I’m sure my mother would say that it’s because I don’t want to ask myself the hard questions about whether or not marrying Ian would be the right thing for me and she’d be spot on. I’d rather just think about the fun stuff like being engaged to a man most women would sell their souls to the devil just to get a date with, then wedding him in grand, romantic style. Except we don’t love each other, so I’m not sure how romantic this wedding would actually feel.
I’ve spent my entire life believing I was going to find that magical “one” who would share all of my hopes and dreams for the future and we’d live out our blissful, coupled-up days in a cute Craftsman bungalow with our two kids and a Shih Tzu with a teddy bear cut named Winnie (as in the Pooh). And my prince would be so loving and devoted that he’d frequently surprise me with imaginative gestures of his affection, which would inspire my work at Straight from the Hart. So my life would be a delightful, never-ending circle of romance. Now here I am contemplating a loveless marriage, which is kind of depressing, but what’s the alternative?
I may have talked a good game with my family at brunch, but the truth is that after this latest go-round with Alex, I think I might be done with love. Dating, especially in this town full of narcissistic men, sucks and I was already over it a couple of years ago, which is part of the reason why I started my fauxmance with Ian. Putting a lot of time and effort into meeting eligible men so that I can be subjected to a string of boring, awkward dates that will result in equally boring and awkward sex sounds awful. Why set myself up for more relationship disappointment? Haven’t I had enough?
Spinning around in my chair, I yank open the top right drawer of my credenza, move aside some file folders, and pull out the black velvet box given to me by Ian. I didn’t wear the ring into the office today because that would mean telling my staff about the engagement, which I’m still not a hundred percent committed to. But knowing how valuable this ring is, both monetarily and sentimentally, to Ian’s family, I felt nervous about leaving it unattended at home. Removing the ring from its box, I slide it onto my finger. Shove might be the more accurate word because the platinum band doesn’t go on as easily today as it did last night, probably due to the half a pig’s worth of bacon I consumed yesterday. Too much salt always makes me puffy.
Turning back to my desk, I raise my hand in the air so that I can study the piece of Ellingsworth history that’s been entrusted to me. The emerald is just as green and the diamonds are just as sparkly as they were last night, but in the cold light of day, outside the bubble of a ritzy soirée, this ring looks . . . Dare I say it? . . . a bit gaudy. It’s just so large and the emerald, which perfectly complemented the gown of the same color I wore to the party, clashes in every possible way with the dress I’m currently clad in. My cap-sleeved sheath with its folded asymmetric neckline and nipped-in waist is the epitome of chic professionalism and calls for simple, not flashy, jewelry. And its vibrant fuchsia color does not play well with dark green. Truthfully, I don’t think any shade of pink would, and my other signature color here at the office, red, would make me look like a young, trying-too-hard Mrs. Claus when paired with a green stone. If this ring becomes mine permanently, I guess I’ll have to invest in a safe and store the ring there while I’m on the jo— Raised voices interrupt my train of thought and I hear what sounds like some sort of scuffle in the corridor outside my office.
I hope Alyssa and Cole aren’t still arguing about which one of them called dibs first on that shaggy-haired surfer dude who delivered our Postmates lunch order in boardshorts and flip-flops earlier. He wasn’t even that cute! And he had the intellectual acuity of the tofu in the vegan tacos he tried to unload on us, which should have gone to the herbal supplement company down the street where he left our falafels.
The voices are getting louder, so they must be bringing their dispute to me. Time to play boss lady and give these two a stern lecture on office decorum. They can’t be acting like this when we have clients in and out of here all day. I’m halfway out of my seat when my door bursts open and Alex barrels in, looking like a man on a mission.
“He doesn’t have an appointment!” Alyssa, who’s right on Alex’s heels, stabs a finger accusingly at him.
Cole swans in behind her. “And I told him you did not have time for walk-ins because you were working on a very important presentation.” He gives my ex the stink eye.
Alex’s jaw muscle tenses, and I imagine he’s gnashing his teeth with irritation. “Maybe I wouldn’t have had to interrupt everyone’s busy . . .” He glances down at my desk which shows no sign of me being involved in any kind of work (my laptop isn’t even open!). “. . . day if your boss would respond to a text or call.”
I muted him on my phone because I just didn’t want to deal, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Apologies. I lost my phone and haven’t had time to get it replaced.” I’ve got my hands hidden behind my back and I’m tugging as hard as I can on the Ellingsworth ring, but it’s stuck to my finger like it’s been Gorilla Glued. I can’t even twist it around so that the emerald doesn’t show! “Could you get on that, Cole?”
The comically over-the-top “WTF?” expression on my assistant’s face would make a hilarious meme. Since he just saw me texting on my phone not ten minutes ago, he knows I’m lying my pink snakeskin stilettos off. Thankfully, he follows my lead. “Sure thing,” he replies, but stays where he is, probably because he’s curious to see how this plays out.
“If you were trying to reach me to confirm the plans for the Js’ trip, I can assure you that everything’s been taken care of down to the last detail,” I inform Alex in my most professional tone. “I just te—” I stop before I out myself as a fibber and course correct. “—messengered the itinerary over to Jax.” Who’s back home in Hollywood Hills with Jaz, which is very gratifying to yours truly.
“I’m not here about the Js. In your rush to get away from me yesterday morning, you left half your stuff behind in the hotel room.” Alex lifts his arm and I notice he’s carrying a large shopping bag with the Mission Inn logo on it, which he plops down on my desk.
I will myself not to blush so that I don’t give anything away to my employees who are now probably jumping to all kinds of conclusions about what happened in Riverside. As far as they knew, I went out of town with Ian as planned, and I hadn’t intended to tell them otherwise since it’s none of their business.
“That was very thoughtful,” I say pleasantly as I walk out from behind my desk, still keeping my hands out of sight and regretting that I didn’t wear something with pockets today. “And I appreciate you taking the time to drop off my things. But I’m afraid I do have an appoint—”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Alex demands, his eyes boring into mine as he steps closer. His lavender dress shirt and purple tie are bringing out the blue in his eyes, making them look positively glacial, or maybe it’s his fury that’s giving them such an icy appearance. “All of this formality and politeness after what we shared this weekend is bizarre.” Pulling his phone from his pocket, he holds it up and says, “This brush-off text you sent me sounded like a form business letter.”
Alex flips the phone around so that the screen is facing him and reads aloud, “‘Had to get back to LA. Rental car keys waiting for you at front desk. Thanks for your help this weekend and for referring Jax to me. Should any of your other clients have need of a romance concierge in the future, please have them contact my assistant, Cole. Wishing you all the best.’ You wished me the best, Nessa!” He sticks the phone in my face. “Who does that after having sex with someone?”
My stomach feels like it’s tied in knots because I don’t have a good answer. That text really does sound a lot more cold and impersonal than I thought it did when I dictated the words to my phone while sobbing into a tissue. I was just trying to avoid a horrible scene like the one we’re having right now, in front of my employees!
Thank merciful heavens for Cole, who will be getting hazard pay an
d an extra week of vacation whenever he wants it, because he immediately swoops in to try and save me.
“Here’s my card.” He wedges the glossy, blush-colored cardstock with gold foil lettering beneath Alex’s fingers which are still clutched around his phone. “Thank you so much for your business, Mr. Farr. It’s been an absolute delight working with you and your dishy client. But Ms. Hart really does have a very tight schedule this afternoon and we don’t want to keep our VIPs waiting. So . . .” Cole wraps an arm around Alex’s shoulders, “. . . let me show you out.”
Alex shrugs off my assistant. “I’m not going anywhere until you . . .” He narrows his eyes at me. “. . . talk to— What in God’s name is going on with your hands?”
The appendages in question freeze behind my back where I’ve been continuously twisting and pulling on the ring to no avail. “What do you mean?” I play dumb.
“You’ve been hiding your hands and fiddling with them since I walked in here.”
“Nervous habit.” That’s plausible, right? This is a stressful situation after all.
“That you’ve never before exhibited in all the years I’ve known you. Try again.”
“Chipped manicure. It looks dreadful and I’m self-conscious about it.”
“Show me,” Alex says in a firm voice as if I’m some disobedient child, which ignites my temper.
Tilting my chin up defiantly, I say, “Alpha male posturing may work with your celebrity clients who pay you to tell them what to do, but it will not fly with me. Storming into my place of business—”
“Without an appointment.”
“Yes, thank you, Alyssa.” I give my receptionist a nod of acknowledgement. “Storming into my place of business without an appointment and issuing orders is disrespectful not just to me, but to my staff, and I will not tolerate having my day disrupted like this. If I bulldozed my way into Pinnacle and behaved as you have, you’d be furious.”
He has no response to that because he knows I’m right.
“You can leave now,” I say dismissively.
“Not happening. I deserve an explanation and I’m not going anywhere until I get one. Why did you change your mind about us?”
“There is no us, Alex!” I shout in frustration because he’s just not getting it. “One night together doesn’t constitute a reconciliation. It was nostalgia, closure, getting caught up in the moment, whatever label you want to smack on it. If you thought us hooking up meant we could rewind our relationship and start dating again like we’re still a couple of kids in our twenties, you were wrong. We broke up four years ago for a reason—a reason that still exists—and I have absolutely no intention of getting back on that hamster wheel in hopes that if I put in enough time and effort, I’ll finally be rewarded with the chunk of cheese I want.”
Alex’s brow furrows. “I think you’re confusing a hamster wheel with a maze because it’s the latter that has a prize at the end. I’m supposed to be the cheese in this analogy, right?”
“No! You’re the wheel, or our relationship is, and the cheese is a real commitment, something you’ve proven over and over again you’re incapable of making.” My eyes fill with tears, and I hate myself for getting emotional about this. I wish I could stop having any kind of feelings for this man period. I curse the day I took that job from Astra Langdon. If I hadn’t, Alex never would have come back into my life. I was doing just fine without him, and now my whole world has been turned upside down.
I exhale a shaky breath before declaring, “I can’t keep doing this with you. It’s pointless and it’s painful, so I need you to go and stay gone this time.”
“Nessa.” He reaches out a hand, and I move back before he can make contact with my skin.
“I mean it, Alex. Get out!” I point at my office door and instantly hear two sharp intakes of breath.
I glance to the left to see Alyssa and Cole gaping at my extended hand.
Well, crap, so much for keeping my “engagement” a secret. My employees can’t contain their curiosity, and I’m instantly bombarded by questions.
“Is that—”
“Are you—”
“Why didn’t—”
“I hear the phone ringing, Alyssa.” I seek to distract her by pointing out that she’s neglecting her duties at the front desk. “Would you please grab that before it goes to voicemail?”
“Oooo, sorry, I should be wearing my headset. I’m on it!” She scurries out of the room.
“And Cole . . . Cole!” I snap my fingers in front of his face to break the hypnotic hold the large emerald on my hand seems to be having on him.
He shakes his head as if to clear the gem-induced fog. “That’s real, right? Have you had it appraised? If you call things off with Ian, can you still keep the ring and can I borrow it so that I can dress up as JLo in her green Grammys’ gown this Halloween?”
Frowning, I say, “That dress shows a lot of skin. You’ll have to wax just about everything to wear it, won’t you?” Why am I asking him this? Halloween is more than five months away and there are more pressing things for me to be worried about at the moment.
“Never mind,” I retract my question. “We’ll discuss this . . .” I wiggle my bejeweled finger at him. “. . . later. For now, I need you to start the presentation to Annie and Caleb and I’ll join in as soon as I can.”
“I don’t think I should leave you alone with Mount Midwest . . .” Cole jerks a thumb toward Alex whose gaze I’ve been purposefully avoiding since the ring reveal. “. . . when he looks like he’s about to erupt again.”
“I’ll be fine.” Placing a hand on the back of Cole’s vertically-striped, Todd Snyder polo, I guide him to the door where I murmur, “I’d appreciate your discretion about all of this. I’d rather not be the subject of office gossip.”
It’s bad enough that Alyssa and Cole now know way too much about my personal life. If the rest of the staff is clued in, I’ll lose all credibility as both a boss and an expert on romance. Fortunately, Carmen took the afternoon off for a doctor’s appointment and Aubrey and Natasha are out doing a trial run of an anniversary celebration for a couple who will be handcuffed together for the entire twenty-four hours. And no, that’s not because they’re into kink. They’ve just been feeling disconnected from each other lately and I’m hoping some enforced closeness along with a fun, shared experience will remedy that.
“My non-enhanced pillow lips are sealed,” Cole assures me. “And Alyssa’s still in her probationary period, so I’ll tell her she’s fired if she breathes a word to anyone else.”
Normally, I wouldn’t condone him putting the screws to an underling, but . . .
“You’re the best. Thank you.”
I close the door and pivot to face Alex who, instead of looking like he might blow a gasket as per Cole’s description of him a few minutes ago, seems to be perfectly calm, lounging against the edge of my desk with his arms crossed and a smile that appears almost smug curling the corners of his mouth.
“Nicely played,” he says. “If you wanted to make me jealous or punish me for everything you think I’ve done wrong in our relationship, getting engaged to another man less than twenty-four hours after we slept together was definitely an effective way to do that. And I did feel confused, angry, betrayed, and hurt for a second, but then I remembered that you and Ellingsworth are not a real couple—ah!” He holds up a hand to stop me before I can protest.
“Don’t bother denying it. I know a carefully-created construct when I see one, and that’s what your relationship with Tall, Dark, and Bare-Skulled has been all along. You’ve been dating him because being half of a seemingly perfect couple is good for your business. And he’s been dating you because, well, let’s just say that there aren’t any secrets in this town if you know the right people to ask. I imagine his family and fusty clients wouldn’t approve of his nocturnal pursuits and you’re a good cover for those, which is probably why he proposed . . . to keep the sham going. I think you’re wearing that ring to mes
s with me, not because you said yes. You place too high a premium on marriage and would never exchange vows with a man you weren’t truly, deeply in love with.”
I cross my arms and glare at him. “You think my engagement is somehow about you? What an ego! If you will recall, I was trying to hide this ring . . .” I lift my hand. “. . . from you earlier because I was trying to spare your feelings. So that shoots a big, cannonball-sized hole in your theory that I was using it to try and manipulate you.”
Alex squints at my hand and makes a face. “Up-close that ring’s even uglier than I thought. It’s so clunky-looking and dated, and colored gemstones have never been your thing. Either Ellingsworth doesn’t have any idea what you like or what would suit you, or he didn’t care enough to get a ring that would make you happy.”
Cradling my hand to my chest, I declare, “This is a treasured family heirloom and I’m honored to wear it!”
“Bullshit. You’d rather have a diamond and we both know it.”
He’s right, and for one ridiculous moment I envision Alex pulling a Harry Winston sparkler from his coat pocket and telling me that a ring from him was what belonged on my finger. Of course, then I’d wonder if he really wanted to propose or if he felt like I’d backed him into a corner by threatening to marry someone else, which would ruin the whole thing. Ugh.
“For your information, vintage engagement rings are all the rage right now. In fact, Ben Affleck just gave one to Ana de Armes.” Benana have broken up and gotten back together at least three times in the last six months, but they probably just had a few kinks to work out in their relationship before taking the next step.
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