too,” but he realized she wasn’t apologizing for anything sixteen years ago. She felt bad for bringing up the dead mother of his child. He appreciated that Allie didn’t ask for details, didn’t even press to find out if he’d actually been married or if Paige was the result of some drunken fling. It would be just like her to think the worst of him, even now.
Jack volunteered nothing. He didn’t want to tell his sad story and see any trace of pity in Allie’s face. What he wanted to see was awe. Respect. Maybe embarrassed shock that he’d turned out successful, despite her predictions to the contrary. Jack Carpenter had made something of himself, dammit.
Why the hell did he need her to know that?
Jack cleared his throat. “I’m actually running my own company now,” he said. “Started out working on video games and sold one a few years ago for a pretty nice profit.”
“Wow. That’s great.”
He knew his words sounded like boastful assholery, and he ordered himself to shut the hell up.
But his tongue didn’t obey. “After that, I founded Clearwater App Development,” he continued, somehow unable to stop the flow of stupid words. “I’m actually killing two birds with one stone coming out here for my reunion. Paige and I are making the move to Portland and I’m finalizing a deal to move our headquarters from Silicon Valley, too. The tech sector is really booming here.”
He wanted to pick up those stupid metal flowers and stab himself right through the eyeball to skewer his brain. Why the hell was he giving her his fucking résumé?
Allie stood silent for a moment, looking pleasant and polite. Then, ever the gracious hostess, she gave him a warm smile. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations. It sounds like you’ve done very well for yourself.”
“We want different things out of life,” she’d told him back then.
“Not really,” he’d replied, shaking his head in disbelief. “We just have different ideas about how to get there.”
“So what are we having for dinner?” Wade asked, jarring Allie back to the present.
“Seafood en brodo with tarragon pesto,” she said. “And bourbon-roasted peach cheesecake for dessert.”
“Pulling out all the stops.”
Allie shrugged, not wanting to admit how much thought she’d given the menu. How she’d remembered their sophomore year in college when she and Jack dug change out of the overstuffed sofa to find enough gas money to drive to the coast. They’d rolled up their pant legs and walked barefoot in the sand, digging clams until they had enough to fill their small red bucket. Later, they’d nestled together in an ocean of pillows on their living room floor, licking butter from their fingers in the flicker of candlelight.
“The meal is no big deal,” Allie said as she pulled out her phone to review the evening’s menu for the millionth time. “I just needed something I could make in advance. The brodo, the pesto, the dessert—I did it all last night. All I have to do is heat it up, add the shellfish, and drizzle in the pesto.”
“I grabbed a loaf of that bread you asked for. The crusty stuff.” Wade reached over to tousle her hair. “You’ll do fine, Albatross. Stop worrying.”
Albatross. Wade had given her the nickname several years ago after Allie threw in the towel on yet another relationship that wasn’t going anywhere. Allie Ross the Albatross, the bird who’d rather fly alone.
It wasn’t entirely true, but Allie had liked the way it made her sound strong and independent instead of like a loser whose romantic aspirations never turned out the way she thought they would.
“Go get ready,” Wade said, and Allie looked up, startled to realize they’d arrived at her small, shoebox-shaped duplex already. “I’m sure you need to preen before your long-lost ex arrives, and I need to text Francesca.”
“Who?”
“My date from last night.”
“I thought her name was Vanessa.”
Wade waved a hand. “Something like that.”
Allie hustled inside and threw her bag down on the bed, grateful to have a few minutes to herself before Jack and Paige showed up. She glanced at the antique clock on her wall, calculating the primp time required to craft an image that said, “My life’s fantastic! How about yours?”
She only had an hour, so she’d settle for, “I’m fine, thanks. Pass the wine?”
She wriggled into her Spanx, then zipped herself into a sheath dress in plum silk. The color brought out the green in her eyes, and the cut showed her Pilates-toned arms while assisting the Spanx in hiding her not-so-toned tummy. There was no hiding the laugh lines around her mouth and eyes, so she didn’t bother trying. Her hair still looked good, long and loose around her shoulders with caramel highlights she’d gotten at the nearby beauty college because it was cheaper than the fancy downtown salon she’d frequented in her other life. The life her wealthy parents had wanted her to have.
Allie turned and surveyed herself in the mirror. Sucked in her stomach. Turned to the side. Not bad. Not fantastic, but not terrible. She’d aged pretty well in the sixteen years since she’d last seen Jack Carpenter, all things considered.
Things, meaning her parents’ arrest and imprisonment, a career path that hadn’t gone according to plan, and a love life that never seemed to match the one she’d always imagined.
Allie turned again in front of the mirror, swaying a little on heels she’d almost forgotten how to walk in. Back in college, she expected to strut into courtrooms on her Louboutin stilettos, then kick them off at home so her handsome husband could rub her feet by the fireplace.
Her little house didn’t have a fireplace. And though she loved lobbying and planning and developing public health policy in her role as a Certified Association Executive for a state medical association, she knew the job title itself sounded made-up, and that heels were too impractical at her stand-up desk.
Allie swept some bronzer over her cheeks, then stabbed herself in the eye with an eyeliner pencil. Started over. Her hands were shaking, and she cursed herself for giving a damn what Jack Carpenter and his wife thought of her. In sixteen years, she’d never once Facebook stalked him. She hadn’t cared, or at least that’s what she thought before she got his stupid email about coming to town for his reunion.
“Hey, Albatross,” Wade called from the other room. “A car just pulled in. I think it’s them.”
Allie took a deep breath and stepped back from the mirror. Showtime.
She turned and pushed open her bedroom door and strode down the hall, projecting a confidence she didn’t really feel. If nothing else, she knew how to fake it. That had always been her superpower, the skill that proved more useful than any law degree would have.
Wade gave a low whistle as she marched into the living room. “Lookin’ good,” he said from his perch on her sofa. He shoved his phone in the pocket of his jacket and stood. “Want me to hover possessively beside you, or go fiddle around in the kitchen like a devoted fiancé?”
“Just hang back,” Allie said as footfalls echoed up her front steps and she wished, not for the first time, that she had a peephole on her front door. She hated the clamminess in her palms as the footsteps got louder. “If I signal you by tugging my left ear, it means lay it on thick with the affection. If I signal you by tugging my right ear, play it cool.”
“Should I write this down somewhere?”
“Hush.”
Allie took a shaky breath and glanced at the crystal vase of lilies she’d set out the night before. The doorbell chimed and she reached for the knob, then hesitated, not wanting to look too eager. She took a few more breaths as her heart thudded in her ears and she ordered herself to smile warmly, to greet Jack with a firm handshake and his wife with a friendly hug. Or maybe a double cheek kiss, European style?
Her fingers were sweaty as she gripped the doorknob and twisted right, then pulled open the door. Her gaze landed on the two people standing on her porch.
She stumbled back, too stunned to form a polite greeting.
“Oh,” she said, and clapped a hand over her mouth.
CHAPTER TWO
Jack took one look at Allie’s face gone pale as a soda cracker and wondered what he’d done this time to make her throw up.
“Here, use this.” He set down the bottle of wine he’d brought and yanked the plastic off the bouquet he was holding, offering it to her as a makeshift barf bag. He’d made similar offerings in college when nerves or emotion got the best of his stoic fiancée and she turned this exact shade of white.
But Allie just stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
“I’m not going to throw up,” she said, waving the bag away. “I’m fine. I just—” She took a sharp breath, and her gaze darted to Paige.
Paige.
He felt a surge of pride seeing his ten-year-old daughter standing beside him looking cheerful and well-mannered in the blue dress she’d picked for the occasion. She’d French-braided her own hair in some complicated twist Jack could never figure out. Sensing his gaze on her, his kid gave him a grin so wide he saw the gap from the newly lost molar he’d hidden in a silk pouch in his sock drawer.
Emotion welled in his chest, so Jack looked back at Allie. She’d recovered some of her color, which probably had something to do with the possessive male hand resting on her shoulder.
“Jack,” Allie began, licking her lips. “I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Wade.”
The guy slid his palm from Allie’s shoulder and reached out to shake Jack’s hand. Jack returned the handshake, impressed with himself for not feeling any twinges of jealousy at the word fiancé. He was over her, obviously. Had been over her for years, long before he’d gotten married and had a kid.
The reminder prompted Jack to offer his own introduction. “Pleasure to meet you, Wade,” he said. “This is my daughter, Paige.”
Paige stuck out her hand, beaming like she always did when given the opportunity to socialize with grownups. Still looking dumbstruck, Allie grasped the small hand in hers and gave it an awkward shake.
“I’m Paige Carpenter,” his daughter announced, her dimples on full display as she looked from Allie to Wade and back again. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Paige.” Allie gave her a nervous smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Such nice manners. How old are you?”
“Ten. How old are you?”
Allie laughed, breaking the spell that seemed to have held her for the last thirty seconds. Her face creased into familiar crinkles around her eyes and mouth, into laugh lines Jack couldn’t help noticing had grown deeper in the sixteen years since he saw her last.
Laughter he hadn’t been part of. God, had it really been that long?
“I’m thirty-six,” Allie said, answering Paige’s question at last. “Same as your dad. Please, come on in.”
She stepped back, and Jack tried not to notice the way the wine-colored dress swept around her thighs and moved over her hips. Hips that were still full and beautifully rounded. Hips he used to grip with both hands as she moved over him, her breasts bare and—
Jesus Christ, was he really doing this? With his kid standing beside him, and Allie’s fiancé next to her?
Jack looked at the fiancé, reminding himself that Allie belonged to someone else now. The guy’s suit screamed lawyer, which made perfect sense. Allie had obviously gotten what she’d wanted out of life.
So did you, his subconscious reminded him. That’s why you’re here, to rub her face in the fact that you turned out great without her.
It was a shitty thing to think, but there it was. Jack squeezed his daughter’s shoulder as she stepped through the front door. He followed behind her, bringing him closer to Allie than he’d been since he was twenty years old. He stepped back quickly and turned to pick up the wine. Then he moved past the lawyer fiancé and into a living room that was well-decorated, but small. Smaller than he would have expected. Silky-looking throw pillows lined a leather sofa that looked vintage. There was a crystal vase of lilies on the coffee table, and an earthy-looking clay vessel on a nearby bookshelf. Jack remembered it from their college apartment. Her grandma had made it, and Allie used to keep it on her desk to hold dried flowers from the first bouquet he’d ever given her.
It held something metallic now. Daisies? Stems of copper twisted up to meet petals made of iron and steel, an effect that was both artistic and tasteful. And expensive. Probably very expensive.
He looked back at Allie and handed her the bouquet of sunflowers he’d brought. “Thank you for inviting us to your home.”
Too late, he remembered he’d taken the bag off the flowers and they dripped water on her shoes. The Allie he used to know would have freaked out about ruining the leather, but this one didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she had plenty of other pairs of fancy shoes in her closet. That seemed likely.
Jack cleared his throat and held out the bottle of wine, feeling a little like an asshole for deliberately leaving the wine shop’s price tag on the edge of the label. “I brought this, too.”
The fiancé took the wine and gave him a pleasant smile that looked genuine. “Very nice,” Wade said. “I had this one at a tasting event for New Zealand wines. This will be perfect with Allie’s seafood en brodo.”
Jack glanced at Allie, who was watching Paige like she was some kind of exotic butterfly that had fluttered into her living room. Seeming to sense his eyes on her, Allie turned toward him and offered a sheepish look. “Sorry, I didn’t realize—I, um.” She licked her lips. “Does Paige eat seafood? If not, I’m sure I can throw together chicken fingers or peanut butter and jelly or—”
“I love seafood!” Paige looked up from the collection of photos she’d been studying on a bookshelf and grinned at Allie. “Especially salmon and shrimp.”
Allie blinked. “That’s great. You have a very refined palate.”
“Thank you,” Paige said automatically, even though Jack was pretty sure she didn’t know what palate meant. In that moment, he felt so damn proud of his kid he wanted to pick her up and squeeze her.
“You’ll love the wine,” Paige continued solemnly. “It’s very itchy with notes of tulip stem and green Crayola.”
The fiancé barked out a laugh that made Allie jump. Paige beamed, pleased with the reaction from her audience. Jack hustled to explain.
“It’s our inside joke,” he said. “Paige and I try to see who can come up with the craziest descriptors for wine. Things like ‘old shoe leather from a 1978 Birkenstock’ or ‘mango Trident gum found under the third-row bleachers at Autzen Stadium.’ Stuff like that.”
He didn’t add that they’d started the ritual after watching some hoity TV show about food and wine pairings recommended by snobby rich people. He’d wanted Paige to know she didn’t need to aspire to be the sort of woman who sipped tea with her pinky up and spoke in condescending tones about the amuse-bouche.
From what he could guess, Allie had grown up to be one of those people.
“It’s great you’re such a fan of wine.” The fiancé was talking to Paige, not him, which made him like the guy and also made him resolve to use his name instead of branding him the fiancé like a character in a play. “I always love talking with a fellow connoisseur,” Wade continued, smiling at Paige. “Maybe you could give me some good pointers on wine.”
“I don’t actually drink wine,” Paige said, pronouncing actually with an extra syllable the way her mother used to do, which was crazy. Paige barely remembered her mom, so there was no way for phonetics to have fixed themselves in his daughter’s memory.
Focus on the present, Jack ordered himself as he felt a familiar tightening in his chest.
“I like grape juice, though,” Paige was saying. “And seltzer. And root beer.”
“I’m pretty sure we have at least one of those things in the fridge,” Wade said. “Would you like something to drink?”
His daughter looked back over at him, a question in her eyes. Jack nodded once before glancing at Allie to see her exchange a questioning look of her own with Wade. Allie gave the guy a quick nod, and the next thing Jack knew, he was standing alone with her in her living room.
Alone. For the first time in sixteen years. It felt awkward. And familiar. But mostly awkward.
“So,” Allie said, resting her perfectly manicured hands on the back of the sofa. “It’s wonderful to finally meet your daughter. She’s adorable. Just like I pictured her.”
Jack snort-laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Liar.”
Allie frowned. “What?”
He shook his head and took a step closer, lowering his voice so Paige wouldn’t hear. “Until five minutes ago, you had no idea I even had a daughter.”
“That’s not true!” Allie tossed her hair. “She looks just like her mother. Very beautiful.”
Jack rolled his eyes. She sounded so convincing, so sure of herself. If he hadn’t seen her face when he’d stood there on the doorstep, he might have even believed her.
“Paige’s mother died when she was eighteen months old,” he said, making Allie’s face go pale again. “And you might still be the world’s best liar, but you can’t fool me. Admit it—you haven’t cyberstalked me once in the last sixteen years.”
Allie folded her arms over her chest and met him with a level gaze he remembered with something less than fondness. “So what? Are you accusing me of that like it’s a bad thing?” She frowned. “I meant the stalking, not the lying. And I’m sorry about your w—about Paige’s mother.”
“Thank you.”
Her expression softened again, something he hadn’t seen often when they were together. The Allie he remembered never backed down, never apologized. “I mean it,” she said. “I’m really sorry.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say, “Me, too,” but he realized she wasn’t apologizing for anything sixteen years ago. She felt bad for bringing up the dead mother of his child. He appreciated that Allie didn’t ask for details, didn’t even press to find out if he’d actually been married or if Paige was the result of some drunken fling. It would be just like her to think the worst of him, even now.
Jack volunteered nothing. He didn’t want to tell his sad story and see any trace of pity in Allie’s face. What he wanted to see was awe. Respect. Maybe embarrassed shock that he’d turned out successful, despite her predictions to the contrary. Jack Carpenter had made something of himself, dammit.
Why the hell did he need her to know that?
Jack cleared his throat. “I’m actually running my own company now,” he said. “Started out working on video games and sold one a few years ago for a pretty nice profit.”
“Wow. That’s great.”
He knew his words sounded like boastful assholery, and he ordered himself to shut the hell up.
But his tongue didn’t obey. “After that, I founded Clearwater App Development,” he continued, somehow unable to stop the flow of stupid words. “I’m actually killing two birds with one stone coming out here for my reunion. Paige and I are making the move to Portland and I’m finalizing a deal to move our headquarters from Silicon Valley, too. The tech sector is really booming here.”
He wanted to pick up those stupid metal flowers and stab himself right through the eyeball to skewer his brain. Why the hell was he giving her his fucking résumé?
Allie stood silent for a moment, looking pleasant and polite. Then, ever the gracious hostess, she gave him a warm smile. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations. It sounds like you’ve done very well for yourself.”
