Seducing My Dad's Best Friend - Page 6

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Laurelin giggles because she’s met my mom before and they get along like two peas in a pod.

“Well, tell the lovely Mina Champion I said hello, will you?” With that, my best friend winks and leaves me to pull myself together. Slowly, I get up and gather my things, puttering about while still feeling sorry for myself. There is indeed a text from my mom, and I glance at it half-heartedly.

* * *

Mom: Hi, honey. I called you about an hour ago, but you didn’t answer. Just checking on you. Give me a ring when you can.

* * *

I press the button to call, and she picks up on the second ring.

“Hey, sweetie.”

“Hey, Mom.” I try to hide the sadness in my voice, but she’s too experienced in the ways of all things Rachel to let it slide.

“What’s wrong with my girl? What happened hon?”

I inhale deeply and hold it in for a few seconds. As I release the air, I decide to bite the bullet and be blunt. “Danny dumped me yesterday. For someone else. An eighteen year old freshman, to be exact.”

Silence greets me from the other end of the call. Nothing but crickets for what felt like an eternity, until -- “What?”

I pull the phone away from my ear at the volume of her voice and cringe. I’d hate to be Danny if Mom ever ran into him on the street.

“Yup,” I say tonelessly. “I met him for lunch yesterday to talk about possibly getting engaged, but he pulled the rug out from under me. In fact, he’s already met someone else!”

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry,” Mina gushes. “It’s for the better, and to be honest, your dad and I never liked Danny. He was okay, but that’s it. My girl deserves better than okay. She deserves amazing!”

I swallow heavily.

“Thanks Mom. It just sucks, that’s all.”

But Mina immediately turns around, determined to help me.

“You know what you need, honey? A bit of R&R. New York City is always go-go-go, but that’s not what my baby needs right now. Why don’t you take a vacation? Can Birthing Babies spare you?”

I swallow. I love being a doula, and am eternally grateful that I own my own business.

“Yes, I suppose so. Maybe for a week or two.”

I can almost hear Mina nodding.

“Well, why don’t you go up to the cottage then? Westchester is really close, and the cottage is available. Nobody's there right now, and the peace and quiet are exactly what you need.” Mina’s voice is hopeful because she knows it’s hard for me to get away, but my mom also knows that I need it.

After a few minutes, I exhale. The cottage in Mamaroneck is small and humble, but it’s nice too. It’s right on the Long Island Sound, so there’s sun, sand and the waves of the ocean ringing in your ears. In short, it sounds like pure bliss.

“You know what, Mom? That sounds like a great idea. Let me tie up some loose ends and get my staff prepared for me to take some time to myself. I’ll swing by for the keys on my way out of town?”

I hear her hands clap together as Mina cries, “Perfect! Treat yourself, sweetie. You deserve it after the drama you’ve been through.”

With that, we hang up and I smile for the first time in what feels like ages. A vacation is exactly what I need, and getting away to a restful, relaxing beach house would be perfect right about now.



I collapse onto a sofa and exhale heavily. Finally, some peace and quiet. Traveling is getting old, and I’m feeling every single one of my forty-nine years today.

Then I let out a snort. When did I get to be forty-nine? Fuck, that’s fucking ancient. I still feel like I’m twenty-five, but I guess the years creep up faster than you think.

Then again, my lifestyle is hard too. As a make-up artist to the rich and famous, I travel non-stop. My clients are celebrity jet-setters and socialites, and as a result, I need to be present for the Academy Awards, the Cannes Film Festival, as well as multiple fashion shows, sporting events, and various high-society affairs. Max Wyndham is the go-to man for hair, and my services are highly sought after.

But the non-stop traveling gets to you, so when my high school friend Maurice offered me use of his cottage earlier this month, I jumped at the opportunity. Obviously, I can afford fancy hotels, but there’s nothing quite like the anonymity of Mamaroneck. It’s a cozy suburb about thirty miles outside of New York City, and there isn’t a single celebrity in sight. Perfect, because that’s exactly what I need.

My luggage sits in a messy pile by the front door, but I don’t care. Right now, I need a stiff drink and I heave myself up to grab some liquor from the cabinet. But then, a movement from outside catches my eye and I stop. Who is that? A gardener?

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