Ben felt the familiar stirrings of guilt at Chris’s all too accurate summation. What Chris didn’t know was that Ben had been the one responsible for breaking Lauren’s heart – and not just once, but two times now. And she had apparently been so intent on keeping up the tough girl image that she projected to the rest of the world, that she had never told those closest to her – sister, parents, friends, co-workers – about that long ago summer in Big Sur.
He wasn’t much of a social media devotee, mostly because he simply didn’t have time for such indulgences, and also because he had so few friends that he cared about keeping in touch with. It had been Levi who’d badgered him into creating a Facebook account a few years ago, and Ben kept his fingers crossed that the log-on and password he typed in now would still work. Luck was with him, and as soon as his profile page loaded he typed Lauren’s name into the Find Friends box.
Moments later he was clicking through the hundreds of photos she had posted there over the years. As Chris had mentioned, most of the pictures were from the assignments she’d been on with the crew – on all seven continents, through all four seasons, on terrain ranging from oceans and mountains to deserts and rainforests. There were photos of a bikini-clad Lauren in snorkel gear, paddling in a kayak, backpacking over majestic mountain passes, riding horses across the plains. In each photo, a smile lit up her face, clearly loving her job and her life, and Ben knew he couldn’t have lived with himself if he’d taken all this from her by staying in Big Sur that morning six years earlier.
He looked through some of her other online photo albums – ones from her high school and college days, of family occasions and holidays, and most recently of her sister’s wedding. It was that particular collection that he lingered over, wistfully wishing that he’d been Lauren’s escort that day, that she had been able to proudly introduce him to all of her family and friends, and that he’d been the one to take her in his arms and dance the night away together.
He grinned at the shot of Lauren catching the bride’s bouquet, the shock on her face clearly visible. Telling himself that he really wasn’t being a stalker or voyeur, Ben copied a dozen or so of his favorite photos to a flash drive, which he would then transfer over to his desktop computer back at the brownstone. He would add them to his already sizeable collection of Lauren photos – the ones that he had never quite been able to make himself delete.
***
Early August – Sausalito, California
“Well, it looks like you’ve been taking good care of my girl here, Manning, so I suppose I don’t have to kick your ass today.”
Nick Manning – all six feet, six inches and two hundred plus pounds of him – glared at the tawny haired woman who was more than a foot shorter and weighed over a hundred pounds less than he did. Not for the world would the former pro football player admit that Lauren’s wary approval made him feel a bit more at ease in her rather intimidating presence.
“Yeah, lucky me,” Nick drawled sarcastically. “And Angela is my girl.”
Lauren flicked her fingers against his temple, smirking when he flinched at the sharp pain. “Took you long enough to admit it, you jackass. And after all the hell you put her through for the past few years, I hope you have a game plan all set out for how you’re going to make it up to her.”
“Lauren,” admonished Angela gently, shaking her dark head. “Don’t, okay? I don’t want to think about the past right now, just enjoy the present. Especially since – well, you know.”
“I get it.” Lauren squeezed her best friend’s hand reassuringly. “And I’ll play nice so long as Nick does, too.”
Nick was saved from having to dream up a polite response by the buzzing of his cell phone. He grimaced as he saw the caller ID. “Sorry, Angel,” he told Angela regretfully, using the pet name that only he called her. “It’s Hayden Carmichael, probably calling from the French Riviera or wherever he’s sailing his yacht today. I’d better take this.”
“It’s okay,” Angela assured him, smiling as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before walking back inside the house to take the call.
“I assume that’s the Hayden Carmichael he’s talking to?” inquired Lauren. “The filthy rich media mogul?”
Angela nodded. “One and the same. Nick went to Stanford with Hayden’s oldest son, and he’s been one of Nick’s best clients for years. And one of the very few people he drops most anything to take a call from.”
Lauren refilled her coffee mug from the thermal carafe resting in the middle of the table, before adding copious amounts of cream and sugar to it. She held the carafe up to Angela, who shook her head.
“Well,” mused Lauren, “I guess if I had a client who was considered one of the twenty wealthiest men in the world that I would drop whatever I was doing to talk to him, too.” She eyed the basket of assorted muffins, croissants, and pastries that she had brought over earlier this morning. “Do you have dibs on that cheese danish by any chance?”
Angela smiled. “No, it’s got your name on it. And before you ask, Nick never eats that stuff. In fact, he’ll probably make you take it all back with you when you leave.”
Lauren shook her head as she reached for the coveted pastry. “No can do, Angie. I fly back to the Big Apple tomorrow. On a red-eye, of course, with a connection in St. Louis. So that means you’ve got to eat all this yummy stuff by yourself.”
Angela made a little face at the lavish assortment of breakfast treats. “You know, I have gained quite a bit of weight back. Everyone doesn’t have to try and force feed me any longer.”
Lauren eyed her tall, slim friend critically. “Ten more pounds. Then you’ll do. Then you’ll look the way you did that first day you told me about Nick. Well, sort of told me.”
The day she referred to had happened almost five years ago, when Angela had been seeing Nick for a few months already – during their first go-round, anyway. Lauren had been astonished to see her friend looking so happy and healthy and so beautifully dressed. It had been obvious that a new man in her life had been responsible for all those changes, but Angela had been maddeningly closed-mouthed about any details. She had been with her mystery lover for almost a year when he had decided she’d grown too close, had fallen in love with him, and he had broken things off with an abruptness and a finality that had shattered Angela emotionally and physically.
For a long time afterwards, she had been a shell of her former self – skinny nearly to the point of emaciation; withdrawn, moody, lifeless, joyless. Lauren and Julia had despaired of ever getting her back to normal, of her ever being happy again.
And then Nick had re-entered her life a few months ago, leaving the failing stock brokerage firm where he and Angela had first met, and joining her current firm. And it had been his presence in her life again – no matter how infuriating it had been – that had made her feel truly alive once more. But she had resisted his attempts to lure her back into his life, refusing to let him manipulate and control her as he had in the past, and Nick had been too set in his domineering ways to meet her halfway. At least until the accident.
Angela had suffered what could have been a fatal head injury during a trail race she’d participated in less than two weeks ago. After an argument with Nick two nights prior to the race, coupled with the sudden onset of heat stroke, she had been distracted and dizzy when she’d stubbed her toe on a rock and fallen hard. Only the quick actions of the paramedics on site, and subsequently the doctors in the emergency room, had ensured that the subdural hematoma she’d suffered hadn’t been far more serious.