Remember Tomorrow Read online

  “Hey, what’s this about? The only people that I’ve ever had a hard time telling were my dad and the Nguyen family. That was when I was seventeen years old. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. The rest is trivial. I hold your hand—” Cees turned away from the door and stepped right up into Arie’s personal space until they were almost touching. After the closeness at the club, the hands that had gone everywhere, the lips that had brushed skin, hips grinding together on more than one occasion, this small amount of closeness shouldn’t have made Arie shiver, but it did. “Because I want to, okay?”

  “I just don’t want the night to end,” Arie said.

  Cees smiled. “Something happening tomorrow that you’re trying to avoid?”

  Arie tried to return her smile but couldn’t quite manage it.

  She was being bombarded with all kinds of emotions: arousal, fear, jealousy, more arousal.

  “Hey, look at me. Ah, sweetie, you look exhausted. I knew dancing would be too much for you. Let’s get you to bed.”

  Arie had to work hard not to show how much Cees’s words startled her. Cees’s face looked too concerned for her to have

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  intended the double entendre. Arie told herself to stop it. “I’m Þ ne. I’d like to get something to eat Þ rst.”

  “If you’re sure.” Cees looked dubious, but she opened the door for Arie, letting her walk in slightly ahead of her, never releasing her hand. Once they were seated, both were quiet as they contemplated the choices on the menus. Arie only pretended to study hers as she tried to think of a good way to initiate a conversation about the distance that had grown between them and her own inadequacies in the bedroom.

  “I really only come here when I need comfort food. I have to keep my weight down for television.”

  Arie dropped her menu so she could make sure Cees wasn’t joking. “But you can’t weigh much more than I do, and Momma Nguyen said I look like the walking dead.”

  Cees’s mouth dropped open, but her eyes twinkled. “You do not. I can’t believe she said that.”

  “She said it was because I wasn’t Þ nishing my lunch like she wanted me to.”

  “Well then, serves you right.” Cees softened the statement with a smile. “Don’t you just love her?”

  Arie returned Cees’s smile. “Yeah, I do. She acts mean, but she’s always really sweet to me. Makes me come back into the house to put on sunscreen when I forget.”

  “She call you stupid Þ rst?”

  “Uh-huh. But she doesn’t mean it.”

  “No, she doesn’t. I’m glad you realize that. She does it to me and Lilly too. It’s become her form of endearment. It can be disconcerting at Þ rst, huh? I probably should have warned you.”

  “It’s probably…”

  When the waitress appeared to offer them coffee, Cees asked for decaf while Arie requested tea. Arie waited until the waitress disappeared to continue. “It’s probably no more disconcerting than having me in your home.”

  “It wasn’t something I would have foreseen a few months ago,” Cees admitted and then returned to her menu.

  • 169 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  “Cees.” Arie decided to jump right in before her nerves stopped her. “Can we talk about what happened that night when we almost…made love?”

  Cees looked up from her menu. The light ß ush that made her face glow disappeared. “Arie, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. It’s like I forgot that you didn’t remember and I just…

  I just went too fast.”

  Arie moved closer, wanting to reach for Cees’s hand, but Cees looked so upset that she contented herself with waiting until Cees looked at her. “It wasn’t too fast.”

  “It was too soon then. You didn’t know me from Eve,” Cees said, the mental abuse she had been heaping on herself evident in her voice.

  “Please let me Þ nish. I told you, I was scared. I didn’t know what to do.”

  Cees nodded, but Arie could tell she was still beating herself up over it and she didn’t know what to do to make her feel better.

  “Is this why you’ve been pulling away from me, because I don’t know what I’m doing? Because Lilly offered to—”

  Cees had a look of utter horror on her face. “She better not!”

  Arie was laughing now, and Cees’s face softened.

  “So you’re making fun of me now? That’s not very nice.

  If you’re learning that kind of behavior, I’m going to have to make sure I keep you two apart.” Cees did smile, but the worry lingered.

  “I was very jealous of Lilly. I saw you hug her the night you bought me home from the hospital.”

  “Oh, listen, Arie, Lilly and I are like—”

  “Sisters, I know. Momma Nguyen set me straight about that.”

  “You should have asked me. You can ask me anything, you know?”

  Arie tried to digest that statement as Cees pored over the menu.

  • 170 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  “Even the salads have deep-fried chicken in them. It’s good, by the way, just fattening. I think I’m going to have myself a big huge platter of Belgian wafß es with whipped cream and strawberries.” Cees shut her menu. “Completely low fat and healthy,” she said with a grin. “What are you thinking?”

  “You said I could ask you anything, right?”

  “Of course. I have nothing to hide from you.”

  Cees’s tone was so encouraging that Arie found herself asking the question that had been plaguing her since she had visited the set of Cees Bannigan Your Home. “Did you sleep with Miranda?”

  “Yes, but—”

  Arie was up and walking away before Cees could Þ nish her sentence. Arie thought she had murmured something about the bathroom, but there was a sob lodged in her throat and she wasn’t sure if she had gotten the words out.

  She knew she had no right to feel angry or jealous, but she was. Mostly because of the memory of how inept she had been when she had had the chance. Cees had been very clear about the fact that they had been apart for some time before she had been in the accident. She had no right to feel angry. No, angry wasn’t the right word.

  Arie hurried toward the curtain that divided the bathrooms from the rest of the restaurant. Once she was sure the curtain hid her from Cees’s view, she sagged against the wall in an effort to catch her breath. The idea of Cees making love to someone else, someone who knew what they were doing and wasn’t afraid, hurt. A slow throb began at her forehead. A normal headache, not a migraine, thank God. Arie tapped the palm of her hand between her brows.

  “You all right, hon?” Arie dropped her hand and noticed for the Þ rst time that she was sharing her space with a woman sitting on a stool in front of a bank of three video poker machines. She looked toward Arie with concern but never stopped pressing the buttons of her machine.

  • 171 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  Arie straightened, was about to tell her a lie about being Þ ne, but was interrupted when Cees came storming through the curtain.

  She didn’t stop until she had Arie pressed up against the poker machine and was holding her tightly. Arie held on and closed her eyes. Dancing had been a tease, close touches, erotic, but even the grinding against each other had been safely covered under the pretense of a dance. This was different. They were clinging to each other too desperately to deny their feelings now. When Cees leaned back to look at her, it seemed natural for Arie to press her lips to Cees’s, to melt into the embrace, and to allow Cees and the poker machine to keep her upright.

  “Guess you’re just Þ ne, then.” The woman’s voice was haughty, making it quite clear that she didn’t appreciate the public display of affection.

  Arie thought the kiss would have gone on forever if they hadn’t had an audience. “You just made me feel horrible for sleeping with someone when we weren’t even together,” Cees said in a voice just loud enoug
h for Arie to hear.

  “I know,” Arie said softly. “I don’t know why I got so upset.”

  “I don’t think I want to know about the people you slept with either.” Arie wanted to tell Cees she hadn’t slept with anyone, but how could she know for sure? Arie saw regret on Cees’s face when she moved away from her.

  “Do you really need to go the restroom?”

  “No, I just needed some air.”

  Cees took in the smoky little enclave and the sour face of the video poker player. “Nice place for it. Why don’t we go sit down?

  I think there are a few things we need to get out in the open.”

  • 172 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Cees stuck her fork in the large wafß e, then set down her fork. She wasn’t hungry and neither was Arie, based on the fact that she made no pretense of picking up her utensils.

  “Not hungry?” she asked.

  “Not really.”

  “Me either. Listen I think it’s time we talked about what’s going on between us.”

  Arie inhaled and looked up at Cees, shocked. “Really?” she asked with such obvious pleasure that Cees had to look away, thinking how perfect she was. Beautiful or attractive just didn’t cut it. If Cees were to break out a pencil and map out a blueprint for what she thought would be the perfect woman, Arieanna Simon would be the outcome.

  “Why are you so surprised?”

  “Because you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

  “Arie, I have a feeling you want answers that I can’t give you. Only you know why you handled certain things the way you did. Anything I tell you is only guessing.”

  “I saw the room, Cees.”

  Cees sighed. “I Þ gured you would ask about that eventually.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve tried to respect your privacy, but it’s a small house.”

  • 173 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  “And Momma Nguyen has a big mouth.”

  “Don’t blame her. I practically forced it from her.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “She said you thought I left because I didn’t want children.”

  Arie scowled. “Why wouldn’t I have talked to you about that?”

  Cees let out a bark of laughter that sounded bitter even to her. She picked up her water glass and drank before speaking. “I asked myself that same question for weeks after you asked me to leave. I never did come up with an answer that made sense. I felt there was something bothering you, especially toward the end, but I was never sure what it was. I was guessing, but it was the only thing that made sense. I was happy with you. I thought you were happy with me. Maybe things would have been different if I could have forced you to tell me what was bothering you, but,”

  Cees shrugged, “you’re a little different from the Arie I used to know.”

  “How so?”

  “You’re softer now, I guess.”

  “I’m getting a gym membership tomorrow,” Arie deadpanned.

  Cees was caught between wanting to laugh out loud and wanting to apologize profusely.

  “Arie, that’s not what I meant at all. I think you look great.

  I mean you’re a little thin, but certainly not walking-dead thin.”

  Cees closed her eyes. Oh, Daddy, what am I doing here? She opened her eyes to see Arie grinning at her. “But that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Cees said. Warmth bloomed in her chest in response to that grin. “You were so very serious. There were times that I wondered if I was making you happy. You always told me that you were the happiest you had ever been in your life, but then there would be times I’d catch you looking at me, and you would look so sad.”

  “I know we met at the studio. How long did I work there?”

  Cees smiled. “Only about two weeks.”

  “What happened?”

  • 174 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  “I Þ nally got up the nerve to ask you out and you said no.”

  “I said no?” Arie’s eyes were large with surprise.

  “Yeah, that was my reaction too. You were really nice about it,” Cees said as she remembered how embarrassed she had felt.

  “You said you wouldn’t date me because we worked together.”

  “That seems like sound reasoning.” Arie suddenly remembered that Cees had been seeing her producer, Miranda.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean anything by that.”

  “I hear what you’re saying. It’s not as unheard of in our industry as you might think. We were working long hours back then. A lot longer than we are now, and if I didn’t meet people on set, more than likely I just didn’t meet them. But I don’t want you to think it was like that with us. I was really surprised when you turned me down, because the minute I saw you, I felt a connection.

  It was like my body always knew where you were.”

  “I think I know what you mean. I Þ nd myself…” Arie seemed to search for the words and looked down at her untouched plate of food. She only looked up when Cees covered her hand with her own. Arie opened her Þ ngers so that Cees could curl hers under.

  “I lean toward doors when I expect you to come through them. When you kissed me in there, it’s like my whole body was saying Þ nally.” She paused. “I’m not saying this right.”

  “You are,” Cees said, and Arie looked down again, but this time from shyness. This too was new. The Arie she had known in the past was anything but shy. She was nowhere near as open about her feelings as the Arie sitting before her now.

  As if reading her thoughts, Arie asked. “Am I very different?

  From the person you…”

  “Loved?” Cees Þ nished for her. “Yes and no. The stuff I loved about you is still there.”

  “The stuff you didn’t love isn’t?” Arie looked so hopeful that Cees laughed, and Arie joined her, though Cees was sure that she had no idea why she was laughing.

  “No, I just mean stuff like that. You were always so serious,

  • 175 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  Arie. When you told me you wouldn’t date me I thought I had imagined the connection between us. I had a hard time looking at you for days after that. Doing scenes together was excruciating.”

  “We did scenes together? Do you have tapes?”

  “I could probably get them. We did an entire series on outdoor bedrooms. That’s why you were hired.”

  “So what happened?”

  “You quit. You walked into Al Sandoval’s ofÞ ce—he was the producer then—and said you wouldn’t be staying on after the series. You left his ofÞ ce and made a beeline for me.”

  Arie was riveted by the story. “What did I say when I found you?”

  Cees smiled as she remembered that moment as clearly as if it were yesterday. “You said, ‘I’ve tried to ignore this thing between us, and I’ve decided a job isn’t worth the possibility of losing something extraordinary.’”

  “I said that?” Arie said softly.

  “You did.”

  “I walked right up to you and that’s what I said?”

  Cees felt tears come to her eyes. Happy tears, because Arie had said exactly that, and sad tears because Arie had forgotten such a special moment.

  “I was pretty serious, huh?”

  Cees reclaimed Arie’s hand across the table. “That’s what I mean. You were always like that. You had to have a purpose.

  Even when we were just lying in bed, your purpose was to relax.

  You had a hard time just ‘being,’ and now you…you’re different.

  Whatever it is that weighed you down, is gone.”

  Arie looked serious for a moment, and Cees’s stomach churned in protest. She didn’t miss that look. “I’m certain it’s not gone, Cees. I’ve temporarily forgotten it, but I’ll remember.”

  The silence after Arie’s proclamation was long and thick. Cees realized that her second deepest fear, besides Arie remembering what had ma
de her fall so quickly out of love with her, was

  • 176 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  that Arie would remember what made her build that invisible protective shell around her heart.

  “Tell me about Momma Nguyen,” Arie said. “What was it like growing up with her?”

  Cees grinned. “Where do I start? I always went to the Nguyen house after school so that I wouldn’t be home alone all the time.

  My father worked long hours and lots of weekends. Momma Nguyen became my surrogate mother, and in return, I tried to keep Lilly in line. Mostly she led me astray, but I was more likely to draw the line than she ever was, so everything worked out.

  “When my father died, Momma and Lilly took care of me.

  I was a mess for a long time. Just going through the motions.

  I probably would have checked out completely if they hadn’t insisted that I keep dealing with the world. One day I woke up and things weren’t so gray.”

  “Momma Nguyen goes on and on about what a Þ ne man he was.”

  Cees grinned. “I think she had a crush on him.” Cees saw the unasked question in Arie’s eyes and wondered if it would ever get easier. She had told the story to Arie before, but this time she wanted to keep it brief. “He had lung cancer. He was in so much pain they kept him medicated, and toward the end—”

  “He didn’t remember you,” Arie said before Cees could.

  Cees wondered if the tight-lipped pronouncement was a guess or a memory. “He didn’t remember anything. I had to do everything for him.”

  “I am so sorry you had to go through that alone, and now here I am with—this.”

  “Arie, I wasn’t sorry. I never knew my mother. She died when I was two. He took care of me all by himself. I was honored to do the same for him. It tore me up that he couldn’t remember me, but he was my daddy.”

  “I wish I could have been there for you,” Arie said.

  “We didn’t meet until years later. Lilly and Momma Nguyen did what they could.” Cees deliberately lightened her tone and