The day hadn’t been a total waste though. I chuckled, remembering the look of mortification on Jace’s face when I handed him over to Ted. Priceless! I guessed not many people denied him anything. Maybe this would be good for him.
I shook my head, pushed Jace Logan out of my mind, and got back to work. It didn’t take long for things to start piling up, and the time spent with Dark Wing this morning had put me behind. I was engrossed in analyzing the latest marketing numbers from our regional promotions managers when my phone rang.
I frowned. Our administrative assistant, Cassie, was usually pretty good about following instructions.
“Cassie, I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.”
“I know, Ms. D’Agolino, but it’s Ms. Venedetta again. This is the third time she’s called. She’s very tenacious, ma’am.”
I smiled. Calling my cousin Soraya tenacious was an understatement.
“Put her through.”
I sat back in my chair and closed my eyes, bracing myself for the conversation I was about to have. I knew exactly why Soraya was calling. She was getting married, and I’d yet to meet the lucky groom, which reminded me ... I needed to look at her registry and send something nice.
“Eva?”
“Hey, Soraya.”
“You’re a hard woman to get ahold of, you know that? I was about to ask Graham to fly us out there on the company jet.”
I laughed. Knowing Soraya as I did, I could see her doing just that. “Sorry about that. Things have been hectic.”
“I bet,” she murmured. “What A-lister are you making famous today?”
“Dark Wing.”
“Oh, man. Is Jace Logan as delicious in person as he is in pictures?”
More so.
Aloud, I said, “I suppose.”
“Lucky woman.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it. It’s all skill, baby.”
She laughed, as I’d intended. “Good. You can bring him to New York when you visit. He can be your plus-one.”
I sighed. “I’m sorry, Soraya, I can’t.”
“Won’t, you mean.”
I suppose that, technically, I could take a few days off and fly across the country to New York. Soraya was my favorite cousin, and there was nothing physically preventing me from going. Nothing, that was, except my own stubborn pride and the desire not to deal with the shaking heads and clicking tongues I knew I’d encounter. I’d walked away from my family a long time ago, and Soraya was the only one I’d stayed in contact with.
“It’s complicated.”
“Hey, you know I understand complicated family dynamics. You’ve listened to me vent about my father often enough over the years. But being with Graham has made me rethink things. My dad and I are actually talking again now. Things aren’t great, but they’re better.” Soraya paused. “It’s been twenty years, Eva. Maybe it’s time you did some reevaluating too.”
“Is that your official advice, Ida?” I teased, but inside, I felt a sharp stab of pain in my chest, the one I always felt when I thought about my parents and what I’d done. Bringing up Soraya’s job as an assistant and sometimes responder to the popular advice columnist, “Ask Ida,” was a surefire way to deflect some of the heat she was throwing my way. I’d never admit that I read the column religiously every day, and may have even submitted a few questions of my own.
“Yes, it is. Come to New York. Bring Jace Logan. Show everyone what a big success you are by rubbing it in their faces.”
It was a nice thought, but my “success” wasn’t enough to erase what I’d done. I knew that someday, I’d have to face them again but not yet. I wasn’t ready.
“I really can’t. My schedule just won’t allow it.”
A heavy sigh followed her long pause. “All right, Eva. I get it. Just ... don’t wait too long, okay?”
“Love you, Soraya.”
“Love you too, Eva.”
~ * ~
It was much later that night when I finally made it back to my place. On the plus side, I’d taken care of the highest priority items on my to-do list, ordered a lovely hand-etched set of Bavarian crystal tumblers for Soraya and Graham, and made a quick stop at the store to pick up a few necessities. I was exhausted, but the sense of accomplishment was nice. It was only temporary, I knew. Each day brought its own set of challenges, but for now at least, I felt as if I was holding my own.
Juggling my eco-friendly, reusable shopping bags, I jammed my key into the lock. With any luck, the boys had seen the note I’d left that morning and remembered to put the prepared baking pan into the oven for their dinner. Being a working mother, I’d long ago discovered the merits of prepping meals ahead of time for days like this. It was already after seven, and I was more than ready to call it a day.
Thankfully, my boys were older now and pretty self-sufficient, but I still liked them to have a home-cooked meal a few times a week. It wasn’t the first trying day I’d had, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it was the first time in many years I’d been so ruffled.
I blamed Jace Logan and his cursed pheromones. Honestly, it just wasn’t fair. The man was gorgeous as sin with a voice sensual enough to tempt a nun, and he had to smell like that?
I shook my head and shouldered the door with more force than necessary, trying for the hundredth time to dispel those thoughts lest my body started reacting again.
Oops. Too late.
I made it into the kitchen without dropping anything and surveyed the marble countertops with mixed feelings.
The good news was that my sons had indeed put the casserole in the oven and, apparently, eaten well. Not only had they devoured the casserole, but also an entire iced apple pie. Nothing remained except a smear along the bottom of the glass plate.
The bad news was, they’d left a stack of dirty dishes, glasses, and silverware piled on the counter. They would be doing those later.
My stomach growled. Mixed aromas of garlic butter, baked chicken, and warm apples lingered in the air, cruelly taunting me. My boys were eighteen, which meant they could eat hearty, carb-laden food in great quantities and burn it off within a matter of hours. I, on the other hand, could not, which meant my meals tended to be more of the lean meats and steamed vegetables variety.
Opting for a healthier diet more appropriate to my age and metabolism didn’t stop temptation from lurking around every corner. In a moment of weakness, I briefly considered licking the pans. I’m happy to say that I resisted the urge. I had some pride left.
I was too tired to wash, chop, and create a salad from the fresh items I’d just picked up, so I opted for one of the low-calorie, organic frozen entrees I kept around. Admittedly, they were tasty, but the portion sizes weren’t large enough to satisfy my appetite, so I only resorted to those in a pinch.
I had to follow a strict diet and exercise plan to remain where I was, thanks to a double whammy of both nature and nurture. My Italian heritage predisposed me to develop the plump curves of my mother, my grandmother, and all the women before me. My traditional upbringing and the fact that my parents owned a bakery meant that I subconsciously equated carbs with comfort, love, and contentment.
Nevertheless, I was determined not to take that path—at least, not yet. I fought the valiant fight, avoided the pasta and bread I so craved, and worked out religiously every day. As a result, my blood pressure, cholesterol, and triglyceride levels were stellar. Also, I still fit into a size eight. Yay me.