Forever Starts Tomorrow (2 page)

They ate in peaceful silence, their conversation lazily weaving in and out, without awkward pauses.

They left, leaving a generous tip on the plastic tablecloth. Scott turned around, his eyes taking in the modest interior of the diner. He knew he’d never forget what had happened there, for as long as he lived. He had lost and he had gained, at the same time; everything he had taken for granted was snatched away and replaced with something new. He felt excited, sad, and happy. But most of all, he felt wiser.

He’d never make the mistake of completely trusting someone like his mother again. He’d be his own person. Nobody would ever hurt him as much as his mother had; he would make sure of that.

ONE

Melanie watched the table at the other end of the packed room, her blue eyes burning as she forced herself not to blink. She had to watch, she told herself, fighting the urge to close her eyes tightly, or even better, to cover them with her shaking palms. The couple sitting there wouldn’t even notice if she did blink. The tall, dark-haired man was too preoccupied with smiling at his companion, a willowy, auburn beauty in a blue and silver sari-style dress that would look ridiculous on anyone else but her.
Vanessa Moon Nelson
, her mind supplied, as a swift stab of pain radiated in her chest. It was one of her fiancé’s many ex-girlfriends—the one he described as so very talented and original. An artist and a free spirit, blue eyed and elfish, Vanessa looked ethereal, the silver bangles on her wrist glittering in the light of the low-hanging lamps as she lifted her hand to stroke Scott’s face. She said something and laughed, her silvery, pearly laughter impossible to drown in the buzz of the room’s many conversations. He smiled in return, his dark eyes crinkling in a familiar way Melanie loved. He said something she could only guess was funny, for Vanessa laughed again, throwing back her flame-colored mane. Scott could be really funny when he wanted to. He'd had Melanie in stitches many times. The bitter taste of disappointment rose in her mouth. Apparently, Vanessa thought he was funny, too.

Melanie didn’t really want to see it. If she weren’t too embarrassed to storm out of the restaurant, she’d run. But it was too crowded, the cheerful murmur of voices at odds with her frozen stillness. So she sat in the corner, the merciful shadow hiding her from Scott’s gaze. He’d be furious if he found out she was spying on him. He’d probably manage to make her feel guilty for doing so. As much as she loved him, she knew he could be a great manipulator; she’d seen it many times before. He did nothing major or menacing, of course, but the timbre of his voice and the command in his eyes were enough to get him the deals he wanted, to mollify people who swore they’d never do business with him, to get a circle of admirers at work who’d probably jump out of a window if he asked them to. Wasn’t Melanie one of them, after all?

She sipped the drink she had ordered, the burning sensation of alcohol a welcome distraction from her misery. Dutch courage. God knew she needed all the help she could get if she wanted to go through with what was unavoidable.

Breaking up with Scott Masden—was it even a possibility? Even thinking about it seemed like blasphemy. You didn’t break up with Scott—not if you were in your right mind, anyway. He had been on the most-desired-bachelor list for years. He was handsome, smart and rich—a perfect combination. She remembered her stepdad’s snarky comment after she told her family about their private engagement. ‘Well done, Mellie.' It had made her feel like a successful gold digger. He had smiled the infuriating, obnoxious smirk that was one of the reasons she'd moved out of the house the moment she was able to support herself. His only comment about her engagement was for her to hurry and have Scott make it public.

Melanie's stepdad would never believe that she didn’t care for any of those qualities that drew most women to Scott. She had fallen in love with a man who was far from perfect but who had allowed her to see inside his heart and soul, the beauty of him as a person making up for any faults he might have, many times over.

‘Hello, gorgeous.’ A husky voice interrupted her unhappy thoughts and she looked up, momentarily distracted.

A tall, burly man with a tan that was somewhat out of place on that cool, misty May evening was smiling at her, his teeth eerily white. ‘Did anyone ever tell you, you look just like Robin Wright in the Bride Princess?’ Clearly, he thought his pickup line was great, because his satisfied smile was stretching even wider. With his crimson shirt and black jeans, he looked lithe and dangerous—a predator on the hunt, toying with his prey.

‘Not really.’ She shook her head in cool refusal. She had to make him go away, and fast. Making a scene was not an option. ‘But thanks, anyway.’

She finished her drink in one hasty gulp, praying the man would get the message and leave her alone. It wasn’t her lucky day. Instead of backing off, her aloof behavior seemed to attract him even more. Without a moment of hesitation, he plopped into the chair opposite hers, his eyes going over her body with an appraisal that wasn’t even concealed for the sake of appearances.

‘Well, I'm telling you now.’ Pleased with himself, he gestured to her empty glass. ‘Want another one of those?’ Without even giving her the chance to respond, he waved at the waitress, his booming voice making her cringe in embarrassment.

‘It’s easier to chat over a bit of something strong.’ He laughed at her expression, his bushy eyebrows drawing into a line. ‘Matt, by the way.’ One large palm with a golden ring stretched toward her, menacing in its purpose. ‘Thought that a pretty lady like you should have some company instead of sitting all by herself.’

‘Thanks, but no thanks.’ She rose to her feet, desperate to leave. She saw a few people turn her way, their expressions cautious, probably assessing what was going on and wondering if it was a case of a couple’s squabble or something that needed interfering.

‘Now, that is very rude of you.’ The smile gone, Matt growled as he watched her with narrowed eyes. ‘Playing hard to get, are we?’

She ignored him and searched her wallet for money to leave at the table. Melanie had only a twenty-dollar bill that was way more than the cost of the cup of coffee and the drink she had ordered. She never got around to order a proper meal. Still, it was an emergency, and she’d be insane to waste her time waiting for the waitress to bring her change.

She struggled to appear composed and cool as she put it next to her cup and turned away to leave.

‘Not so fast, darling.’ Suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder, heavy and painfully pressing into her skin. She cursed her own stupidity as she looked up. Matt’s face was looming over hers, close enough for her to smell the cigarette smoke in his breath.

‘I said I wanted to have a drink with you, didn’t I?’ He pulled her closer in one swift move. ‘Isn’t that why you sit here, all dressed up and pretty? Isn’t that a part of the play? Well, I am ready to play, so start acting, honey…’

He really thought she was here to hook up with someone. Melanie swallowed hard, deliberating her options. If it weren’t for Scott, she’d have no qualms telling Matt exactly what she thought of him and his Neanderthal techniques. She knew how to handle obnoxious men; thanks to the three years she spent working in an office that was ninety percent male. But she didn't want Scott to notice her.

She decided on a polite rebuke, desperate to leave without an escalation. ‘Stop making a scene, and look for someone who actually wants your attention.’ Melanie took advantage of his momentary distraction and stepped back, away from his heavy palms. ‘I’m leaving now, and unless you want to make a show of yourself, live with it.’

It was too late.

Even before she looked behind Matt’s shoulder and saw Scott’s thunderous expression, her skin prickled in fatalistic premonition. Wasn’t that the way she had felt about Scott since the day they met? Every time he entered the room, she’d sense him with her whole being, every nerve ending of her body vibrantly alive. It didn’t disappear with time, even though they had been living together for the last six months. He still had the power to take her breath away with a mere glance of his obsidian eyes.

‘You heard her.’ Soft-spoken and deceptively calm, he stood there, all his six-foot-four emanating such a sense of authority and self-assurance that Matt’s bravado wavered, his arrogant expression replaced with unease that soon turned to fear.

‘Geez, just trying to be friendly,’ he mumbled, shrugging. ‘Anyway, don’t waste your time with this ice queen. Nothing but a tease.’ He turned and walked away, his speedy exit at odds with his previous bravado.

There was silence, awkward and heavy.

She knew Scott. He had probably already put two and two together and decided on the best course of action. Wasn’t he brilliant at reading people—Melanie included? Especially Melanie. He must have figured out why she was here. Allowing the pause to stretch painfully between them was nothing but his attempt to intimidate her, to make her feel silly and embarrassed. He was trying to make her regret her decision to come there to check on him when he’d told her he’d be busy all day in the office and wouldn’t join her at the party. The memory of the previous night, when he’d apologized for his absence, was still vivid, and it allowed her to snap out of her frozen state.

‘I could have handled it myself.’ Melanie looked up into his face, her blue eyes defiant. ‘No need to interfere, Scott.’

‘Didn’t look like it from my spot.’ He shrugged, the movement catching her eye. For a tall man, Scott had just the right amount of muscle, not too much and not too little. She watched the silk of his sweater cling to his broad chest, her imagination supplying her with images that threatened to destroy her psychological balance. She knew what hid under the fabric—his skin, sun kissed and warm, sprinkled with a dusting of black hair that was as familiar as the lithe strength of his arms. She knew his body, she thought wretchedly, well enough to look at him for the briefest of moments and to remember the glory of their lovemaking, his dark, masculine beauty complementing her much paler, blond and freckled type.

‘What are you doing here anyway?’ His voice, careful and measured, reached her again, and she blinked to chase away the memories.

What was she doing here? It was a valid question with no good answer. Her quest to discover what he was up to on those days when she barely got to see him had turned uglier and scarier than anything she’d ever expected. The last few weeks had been brutal, with Scott showing up at home for a few hours of sleep before he disappeared again, claiming he was busy with work. He’d been on the verge of a major breakthrough, he told her, his eyes carrying the faraway look she had gotten used to in the last months. She’d truly believed him when he’d explained he had to work around the clock, the tired smudges under his eyes and the stubble on his cheeks convincing her to trust him. She knew his company was a part of him, of course. It was who he was, his pride in his achievements and his enthusiasm for pushing the boundaries even further one of the reasons she had fallen in love with him in the first place. He’d never be a nine-to-five type of guy. Knowing that made it easier to put up with his long hours, brisk responses, and days without a real conversation. If only Samantha hadn’t called her to mention seeing him with Vanessa… Since both Vanessa and Scott were famous, people took notice when they were together. Sam’s friend worked at the restaurant and was only too happy to gossip about the pair. At least, that was what Sam had told her. Of course, Melanie knew that her colleague was only too happy to report a thing like that. She had never gotten to like Scott, lamenting Melanie’s engagement to him each time they met.

‘Came here for a cup of coffee, I guess.’ She shrugged, trying very hard to look indifferent. But she was a terrible liar, and she knew it. She saw Scott’s mouth press into a line of displeasure and she felt a pang of guilt. Maybe it was all a big mistake. Maybe he ran into Vanessa by accident.

Don’t be a fool,
a little voice of sanity whispered in her head, destroying the moment of hope she was so desperate to restore. Of course it wasn’t an accident. That restaurant was nowhere near his office. He must have made the conscious decision to leave work, come here, and meet with his ex-girlfriend.
If he ever went to work in the first place
, the voice continued. Maybe he had been seeing Vanessa for a while. That seemed likely, judging by their closeness. Or maybe they had gotten together recently and made up for lost time.

‘Actually, I am here to see for myself how very busy you are.’ Whoever said that the truth was liberating didn’t have to handle Scott Masden. An emotion came and went in his gaze but was soon blotted out by an expression that was both indifferent and cautious. She wanted him to say something honest, she thought desperately, even if he would lose his composure. Truth be told, she wanted him to lose it—wanted him to rage and explain and be open with her. She wanted him to be the man she had fallen in love with and who’d proposed to her only half a year ago.

‘You actually came to check on me?’ How could he make it sound as if it were she who’d overstepped the boundaries? She could feel the anger bubble deep inside her, the warmth spreading over her body and reaching her cheeks.

‘Imagine that—I did.’ She shook her head, long hair covering her face for a second, like a curtain. She liked to wear it like that—free, and tumbling down her shoulders. It was her armor, hiding her from the world when needed. ‘I have been stupid enough to buy your excuses for too long, Scott. You’re never home, you make stuff up, and you meet with this… this…’ Lost for words and too well brought up to say what she really thought, she choked up.

‘I wasn’t lying.’ He shook his head, a strand of raven-black hair grazing his straight eyebrow. He looked wild and dangerous, she thought, adrenaline rushing through her veins.

‘Damn it, Mel. I didn’t lie to you. I met with Vanessa because I needed her advice on something for work, that’s all.’

With that statement, any hope that the conversation would lead somewhere constructive was buried. Vanessa was an artist—a fantastic artist. Her work had been displayed in numerous galleries, the passionate paintings accompanied by her own music. One thing she was certainly not was a businesswoman. She was never interested in material objects of any kind. Hadn’t Scott mentioned to her, early in their relationship, that they had broken up over Vanessa’s total rejection of any kind of family or business ties? What kind of business advice could she give him?