Make-Believe Marriage Read online

  There was a cafe on the corner of their block that did a perfect cappuccino made from single-origin, free-trade coffee and served the best bagels with cream cheese around.

  Life was good. At least it had been. Now what would it look like?

  He sighed. He had to admit, life was also entirely predictable. Down to where they’d have their wedding, what the tables at the reception would look like, how long the honeymoon in Hawaii would be, and how many children they’d have once they bought themselves a place just outside of town. There’d been nothing unknown, nothing unexpected or spontaneous about his life before now. He’d had a pretty good idea of what every day would be like, what the future held for him.

  Dan hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself or anyone else, but he’d been living in a rut. And getting himself out of that rut had spurred him forward for months now. Only, he’d thought Christina would make the change with him. He’d believed they were on the same page and would share the adventure together. He sighed as he walked into the lobby on the ground floor of his building and nodded to the doorman. He’d been wrong about Christina. Maybe this whole thing had been a bad idea after all.

  Chapter 2

  The last of the cupcakes fit neatly into the white cardboard box, and Rachel Hill closed it with a half-smile.

  She hated waste and was grateful she had somewhere to take them that evening. Her neighbor was expecting and had a baby shower at her apartment. Rachel planned on surprising her with the cupcakes.

  It was the fifth baby shower she’d attended this month.

  Not that she minded. She loved babies and anything to do with babies. It’s just that at twenty-nine years of age, with no prospects of even a date on the horizon, let alone a serious boyfriend who might one day be husband material, she’d begun to hyperventilate just a little with each baby shower invitation she opened.

  Rachel strode to the front of the bakery and peered out through the glass window. Lights spilled onto the street from restaurants, boutiques, and galleries, spaced in between with dark shop fronts. She flipped the sign on the door to read “Closed” and turned the lock so it slid into place.

  Another smile and she smoothed her apron against her thighs with both hands.

  She loved closing up at the end of a successful day. It was almost as satisfying as opening—when the excitement of baking new things and watching as customers studied her creations, then pointed for her to add to their box of purchases, almost overwhelmed her senses. There was no better feeling than when a regular asked for something new then tasted it right in front of her and told her it was like heaven in a pastry.

  That’s what Mr. Peterson had said today. Heaven in a pastry.

  It’d made her day.

  Chuckling to herself, Rachel reached for a cloth and spray bottle behind the counter. She set about wiping down all the glass surfaces. She grimaced at her own reflection. Her hair had been smoothly coiffed when she left the apartment this morning but now was mussed where she’d shoved a pencil behind one ear and swiped at the sweat on her brow. Her mascara had smudged beneath both dark brown eyes, making her look even more tired than she felt, and the pink lipstick she’d refreshed after lunch was almost entirely gone. Only the outline remained.

  She would kill for a bath—in a large claw-foot tub, with candles and chocolate and a good mystery book to read. She sighed. That wouldn’t happen, since she didn’t even know anyone with a tub like that, and she could hardly invite herself over to take a bath if she did. Her apartment only had a shower. A cramped, moldy shower that she spent the least amount of time possible in each morning.

  The cafe phone jangled, and Rachel set the receiver against her ear while she continued working.

  “Jasmine’s,” she called in a singsong voice.

  “Rachel, it’s Jasmine.”

  “Oh, hi, Jas. Everything went great today, I’m just closing up. We sold out of the bear claws again, everyone loves those things.” She grinned.

  “That’s great, Rach. Thanks for all your hard work. Hey, I’m not going to make it there to open up in the morning. I’ve just got so much going on at the moment, and you’re better with the customers than I am anyway. So, could you open for me again?”

  Rachel grimaced and set the cloth back on the counter to rub a hand over her face. She sighed. “Sure, Jas. Happy to do it.”

  As she hung up, she sighed again. Another early start. She’d been scheduled for the opening and closing shifts at the bakery every day that week and was starting to succumb to the kind of fatigue that made her entire body ache. If she kept living at the same pace, she’d never get a social life.

  Before long, she had everything packed away and wiped clean. Chairs were stacked on top of tables. The wet floor gleamed, black and white squares stark against the timber of the small, square tables that dotted the cramped eating space by the windows.

  It was her dream to own a bakery of her own one day. She knew she wouldn’t be likely to start out in downtown San Francisco, like Jasmine had with Jasmine’s. Jasmine landed an investor up front after a stint on a reality cooking show. Still, Rachel would be content to open a bakery in a nearby suburb. Just so long as she could make her own creations and set the place up the way she wanted to.

  She glanced around the store one last time, flicked off the lights, and pulled the door shut behind her.

  Sometimes she wondered why Jasmine had opened the place at all. Her boss seemed to prefer socializing to actually baking. But it gave Rachel the perfect opportunity to learn the skills she’d need to open her own place one day. She virtually ran Jasmine’s on her own already, and as each month passed, Jasmine handed her greater responsibility.

  Wandering along the street, Rachel directed her bicycle with one handlebar, the other hand balancing the box of cupcakes. She was grateful she lived only a few blocks away in a small apartment building. The apartments themselves were old, chipped, and badly in need of repair, but she knew it would only be a matter of time until they were sold off to make way for one of the many glittering sky-high condo buildings dotting the streets around her neighborhood.

  She hated to see it happen. Her apartment building was filled with families, older folks who’d been there forever, and an eclectic mix of corporate workers, retirees, and blue-collar immigrants. A new high-rise would send them all scattering in various directions, and she knew most of the tenants wouldn’t be able to afford to rent in a building like that.

  By the time Rachel made it home, it was completely dark, and she’d bruised one shin on a pedal while padlocking her bike to a metal bar in the underground parking garage. Hopping on one foot while she rubbed the injury, she headed for the ancient elevator and hit the button.

  If only she had time to stop at her own apartment and grab a coffee, put her feet up for a few minutes, and soak in the blissful silence. Instead, she braced herself for baby madness and likely an insane number of ridiculous games involving things like tasting poo-colored candy bars wrapped in diapers or guessing the girth of her neighbor’s ever-expanding waistline. She’d never been any good at it. To her, pregnant bellies always looked enormous, and when the time came to guess how long a piece of string could be wrapped around them, she overshot by a mile.

  Why couldn’t baby showers simply involve a group of women getting together to chat, sip coffee, and eat delicious baked goods? That would be her kind of baby shower. When the time came for her… Rachel didn’t finish the thought. It’d become a habit she wanted to break. When she met the man of her dreams. When she finally had a child of her own. These thoughts popped into her head involuntarily throughout the monotony of her everyday life and always left a stabbing pain in her heart.

  Deep down, she’d always believed it would’ve happened by now. Should’ve happened by now.

  Her friends told her twenty-nine wasn’t old and she still had plenty of time. But she couldn’t escape the feeling she’d missed some kind of boat that wasn’t ever coming back to dock in her marina. And no o
ne had even told her it was leaving.

  Still, for some reason, every time she dated a man and it looked like it might get serious, she found herself lying on the floor—heart pounding, breath coming in gasps, black spots in front of her eyes—in a full-blown panic attack. Soon after, she’d find an excuse to end things. And that would be followed by another panic attack when she realized she would never get married, would never have a family, and would die alone.

  She sighed and raised a fist to knock on Maria’s door.

  “Rachel! You made it!” Maria’s face glowed with vitality and good humor. Her blue eyes twinkled, and her long black hair hung smooth and silky over one shoulder. She hugged Rachel, her belly prodding into Rachel’s flat stomach, reminding her again of what she might never experience, the joy of a life kicking inside of her.

  “Happy baby shower…or whatever it is you say at these things,” Rachel said with a laugh, handing over the box of cupcakes. “Oh, and I have a gift for you, but it’s up in my apartment. I didn’t want to be any later than I already am, so I just came straight here from the bakery.”

  Maria waved a hand to quiet her with a smile, her lilting accent soft and soothing. “You didn’t have to get me anything. Don’t worry about it. Really. I’m just glad you made it. And thank you for the cakes. I love everything you make, and my hips have you to thank for at least an inch of their current width.” She chuckled and ushered Rachel through the kitchen and into the living room where women sat, leaned, or crouched wherever they could find some space.

  A gilt-framed mirror hung on the wall opposite Rachel, and she caught a glimpse of her reflection. Wayward curls had escaped her ponytail and frizzed around her face. Hints of red haunted her brown eyes, with dark patches of mascara and exhaustion smudged beneath. Her wrinkled white shirt hung limp over black skinny jeans with a hole in one knee. She sighed and passed both hands over her hair, attempting to smooth it back into place. She should’ve stopped by her apartment, if only to tame her hair.

  Then she found a small footrest to sit on and joined the conversation.

  When her phone buzzed against her hip, Rachel jumped. She waved an apology and stepped out into the hall before answering.

  “Hi, Leah.”

  Her greeting was met with a sob.

  “Leah? What’s going on?” Her heart skipped a beat. What’d happened? Something was wrong.

  “Rach… I…” Leah sobbed again.

  “Please, Leah, you’re freaking me out.” Her eyes widened, and she inhaled sharply.

  “I’m okay. Everyone’s okay,” Leah managed, her voice choking with tears.

  Rachel’s eyes squeezed shut, and she exhaled. “Thank God. What is going on, sweetie?”

  She and her sister Leah had always been close. They were only separated by eighteen months, and throughout their childhood, they had shared a bedroom and often even a bed.

  As the older sister, Rachel was the one Leah often turned to for sisterly love and advice.

  Leah drew in a long, shaky breath. “We just got back from the fertility specialist.”

  “Oh.” Rachel’s heart dropped into her gut, and a lump grew in her throat at the tone of her sister’s voice.

  “She said we’ve got a ten percent chance of falling pregnant naturally. Ten percent, Rach! Ten percent. That’s basically zero. I’m never gonna have a baby. I’m twenty-eight years old, and I’m never getting pregnant!” She burst into a fresh round of tears.

  “What did Tyrone say?” Rachel asked, one hand hovering over her eyes.

  “He says it doesn’t matter, that it’s the two of us against the world.”

  “That’s right. He’s totally right,” Rachel responded with enthusiasm. “You’ve got each other, and that’s what matters.”

  “But it’s not enough,” Leah wailed. “I want a little baby to hold and love. You know that’s all I’ve ever wanted. What if it’s because we waited so long? What if it’s all my fault? I wanted to have a career, I wanted to spend time married to Tyrone without children so we could enjoy some freedom and get to know each other. It could all be my own fault!”

  Rachel sighed and rubbed a hand down her face. “It’s not your fault, Leah.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do. It’s not your fault, it’s just one doctor’s opinion. You don’t even know if they’re right. Besides, she said ‘naturally,’ right? So, that means you can get fertility treatments. I’m sure there are lots of things you can do to help the process.” Rachel wasn’t an expert, although she’d be lying if she didn’t admit to herself that she’d done more research on the subject than any single woman had a need to. Leah was putting a voice to Rachel’s own fears—what if she’d waited too long to have a baby and she missed out?

  “I know you’re right… Thanks, Rach. I’m sorry for being so…”

  “Dramatic?” Rachel grinned.

  “I was going to say upset.”

  Rachel chuckled. “It’s okay. And completely understandable. This is a big deal, but I really think you’ll find a way through it. Don’t give up yet, okay?”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Just don’t tell Mom. Not yet, anyway.” Rachel grimaced.

  There was silence on the phone line.

  “You didn’t…”

  “I couldn’t help telling her, she called me right after. She was wailing about how she was never gonna get grandchildren. Why did we wait so long? Why couldn’t we see there’s only a small window of opportunity to have a family? She should’ve taught us better…you know, all the usual stuff. Only I couldn’t take it today. I just burst into tears and hung up on her.” Leah sounded contrite, her sobbing now under control. “So, when she called back, I told her everything. And she blamed me…”

  Rachel shook her head slowly. They could always count on their mother to make bad news worse for everyone involved.

  By the time she ended the call, Leah was seeing things in a more positive light from Rachel’s soft encouragement. Rachel, however, felt as though she’d been run over by a Mack truck.

  She stumbled toward the staircase leading down to the second floor and sank onto the top step, her head in her hands. As much as she’d worked to comfort her sister and convince her everything was going to be okay in the end, she didn’t believe it for herself.

  At twenty-nine years of age, she knew if she had the same fertility issues as her sister, the chances of her finding a man in time to marry him and get pregnant before it was too late for her were slim to none.

  A glance at the apartment door and Rachel knew she couldn’t go back in there. Couldn’t face a room full of pregnant women and young mothers. Not now. Not with her own fears of never being one of them swirling dark in her chest.

  Where did she go wrong?

  She’d always had boyfriends in high school and college.

  In fact, one of those ex-boyfriends back in Montana had made a pledge with her right after a school dance on one starlit night, by a waterfall. They’d giggled together over memories then swore that if they were both still single when they were forty years old, they’d marry each other. They’d always gotten along well. Why had she let things end between them? She couldn’t remember.

  Forty would be too late to start a family anyway. Wouldn’t it? Her nose wrinkled.

  Whatever happened to him? Rachel had moved away from the area to go to culinary school in Los Angeles. He’d gone to Harvard on the other side of the country. They’d lost touch. Hadn’t tried to keep things going. Life was a series of exciting new adventures, and Dan was out of sight, out of mind. Only, not entirely. She’d thought about him plenty of times over the years. No doubt he was married by now. He’d always been a good-looking, easy-going kind of guy. Not to mention his family’s fortune—he was just the kind of man women loved to snap up early.

  Her college boyfriend had lasted five years. When he left her for someone else, she’d been expecting a ring, but he’d cheated on her and triggered painful memori
es of a selfish and violent father who’d never valued her mother. It’d taken her two years just to recover from the heartbreak. And now she was ready to move on, but every man she knew was already taken. She’d missed the marriage train. She giggled through a mist of tears at the analogy. At least she could still find some humor in the situation. If she didn’t laugh, she’d cry.

  Rachel sighed and dragged herself to her feet by the handrail. Time to head home for a shower and then fall into bed. She had an early start in the morning.

  Chapter 3

  August

  The bike bucked as the front tire hit a rock. Dan navigated expertly around it and stood higher over the seat of his mountain bike. It shuddered beneath him as he maneuvered through a dry creek bed then pointed it nose first down the mountain track.

  After the initial and expected bumpiness of his first month on the job at Hungerford, things were going well. He’d been pleasantly surprised by how welcoming the rest of the team were and already felt as though he was an integral part of things.

  He missed his family and colleagues from Montgomery Ranches, but more and more, he was certain he’d done the right thing by moving away and taking some time to find his own path.

  He loved his parents, but his father could easily dominate every decision in his life if he let him. Heath, his older brother, wasn’t the kind of man to let anyone tell him what to do. But Dan had never been much good at standing up to their father.