Crazy Ever After

Chapter Two

Samara held on to her control with a fragile grip, acutely aware of the men’s gazes, especially Travis’s, as she drew back from her mother. She risked a glance his way. He watched them intently, his face tight, jaw square. The taut coil of nerves and anxiety in her stomach tightened further.

“Oh my god, it’s so good to see you,” her mother murmured, holding Samara’s face in a tender, maternal gesture that only made Samara’s throat ache more. She let her mom study her with wide, avid eyes, as if absorbing the sight of her. “Why didn’t you call? I could have picked you up at the airport.”

“I rented a car. It’s fine.”

“Thank you.” Her mom’s voice thickened. “Thank you for coming home. Oh Samara...” For a moment, they looked at each other with shared pain and disbelief. Then her mother straightened her shoulders and drew her forward with her arm linked in hers. “Come say hello to Alec and Travis.”

Samara allowed herself to be tugged across the room. The men all stood, and she extended a hand to Alec.

“Samara,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her into a polite hug. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Her throat constricted again. “Thanks.”

“Samara, this is Hank Proshen. He’s the Vice President of Quality Control at Cedar Mill.”

Samara nodded. She’d never met him, but she knew who he was and shook his hand while he too expressed his condolences.

She turned to Travis. Oh god. What if he hugged her too? Everything inside her quivered in anticipation and heat swept over her. Her lungs refused to expand.

Their eyes met, his warm and steady. Travis took her hand in his and shook it formally but made no attempt to embrace her. Remembered hurt and humiliation swept over her in a hot wave.

“Travis,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “You’re here.”

“Yeah. Got in a few hours ago.” He tilted his head in a way that was so familiar and attractive to her her chest ached. His sapphire eyes brimmed with sympathy and compassion. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Samara.”

She nodded. She didn’t know what to say to that. It was his loss as much as hers. Then she became aware that Travis still held her hand in his big, warm one, and she yanked it away.

“Samara, please sit down,” her mother invited softly, gesturing to the couch.

Samara took a chair directly opposite Travis, dropping her purse onto the floor beside it.

“Can I get you anything? You must be tired after your flight. Or are you hungry?” Her mom clasped her hands in front of her. “Oh, I’m so glad you came.” Relief added a breathy tone to her voice.

Samara noticed the coffee cups on a tray on the large leather ottoman between them. “Coffee would be great,” she said. “I assume it’s something good.”

“It’s Guatemala Antigua.” Her mother lifted the thermos and poured another cup for her. She handed Samara the cup, knowing she drank her coffee black. Like her father.

She took the cup and raised it to her lips—a medium roast, rich with hints of a chocolaty aroma.

They made some polite small talk about their flights and the weather for a few minutes. Then Alec stood. “I should be going,” he said. “You two will have a lot to catch up on.” Hank stood as well.

Samara looked at Travis, waiting for him to say the same and make an exit. But he didn’t. She looked from him to her mother. What was their relationship after all this time? Bitterness rose up in the back of her throat. Every muscle in her body ached from the tension gripping her. It was hard enough facing her mother after so long, but Travis too? At the same time? Nausea rolled in her stomach.

She sipped her coffee again, this time not even noticing the rich taste.

“I’ll see you out.” Dayna stood, smoothed down the skirt of her black shift dress, and followed the two men out of the den, leaving Samara and Travis alone.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“Of course.” For a split second, she actually thought he was talking about them, reading her memories about what had happened between them, and her speculation about him and her mother. She gave her head a little shake. “I think it still hasn’t really sunk in.” She eyed him. “What happened? Do you know anything more?”

“Not much more than I told you on the phone,” he said, his mouth twisting.

She nodded, keeping her grief tightly leashed. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe he’s gone.”

“I know.” His voice was somber. “None of us can. It’s like this can’t be real, and he’s going to walk in that door any minute. Everyone at the office is in shock.”

“The funeral...”

“Your mother wanted to wait for you before she started making arrangements.” His eyes softened with compassion. “I told her you were coming, but I don’t think she believed me until you walked in that door. She’ll need your help.”

Samara pressed her lips together. “Oh, I doubt that.” But the truth burned inside her. Her mother had depended on her husband for so much. For everything. How was she going to deal with all this on her own?

“Samara. Her husband just died. Your father. I think you both need each other.”

She resisted the urge to snort, wanting to deny what he’d said. She didn’t need her mother. She was an adult, capable of looking after herself, as she had been for a long time now. But when she looked at him, the softness in his eyes made her feel ashamed. Damn him. He knew as well as she did that her mother would need help. So she kept her mouth shut. “I’m here,” she finally said. “Of course I had to come.”

His mouth tightened into a straight, grim line. “Well, at least you have a sense of duty, if not love, for your family.”

His disapproval sent a quiver of shame through her. She was there out of a sense of duty. She’d known how difficult it was going to be to come home, but also knew she had no choice with her father having died.

She glanced at the door. What was taking Mom so long? Sitting here alone with Travis was making her twitchy and jittery. Not that being with her mother was any more comfortable.

She sipped her coffee, looked at Travis over the rim of the cup. He was watching her mouth purse on the edge of the cup, and her hand trembled, sloshing coffee over the rim and onto her skirt. She looked down at the wet spot on the pale gray fabric. Just what she needed, more embarrassment in front of Travis. As if she hadn’t been humiliated enough at his hands.

“Here.” He stood up and reached across the ottoman to hand her a pretty paper napkin that matched the bright coral and yellow of the Mexican pottery cups they’d been drinking from. She snatched it out of his hand and pressed it to the spot, heat sliding over her.

Why, why, was he affecting her like this? After all those years?

“Did you burn yourself?” he asked.

“No.” Like she’d admit if she had. She crumpled the napkin and tossed it onto the tray.

Mom returned at that moment, her eyes, nose and cheeks rosy. “Well,” she said, in her soft voice. “Alec and Hank are gone. That was nice of them to drop by.” She looked at Travis. “You too, Travis.”

“It’s no trouble, Dayna.” He stood and moved toward her. “Of course I’d come. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

She nodded, her mouth trembling a little. “And thank you for coming too, Samara.”

Samara lifted her eyes to the grief and gratitude in her mother’s face. Then she watched as Travis bent his head low and murmured something in Dayna’s ear. More memories, more hurt slashed through her.

“Where is your suitcase, Sam?” Mom now asked. “Travis will take it up to your room for you.”

Samara just stared at them blankly for a moment. “Oh. It’s still in my car. I won’t be staying here.”

Dayna’s face fell. “What? But of course you will! This is your home!”

“No. My home is my apartment in San Francisco.” She pressed her lips together.

“But...Samara...where will you stay?”

“At a hotel. I’m sure I can find a room somewhere in town.”

Dayna shook her head, her face pinched with hurt. “Oh, Samara. Please, stay here.”

Once again Samara felt an unwilling softening inside her. She didn’t want to stay there, but she read the fragility in her mother’s expression.

“Samara.” Travis’s deep voice snagged her attention, and she met his eyes. “You need to be with family at a time like this.”

“I’ll be fine at a hotel.”

Travis’s eyes flashed, and he tipped his head. “Maybe you’ll be fine, but what about your mother?”

He was standing there, beside her mother, taking her side, looking out for her, caring for her, and disappointment and hurt jabbed at Samara, a sharp blade slicing open an old wound. “I’m sure Mom will be fine without me. And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”

“Samara!” Her mother gazed at her open-mouthed.

Samara pressed her lips together briefly. “I’m sorry. But I’m an adult, Mother, and I’ll stay where I want to stay.” The silence stretched out long and taut, the thudding of her heart loud in her ears.

“You’re right,” her mother finally said, straightening her small shoulders. “You are an adult now. But I’m your mother. I will always be your mother. And I will always tell you when you’re being rude, whether you like it or not, no matter how happy I am to see you, and right now you are being rude.” She met Samara’s eyes, and Samara blinked in surprise. Out of the corner of her eye, Samara caught Travis’s mouth twitching, and heat washed into her cheeks.

“Sam. Please.”

Samara couldn’t bear to look at the pleading in her mother’s eyes. She thought about Travis’s assertion that her mother needed her there. It was true. “Fine. I’ll stay here.” But she also knew that wasn’t all her mother was pleading with her about.

“Good,” her mother said quietly. “Travis, could you get her suitcase?”

“I can carry my own suitcase.” Samara stood.

“I’ll get it,” Travis snapped. “Give me your keys.”

She stared at him. “Um...pretty sure I already asked this question, and pretty sure I didn’t get a good answer, but who are you to tell me what to do?”

His narrow-eyed gaze pinned her, his square jaw stone-hard. “Please give me your keys, Samara, and I’ll get your suitcase for you. And you’re welcome.”

They stood there facing each other. Mom hovered nearby. They both ignored her. Travis held out a hand. And waited.

Samara fought down the surge of frustration. Her mother had chastised her like a child, and now Travis was ordering her around like he was her father. Damn him.

She reached for her purse, dug out her car keys and thrust them at him. Without a word he turned and left the room.

“We need to talk, Samara,” her mother said quietly. “Maybe now isn’t the time. But before you leave...”

Samara’s insides twisted in knots at the thought. She’d rather chew her arm off than have that conversation, but again, she had to put aside all that old crap and deal with what was important at that moment. “We’ll see,” she said, just as quietly. “What about the funeral? When will it be?”

“I thought Friday would be a good day. That will allow Greg and Leila and the kids time to get here from New York as well as any of the other out-of-town executives if they want to attend.” She paused, her head bent. “I’ll get Ava to make up the bed in your room,” she continued, her voice determinedly steady. “And I’ll just go let her know that you and Travis will both be staying for dinner.” She hurried out of the room, her small slender figure outlined in the black sleeveless dress she wore. She was still so perfect.

As a young girl, Samara had admired her mother— so beautiful and charming, graciously hosting dinners and parties in their home. She’d never had to work outside the home, thanks to the success of Cedar Mill Coffee, and had been able to devote herself to her husband and her daughter and the charitable organizations she and Parker had chosen to support. It wasn’t until Samara was older that she’d realized her mother relied so heavily on her husband. Other friends had mothers who worked outside the home, mothers who were lawyers or doctors or even just worked at Macy’s. Samara knew her mother didn’t have to work, and that was fine, but her mother didn’t make a single decision without her husband’s input. Her love and devotion to her husband and their life together had been wonderful, but Samara always wished her mom would be a little more independent. In a million years, never would Samara have worried about her mother cheating on her husband.

Alone in the room, Samara sank back down into her chair and took in a long, shaky breath. Well, that had gone well. Not. She snorted at herself.

She rubbed her forehead and squeezed her eyes closed, trying to focus on breathing. Dinner with Travis and her mom was going to be as much fun as dental surgery.

After a moment she had a feeling of being watched, and she lifted her head to see Travis standing there holding her suitcase.

“Are you...”

“Don’t say it!” She jumped to her feet. “I’m fine. I’ll show you my room.” Damn. That sounded disturbingly intimate. But trying to reword it would just draw attention to her poor choice of words, so she brushed by him to lead the way upstairs.

He didn’t move out of the way, and his body was warm and solid, making her tingle all over. Conscious of his eyes on her, she walked stiffly to the foot of the wide, polished oak staircase, a plush runner in a muted sage green running up the center of it. She put a hand on the gleaming banister and started up the steps then paused to look over her shoulder.

His eyes were on her ass.

Holy crap.

She froze in place, one foot on the bottom step and stared at him. He lifted his gaze to her face, and she was pretty sure she saw a flicker of discomfort in his eyes as he realized she’d caught him checking her out. Oh, Godfrey. Once again her mind started spinning. What the hell did that mean? It couldn’t possibly mean anything. If it hadn’t been for that shift in his eyes, she would have assumed he was just following her and his eyes just happened to be looking there.

She forced herself to turn and lead him up the stairs, but her skin tingled with awareness, hot and tight, knowing as she climbed the stairs in front of him her butt was at his eye level. Then she had to lead him to her old room. She threw open the door and walked in, unsure of what to expect. If it was exactly the same girly pink teenage room, she was going to be embarrassed.

But no. The bubble gum color was mostly gone. Her eyes moved over walls now painted a soft taupe, the puffy duvet on the bed shades of chocolate, taupe and pink. Assorted matching cushions in various patterns of the same color were piled on the bed, and the armchair had been reupholstered in chocolate brown fabric. The rug she’d loved as a teenager, patterned in various shades of pink and beige, remained. It still looked feminine but also modern and grown up.

Samara hated to admit it, but she liked it.

She walked over to the big window looking out over their property. Behind the house were two acres of lush woods. She stared down at the stone path winding from the patio into the trees, lined with hostas and lilies lovingly planted by her mother years ago. She had so many memories of walking on that path, some of them with Travis.

She turned to face him, again fighting down the hurt and sadness that had resurfaced so unexpectedly, so strongly.

“Thank you,” she told him. He set the suitcase down on the floor but still stood there.

“Thanks for staying here. It means a lot to your mother.”

“You seem very concerned about her,” she said tightly, moving away from the window.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Parker was my business partner, my mentor...” His voice thickened. “He was a friend. She’s a friend too.”

“Right,” she said. “Well, that’s just lovely.”

His mouth flattened, and his eyes narrowed.

“I’m sure my father would be happy that you’re looking out for her,” she continued, unable to stop the sarcastic tone that came out. Travis’s eyes flashed and a nerve started flicking in his jaw, and Samara’s insides trembled.