evening.
“No date night with Father of the Year?” Rachel had asked, cutting up tomatoes for their caprese salad.
“Is this new boyfriend of yours an older man? How divine. I always loved a sugar daddy.” Indira was never one to labor over a hot stove, and she’d watched her daughters work from the comfort of the kitchen island, grimacing at her cup of iced tea—which Rachel had poured herself.
“No, Mom. He has two young kids Rachel doesn’t approve of. And it’s not like me being home is that big of a deal—Eric has just been really busy with work lately, especially since he’s been spending so much time at the theater. He’s a bouncer, you know, when he’s not doing the Highland Games.”
“How very upstanding and paternal of him,” Rachel had murmured. But something in her sister’s voice seemed to suggest there was more than work getting in the way.
Good. Let it happen before her sister fell any more in love with this man than she already was.
Unfortunately, the reprieve hadn’t lasted. Last night, her sister answered a late-night text that any self-respecting woman would recognize as a booty call. She’d come home sometime in the middle of the night after the rest of them had gone to bed. If only Rachel had waited up for her. If only she could find a way to convince Molly that she was so much better than the bright-blue-and-purple bruise around the outer rim of her left eye.
“Oh, I didn’t jump out of the way in time when Sammy was playing Wii baseball,” Molly had said with a smile. It had looked forced. “She’s going to throw a wicked curveball someday.”
“Rachel, there’s nothing I can do.” Dominic ran his hand through his short, spiky hair and sighed. “I understand you’re upset, but if your sister says there’s nothing wrong, I have no choice but to believe her. Eric and I have been talking about putting him in charge of security and the box office—a real position, not just his volunteer work. I can’t cut him loose because of your suspicions. In fact, you’re going to have to go out there and apologize, or it’s you who will be getting sent home.”
No. Absolutely not. “I know you think I took it too far, but I respectfully disagree.”
“You kicked him in the groin, Rachel. That’s assault.”
Rachel’s jaw tightened “If he ever touches my sister again, it’s going to be a hell of a lot worse than that.”
Dominic sighed. “You need to work this out with him, and that’s the last thing I have to say on the subject. Between this and your mom—”
She cut him off. “Noted.”
Eight years. She’d spent eight years going through college and working in fundraising and doing underpaid community theater work and now this. None of her jobs were very prestigious, and they certainly weren’t what she’d set out to do, but not once in all of those years had she been anything but professional. Distanced. Untouchable.
She was not her mother, slipping vodka into her water bottle and screaming at her third husband in the middle of a New York production. She was not her mother, bringing her young daughters to rehearsal to be raised by Darya, the wardrobe department supervisor who spoke very little English but always had candy in her pockets.
“I know it might seem harsh—”
“I said I get it, Dominic. It won’t happen again.”
“Rachel, it’s okay. In fact, I think you probably already know this production inside and out. Didn’t you say you did Antony and Cleopatra in college? It probably wouldn’t kill you to take the rest of the week off.”
“Thanks but no thanks. I’m fine.” Or she would be, once she got Molly safely out of Eric’s brutal hands.
“I think it might be good for you.”
She suddenly remembered why it had never worked out between the two of them. “Dominic?”
“Yes?”
He had a tendency to treat her like some wilting violet. “If you ever ask me to take time off again, I’ll kick you in the groin too.”
His
“No date night with Father of the Year?” Rachel had asked, cutting up tomatoes for their caprese salad.
“Is this new boyfriend of yours an older man? How divine. I always loved a sugar daddy.” Indira was never one to labor over a hot stove, and she’d watched her daughters work from the comfort of the kitchen island, grimacing at her cup of iced tea—which Rachel had poured herself.
“No, Mom. He has two young kids Rachel doesn’t approve of. And it’s not like me being home is that big of a deal—Eric has just been really busy with work lately, especially since he’s been spending so much time at the theater. He’s a bouncer, you know, when he’s not doing the Highland Games.”
“How very upstanding and paternal of him,” Rachel had murmured. But something in her sister’s voice seemed to suggest there was more than work getting in the way.
Good. Let it happen before her sister fell any more in love with this man than she already was.
Unfortunately, the reprieve hadn’t lasted. Last night, her sister answered a late-night text that any self-respecting woman would recognize as a booty call. She’d come home sometime in the middle of the night after the rest of them had gone to bed. If only Rachel had waited up for her. If only she could find a way to convince Molly that she was so much better than the bright-blue-and-purple bruise around the outer rim of her left eye.
“Oh, I didn’t jump out of the way in time when Sammy was playing Wii baseball,” Molly had said with a smile. It had looked forced. “She’s going to throw a wicked curveball someday.”
“Rachel, there’s nothing I can do.” Dominic ran his hand through his short, spiky hair and sighed. “I understand you’re upset, but if your sister says there’s nothing wrong, I have no choice but to believe her. Eric and I have been talking about putting him in charge of security and the box office—a real position, not just his volunteer work. I can’t cut him loose because of your suspicions. In fact, you’re going to have to go out there and apologize, or it’s you who will be getting sent home.”
No. Absolutely not. “I know you think I took it too far, but I respectfully disagree.”
“You kicked him in the groin, Rachel. That’s assault.”
Rachel’s jaw tightened “If he ever touches my sister again, it’s going to be a hell of a lot worse than that.”
Dominic sighed. “You need to work this out with him, and that’s the last thing I have to say on the subject. Between this and your mom—”
She cut him off. “Noted.”
Eight years. She’d spent eight years going through college and working in fundraising and doing underpaid community theater work and now this. None of her jobs were very prestigious, and they certainly weren’t what she’d set out to do, but not once in all of those years had she been anything but professional. Distanced. Untouchable.
She was not her mother, slipping vodka into her water bottle and screaming at her third husband in the middle of a New York production. She was not her mother, bringing her young daughters to rehearsal to be raised by Darya, the wardrobe department supervisor who spoke very little English but always had candy in her pockets.
“I know it might seem harsh—”
“I said I get it, Dominic. It won’t happen again.”
“Rachel, it’s okay. In fact, I think you probably already know this production inside and out. Didn’t you say you did Antony and Cleopatra in college? It probably wouldn’t kill you to take the rest of the week off.”
“Thanks but no thanks. I’m fine.” Or she would be, once she got Molly safely out of Eric’s brutal hands.
“I think it might be good for you.”
She suddenly remembered why it had never worked out between the two of them. “Dominic?”
“Yes?”
He had a tendency to treat her like some wilting violet. “If you ever ask me to take time off again, I’ll kick you in the groin too.”
His
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