She discovered more tears—these ones for the lonely, hurt child still inside Chase. She wanted to seize his pain and hurtle the burden back onto his careless father. She pushed her words through her anger and the tears she swallowed. “Your father was the broken one, Chase. Not you.”
“Do you believe the same about your parents?” He eyed her, his voice guarded and restrained. “That it was their shortcomings, their inability to give you the stability you needed as a child. That’s why they sent you to live on the farm.”
Nichole blinked. She’d never considered that. Her grandmother always claimed her parents loved her in their own spirited fashion. But they were free spirits, wanderers, travelers. Always content to let the wind carry them away like dandelion fluff on the breeze. Whereas Nichole was like an oak, according to her grandmother. And the best thing for a tree was to plant it and let the roots grow. “I suppose it’s time I do. I suppose it’s past time we both do.”
“I can’t be the man you want me to be.” His shoulders fell, his voice deflated.
“I only want you to be Chase Baron Jacobs.” The man she loved.
“I don’t know who he is.” He tugged his cap lower on his forehead as if hiding from himself already. “Or if I even like him.”
Then how would he ever love? An all-consuming numbness seized her. She reached behind her, rapped her knuckles on the railing and left the pieces of her heart scattered on the grass. She worked her way up the stairs backward, away from Chase and everything she’d ever wanted. Her love would never be enough until he learned to love himself. She pressed against the porch door. “Then I guess we’re done here.”
He stepped forward, then caught himself. “What about launching In A Pinch?”
“It was always a long shot.” Just like his love.
ONE HOUR LATER, too restless to remain inside her empty house, Nichole slipped out her backyard gate, walked several blocks and jumped on the city bus. Brooke had invited her over for dinner. Dan and Ben had gone to Nichole’s grandparents’ farm. Wesley had asked Ben to come and learn to ride with him and the great-grandparents had promised Dan hot cherry pie after dinner.
Nichole had skipped lunch and her appetite had dwindled after Chase’s unannounced visit. Food held little appeal but being alone held even less.
Brooke opened her front door, wrapped Nichole in a long hug and ushered her inside the house she shared with Dan and Ben. No questions asked. No reprimands for being very early. No demands for an apology. Nichole leaned on her friend and walked into the kitchen.
“Nichole.” Josie rose from the kitchen table and enfolded Nichole in another warm hug. “You don’t have to talk, but we’ll listen.”
“And offer our advice.” Mia stood and walked around to expand the hug into a group one. “We always have opinions. It’s not fair to tell you that we’ll only listen.”
“I’m so sorry. So very sorry.” Nichole clung to her friends, grateful for their support. She needed them more than she’d realized. “I never should’ve lied to you guys.”
Her friends simply held on to her. Offered more support and their forgiveness, unconditional and absolute.
Nichole wiped at her damp eyes and glanced at the table. Brooke gathered photographs into a pile. Nichole asked, “What are you guys doing?”
Her friends glanced at each other, their gazes skipping from one to the other as if waiting for the other to field Nichole’s question. Nichole stepped toward the table, caught a glimpse of a crystal and beaded wedding gown and familiar lily bouquet. The same bouquet Nichole had held for the photo shoot. Those were the photographs of Nichole, pretending to be a bride. Believing in the fantasy. But fantasies were only illusions. And illusions were always shattered. Certainly, the truth had been captured in those photographs, and the lies. “Are they...”
“Stunning.” Josie squeezed Nichole’s hand. “Yes, they are.”
“And magical.” Brooke paused on a photograph and sighed. “There’s magic in every shot.”
Chase had called her stunning that day. And standing inside his embrace, she’d started to believe again in magic. It was all a lie. One big publicity stunt.
“You missed your calling, Nichole.” Mia returned to the table and picked up another 8x10 photograph. “You should’ve been a professional model.”
Models received paychecks for playing a part on camera. Chase had tried to pay Nichole, too, for the part she’d played in his publicity stunt. But the cameras hadn’t been there in Tahoe. Hadn’t recorded their conversations in front of the fire or the kitten rescue. He’d listened and shared. Held her hand with affection, kissed her with emotion. Nichole stepped to the table, clutched the back of a chair and held on to something real. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better. Now you can all stop exaggerating.”
“It’s the truth,” Brooke argued.
Josie shrugged. “And we haven’t even started trying to make you feel better. That happens later with lasagna from Mia’s mother-in-law and homemade red velvet cheesecake.”
“There’s always cheesecake and extra whipped cream for times like this.” Mia rubbed Nichole’s shoulder.
“Give me a picture.” And I’ll prove you are all wrong. Nichole held out her hand. “The stunning one. Or the magical one. Doesn’t matter.” She’d point out the truth inside each photograph and highlight the deception.
A dozen pictures later, Nichole slumped into a kitchen chair and studied a picture of Chase and her outside the cathedral. She struggled to find the deceit on his face. Or to recall the dishonesty in his embrace. She examined another one. Chase had picked her up and twirled her around. Again, only joy radiated from his face, delight widened his smile. Bliss highlighted his open gaze that was fixed completely on her.
Looking at the pictures,
