You Say It First
Page 54
Or maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe it wasn’t a timing issue, but a man issue. Maybe she’d never bothered before because no one else had been Nick. And if her feelings were specifically about him, did that mean... Was it possible...
Pallas stopped in the hallway and told herself to breathe. The truth was just there, out of reach. She wanted to know and whatever it was, she would deal. How did she feel about Nick?
The answer came immediately and most of her wasn’t surprised. She loved him. She probably had for a while. She loved his smile and his mind and the way he was always touching her. She loved how he kept her safe and had been so excited about Nova’s wedding. She was in love with Nick.
She waited for the fear that was sure to follow. Because love had to be earned. Only Nick hadn’t earned her love. He’d simply been the man in her life. Which meant what? That she’d given love freely? That she’d handed over her heart with no expectation for reciprocation? She just loved him?
The concept was both shocking and freeing. If she could love Nick that way, with no payment required, then maybe she could start to accept that other people could feel the same way about her. Maybe she wasn’t doomed to be her mother after all.
She let the knowledge of her love for Nick fill her and smiled when she felt the rightness of it. She loved him and in the loving, she was healing. It was right and it felt good. When he left, she was probably going to get her heart ripped out, but that was okay, too. It was what had to happen next. Nick was leaving and even if he wasn’t, he didn’t want love. He believed that passion consumed. He was wrong, but he would have to figure that out for himself. There was no way to convince him.
Talk about mature, she thought to herself. Look at her—all big with the emotional growth. She was pretty proud of herself. Who knew what she would conquer next!
* * *
THAT NIGHT NICK barbecued on her small patio. She had thought about telling him what she’d discovered—what she felt, but had ultimately decided that was her thing, not his. He’d never asked her to love him. If she told him, he might not understand how she meant it and he might feel trapped. She didn’t want either. She wanted whatever time they had left together to be about them—not her feelings.
While the grill heated, he leaned against the counter and watched her make salad. “I saw your mom today.”
She put down the lettuce. “Where?”
“At the bank. I have an account there. She’s not happy.”
Pallas ignored the sudden tightness in her chest. “She’s never happy. What happened?”
“Nothing much. We chatted.” He crossed to her and kissed her. “It took a lot of courage to stand up to her. You should be proud of yourself for doing that.”
“Thanks. I am. I wish I’d done it earlier.”
“Don’t be. When it was right, you said what you had to. Don’t take away from yourself by second-guessing the circumstances.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I also talked to Drew.”
Her unease faded as amusement took its place. “What I would have given to be a fly on the wall.”
“Everything went fine. He’s a good guy.”
“I think so.”
“I’m glad you have people who take care of you.”
“Me, too.”
Dealing with her mother was difficult, but the rest of the family was pretty good.
He went to the refrigerator and pulled out the chicken she’d already put in marinade. While he went outside to put it on the grill, she finished the salad, then joined him.
“I sent back the signed contracts for the under-the-sea wedding,” she said. “I’m really looking forward to all the work.”
“We’re going to have to figure out sea horses,” he told her. “I wish there was a way to use the zebras, but honestly I don’t see them in costumes.”
“No zebras. They’ve been through enough.” She held in a smile. “You could make papier-mâché sea horses. I’ll help.”
She expected him to groan but instead he nodded thoughtfully. “I could. I’d only need a couple of molds and now that I have the guy who can make them for me, I’d only have to do the sculpture in clay.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Nick Mitchell, you are not spending your incredibly valuable time carving molds for my weddings. That’s insane. You should be selling your stuff for millions.”
He grinned as he turned the chicken. “My ‘stuff’ as you call it, already sells for plenty. Besides, projects like these are fun. I’m having a good time and so are you. Look how enthused you are. You should branch out more.”
“If you can dream it, we can make it happen?” she asked, her voice teasing, before stopping and staring at him. “Oh my God! Nick, that’s it. That’s what I want to do. Or say. Or tell people. You know what I mean. That should be my mission statement. If you can dream it, we can make it happen.”
“Not weddings in the box,” he told her. “Weddings out of the box.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PALLAS HAD TO wait until after the weekend to set up a lunch with her friends. Everyone was busy with a cowboy wedding on Friday night and a smaller princess-slash-Italian villa wedding on Sunday afternoon. Monday was spent in a fog of cleanup and recovering, but by Tuesday, Pallas was dying to talk with her friends about all the possibilities for her new business. As they were a central part of the plan, she wanted to make sure they were on board. Violet had offered her place for the meeting, so at two thirty, Pallas collected her tote from her car and walked to her friend’s small shop.
Violet’s store was on the edge of town, in a quiet, older neighborhood. Here the roads were more narrow, the traffic lighter. Storefronts had apartments above them and old-fashioned window boxes. Violet’s place was part consignment store, part antique store with an emphasis on vintage clothing. She had a section for her precious buttons and a small space to do her tailoring work.
Her loft apartment was upstairs. It was exactly the size of her store, with equally large windows. Despite Violet’s love of everything old, her space was surprisingly modern. Only a screen separated the living room from the bedroom and the only walled-off section was the bathroom.
In the living room, two sofas faced each other. A big dining room table sat by the huge windows. Pallas knew that Violet used the table as much for work as for eating, so she wasn’t surprised when Violet guided them there.
Violet set out pitchers of iced tea and plates of cookies, then took one of the chairs. Wynn sat next to her, with Silver next to Pallas. They all looked at Pallas expectantly.
She shuffled her notes, then pushed them aside. “My mom has been after me to sell the business,” she began.
“What?” Wynn shook her head. “No, you can’t.”
“Libby’s a bitch,” Silver announced as she grabbed a cookie. “Always has been.”
“I’m not going to do it,” Pallas said quickly. “I love what I do.”
“Good.” Violet smiled encouragingly. “But? Is there a but?”
“But I haven’t been happy with how things were going at Weddings in a Box. Profits were low and there’s a certain sameness to the weddings. I was really sad when Nova had to cancel.”
“Me, too,” Violet said. “Have you talked to her?”
Pallas stopped in the hallway and told herself to breathe. The truth was just there, out of reach. She wanted to know and whatever it was, she would deal. How did she feel about Nick?
The answer came immediately and most of her wasn’t surprised. She loved him. She probably had for a while. She loved his smile and his mind and the way he was always touching her. She loved how he kept her safe and had been so excited about Nova’s wedding. She was in love with Nick.
She waited for the fear that was sure to follow. Because love had to be earned. Only Nick hadn’t earned her love. He’d simply been the man in her life. Which meant what? That she’d given love freely? That she’d handed over her heart with no expectation for reciprocation? She just loved him?
The concept was both shocking and freeing. If she could love Nick that way, with no payment required, then maybe she could start to accept that other people could feel the same way about her. Maybe she wasn’t doomed to be her mother after all.
She let the knowledge of her love for Nick fill her and smiled when she felt the rightness of it. She loved him and in the loving, she was healing. It was right and it felt good. When he left, she was probably going to get her heart ripped out, but that was okay, too. It was what had to happen next. Nick was leaving and even if he wasn’t, he didn’t want love. He believed that passion consumed. He was wrong, but he would have to figure that out for himself. There was no way to convince him.
Talk about mature, she thought to herself. Look at her—all big with the emotional growth. She was pretty proud of herself. Who knew what she would conquer next!
* * *
THAT NIGHT NICK barbecued on her small patio. She had thought about telling him what she’d discovered—what she felt, but had ultimately decided that was her thing, not his. He’d never asked her to love him. If she told him, he might not understand how she meant it and he might feel trapped. She didn’t want either. She wanted whatever time they had left together to be about them—not her feelings.
While the grill heated, he leaned against the counter and watched her make salad. “I saw your mom today.”
She put down the lettuce. “Where?”
“At the bank. I have an account there. She’s not happy.”
Pallas ignored the sudden tightness in her chest. “She’s never happy. What happened?”
“Nothing much. We chatted.” He crossed to her and kissed her. “It took a lot of courage to stand up to her. You should be proud of yourself for doing that.”
“Thanks. I am. I wish I’d done it earlier.”
“Don’t be. When it was right, you said what you had to. Don’t take away from yourself by second-guessing the circumstances.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I also talked to Drew.”
Her unease faded as amusement took its place. “What I would have given to be a fly on the wall.”
“Everything went fine. He’s a good guy.”
“I think so.”
“I’m glad you have people who take care of you.”
“Me, too.”
Dealing with her mother was difficult, but the rest of the family was pretty good.
He went to the refrigerator and pulled out the chicken she’d already put in marinade. While he went outside to put it on the grill, she finished the salad, then joined him.
“I sent back the signed contracts for the under-the-sea wedding,” she said. “I’m really looking forward to all the work.”
“We’re going to have to figure out sea horses,” he told her. “I wish there was a way to use the zebras, but honestly I don’t see them in costumes.”
“No zebras. They’ve been through enough.” She held in a smile. “You could make papier-mâché sea horses. I’ll help.”
She expected him to groan but instead he nodded thoughtfully. “I could. I’d only need a couple of molds and now that I have the guy who can make them for me, I’d only have to do the sculpture in clay.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Nick Mitchell, you are not spending your incredibly valuable time carving molds for my weddings. That’s insane. You should be selling your stuff for millions.”
He grinned as he turned the chicken. “My ‘stuff’ as you call it, already sells for plenty. Besides, projects like these are fun. I’m having a good time and so are you. Look how enthused you are. You should branch out more.”
“If you can dream it, we can make it happen?” she asked, her voice teasing, before stopping and staring at him. “Oh my God! Nick, that’s it. That’s what I want to do. Or say. Or tell people. You know what I mean. That should be my mission statement. If you can dream it, we can make it happen.”
“Not weddings in the box,” he told her. “Weddings out of the box.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PALLAS HAD TO wait until after the weekend to set up a lunch with her friends. Everyone was busy with a cowboy wedding on Friday night and a smaller princess-slash-Italian villa wedding on Sunday afternoon. Monday was spent in a fog of cleanup and recovering, but by Tuesday, Pallas was dying to talk with her friends about all the possibilities for her new business. As they were a central part of the plan, she wanted to make sure they were on board. Violet had offered her place for the meeting, so at two thirty, Pallas collected her tote from her car and walked to her friend’s small shop.
Violet’s store was on the edge of town, in a quiet, older neighborhood. Here the roads were more narrow, the traffic lighter. Storefronts had apartments above them and old-fashioned window boxes. Violet’s place was part consignment store, part antique store with an emphasis on vintage clothing. She had a section for her precious buttons and a small space to do her tailoring work.
Her loft apartment was upstairs. It was exactly the size of her store, with equally large windows. Despite Violet’s love of everything old, her space was surprisingly modern. Only a screen separated the living room from the bedroom and the only walled-off section was the bathroom.
In the living room, two sofas faced each other. A big dining room table sat by the huge windows. Pallas knew that Violet used the table as much for work as for eating, so she wasn’t surprised when Violet guided them there.
Violet set out pitchers of iced tea and plates of cookies, then took one of the chairs. Wynn sat next to her, with Silver next to Pallas. They all looked at Pallas expectantly.
She shuffled her notes, then pushed them aside. “My mom has been after me to sell the business,” she began.
“What?” Wynn shook her head. “No, you can’t.”
“Libby’s a bitch,” Silver announced as she grabbed a cookie. “Always has been.”
“I’m not going to do it,” Pallas said quickly. “I love what I do.”
“Good.” Violet smiled encouragingly. “But? Is there a but?”
“But I haven’t been happy with how things were going at Weddings in a Box. Profits were low and there’s a certain sameness to the weddings. I was really sad when Nova had to cancel.”
“Me, too,” Violet said. “Have you talked to her?”
