One Chance to Win Read online

  I bit my tongue. There was no use in fueling the fire of this fight. I knew Alex meant well, but he needed to understand his meddling in my family affairs was not going to make things better for anyone. There was so much more texture to our family’s dynamics than what he was seeing on the surface and there was no time to explain it to him.

  We rode in silence on the way to my house. Alex’s forehead was creased with irritation. Wanting to just get home as quickly as possible to deal with my dad, I ignored him. All I needed Alex to do at that moment was get me home.

  In my head, I rehearsed the lie I would tell my father if he asked me any more questions about last night and that morning, repeating my alibi over and over.

  When we pulled up to my house, Alex parked in the driveway. I panicked, looking at each of the front windows of our house for my father’s face. “What are you doing?”

  Alex opened his car door gruffly. “I’m finally going to introduce myself to your father as your boyfriend.” I watched in dread as Alex made his way up the driveway to our front door.

  Chapter 10

  Alex

  Honestly, on the ride over to Jasmine’s house, I had not planned on going in to confront her father. They lived in Ocala out in farm country, a fifteen-minute drive from where I lived in Gainesville. Jasmine and I sat in unbearable silence the entire time. When I pulled up, suddenly, a dreadful longing filled my lungs.

  When would I see Jasmine again? What if Jose made her drop out of school? Even our daily one hour lunches would be taken from me. What if I never saw her again?

  I looked over at Jasmine, who had worry etched deeply into her face. Looking at her beautiful face apprehensive and fearful, the decision to face Jose Fontaine overpowered me with a swoosh of finality. Jose and I were going to have a chat whether he liked it or not. A charge of energy that I usually got right before I aimed for a goal, sparked inside me.

  Avoiding Jasmine’s incredulous stare, I parked the Rover. When I told her what I planned to do, she sat stunned in the car. Almost losing my courage, I charged ahead to the front door, not looking back for Jasmine, too afraid looking back would change my mind.

  Jasmine was an amazing woman, struggling to keep up with the restaurant and her studies. My goal was to make Jose Fontaine realize Jasmine deserved to have a life outside the family and the restaurant. College was hard enough without a full-time job and a heap of overflowing family responsibilities.

  This was Jasmine’s chance to shine on her own. He had to allow that for his daughter. Even if, Jasmine hated me after doing this and never wanted to see me again, at least, I fought for her like a man.

  On the porch, I raised my hand to the door to knock, but Jasmine crashed up the steps, screaming, “Alex, don’t!” Her face was wild with terror. “You have to leave right now! This is not a good time to do this.”

  Lowering my hand, I said to her, “When will there be a good time?” Jasmine looked away in bewilderment, speechless. “That’s what I thought. There will never be a good time.”

  Jasmine whimpered, “Alex, please.”

  Suddenly, I was afraid that maybe Jasmine didn’t love me. Maybe she had said it, but it wasn’t truly how she felt and challenging her father would be a waste of time. I had to ask. “Jasmine, I love you. Did you mean it when you said it to me?”

  Jasmine’s face softened. “I love you, Alex.” She shook her head sadly. “But there is so much you don’t understand.”

  I turned back to the door. “I understand enough. I understand I love you. I have to fight for you.” I raised my fist to knock.

  Before my knuckles hit the door, it snapped open abruptly. “What the hell is going on out here?” Jasmine’s brother, Joseph, stood in the doorway, looking confused.

  When he saw his sister, his face relaxed in utter relief. “Jasmine, I’m glad you’re okay. Where have you been?”

  “She’s been with me,” I blurted out.

  Joseph looked at Jasmine and then me. “Who are you?”

  Jasmine rubbed her forehead with her fingers. “I’ll explain everything later, Joseph.”

  “No, I can explain it right now. I need to speak to your father.” My voice wobbled, but I faked a stern expression.

  Jasmine began to cry again. “Joseph, shut the door!”

  I looked Joseph in the eye. “Let me be a respectable man and speak with your father, please.”

  Mouth agape, Joseph stepped aside. I stormed into the house, internally attempting to hype myself up for this big talk.

  Jasmine followed behind me, protesting every step of the way. “Alex! Don’t do this!” She clutched at my arm, trying to pull me back. “Alex!”

  I shook her off. There was no turning back now.

  Hurrying from room to room, I searched for Jose. The Fontaine house was enormous and stylish: a spiral staircase, a grand piano, an elegant chandelier, and large floor to ceiling windows. Through the glass, I could see Jose’s prized oxen in the distance: roaming and grazing.

  Hearing Jose Fontaine’s booming voice coming from a back room, I followed it. Jasmine was right behind me, wailing. “Alex! Please!” I was in an unwavering haze, determined to talk to this man.

  I found Jose in his den, sitting behind a magnificent oak desk, talking into his phone. Enormous windows framed him regally, as his oxen amiably sauntered outside in a distant view. “The Albilo is exclusively the only white grape grown in the Ribera del Duero region. I think it’s important we include it on our wine list.” Jose’s brows narrowed when he saw Jasmine and me standing there. “Marco, I need to call you back.”

  He rose haughtily from his leather desk chair. “Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house?” His eyes shot to me, Jasmine, and then Joseph. “Joseph, who is this person in my house?”

  Joseph shrugged his shoulders. It surprised and hurt me that Jasmine hadn’t mentioned me at all to her brother. I was a deep dark secret to everyone in her life.

  Jasmine stood next to me, her eyes averted and quiet tears rolling down her face. Joseph leaned against the door jam, silently witnessing the scene. As defiantly as I could muster, I said, “My name is Alex Cantrell. I am Jasmine’s boyfriend.”

  Jose searched our faces angrily before settling his eyes on a whimpering Jasmine. “Is this true, Jasmine?”

  Jasmine wouldn’t look her father directly in the face, only nodding and crying.

  Jose menacingly stabbed his finger at me. “Get out of my house!” He pointed at Jasmine. His eyes were sharp knives slashing through her. “Go up to your room. Since you’re not really sick, you can go to work and help out.”

  Jasmine’s voice was brittle and frail. “Dad, I can explain.”

  “I’ve heard enough from you. While you were out having fun, your brother picked up your slack. Look at him!” Jose pointed at Joseph, who looked down at his feet. Jasmine’s little brother looked drained, a zombie barely alive on his feet.

  Jasmine burst into a high-pitched wail. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry, Joseph.”

  I grabbed Jasmine’s hand. “You’re coming with me.” Her hand felt limp and wilted in mine. Not the same energetic willful hand I was used to holding.

  Jose stomped around his desk. That finger of his was out again cocked like a pistol aimed right at me. “Get out my house! I am calling the police!”

  Jasmine wrung her hand from mine. “Alex, you should leave.” She covered her face with her hands, heaving deep sobs into them.

  I took her hand away from her face. “No, go get your things. You’re coming home with me.” Looking right at Jose, in the coldest tone I could make, I continued, “You’re quitting the restaurant.”

  Jose’s eyes lit up in rage and he stepped toward me, his hands curled into stalwart fists. “How dare you come into my house? How dare you tell my daughter what to do? This is our family.”

  Jasmine flung my hand away. “I can’t come with you. I can’t just quit the restaurant.” Tears fell from her face in droves. Turning her head aw
ay from me, she sobbed even harder. I could barely understand her. “Alex, you need to leave.”

  My heart splintered in my chest. “I’m not leaving without you.” Jasmine shook her head in frustration.

  “Get out! My daughter just told you to get out!” Jose roared, barreling toward me.

  Joseph swiftly stepped in between us. Jose’s teeth were bared in a frenzied rage. Turning to me, Joseph calmly held up an open palm to me, a sign of peace. “Please leave.”

  My head swiveled to Jasmine, who looked right into my eyes this time. Her voice was above a whisper. “I’m sorry, Alex. Please go.”

  Her words hewed me in two. In a daze, I stumbled out of the Fontaine house, feeling injured and defeated. I made my way through the den, into the hallway, and past their front room, where a large family portrait hung proudly.

  Jasmine, probably six years old at the time, looked adorable in a pink frilly dress and a giant bow in her hair. Joseph had on a bow tie and a little suit. Their parents, Jose and his wife, stood behind them smiling. Jasmine's mother looked so much like her: the emerald eyes, the petite nose, the lovely cheekbones.

  What struck me the most about the family portrait was Jose. He was younger and had more hair, but that wasn’t it. He looked happy. His mouth was spread out into a beaming smile. The entire family’s smiles were bright and cheery.

  On my way to my Rover, I wondered what it was like for each Fontaine member to wake up every morning to a picture of a reality that no longer existed. To see a mother and a wife who had vanished.

  What could that do to someone? Why hadn’t they taken it down? When were the Fontaines going to let go and move on?

  I hesitated before backing out of the driveway, hoping Jasmine would burst out of the door and jump in my car. After a few minutes, I gave up, worrying that Jose would see me out there still in the driveway and call the police. With a dull ache in my chest, I drove away, already missing the woman I loved and trying to push away doubt that she really loved me back.

  Chapter 11

  Jasmine

  When Alex left, my father was too disgusted to talk to me. He directed everything he wanted to say to my brother. “Joseph, tell your sister, I forbid her to see that boy again.”

  Joseph looked at me apologetically, shrugging his shoulders. My father’s eyes burned past me. “Joseph, I’ll meet you at the restaurant.”

  “Dad, I can work today too,” I pleaded, hoping he would talk to me.

  My father turned away from me. He looked out of the giant windows behind his desk with his hands squarely on his hips. Talking over his shoulder to Joseph, he said icily “Son, tell your sister, she won’t be needed today.” He paused, watching his oxen grazing in the paddock. “We’ll be fine without her.”

  My father’s words stung me, piercing into my heart. I ran up to my room and sobbed into my pillow, muffling my cries.

  What did Alex think he would accomplish by charging up to my father? He was as bullheaded as my dad.

  I screamed one last painful cry into my pillow before forcing myself to stop. Crying all day would not resolve any of my problems. Crying would not fix my broken relationships with my dad, my brother, and Alex.

  Refusing to listen to my father, I was determined to go to work that day.

  I dressed for work, pushing back tears. In the mirror, my face was swollen and puffy from sobbing so much. Everyone at work would know I had been crying, but I didn’t care. My desire to prove to my dad and brother that they could count on me meant more to me than the restaurant gossip that would ensue.

  When I was dressed, I knocked on Joseph’s door. “I’m riding in to work with you,” I said softly through the door.

  Joseph opened his bedroom door. He was dressed with his keys in hand. Looking unsure, he mumbled, “I don’t know if it’s a good idea you come in today.”

  “Maybe not, but I can’t stay home and not help out at the restaurant.” Looking past my brother into his room, I noticed clothes piled in a corner and an assortment of energy drinks, Red Bulls and Monsters, scattered on the floor. My brother was normally a neat and tidy person. The unkempt appearance of his room surprised me.

  Joseph pushed his bangs out of his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me about that guy?” He looked betrayed.

  I put my hand on his shoulder. “I wanted to tell you.”

  “I get it.” He shrugged my hand away. “You’ve never had a boyfriend. I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks.” Joseph was being sincere, making me feel terrible. “I’ve made a mess of everything with Dad.”

  Joseph looked grim, avoiding the subject of my father. He sighed. “You ready? I’m leaving here in about five.”

  We heard my father’s car door slam and his Escalade roar down the driveway. His car even sounded pissed.

  We listened to the growling hum of the engine until it was gone. I looked at my brother with an earnest look. "I'm ready."

  * * *

  At the restaurant, my dad avoided me the entire day. I couldn’t face him anyway. If he would have said anything to me, even if it was just to chop onions, I would have erupted into an avalanche of tears.

  His look of disappointment in his den shook me down into my bones. My father rarely said it, but I knew he was always proud of me for my work ethic and devotion to the family. When I graduated valedictorian from Ocala High, it was one of the few times he said outright how proud he was of me.

  “You are smart, Jasmine, just like your mother,” he said with pride and a tinge of sadness.

  Even though Joseph said he forgave me for lying to him, underneath our interactions, something was off. My brother had sacrificed to allow me the time away from the restaurant to go to school. If it wasn’t for his encouragement, I wouldn’t have gone to UF at all. I owed him so much.

  And what about his dreams? His life? Joseph deserved the freedom to make his own life choices just as much as I did.

  Throughout the day and into the night, I’d steal glances at my dad and brother, who were hard at work in the kitchen. We were a team, a strong unit. All we had was each other, but I had deceived them both.

  Joseph and I got home from work at four in the morning. Closing work took longer than usual that night because I needed to catch up on the managerial tasks Joseph couldn’t get to the night before when I’d been at Alex’s place.

  When I showered and was in bed, I called Alex. It was late, but I had to talk to him. He picked up after a few rings with a groggy voice. “Hello?”

  “Alex, I’m so sorry.” I kept my voice low, gripping my iPhone tightly to my ear.

  “Why are you speaking so softly? So your father won’t hear?” Alex asked irritated.

  I sighed in frustration. “Yes.” There was no use in dancing around the truth. “He doesn’t want me to see you again.”

  Alex was cold and distant. “Obviously.”

  I could feel Alex slipping away from me. “Alex, it doesn’t mean we have to stop seeing each other. We can go back to the way things were. Seeing each other together every day. Our lunch dates?”

  “I see you for only an hour a day, Jasmine. An hour. And the weekends? Forget about it. I might not even see you at all, depending on your work schedule.”

  I pleaded with urgency. “I’ll try to fit you in more on the weekends when I can. I promise.”

  "Fit me in? Do you hear yourself? I need more. I love you. I want to see you more. I want you to be more, a part of my life. I want you to meet my family, but what should I do? Have my parents and my sisters come down to the campus at lunchtime?" He inhaled deeply and exhaled raggedly in defeat. "It kills me to miss you this much all the time."

  My heart dropped into my stomach. I was touched and pained at the same time. “I miss you too.”

  “Then give me more. Be my real girlfriend. Love me,” he pleaded.

  I protested, “I do love you.”

  “How do I know you really love me if you won’t tell anyone about me. It hurts to be your dirty secret
.”

  “It’s not like that, Alex.”

  “How can I be sure?” I didn’t know what I could say to convince him. Silence filled the line.

  Alex sighed. “I have a game tomorrow at one. I hope you will come. After the game, I want to spend the night together.”

  “I’m not sure I can pull that off, Alex.”

  “I’m not sure we can be together then.” We were silent for a few moments before Alex yawned. “I’ve got to get to sleep. Good night, Jasmine.”

  I didn’t want to let him go, but I whispered, “Good night, Alex.”

  After Alex and I hung up, I couldn’t sleep. Restless, I pulled my laptop onto my bed. I first googled my mother on my 17th birthday. Before then, it hadn’t occurred to me, a simple Google search could reveal her whereabouts.

  My search was unsuccessful at first. I scoured through the search results looking for my mother. Clicking on links about a Natalie Fontaine who was a professional tennis player. A Natalie Fontaine that worked for the mayor's office in Portland, Maine. So many other Natalie Fontaine's, but not my mother.

  A week later, I googled my mother's maiden name, Natalie Gardner. She was the first link I clicked on. The link brought me to the current list of Ph.D. students at Columbia University. The paragraph bio of my mother informed me that she was an art history doctoral student.