Once Upon a Second Chance

by Marian Vere

  I glared down at my plate, sulking over my first few fries. Oh well, he’s probably married. Or gay. That’s the way it goes, right? Or—

  But my thought was cut short by the sound of someone sitting down in the empty seat at my table. A plate and drink suddenly occupied the space opposite me, and I looked up and into the amazing eyes I thought I’d never see again.

  “Do you mind?” he asked, timidly gesturing to the seat he had just taken.

  Holy crap! A hot guy wants to sit with me! Okay, okay, stay calm, be cool, don’t blush like a twelve-year-old.

  I grinned and nodded, not trusting my voice.

  He smiled that same heart-stopping smile and held out a hand for me to shake. “I’m Nick.”

  “Julia.”

  The announcement of the Houston Street stop snaps me back to the present, and I’m both sad and relieved to be distracted from the memory. That’s how my fairy godmother introduced me to my very own Prince Charming—or so I’d thought when I was still young and naïve. Since then, I’ve learned that fairy godmothers and magic wands are pretty pictures that people in love use to make a point. It’s easy for people to talk when they’re happy, doe-eyed, and blind to the fact that fairy tales are for children who don’t know any better. But, when those same people find themselves out of love, suddenly that charming “We both happened to take the same subway even though he usually takes a cab, and I usually walk! I must have a fairy godmother!” story becomes “I should have known the minute I stepped on that disgusting subway not to talk to him! Only jerks and creeps try to pick up women on the subway. What was I thinking?”

  With a sigh I close my eyes and sink lower into my seat. Yes, back then I thought I was on the way to my very own happily ever after. However, I discovered that what Fairy Godmother giveth, she could taketh away.

  2

  “THE NEXT TIME YOU GET anything that says ‘confidential’ on it, you send it straight in to me, understand?”

  “Yes, Ms. Basham.”

  “Now this all has to be redone because the seal has been broken! How am I supposed to explain this?”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Basham.”

  As I arrive at Lisa’s office, I find her in the process of scolding her new receptionist. The poor thing doesn’t look a day past twenty and, by the expression on her face, could very well be soiling herself as we speak. I really do feel bad for her. Don’t get me wrong, Lisa is a wonderful woman who was born for the business world, and to know her is to love her. But even I can admit, not to know her is definitely to fear her.

  I can’t help but smile as I lean back and wait for the tongue lashing to end. Lisa is someone who tackles the business world with an iron fist, which is how she got to be where she is. All her employees and co-workers respect her as a focused leader, though fear comes inherently with that kind of respect. They all know Lisa is a great person, but they’re also well aware that you don’t want to cross her.

  Even as a girl she was cutthroat. She was the first kid to be chosen for dodge ball and the last kid you wanted to play a board game with. Softball, swim team, debate club, spelling bee—everything she did, she was the best. Not because she was particularly talented in any one area, but because she worked for it. She was driven. It was no surprise that she graduated at the top of her class, or that she had no problem getting into Harvard Business School, or that she obtained the level of success she has now. If Lisa wants something, she doesn’t stop until she gets it.

  Luckily for me, this take-no-prisoners attitude not only applied to her competitive and professional endeavors, but to her family as well. She has always had a very strong belief in protecting one’s own—namely me. Our father only passed away in recent years, but our mother died when I was six and Lisa had just turned ten. Since then, Lisa has really been both a mother and a sister to me. She packed my lunches for grade school, got me ready for my first day of high school, was there to help me pick out my prom dress, and she wouldn’t let me stop until my college admissions essay was perfect. But more than just the trivial, she has always gone out of her way to take care of me emotionally as well, giving the advice and the guidance that she thought our mother would have given if she were here.

  I try not to smirk as I think of her employees having the chance to meet that Lisa. The Lisa who was sweet and motherly, who took care of me when I was sick, and who used to tuck me in at night and read me stories. The Lisa who—though by no means perfect—really is the best sister anyone could ask for.

  Lisa had just finished reading to me, and we sat curled up together in my bed.

  “How will my fairy godmother know how to find me?” I asked, running my fingers over the picture of the sparkly dress the princess on the book cover was wearing.

  “The same way Santa knows how to find you,” Lisa answered matter-of-factly. “She knows everything. You see, she’ll show up when you need her most, she’ll know all about you, and know just how to help you.”

  “She’ll know about me? Everything?”

  “Sure, she has to. How else can she know who you should marry?”

  “What about the bad stuff about me, will she know that too?”

  “What bad stuff?”

  “Like when I broke the picture frame and told Dad it fell over by itself, or when I don’t finish my dinner?” I asked, holding the book tighter, as if clinging to the dreams my fairy godmother might take away because I didn’t like peas.

  “No, she won’t care about that stuff.” She smiled as I sighed in relief. “Her only job is to see that you get your Prince Charming.”

  “Will I get a pretty dress too?”

  “I don’t know. I guess if you need one.”

  “I think I’ll need one.”

  “Then I’m sure she’ll give you one,” Lisa said, chuckling as she crawled out of my bed and pulled the covers up under my chin. “Whatever it takes so you can live happily ever after.”

  Lisa’s bellowing continues to pour out of the office door, bringing me back to the moment. “This is payroll information! Employees’ personal records! Do you have any idea what could have happened if it fell into the wrong hands? Do you have any idea how many lawsuits we would have been facing?”

  I bite my tongue to suppress a chuckle. Yes, if only her employees knew how sweet she can be, everyone involved would probably keel over and die: the employees from shock—Lisa, of embarrassment.

  I wait quietly by the door for the rant to end, pretending not to listen. After suffering another minute or so of berating, the watery-eyed receptionist slinks out past me with her tail between her legs. Deciding it’s safe to enter, I step through the door into Lisa’s enormous office.

  “You know you wouldn’t lose so many receptionists if you didn’t scare the hell out of them their first week on the job.”

  “Jules!” Lisa looks up from her computer, obviously shocked to see me. “When did you get here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  “There was a big meeting this afternoon that I wasn’t needed for, so I got out early.” Not entirely a lie. “I came to see if you wanted to do dinner tonight.”

  “Sure, that’d be great! I have a conference call in five minutes, but it shouldn’t be more than an hour. If you don’t mind waiting you can hang out here, and we’ll go after that.”

  “All right.” I take a seat in one of the armchairs across from the desk. I look up to see Lisa staring at me, thinking. “What?”

  “Nothing.” As she turns back to her desk, she gets a mischievous glint in her eye. Before I can comment, she picks up her phone and hits two buttons. “Hi, Zach, it’s Lisa.”

  Oh no.

  Lisa has been trying to fix me up with Zach Connoray since he started as a copywriter at her firm over two years ago. The fact that he has a huge crush on me doesn’t help things. He is all for the idea of us going out. Me, not so much.

  “…so if you have some time…”

  “NO!” I mouth to her, but she just smiles.

  “…woul
d you mind coming up to my office? Julia’s here and I need someone to entertain her while I’m on a call.”

  “I’m gonna kill you!” I mouth again through clenched teeth, giving her the most menacing glare I can work up. Her shoulders shake with silent laughter.

  “Great! See you in a few.”

  As soon as the receiver hits the cradle, I yell, “Why would you do that!”

  “I thought you might like some company,” she says innocently.

  “I can entertain myself, thank you!”

  “Oh come on, Jules, he’s a great guy! You need to stop being so damn picky!”

  “I know he’s a great guy. It’s not him; I don’t date. That’s not being picky.”

  “Come on, he’s crazy about you. Just give him a chance. You need something to do for the next hour anyway. Speaking of…” She sits down and dials into her call, effectively ending my whining fit.

  I walk out into the hall and wait for Zach to come up. Shouldn’t take him long. Lisa is right; he’s crazy about me. He is very nice, warm, funny, and charming—an all-around great guy. I am in no way going to deny that. I also have no doubt he will make someone a wonderful boyfriend. Just not me.

  I don’t date. Not since…well, I just don’t.

  I did try for a while. I went out with several guys—mostly setups by Lisa—and they were all great…except. That’s just it—except. There was something wrong with all of them. One was too committed to work, one too attached to his mother, one too affectionate, one not affectionate enough, one too tall, one too short, and so on. Toward the end I came to terms with the fact that I was being insane, and gave up on the whole institution of relationships. The fact of the matter was that all my “excepts” were really only one thing. They were all great except they weren’t him. I was going to find something wrong with anyone I tried to date no matter how wonderful they were, simply because they were not the man I really wanted. So, as opposed to leading on countless men for the rest of my life and being miserable in the process, I renounced all dating attempts and have since lived my own personal version of happily ever after. Maybe my version would be better described as contentedly ever after, but I’m fine with that. Happily ever after is overrated anyway. Contented can’t be taken from you. Contented is good.

  Right?

  In any event, I am not about to lift my relationship embargo just to stomp on the hopes of a great guy like Zach. Anything more than friendship between Zach and I would never work because, honestly, I wouldn’t let it. He would just end up getting hurt. Better to let him have a crush on me, and eventually someone else will catch his fancy and I’ll be old news. For now, all I have to do is smile and be as friendly as possible without giving him any ideas.

  Just when I sit on the couch in the waiting area, Zach turns the corner with a big grin on his face.

  Here we go.

  After an hour and twelve minutes in Zach’s office, twenty minutes in Lisa’s office waiting for her to get off a last minute call, and a nine-block walk to the restaurant after giving up on a cab, Lisa and I finally sit down to dinner. We had decided on Marino’s, an Italian place only a few blocks from my apartment. Great food, great service, great atmosphere, great…wine. I start draining another glass and Lisa eyes me suspiciously.

  “So what’s going on? Why are we lushing this evening?”

  “I’m not lushing.”

  “That’s your third glass and we’ve been here twenty minutes. Plus you were the one who ordered the whole bottle. You’re depressed.” It wasn’t a question.

  I reach for a piece of bruschetta without looking up. “What was the deal with your receptionist today?”

  She rolls her eyes at my blatant change of subject. “Oh, nothing. We’ve had some payroll issues lately. Someone down in accounting may be stealing money. I’d sent for the accounts payable invoices so I could look them over, but I had to have them redone, as Becky decided to open a file marked ‘confidential.’ No biggie. She won’t do it again,” she added with a slightly evil grin.

  “Someone in payroll is stealing?”

  “Possibly. Now stop avoiding the subject,” she says, done with my diversion tactics. “Spill.”

  I take another sip of wine, then stare down at my plate. “Our group was assigned a new client today.”

  “Okay…”

  “A thirty-one-year-old entrepreneur who is currently worth over seventeen billion dollars.” I pause, taking a deep breath. “Mr. Nicholas Kerkley.” I see her eyes widen.

  “As in…”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “And this meeting you weren’t needed for today…”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  An awkward silence follows. After a few moments, Lisa reaches for the wine bottle and tops me off, giving me a sympathetic half smile. I return it—though I’m pretty sure my smile comes off more as a painful grimace—and look back down at my plate.

  “So,” she says, not-so-subtly changing the subject, “why aren’t you a consultant yet?”

  I roll my eyes and glare at her. She’s obviously trying to piss me off. Maybe she thinks anger will be a good emotional distraction.

  “Really? You’re going to go there? We’ve been over this, and nothing has changed.” I try to keep my cool and thwart her plan. “Margaret is the consultant, Bree is the junior, and I am the admin.”

  “Who could be the junior,” she says, adding her own ending to my sentence.

  “Bree got the position. I didn’t.”

  “Because you didn’t try. You could have had it all over Bree, and you know it.”

  “She is better suited for the job than I am, that’s all. She’s got the personality.”

  “That’s about the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard. Personality my ass! She graduated from community college with a degree in general business. You interned at Stauncher House for God’s sake! You should be leading your own group by now!”

  I rest my elbows on the table and rub my eyes. “Next topic please.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yep.”

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “Got to be better than this.” I take another drink. “Try me.”

  “How did it go with Zach?”

  Damn. I glare at her. “Yeah, still gonna kill you, by the way.”

  “What did you two do?” she asks, undeterred by my threats.

  I sigh, rolling my eyes. “We discussed how Zach’s assistant needs to dye her hair back to brown, talked about the television lineup, then watched a plethora of stupid videos on YouTube. It was magical.”

  “Sounds like it,” she says, with an obvious ooh-la-la inflection.

  “Give it up, Lis.”

  “Oh, lighten up. I’m just trying to help you.”

  “I don’t need help. I’m fine.”

  At my declaration, she leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. “You mean to tell me you want to be alone forever? That you don’t at all miss having a night out, or the occasional…bed partner,” she whispers.

  “Bed partner…seriously? What is this, Victorian England?”

  “What would you prefer? Booty call?”

  “Actually—” I smirk “—I think I would.”

  “Anyway, I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”

  “So you’re saying I need a man to be happy? This coming from the woman who has proclaimed to God and anyone else who would listen, that she’s going die happy and alone?”

  “Yes, and that’s me. I’ve never wanted marriage, or kids, or the picket fence.” She waves her hand dismissively. “I’m not a happily ever after kind of person.”

  “Neither am I.”

  “You used to be.”

  She’s right; I used to be. But that was before.

  “Regardless,” Lisa continues, “I’m not talking about love or anything like that. I’m not trying to marry you off; I just want you to have a little fun. Hell, even I go on a date every now and again.”
<
br />   “Well, you enjoy yourself.” I raise my glass in a mock toast before taking another swig.

  “All right, all right, I get it,” she says, lifting her hands in mock defeat. “I’m just saying, having a man can be fun when you give it a chance.”

  The waiter comes back with our food just in time, and I concentrate on my ravioli. Unpleasant as the conversation has been, I know she’s at least somewhat right. I probably could have my own group by now if I wanted it.

  I had wanted it.

  I used to be ambitious.

  But that was before.

  She was right about another thing too. Having a man can be fun.

  “Well, that’s two hours of my life I’ll never get back.”

  “Just be glad we waited to rent it and didn’t see it in the theaters. Then it would have been two hours and twenty bucks you’d never get back,” I said with a laugh, as Nick reached across the couch, grabbed me from behind, and pulled me up against his chest. I laid my head back onto his shoulder and closed my eyes. “After all, it couldn’t have been that bad. I was with you,” I added sarcastically.

  He turned his head and lightly brushed his nose up and down my cheek. “You, my love, are the only thing that kept me from throwing my shoe at the screen.”

  “Why, because I was with you, or because it’s my TV?” I asked, goose bumps rising on my arms.

  “Yes,” he breathed, then kissed the hollow under my ear.

  We had been together for a month and a half, and I was totally and completely in love. I had become one of “those people.” The ones that single folks can’t stand to be around, because we’re always in a lovesick daze. I knew it was totally cliché, but I couldn’t help myself. He was perfect.

  And he loved me.

  Really loved me. There wasn’t anything he said or did that didn’t have those three little words hidden behind it. He was sweet and affectionate, but not in the annoy-the-hell-out-of-you clingy way, but more like the makes-you-feel-like-the-center-of-his-world way. By day he was absolutely devoted to me, and by night…well…wow.