The One You Can't Forget by Roni Loren
Rebecca wasn’t sure those kinds of whys or hows could be pinpointed, but she was going to give Taryn all the information that she had. Maybe her experience with Trevor could offer some insight and help in some way. Regardless, Rebecca would rather tell her close friend about what had happened between her and Trevor than tell a reporter who would sensationalize everything. The information would get out either way, but at least Rebecca could put it into the most useful hands first.
Taryn pushed her headband back, keeping her cloud of tight, black curls away from her face, and sent Rebecca a tilted smile as she set the recorder between them. “All right. I’ve delayed enough. We should be good to go. Is it okay to admit that I’m trembling?”
Rebecca cocked her head to the side. “That’s supposed to be my job, doc.”
Taryn rubbed her lips together, smoothing her bright-pink lip gloss. “I know, but this is a first for me. I’ve never interviewed a friend about Long Acre. This feels more intense.”
Rebecca’s chest squeezed tight. “Honey, if you don’t feel up to this, please don’t do it on my behalf. Believe me, I know how important it can be to keep those closets locked. If you’re not ready to—”
Taryn shook her head, something resolute coming into her eyes. “Oh no, don’t you go giving me a pass, lady. That’s not why I’m telling you.”
Rebecca sighed and ran her fingers over her ponytail, a nervous habit from childhood that seemed to reappear at times like these. “Maybe I’m trying to give myself a pass. I’m afraid that when I’m done with this, you’re going to hate me.”
Taryn gave her a pointed look. “Don’t even go there, Bec. I know you. Nothing you’re going to say is going to make me hate you. And, trust me, we all have things about that night that we wish we could take back. I know I do.”
Rebecca looked up, catching the tightening of Taryn’s expression, the grip of something sharp overtaking her friend—pain, grief, guilt? But the moment was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
“We’re doing this interview,” Taryn said resolutely, not giving Rebecca the chance to ask what had put that anguished look on her face. “That’s not in question. I’m just letting you know that I’m probably not going to be one hundred percent put together about it. I reserve the right not to react like a proper impassive researcher.”
“You absolutely have that right.” Rebecca reached out and put her palm up on the table between them. “And who in the hell is one hundred percent put together anyway? Maybe if I’m fifty percent and you’re fifty percent, we’ll make it to the other side of this thing.”
Taryn put her hand in Rebecca’s, her smooth brown skin warm against Rebecca’s cold fingers. “We’ve got this. We will do the interview. I will take notes. We will cry. And then afterward, we’re going to dinner to get a big-ass margarita with our puffy eyes and sloppy mascara while you tell me all about that new boyfriend of yours.”
Rebecca smiled. “It’s a deal.”
Taryn sat back in her chair, took a breath that lifted her shoulders, and hit the record button on the device. “Okay, Rebecca, tell me about when you first met Trevor…”
* * *
Rebecca headed down the hallway toward her office Tuesday morning, vaguely hungover from too many margaritas with Taryn and feeling like a stranger in a strange land. The phones were ringing and keyboards clicking as normal. The muted steps of expensive shoes on thick office carpet played bass. And the scent of slightly stale coffee filled the air. It was the same world she’d visited as a kid when she’d stopped in to see her dad. The same world she entered almost every weekday of her adult life. The law firm that would one day be part hers. But now that wouldn’t be so, and she was an intruder in a home that used to be her own.
She hadn’t made any announcements yet, and her father hadn’t returned her calls, but the decision was already made. She was officially representing Steven. She’d told her father in one of the messages she’d left him that she was going to tell her secret. Then, she’d done it yesterday, telling Taryn every part of her short-lived connection with Trevor. No going back now.
Marian’s desk was empty when Rebecca passed. That was a small relief. Rebecca didn’t quite know how to break the news to her assistant yet. Ideally, she’d take Marian with her, but wherever Rebecca set up shop, she wasn’t going to be able to offer Marian all the perks and benefits she got here at a big firm.
Rebecca grabbed a few empty boxes from near the copy machine and headed into her office, prepared to call all of her current clients and then pack up her office. She stepped inside, her vision blocked by the armful of boxes, and headed in the general direction of her desk.
“Rebecca.”
She let out a startled yelp and dropped the boxes, the cardboard tumbling to the floor in an avalanche.
Rebecca put a hand to her chest when she saw where the voice had come from. “Jesus, Dad, you scared me. What are you doing in here?”
Her father was standing near her window, his hands tucked in his pockets, a joyless expression on his face. “The doorman called me when you arrived. I wasn’t sure you were coming back.”
She pulled her shoulders back, fighting to keep a calm, civil attitude. “I have personal items to pack up. Plus, I need to call all of my current clients and transfer their cases to the other attorneys.”
Her father stepped forward and gave her an evaluating look. “I’m not going to prevent you from taking your current clients with you, Rebecca. If they want to follow you, that’s their choice.”
She bent over and restacked the boxes, needing to do something with her hands. “That’s okay. I can wrap up the cases that are in the final stages, but afterward, I’m getting out of the divorce business.”
“You’re—” Her father scoffed. “Right. Of course you are. Who cares that you’ve spent all these years building your expertise in that area? Seeing the reality of relationships every day would put a damper on your new romance. Can’t let that happen. Don’t want to mess with the fantasy he’s feeding you.”
She straightened and crossed her arms, her hackles going up. “Enough. What exactly is your problem with Wes? You don’t even know him.”
“I know enough,” he said. “I did my research. I know he’s divorced and that you represented his wife, that he cheated on her. That he threw a tantrum in court.”
“The tantrum was justified, and he didn’t cheat.”
“Right. I’m sure that’s what he told you. I also know he has a DUI, a stint in rehab, and a juvenile record. His parents are career criminals, and he declared bankruptcy after the divorce,” her father said, rattling off his list like he was proud of it. “And I’ve been around long enough to know that a smart, successful, wealthy attorney who’s still single in her thirties is a prime target for someone like him.”
Rebecca’s fingernails dug into her arms. “Right. We’re ripe for the picking, us thirty-one-year-old spinsters. We just want our princes to come and save us from it all.”
“That’s not—”
“Yes it is,” she said. “You say I’m smart, but you must not believe that. You must think I’m some desperate, pitiful thing who can be tricked because she’s so needy for some male attention. Come on, Dad, are you listening to yourself?”
“Smart people can be stupid when it comes to relationships,” he barked. “Believe me, I know. I married your mother.”
“I am not being stupid,” Rebecca said, her voice carrying across the room and ricocheting off the wall of windows. “I’m not desperate for attention. Getting a guy in bed is really not that hard.”
He cringed.
“I don’t need a man. I wasn’t looking for one. But I met Wes, and yeah, on paper, all that stuff in his past looks awful. But that paper doesn’t list all the other things. Like how he’s overcome a terrible childhood and has a loving adopted family now. Or how he came out of addiction and has
“I want what’s best for you. I want the best for you,” he said, some of the edge leaving his tone, earnestness replacing it.
“No,” she said, a pang of sadness moving through her. “You want what you think is best for me. Those are two different things. Like keeping Mom out of my life. I’m sure you thought that was best, but it left me without a mother. Maybe she wasn’t the greatest—yes, she made bad choices—but she was the only one I had. If you hadn’t sent her away, maybe I would’ve had someone to call when I needed a woman’s advice. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt so alone all the time or like I was someone who was easy to abandon.”
Her father’s Adam’s apple bobbed, something pained moving over his features. “Rebecca…”
“I know you’ve done what you thought was best for me in my life. I know you love me. And you did give me so much. I love working in law. I love that you taught me to be independent and tough and driven.” She put her hand to her chest. “So much of who I am is because I had you in my corner. Mom left. Even if she wanted to come back, she left in the first place. You stayed. You did the hard stuff,” she said, the words spilling out of her like hot tears. “But that doesn’t mean there weren’t holes and gaps. It doesn’t mean you always did the best thing. It doesn’t mean that you’re not seeing things through warped glass.
“Right now, you are not doing what’s best for me,” she said emphatically. “You are about to cut me off from the only family I have. You are about to take away my father. Simply because I love someone and want to see how that goes and because I want to take a case that means something to me. You are about to lose me, Dad.” Her voice caught in her throat, and she had to take a breath. “Is that all I’m worth? The cost of being right?”
Her father’s eyes were locked on her, and to her astonishment, they began to shine in the fluorescent lights of her office. He pulled his hand from his pocket and swiped a hand down his face as if trying to erase what he’d revealed. “Rebecca, I don’t want to lose you. You’re my daughter. You’re what gets me up in the morning. You have been since the day you were born.”
Rebecca’s chest tightened, and the inside of her nose burned.
“But this… It’s so hard to watch,” he said, eyes going liquid again. “You have this path that will lead you to so much, a partnership, a stable career. This firm is supposed to be yours one day. You have a legacy that you’ve earned. I don’t want you to throw it away for a man. Or for some punk kid who needs to be in jail.”
Rebecca took a deep breath and stepped forward. She reached out and took her dad’s hands in hers, giving them a squeeze. “Dad, I hear what you’re saying. I know you’re worried about me. But you have to let me mess up. I don’t think I’m making a mistake on either of these decisions, but if I am, so what? You’ve raised me to be tough enough to handle the falls. And I know we are on different sides of the fence on the issue with Steven’s case, but that’s okay.
“Tell the press we have different political views on that matter. Tell them whatever you want. I’ve already told the truth about what happened with Trevor to a friend who’s going to use it in her research, so it’s not a secret anymore. But you’ve got to let me do my own thing. You have to let me try. And hey,” she said, lightening her tone, “if I fail, think of all the I told you so’s you’ll get to throw my way. It will be like hitting the fatherly lottery.”
He scoffed at that, but a hint of a smile touched the corners of his lips.
“Please don’t make this an ultimatum, Dad,” she said softly as she let go of his hands. “We don’t always agree because you raised me to be headstrong. Don’t punish me for being like you.”
He lifted his eyes at that and let out a sigh, rubbing the lines on his forehead. “Someone taught you how to argue a point.”
She arched a brow. “Uh-huh. Wonder who that could be.”
“I still think you’re making a mistake.”
She could hear the shift in his tone, the white flag. She gave him a little smile. “Noted.”
“And I can’t have the firm associated with that kid’s case,” he said gruffly. “My campaign…”
“I know. That’s okay. I think striking out on my own may be good for both of us. Give us some breathing room.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Maybe give us a chance to practice a father-daughter relationship instead of a boss-employee one.”
He smirked. “I guess that wouldn’t be terrible, even though I do love being the boss. Being your dad is better.”
Something tight and tangled loosened inside her chest. “So you’re firing me?”
He inhaled a long breath and adjusted the knot on his tie. “Yes. I am.”
She grinned, and though she hadn’t done it in years, she put her arms around him for a hug. He still smelled like the same woodsy cologne she’d grown up with, and that made her want to cry. “Thanks, Dad.”
He settled his arms around her and patted her back in that awkward way he had. “I love you. And I’m sorry that I never told you about your mom. I was trying to protect you. She would’ve left again. I didn’t think either of us could handle it twice.”
She closed her eyes. That was one thing she at least knew for sure. Her dad was difficult and bossy and set in his opinion, but she never doubted that he loved her and wanted to keep her safe. She’d seen his face when he’d walked into the hospital room after the Long Acre shooting. That grief-stricken look that said he was being ripped apart on the inside. The tearful relief when he realized she was going to be okay. That was not something easily forgotten. Underneath all the other stuff, that was what mattered.
He released her from the hug and gave her a stern look. “Do not go and get married behind my back. You get a dangerous look in your eye when you talk about this man of yours.”
Rebecca laughed. Wes was dangerous. In all the very best ways. “I’ll be sure to send you a ticket to Vegas. We’re leaving next week.”
“Rebecca Anne Lindt.”
She gave him an evil grin and lifted her palms. “Kidding, Dad. Kidding. I’m in no rush.”
No rush at all.
She was going to savor every moment because for the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt free.
Free of her secret. Free of her father’s expectations. But most of all, free of herself and the protective fence she’d put around her life.
Maybe she’d finally gotten there.
Maybe she’d reached the good part.
epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER
Wes washed the raw egg off his hands and reached into the cooler to find more butter. He’d put his favorite old-school rock playlist on low and was singing along to Autograph’s “Turn Up the Radio,” making the guitar sounds with his mouth and tapping his fingers on the fridge door to the drumbeat. His birth parents hadn’t left him with much, but they had introduced him to his favorite era of music.
There was something about rock music and cooking that paired well. Finding notes that went together was like finding flavors that complemented each other. Being bold and loud with creations but still fine-tuning the nuances that made the dish sing. Not being afraid to take risks. Fighting hard not to be a one-hit wonder.
Making a comeback when it was time.
He found the butter and grabbed a serrano pepper to add to the Southwestern Croque Monsieur. When he closed the cooler, he was still singing along and playing air drums with the stick of butter and the pepper. He turned toward the griddle and almost dropped everything when
“Damn, lawyer girl. You scared me. I thought you said you were meeting up with Taryn tonight.” He took a few strides to cross the small kitchen space inside the school bus and leaned down to kiss her.
“My spidey senses are finely tuned to alert me when there is delicious food to be had,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Taryn and I finished up early. She’s decided to use my information for her research but keep it all anonymous since my dad decided not to go public with anything. I told her I was okay if she released it, but she said the media attention would be distracting and unhelpful.”
Wes eyed her. “How do you feel about that?”
She shrugged. “I had come to terms with my connection to Trevor being out there, but I know the media would just sensationalize it. It could hurt the firm, and I don’t want it to affect the kids whose cases I’m handling. So I can’t say I’m unhappy about it not going public. But I’m glad I finally told the story and that Taryn can use it for something more important than a news story for people to gawk at. That matters.”
“It definitely does. And now you get to be home and leave that behind and eat my food.”
Somewhere in the yard, Knight barked.
Rebecca laughed. “He heard the word ‘food.’ But yeah, when you told me you might do some recipe testing, I rushed here. I didn’t want to leave you with only a dog as a taste taster. They have notoriously untrustworthy palates.”
“True. They do lick their own butts.”