Second Chances (Dreams Come True #2) (3 page)

“Don’t leave me here!” My father shouted as I blew past him.

Whipping around to face him, I shook my head. “I tried to help you tonight. I took you out to dinner and sobered you up, but you wanted to be drunk and destroy things. Congratulations. You’ve succeeded.” I glanced at the cell phone in my hand. “It’s fucking four in the morning, and I’m exhausted. I work really hard. I’ve made a business out of repairing everything you destroy. Right now, I’m done.” I gazed at Sebastian, who had now caught up with me. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.” Feeling around, I pulled a business card out of my pocket. It was wrinkled from having been slept on. Smoothing it out on the counter, I frowned at him and turned away.

“Wait.” Sebastian spoke quietly. When I faced him, his brow was furrowed, his eyes dark with thought. “What would you have me do with him?”

For a moment, I hesitated. It was a great question and I had no answer. Even as I considered it my eyes burned with tears. “Do as you wish. I’ve tried everything I know, everything I could afford.” Then I spun around and rushed out the door. After I’d distanced myself a good block from the gallery, I slowed my pace, convinced no one was chasing after me. The worse part was I felt like such an idiot, nearly crying in front of a stranger, and the police, oh, and my good for nothing father.
That man
. I swore I’d never quit on him, since he was all I had left, but apparently I had my breaking point. This could ruin him, and me. It could put me out of business before I even managed to begin.
That selfish bastard.

As quietly as possible, I opened the door and slipped almost silently into the shop. Though I planned to simply sneak back up the stairs, I soon realized a flaw in my careful plan. Already, I could see the light was on in the kitchen. Wiping at my face, I tried to dry my eyes and paste on a smile.

“Risa? Is that you?”

Stepping onto the landing, I walked into the kitchen. “Yes, Mattie. It’s me.” I joined her at the table, pulling out my chair and sitting.

“Your father in trouble again?” Mattie stared at me evenly as she pushed a teacup, empty except for the tea bag, across the table to me.

Nodding, I picked up the pot of boiling hot water sitting on the trivet beside me and poured until my tea bag floated to the top and the water threatened to spill over. “I don’t think I can fix it this time.” I shrugged and stirred my steeping tea.

“I have some money. If you need it…”

My head shot up. “No, Mattie. You’ve done enough. You’ve always been so good to me.”

Chuckling, the older woman took a sip from her own mug. “I lost my family long ago. You came into my life at the right time. You’re like a grandbaby to me. I’d be happy to help.”

“Well, I can’t let you do that.” I spooned a hefty amount of sugar into the cup, peeked up at Mattie, then spooned even more until I heard her groan. Giggling, I stopped and stirred. “I’m so lucky to have you. Thank you.” I removed the tea bag before taking a sip. Closing my eyes, I savored as the sweet liquid rushed to my belly. As the warmth spread, I sighed happily. “After this, I’m going back to bed. And I’m sleeping in.” I set my jaw.

“Sure you are, honey child. I’ll see you at seven.” Mattie chuckled.

Chapter Three

Sebastian

For a moment after she left, I stood there and stared at Marisa’s card.
Second Chances
. That was the name of her business. It resonated with me, maybe even inspired a little hope. Who didn’t need a second chance? If I had the opportunity for one, maybe I’d find happiness. Picking it up, I studied the address and realized it was only a few blocks from here, though on a much less fashionable part of the street. Immediately, I felt a pain in the pit of my stomach and chastised myself for being so superficial, again.
Marisa Rosemont
. That was her name. In my mind, I said it a few more times before speaking it aloud. “Marisa Rosemont.” I liked the way it flowed from my lips. Then my thoughts were interrupted.

“What would you like to do with this guy?” The detective jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

Annoyed, I waved a hand at him. “Give me a minute. I’m thinking.” I didn’t even make eye contact, but I was pleased to note the man slowly turned and walked away, giving me some needed space. Glancing about the gallery, I realized the place truly was destroyed. Hell, I couldn’t even properly lock up since the door was now an empty frame. After a few phone calls I’d made before Marisa arrived, I’d discovered the insurance assessor would be here mid-morning to tally up the damage and talk about a settlement to help me put the place back together. Still, this couldn’t come at a worse time, when I had only twenty-nine days until my uncle would own it anyway. How was I supposed to fix the gallery and find a wife at the same time?

Frowning, I tugged at my bottom lip. It was a habit I’d begun as a child and still resurrected in times of stress. Given my life the past eleven years, it should be misshapen by now. Sucking in a deep breath, I struggled not to run and find a mirror to confirm my latest deformity. Gradually, I made my way through the debris field separating me from Marisa’s father. What should I do with him? Slowly, I circled him as a lion might stalk his prey. “So, Gilles, how long has this been going on?”

“What been going on?” The old man had leaned his head against the wall and seemed ready to pass out.

“You. Destroying things.” I stared at him evenly; ready to weigh the information I could draw from him.

Gilles shrugged. “Always. My wife helped keep me calm, but after she died…” His lower lip quivered and he stopped speaking.

Marisa had no mother, just this train wreck of a father. Having spent four years being raised by my lousy uncle, my heart ached for her. “How long ago did she pass?”

“Twelve years.” His shoulders drooped and he hung his head. “Then I had nothing to hold onto.”

“
You had Marisa
.” The words had been spoken in a low threatening voice. “What was she…” I quickly calculated her age in my head. “She was ten? You left a ten year old alone while you went off to bars? Or did you drink in front of her?”

Sniffling loudly, Gilles muttered, “Both.”

“And you broke things? Like what?” The more Gilles said, the more aggravated I grew as I paced back and forth in front of him.

“Everything. Everything I could lift.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why. Why do I do these things?”

Closing my eyes, I pictured her childhood, how lonely she must’ve been, how afraid. It stirred a rage in me. I wanted to break this man for hurting her, for being a shit father, for loving alcohol more than he loved his daughter. “Marisa said she tried to help you. How?”

Peeking up at me, Gilles swiped at the snot running from his nose with his sleeve. Obviously the police had rearranged his hands so they were now cuffed in front instead of behind. From the look on his face, I knew he could read the fury and disgust I felt. “Marisa’s a good girl. Please don’t punish her.”

Glaring at him, I snapped. “Why would I punish her?”

“I have no money. Marisa has power of attorney.” Gilles stared at me a moment. “She always cleans up after me. She fixes what’s broken, but…she could never fix me.”

“Have you been in treatment programs?” I had returned to pacing in front of Gilles while chewing on my thumbnail.

“Government run. Privately funded. In-patient. Out patient.” Gilles shrugged. “I think I’ve tried them all.”

“And failed.” With two giant strides, I stood at Gilles’ side and hauled him to his feet. “Take a look around.” I half dragged him through the broken glass, the splintered wood, the shattered pottery, and battered metal. “You’re an artist. This is your passion. You destroyed what you claim to love!” I whipped Gilles around and forced him to look me in the face. “You’ve all but destroyed your daughter too.”

“Marisa? I never laid a hand on her!” The man’s eye’s widened and the corners of his mouth drooped.

Leaning dangerously close until our noses were nearly touching, I watched him tremble while I spoke. “You don’t have to lay a hand on her to hurt her. Your actions have been chipping away at her for years. She left here crying tonight!” It gave me some satisfaction to see the man cowering in my grip. “Marisa said I might do with you as I wish.”

The man swallowed hard before speaking, his voice hoarse. “What are you going to do to me?”

Holding him by the lapels, I scowled at him. Destroying this man would take no effort. Hell, Gilles had done most of the work himself. Ah, but if I could fix him, if I could turn this loser’s life around, what wouldn’t Marisa do to show her gratitude? An idea sparked to life in my head. Maybe she’d marry me. Maybe I wouldn’t have to lose the gallery. Maybe if I could somehow save her father, I could save my life too. It didn’t have to be love. I knew better than to think anyone could love me. We could enter into a business agreement. Not right away, of course. I’d have to prove myself first.

With renewed hope, I walked Gilles back to his seat and pushed him down before wandering back over to the counter. I laid a hand on my chest. Something was happening inside me. There was a light in my darkness. For the first time since my parents died, I felt like I might find happiness again.

***

Marisa

It was nearly six-thirty in the morning when I rolled out of bed. The second time around, I’d managed to undress and slide under the covers. Now I almost felt rested as I stood before the bathroom mirror and brushed my teeth. Then my phone vibrated. At first I hesitated, but then I decided it couldn’t get much worse than the call last night. Spitting, I rinsed my toothbrush and my mouth before swiping my finger across the screen. Wrong again. It was a text from Sebastian.

Sebastian: Call me when you wake up.

The idea of talking to him at the moment rather sucked the joy out of my day. So I decided to text back instead. After all, he wasn’t the boss of me.

me: I don’t want to. Can’t we talk by text?

There. That ought to do it. The message was precise and to the point. I very nearly felt empowered and the only thing I’d done differently was to leave the situation. Maybe, where my father was concerned, it was time to walk away. Before I had a chance to follow the reasoning through, my phone vibrated again.

Sebastian: No, we can’t just talk by text. There’s too much to be said. Meet me at the gallery in an hour.

Clearly this was a guy who was used to getting his own way. Digging in my heels, I realize I might actually enjoy raining on his parade.

me: Whoa. Wait a minute. When I decline a phone call, your counter order is ‘meet me at the gallery’? What kind of crap is that? No. I just woke up. I need a shower. And food. Then we’ll see.

Gawd it felt good. A few more talks with Sebastian and I could be a whole new woman. I giggled, feeling pretty proud of myself until I read his latest message.

Sebastian: Fine. I’ll be at Second Chances in fifteen minutes.

Bastard! 
He had me and he knew it. I refused to drag Mattie into this, which was precisely what would happen if we talked in the shop, an act that essentially meant talking in front of her. Without even considering the ramifications of my actions, I called him, already feeling pissy because he was winning.

“Good morning, Marisa. So nice to hear from you!” Sebastian sounded ridiculously perky as he answered my call.

“We’re not talking now. I’m not ready yet.” I tapped my bare toes on the bathroom tile angrily, certain he could hear it through the phone.

“It’s not Face Time. How ready do you have to be?” He chuckled.

His mood helped soften me some. Giving in slightly, I sighed. “I’d like to be mentally prepared at least. I’d like to feel sharp. At the moment, I feel foggy.”

“Foggy, huh?” I could almost hear him laughing at me through the phone.

“And pissed. I’m getting a little pissed.”

Sebastian gasped. “Not pissed.”

“Sebastian, I kinda hate you right now.” I let out a warning growl from deep in my throat.

He fell silent for a moment as if carefully considering his next words. “Well, I don’t want you to hate me. What would make things more comfortable for you?”

Sinking against the vanity, I sighed and said the first thing that came to mind. “Blueberry pancakes. My mom used to make them for me.” I swallowed. “And hot chocolate with whipped cream.”

“Is that all? Done. Be here in an hour. I’ll have it all ready and waiting. We’ll eat, and then when you’re ready, we’ll talk.”

“What?” I stiffened.
What had I just agreed to?

“See you soon, Marisa.” Then the call ended.

Setting it down on the counter, I leaned low and shook my head. Then just as quickly, I stood upright and smiled. For blueberry pancakes and hot chocolate, I could at least hear the guy out. Feeling better about the situation, I climbed into the shower and let the water wash my sadness away. When I finished, I agonized ever so briefly over what to wear before settling on yoga pants, a v-neck fitted t-shirt and a long button up sweater. Then I walked to meet him.

With three minutes to spare, I let myself into the gallery by climbing through the opening in the door. Inside was as cold as outside. Maybe colder. Wrapping my arms around my body, I called out. “Sebastian!  I’m here.”

A second later, I heard footsteps crunching through the wreckage. From the looks of the place, he had done nothing to clean up.

“Sorry about the mess. You missed one heck of a party.” Sebastian winked as he gestured for me to follow him.

“Waiting for the cleaning crew?” I paused to survey the damage once more, and truly assessed it, now that I was feeling more alert.

“Actually, I’m waiting for the insurance adjuster. And the door guy.” His mouth twitched. “Good of you to let yourself in.”

“Well, I figured since you were expecting me.” I smirked. “So where are we going?” I realized we had passed through a set of double doors and were walking down a long hall.

“My office. It still has a door.” Sebastian opened it, as if making a point. “And heat.”

“Heat? Fancy.” I laughed.

Sebastian pursed his lips for a moment. “No, fancy is blueberry pancakes in January and hot chocolate with homemade whipped cream.”

For a moment, I froze, and then I followed his gaze. Somehow, he really had made it happen. There were plates on the conference table with silver lids. I forgot all sense of decorum. Curiosity and excitement overwhelmed me. Gliding over to them, I lifted the lid and squealed with glee. “You really did it!” I started to reach for the chair, but Sebastian was already pulling it out for me. Soon his hand was on mine, and I was drawing back in surprise. My cheeks heated and I knew was blushing fiercely.

“May I?” He had this regal, gallant way about him as he finished pulling out my chair.

Carefully, I sat down feeling completely unsettled. In a desperate attempt to calm my nerves, I reached for the linen napkin, unrolled it and draped it across my lap while organizing the silverware around my plate. Pausing for a moment, I studied the fork in my hand. “The silver is real? Wow.”

“It’s all real. Real blueberries. Real blueberry syrup. Real chocolate.” He smiled as he sat at the head of the table beside me.

Then a young woman stormed into the room, teetering on high heels, wearing too much makeup, and insanely form fitting clothes. “Oh Sebastian!” Her hands were clutched at her very large, very saline breasts.

Sebastian didn’t even look at her when he spoke. “Go home, Sylvie. I’ll call you soon.” Just like that, he dismissed her and instead paid attention to me.

The woman paused with pouty lips before she turned and exited the room. A moment later, the door clicked closed behind her.

My fork hung in midair as I blurted out the first thought that came to mind. “Fake blonde.” Then I stuffed the pancake in my mouth and looked down at my plate feeling suddenly small. For some reason, her presence had really bothered me. Part of it, I knew, was because she was everything I wasn’t. I didn’t really wear makeup. There was no reason, in my position. My life was all about practicality, right down to my sensible clunky work boots and drawers full of clothes I cared nothing about, aside from the level of comfort and durability they provided.