California Girls

“It still can be.”

She smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

They went into the kitchen where he admired everything she’d bought, then excused himself to wash up. When she was alone, Ali took a second to point out to herself that honesty was always the best policy and that in the future she would say what she was thinking. Daniel could take it.

She’d just put the chicken in the frying pan when Daniel returned.

“Ready for me to set the table?” he asked.

“That would be nice.”

He got out plates and flatware, then opened the wine. When it was time, he mashed the potatoes while she put everything else into serving pieces. It was only when they carried everything into the dining room that she saw the small blue Tiffany ring box sitting by her place setting.

The platter of chicken marsala started to slip from her hands.

“We can’t have that,” he said, grabbing it from her and putting down.

Ali stared from the box to him and back. “You, ah, bought me a necklace?”

He led her over to her chair. Once she was seated, he knelt in front of her and took her hands in his.

“Ali, I love you. I’m a traditional kind of guy. I want a wife and kids and a dog and a house.” He smiled. “And a kitten.”

Her heart beat so fast, it sounded like hummingbird wings. “You already have a house.”

“I do and it’s a nice one. I hope you like it.”

“Yes. A lot.”

His gaze locked with hers. “I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. I want us to grow old together. Ali, will you marry me?”

Yes. Yes! Only... “What about your parents? It’s going to be weird. You have to admit it will be weird.”

“They know and they’re fine with it. They liked you before and are happy to have you in the family. Speaking of parents, I talked to your mom. She gave me her blessing.”

“She’s sleeping with Parker Crane.”

“The guy on TV?”

“That’s the one. I can’t explain it but there it is. Apparently the affair is quite torrid. I don’t like to think about it.”

“Good. Any other concerns?”

“Glen will make comments.”

Daniel’s grin was smug. “Let him. I got the girl. Marry me, Ali. I will spend the rest of my life loving you.”

She flung her arms around him. “Yes, Daniel. Happily. For always.” Because this time was right.

He opened the box and showed her a diamond solitaire the size of a bus. She nearly fell off the chair.

“No,” she whispered, even as she slid the ring on her finger. “Oh, wow. Just wow. It’s stunning.”

“So are you.”

He kissed her then, and kissing turned to other things, and it was a very long time before they ever got around to dinner.





Chapter Thirty


The Encino house sold quickly. Finola and Nigel weren’t asking for the moon, pricewise, and the place was in excellent condition. The new buyers were a young family—she was a TV writer and he was a stay-at-home dad. They bought most of the furniture and what they didn’t want, Nigel took.

Finola left the escrow office after signing the papers and drove directly to the house to look around one last time. She pulled into her spot in the garage and then walked inside.

She felt strange looking at familiar sofas and the dining room set, knowing they weren’t going to be hers anymore. All the personal items were gone. She and Nigel had split up the artwork. She’d packed up her pictures and a few bits of memorabilia and put them in a small storage unit in Burbank.

She’d sorted through her clothes and had culled those down to the very basics. She would be buying a new wardrobe once she was settled in New York. The rest of her clothes and shoes and accessories, she’d donated to a women’s shelter.

She walked into what had been her office and looked around. The desk was still there, but everything else was gone. She studied the empty places on the wall, the view of the pool and the small cracks from the last earthquake.

She pressed her hand against the drywall, as if she could feel the cracks or somehow mend them. Little ones were okay but if they got too big, if they expanded, there was trouble. That was what had happened to her and Nigel, she thought sadly. Small cracks had led to something much worse. She’d been so busy living her life, she hadn’t noticed and now it was all gone—the house, her marriage, the very way she had defined herself.

The job in New York had come through. She’d rented a midtown studio apartment for a ridiculous amount of money but it had a huge walk-in closet and an in-unit washer-dryer. Both a rarity in Manhattan. She’d negotiated keeping some of her LA staff and had lured Rochelle away from her late-night gig. Associate producer on a national show was a big deal and Finola knew they would make a good team.

She went upstairs to the master bedroom. The bed was gone, but the dresser and nightstands remained. She closed her eyes, remembering how things had been with Nigel. How they’d laughed and talked and made love in this room. She thought about how she’d assumed that by now she would be five or six months pregnant. She’d expected her life to change, and it had—just not in the direction she’d hoped. She’d lost her husband and her marriage. Maybe they were never going to be forever, but she hadn’t known.