House of Payne: Ice Page 4

  “Hawaii.”

  Sunny almost laughed when Mary Pat’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  “It was a pretty awesome date.” Until it wasn’t.

  “Tell me everything.”

  She never told anyone everything, so after a quick mental editing session, she shrugged. “It was my junior year in undergrad. Ice had moved on to law school but I still saw him all the time—at that point we shared a circle of friends that did everything together, from weekends at the beach to ski trips to Aspen or Whistler. My birthday’s in March and it almost always happened during spring break, and that year was no different. Everyone had planned on doing spring break in Hawaii, but I wasn’t going to go because I wanted to do this intensive marketing training session with a company in San Francisco. The day before everyone was set to leave, Ice showed up and asked me out to dinner.”

  “I would have freaked out. Did you freak out?”

  “The only thing that had me freaked out was the time—it was noon, and he was talking about dinner. But I went along with it, assuming it was going to be like every other time we’d gone out, and that we’d be with our circle of friends. I had no idea that he wanted to have dinner, just the two of us, in Maui. So, that’s what happened.”

  “Omigod. He kidnapped you.”

  “He totally kidnapped me.” Sunny had to chuckle, because she’d never really thought about it like that. “The thing is, when you’re kidnapped by the likes of Atticus Eisen, whose father owns the most infamous supermarket tabloid in the world, you go in style. He had his father’s private jet fly us out. I tried being angry with him, but that’s hard to do when you’re being spoiled by the man of your dreams on a private jet headed for paradise.”

  “Yeah, kinda hard to kick up a fuss when you’re living the dream.”

  When she was right, she was right. “Once we’d landed, Ice said he couldn’t take me to the dinner he had planned since I wasn’t properly dressed.”

  Mary Pat seemed to stop breathing. “Did he want you to go naked?”

  “Uh, no.” Sunny blinked before staring at her coworker curiously. “What sort of dates do you go on?”

  “Don’t blame me, I have a vivid imagination. Was it a naked dinner?”

  “Sorry to disappoint, but no.” Though she had to admit, she was impressed with how dirty-minded her seemingly vanilla coworker was. “He gave me his credit card so I could buy what I needed, and off we went to the dinner he’d planned for us. It was a luau on the beach under these amazing, wind-twisted palm trees. We ate by torchlight while a man with a ukulele came out and sang happy birthday to me. Then I was served a little cake with my name on it and two candles, one for each decade of my life, and Ice leaned in and whispered for me to make a wish.”

  “To have crazy-bouncy sex on the beach, right there and then, and if everyone wanted to watch and die of total freaking envy, then okie-dokie, artichokie,” Mary Pat exclaimed fervently, her eyes far away. “That’s totally what I would’ve wished for. And because it was my birthday, he would’ve had to grant that wish. It’s like a law.”

  “Wow. Okay.” Apparently still waters really did run deep when it came to Mary Pat. “I basically wished that the night with him could last forever. That was when he kissed me.”

  “Wow,” Mary Pat whispered. “Seriously, wow.”

  “But that was pretty much it,” Sunny said, and she felt vaguely like she’d taken candy from a baby when the dreamy light in the other woman’s eyes snuffed out. “Ice got a call after that, and he learned that the friend I mentioned earlier, Ethan, had died in a car wreck. It was a terrible shock that put everyone into a tailspin, especially Ice. By the time spring break was over it was like our date had never happened, and Ice was back to being nothing more than a pal.”

  “That stinks.” Mary Pat looked genuinely upset, and she laid a hand on Sunny’s arm. “Did he ever talk to you about it? Did you ever talk to him? Please tell me someone talked to someone, because I hate it in romance novels and movies how the two protagonists never actually talk to each other and stupid misunderstandings arise. I mean, what’s so scary about it? It’s talking.”

  Sunny smiled, and wondered if it looked as bitter as it felt. “Talking can be scary, because sometimes you hear things you don’t want to.”

  “That sounded like the voice of experience.” Mary Pat’s brow puckered in distress. “Was it?”

  Reluctantly Sunny nodded. “It was after we got back home and attended Ethan’s funeral. Ice had changed so much in just that short amount of time—withdrawn, aloof, avoiding everyone. He even dropped out of law school, and out of the blue announced he was opening up a tattoo parlor somewhere on the beach. Obviously he was suffering because of Ethan’s death, but he didn’t want to talk about it. Right before I went back to school, I cornered him in the hope of getting him to open up, but he…” She paused, shocked that after all this time a twinge of hurt still sliced at her heart. “He told me our date had been a mistake. He did still admire my brain, though, so he said he’d have a job for me once I graduated, but otherwise I should forget about trying to make something happen between us.”

  “Ouch.” Mary Pat winced. “Seriously, ouch.”

  “That’s one way to put it.” She shrugged, pretending that old wound didn’t still smart. “I didn’t appreciate being treated like a piece of candy he wasn’t sure he wanted, so when I left for school I promised myself I’d never see him again. Then after I graduated, a mutual friend of ours sent up a flare. Ice was in a bad way, and since we’d once been so close, for old times’ sake, maybe I should look in on him.”

  “You’re such a sucker,” Mary Pat said, shaking her head. “You did, didn’t you?”

  “We’d been the best of friends, once. He and Ethan had made adjusting to college life easy for me. I figured I owed him this one last thing, so I showed up unannounced at his tattoo studio.”

  “Skull and Bones Ink.”

  “It was just Skull and Bones back then. I added the Ink, because I liked the play on words—ink versus inc. Short for incorporated,” she expanded with a chuckle while the other woman just stared at her. “At the time, it was just this dumpy hole in the wall on the bad end of Venice Beach, with only one fulltime tattooist and Ice. Though at the time I don’t know if Ice should have been counted, because when I walked in, he was drunk off his ass and unable to tattoo anyone in that state.”

  “That is so different from the way Skull and Bones Ink was portrayed on TV. I bought the complete series online,” she added with a grin, surprising Sunny. “I’m still binge-watching, and I’ve got to say you make an awesome blonde.”

  “Thanks, but personally I’m glad to be back to my natural color.” Sunny put a hand to her hair, no longer missing the long locks she’d chopped off when she’d moved back home to Chicago. Beach waves and blonde hair belonged to a California dreamer, and she’d stopped dreaming a long time ago. “Ice was in bad shape along with everything around him, so I pitched in to help. I had a brand new degree in digital marketing, and a fierce ambition to make a virtually nonexistent tattoo studio into the greatest one the world had ever seen. The rest is history.”

  “I’ll say it is.” Then Mary Pat tilted her head. “And you guys never got back together? Not even a drunken office Christmas party grope?”

  “Mary Pat, I’m beginning to think you lead a very secret, very interesting double life.”

  “Don’t judge, and you’re not answering the question.”

  “We were never together in the first place, so getting back together was never an option. And no, there was never a drunken office Christmas party grope, or a grab-ass by the water cooler, or a stolen kiss in the supply closet. We remained casual friends, but romantically…” He no longer wanted anything to do with me. Sunny bit her lips together and again mentally edited the truth. “Ice kept himself somewhat distant after that. It’s like something in him changed after Ethan’s death, and no amount of time healed that wound. So we went our separate ways
romantically.”

  “Stop right there,” Mary Pat said, holding up a hand. “I don’t want any spoilers. I’m just now starting season two, and it looks like a new boyfriend for you might be appearing on the horizon, if you go by all the teasers. He looks like a hottie, by the way. The tattoo-machine supplier hottie, I mean.”

  “Who…? Oh. Dan Harper. Yes, he was something to look at.” Sunny had to work overtime at keeping the sneer from taking over her game face. The problem was that she was too much like her mother—lucky in life, but freakishly unlucky in love. “Let’s just say there are some people in this world who can teach you a lot by doing all the wrong things.” Then she slanted a look at Mary Pat. “I didn’t give away too many spoilers with that, did I?”

  “No.” Mary Pat pursed her lips. “But I am seeing you’ve always had a thing about winning.”

  “Winning?”

  “Ice’s tattoo parlor wasn’t doing anything until you showed up. IBKC wasn’t doing anything until you showed up. Now we’re all feeling like winners because you’re so pushy. In a good way,” Mary Pat added hastily. “Yup, absolutely in a good way. I mean, I wasn’t sure of you at first, but even though you are pushy, you’re becoming more like us crazy cat people every day. Any minute now you’re going to start speaking fluent LOLcat, so believe me when I say I’m not complaining about you being pushy. That’s what makes you a winner. I mean, why would anyone complain about being a winner?”

  That was a very good question, Sunny thought even as she secretly shuddered over the thought of speaking baby talk and attributing it to a cat. Why would Ice regret all the fame and success that had come his way? That made no sense. Unless…

  There was something going on, a reason she didn’t know about.

  Despite trying to pretend otherwise, it was a reason she desperately wanted to find out.

  Chapter Four

  “I’m home.” Shrugging out of her coat and hooking it on the wall-mounted coat rack, Sunny dumped her purse on the mudroom’s wooden bench and went in search of life. The scent of something warm and irresistibly sweet filled the air, a perfect accompaniment to the faint strains of a choir’s rendition of “Angels We Have Heard on High” playing throughout the brownstone’s intercom system. When the sound of laughter reached her ears, she couldn’t help but smile.

  There were a lot of things she loved about her mother. Her full-throated cackle was just about at the top of the list.

  “What’s with all this hilarity?” Sunny demanded, grinning as she entered the grand parlor. It reflected her mother’s impeccable Colonial-Victorian tastes, including an Aubusson rug, thriving indoor plants and overstuffed leather lounge chairs and sofas to sink into. “Don’t you know we have major holidaying to do this weekend? That is very serious business.”

  “There she is, Ms. Bah-Humbug herself.” Still chuckling, her mother came to her feet. Even in her late fifties, Claire Dubois-Fairfax was an absolute knockout. Light auburn hair, a redhead’s fair skin and green eyes, coupled with a bawdy sense of humor made Claire a favorite among elite political circles. But it was her talent for talking the wealthy into donating vast fortunes to politicians that made her worth her weight in gold. “Welcome home, darling. Wine?”

  No wonder her mother was viewed by many as a saint. “You read my mind, thanks. Hey,” she greeted Hannah Jacoby, her best friend since grade school and now one of her father’s personal nurses. “Please tell me you’re going to save me from Mom’s never-ending attempts to make this house look like it belongs on a Christmas romance movie set.”

  “Are you kidding? Matt and I are going to be helping her every step of the way.” Hannah twisted her curly, impossibly thick hair up into a topknot. “We were thinking of putting those life-sized animated carolers in the foyer instead of the traditional Christmas tree.”

  “Hannah, those animated carolers are yard art. The foyer is not a yard.”

  “Oh my God, you said it. Claire, Sunny just said it exactly the way you imitated—the foyer is not a yard.” Hannah burst out laughing as Claire returned, grinning from ear to ear and carrying a tray with a bottle and four elegant etched wineglasses that had been in the Fairfax family for more than a century. “I am so sad I didn’t record that just now.”

  “If I let you two have your way,” Sunny drawled, accepting the glass her mother gave her with a nod of thanks, “the entire house would look like Disney’s Small World ride with every animated doll in the free world flapping and yapping and whatever the hell else they do.”

  “Not the entire house.” Hannah smiled at Claire as she accepted her wine. “For instance, you’ve sworn that your room is going to be left sad and bare of all things Christmas.”

  “That’s still Dickensian,” Sunny offered mildly, taking a sip. “Scrooge never decorated his crib, either.”

  “And you wonder why we call you Ms. Bah-Humbug.”

  “I think we can strike a happy medium of all our tastes if we blend the traditional with the whimsical.” Flexing the diplomatic muscle that had once gotten her an offer to be the US Ambassador to France—an offer she graciously declined—Claire curled up in an armchair while Sunny sat on the floor next to Hannah. “What if, this year, we put our ceramic Christmas village on the edges of the staircase, with one building sitting on each riser? I saw it done in a magazine while waiting for your father’s MRI to be done.”

  “Did they show the mass of mangled bodies at the foot of the stairs?” Sunny wanted to know while Hannah snorted into her wineglass. “Because that’s what’s going to happen if you start putting anything on the risers. I stumble on throw rugs, and those things are supposed to be on the floor. How would I survive a miniature Christmas village on a staircase?”

  “When I think of all the money we threw away on weekly ballet lessons,” Claire sighed, shaking her head. “On the upside, I always thought you danced beautifully, Hannah.”

  Hannah toasted her. “Thank you, Claire.”

  “I knew she was your favorite,” Sunny remarked, rolling to her knees to place her wineglass on the tray, then froze when the fourth wineglass sitting beside the bottle finally registered. “Who are you expecting, Mom? Who’s coming? What aren’t you telling me?” If it was Ice…

  Claire stared at her as if she’d suddenly broken out into Russian. “Darling, that fourth glass is for Matt, in case he decides to join us. What on earth has gotten into you?”

  “Nothing. Nothing.” A relieved laugh burst out of her, though she couldn’t begin to explain even to herself why that relief was so profound. It wasn’t like she still cared, after all. “That reminds me, I haven’t dropped in on Dad or Matt to say hi yet. Back in a bit.” Before anyone could say anything, she got to her feet and scooted out of there at top speed.

  Geez. Way to keep your cool, idiot.

  She couldn’t fly off the handle like that, she scolded herself as she headed down a hallway toward the back of the house. Yes, Ice now lived in Chicago—something she still couldn’t get her head around—but that didn’t mean he was back in her life. He wasn’t, and he never would be again. Expecting him to insert himself back into her life as if he had any interest in her was ridiculous. He was too shallow to have any interest in her, or anyone. He was just a sad California boy cliché—pretty to look at, but no real substance underneath all the polished glitz.

  Though she had to admit, she wasn’t buying the lame excuse he’d come up with to crash like the Kool-Aid man back into her life. Honestly, he couldn’t possibly think he was fooling anyone with his art designs for frigging cat toys.

  The master bedroom’s carved wooden door was closed, so she gave it a quick tap before poking her head in. “Matt? Is he up for a quick visit?”

  “Come on in, Sunny. I just finished changing the sheets.” Matt, Hannah’s husband and a licensed practical nurse studying to become an R.N., was writing on a clipboard that Sunny knew detailed the daily events that made up her father’s life. While he’d still been able to do so, Archibald Fairf
ax III had made arrangements for his in-home hospice care, and it had been a relief for the whole family to know Hannah and her then-fiancé Matt would be there to help keep his dignity—and his secrets—intact. “Archie was just asking about you. Isn’t that right, Archie? You were asking where Sunny was, yes? She’s home now.”

  “Hi, Dad.” Her throat tightened at seeing the man she loved so much—her protector, her biggest fan, her father—now so diminished. She may have gotten her game face and diplomacy skills from her mother, but her dark eyes and hair, as well as her relentless drive to win came from the man lying in the high-tech hospital bed that had replaced the regular king bed six months ago. Again, that had been her father’s decision. When he’d fallen out of bed, and neither she nor her mother had been able to lift him, they’d had no choice but to call for help. That was when Matt and Hannah had moved in fulltime, a move for which Sunny was grateful every day since. “I’m home. How are you feeling?”

  “Sunny?” Her father’s eyes fluttered open before they fixed on her, and she found herself bracing. It was becoming increasingly common for him not to recognize her, and every time it happened it was a small but agonizing needle that pierced her heart. Bit by cruel bit, her father was disappearing from her world. “Sunny. You’re home? Was it school? How was it today, honey?”

  A weirdly relieved breath escaped her as she moved to sit beside his bed so that she could clasp his extended hand. Details didn’t matter at this point; it was enough that he remembered her. “It was work, but it went great. I dazzled everyone with my PowerPoint presentation.” If by dazzled she’d actually meant bored everyone to tears, then yes. She had dazzled everyone.

  “That’s my girl.” His fingers squeezed hers before his eyes drifted closed. “Love you, Sunny Bunny. Daddy’s gonna take a nap now, okay?”

  “Okay. Love you, Daddy.” Fighting back the tears burning in her throat, she kissed his hand, then set it gently on the coverlet before she looked to Matt. “How’s he been today?”