Maid for the Millionaire. SUSAN MEIER
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“How do you know?”
“Because I know.”
“Okay, then.” Ellie closed her eyes and her face scrunched comically.
“What are you doing?”
“Wishing that you’d see him again.”
“You might not want to do that.”
“Oh, I think I do.”
“The man was my ex.”
Ellie’s eyes popped open. “Oh, Liz! Damn it.
You should have told me that before I wished. You know how powerful my wishes can be.”
“That’s why I told you now. You need to take it back.”
“I can’t.”
“Yeah, well, you’d better or you’re going to break your record of wishes granted. Because I’m not going to see him again.”
Stupidly, that made her sad. She’d loved Cain with her whole heart and soul, but his brother had died and he’d gone into his shell. She’d tried to hang in there with him, to be there when he reached the point that he could work through his pain and withdrawal, but he never had. And then one day she realized she was pregnant. She knew in her heart that Cain wasn’t ready for a child, so she’d waited a few weeks, hoping that if she were further along the pregnancy would seem more real to him. Maybe even be a cause for joy.
But she’d miscarried before she’d had a chance to tell him and suddenly she was the one unable to function. She knew she needed help. At the very least she needed someone to talk to. She couldn’t talk to Cain. She wouldn’t have been able to handle it if he had dismissed the loss of the little life so precious to her. So she’d gone. Their marriage had been in shambles anyway. The miscarriage simply pointed out what she already knew. Cain wasn’t emotionally available.
Ending their marriage had been the right thing to do. She’d gotten therapy, moved on and made a wonderful life for herself.
And he’d moved on. Achieved the success he’d always wanted.
There was nothing to be sad about.
She spent most of the rest of the day in the ocean with Joy, until all thoughts of her miscarriage and her ex-husband had receded. Through the week, occasionally something would remind her of her short pregnancy or her doomed marriage, but she ruthlessly squelched the urge to feel sorry for herself until by Friday, she didn’t have a second thought about going to Cain’s house to clean. The past was the past. She’d moved on, into the future.
Assuming he’d already gone to work, Liz simply pulled the Happy Maids car into his driveway, bounced out and let herself into his kitchen.
But when she turned from pulling her key from the door, she saw Cain standing over a tall stack of waffles.
“Good morning.”
She froze.
They weren’t supposed to run into each other. That was why she thought she could keep this job. But three of her four cleaning trips to his house, he’d been home. Without even knowing it, he’d dredged up memories that she’d had to deal with. Emotions she’d thought long dead. Now here he was again.
Still, she wouldn’t make an argument of it. She could say a few words of casual conversation, as she walked to the door on the other side of the kitchen and slipped out of the room to clean another section of the house.
“You must be really hungry.”
He laughed. “I am. But these are for you.” He shrugged. “A thank-you for helping me last weekend.”
She froze. She should have expected this. She had expected this. She knew he hated owing anyone.
She sucked in a quiet breath. Not only did she not want to spend time with him, but she hadn’t eaten waffles since their fateful trip to Vegas. Mostly because she didn’t want to remember that wonderful time. That Cain wasn’t the real Cain. Neither was this guy who’d made her waffles. He didn’t want to thank her as much as he felt guilty that she’d helped him the week before and wouldn’t let that “debt” go unpaid.
“That’s not necessary.”
“I know it’s not necessary, but I want to thank you.”
“You did thank me. The words are enough.”
He sighed. “Just sit down and have a waffle.”
“No!” Because the single word came out so angrily, she smiled to soften it. “Thanks, but no.”
Their gazes held for a few seconds. She read the confusion in his dark eyes. He didn’t understand why she wouldn’t eat breakfast with him. They’d been so happy the one and only time they’d had waffles together. And maybe that’s why he’d chosen them?
Regret rose up in her, but regret was a foolish emotion. She couldn’t change who he was. She couldn’t change the fact that she’d lost their child. And she refused to be pulled into believing the nice side of him was in control. That would only lead to more heartache. Neither one of them wanted that.
She turned and walked away. “I’ll get started upstairs while you eat.”
Cain pretended her refusal to eat his thank-you waffles hadn’t bothered him. Being incredibly busy at work, it was easy to block out the memory. But Saturday morning he took his boat out, and alone on the water with nothing to keep him company but his thoughts, he was miserable.
Liz was without a doubt the kindest woman in the world and he had hurt her. He’d hurt her enough that she couldn’t even force herself to be polite and eat breakfast with him.
When she’d left him three years before, he’d experienced a bit of remorse, but mostly he was relieved. He’d quickly buried both emotions under work—as he always did. But sitting on the ocean, with the sun on his face and the truth stirring his soul, he knew he had to make it up to her. All of it. The quick marriage, the horrible three years together, the bitter divorce and probably the pain she’d suffered afterward.
He owed her. And he hated owing anyone. But her refusal had shown him that she didn’t want a grand gesture. Hell, she didn’t want any gesture at all. Still, he needed to ease his own conscience by doing something for her. And he would. He simply wouldn’t let her know he was doing it.
On Sunday morning, he got her phone number from Ava and tried calling her. He needed no more than a ten-minute conversation with her. He was very, very good at figuring out what people wanted or needed. That was part of what had made him so successful at negotiating. In ten minutes, he could figure out what anyone wanted or needed and then he could use that knowledge to negotiate for what he wanted. The situation with Liz was no different. He wanted to ease his conscience and could do that by simply finding a need and filling it for her. Anonymously, of course. Then his conscience would be clear. He could fall out of her life again, and they both could go back to the new lives they’d created without each other.
His call went directly to voice mail, so he tried calling her on Monday morning. That call also went to voice mail. Not wanting to make a fool of himself by leaving a hundred unanswered messages, he waited for Friday to roll around. She might not take his calls, she might not have eaten the breakfast he’d prepared the week before, but she couldn’t avoid him in his own house if he really wanted to talk to her.
And he did. In only a few minutes, he could ascertain what was important to her, get it and ease his conscience. If he had to follow her around while she dusted, he would.
Realizing she might not enter if she saw he was still home, Cain stayed out of sight until he heard the bip, bip, bip of his alarm being disabled. He waited to hear the back door open and close, then he stepped into the kitchen.
“Liz.”
The woman in the yellow maid’s apron turned.