One More Kiss (A Too Many Men Romantic Comedy / Chick Lit Novel)

by Stephanie Rowe

  Oh, crap. What was I doing? My job wasn't to tell interns to suck it up. It was to protect them. But I really wasn't in the mood. I had my own problems to deal with. "Sorry, Missy. I didn't mean to come across so strongly. Let's have a meeting on Monday at nine and we'll talk. Don't do anything before then."

  Maybe by that time, I'd have my own emotions under control enough to talk to Missy.

  "Don't you have to meet with Otto on Monday morning?"

  Gee, thanks for that reminder. "We'll find a time. Call Isabel when you get in and she'll find something." Assuming of course she had time to work my schedule. Not sure with Blaine still around. "Let's get back to the group. Might as well enjoy tonight. Nothing bad is going to happen to you here."

  She eyed me suspiciously. "Something bad happened to you."

  Excellent point. "It did, but I'll survive." And I would. Somehow. Some way. I would get paste it. "How about some dessert, Missy?"

  I took her arm and guided her back to the tables, depositing her next to Hildy and another young lawyer. Male, but young enough that he didn't have chauvinistic views toward women. Plus, he was good looking, and he'd gone to Yale. If those two lawyers couldn't win Missy over, no one could. I eyed Hildy. "Missy's a little shaken up by Otto's...ahem...coaching of me. Might want to chit chat about it."

  Hildy nodded and put her arm around Missy's shoulders and started chatting her up. I walked away before I could listen to Hildy telling Missy how great M&S was and how she didn't need to worry about being miserable. In Hildy's mind, she probably wasn't lying. M&S wasn't miserable. But I couldn't stand there and listen to someone convince Missy to accept a job that would destroy her.

  I know, I put her in Hildy's clutches, so I was as guilty as if I'd done it myself. On the other hand, Missy was an adult. Old enough to make her own decisions, right?

  Yeah, right. I was a horrible person and I was going to burn in hell. And it wouldn't be after I died. It would be now, it would be Monday. And Tuesday and Wednesday and the rest of my career at this firm. All of it, hell.

  By the time I got home, I was no longer embarrassed and humiliated. I was furious. How dare he berate me in front of everyone else? I slammed open the door to our apartment, kicked it shut, threw my keys on the floor, hurled my shoes into the living room, stomped into the kitchen and yanked open the fridge door to a satisfying clank as three bottles of salad dressing fell out of the door onto the floor.

  I grabbed an opened bottle of wine and shoved the door shut, leaving the salad dressing on the floor. With any luck, I'd step on one, fall and break my femur. I'd have to be in traction for six months, and I could spend my days watching soaps and living on disability. It would be great.

  "What are you doing?" Emma appeared in the doorway, wearing her non-date sleeping outfit, namely sweats and a baggy tee shirt. When she had men over, she had a much more interesting assortment of nightwear to choose from.

  I poured a glass of wine and sat down at the table. "The managing partner screamed at me in front of all the attorneys and interns. Told me I was incompetent and deserved to be fired. He also informed me that I wasn't capable of being trusted to make good decisions, so I have to run every decision by him for the rest of the summer." I was getting angry again just thinking about it. "Do you have any idea what I've done for that firm?"

  "Yes, I do." Emma grabbed a glass and poured herself some wine, then curled up in another chair. "Why didn't you tell him to screw himself?"

  "I did."

  She lifted her eyebrows. "Really?"

  "In my head."

  She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Shannon. That doesn't count."

  "What am I supposed to do? Punch him in the face?"

  "That would be a good start."

  I snorted and leaned back in my chair. "Unlike you, I actually need my job. I can't afford to lose it by pissing off some influential partner."

  "Why do you need your job?"

  I gestured at the kitchen. "To pay rent. To pay bills. To buy food." To buy my sister's engagement gift. "Unlike you, I don't have my parents supporting me."

  She narrowed her eyes. "Don't make any snide remarks about that. My parents offer. What am I supposed to do, turn them down?"

  "Yes! You've been out of college for three years! Try supporting yourself! Try taking a little responsibility for something. Anything!"

  Emma set her glass down on the table, sloshing wine over the rim. "Hey! Don't get mad at me! I'm just trying to help."

  "By telling me to yell at Otto and get fired? How is that helping?" My voice was getting louder, but I couldn't help it.

  "Because you're miserable, and you're in this stupid job just to prove your parents wrong or right or something. You think you're being different from them, but you're working in a law firm. Oh, but you're not a lawyer. No, but you play the same game they do. You wear the same clothes, work the same hours, and suck up to management. You're not the independent woman you think you are. You're everything you don't want to be, and you don't have the guts to realize it and actually take some risks. Instead you just let everyone else make you miserable, while you delude yourself that you're tough and independent. Well, forget it, Shannon! I'm sick and tired of hearing you complain and then doing nothing about it!"

  I jumped to my feet. "Don't ever accuse me of being like my family! You're wrong!"

  "Fine. Be deluded. See if I care." And then she got up and marched out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. She slammed the door so hard that the glasses in the cabinet rattled and the calendar fell off the wall.

  I shouted an epithet at her, and she screamed one back. Then she turned on some music and cranked it up.

  Fine. I didn't want to talk to her anyway.

  I grabbed my wine and stalked into the living room and turned on the television. The tears creeping out of my eyes? An illusion. I was too mad to cry.

  But dammit, this really sucked.

  My one friend who I could talk about it with wasn't speaking to me. No, I wasn't speaking to her, because she didn't deserve to be spoken to. How could she accuse me of all that? I would have thought she would understand how hard I was trying. Trying to what? Succeed? Survive? Figure out what the hell I wanted from my life and my career.

  I looked at the phone.

  Maybe I should call Max. Maybe he would understand.

  I picked up my phone and stared at the screen. Don't call him! But I needed to. I needed to talk to someone who could understand. Someone who knew my family, who understood how hard I was trying, who knew I was good at what I did.

  Max would understand. After listening to me for two years, he knew me.

  I unlocked the phone and scrolled to my Favorites.

  "Don't call him."

  I looked up to find Emma standing in the door. "Go away."

  "You're calling Max, aren't you?"

  "None of your business." I selected his name and lifted the phone to my ear.

  "Shannon!" Emma ran across the room and grabbed the phone out of my hand. She hit disconnect then threw the phone across the room. "What are you doing?"

  "I need to talk to him!"

  "No, you don't! You've lasted almost three weeks without him. If you call him now, you'll never break the cycle."

  "Maybe I don't want to. Maybe I belong with him. He understands me, he makes my life with my family tolerable, and everyone at the firm loves him. Maybe he's right not to let me walk away."

  "And what are you going to do when you're on your honeymoon with him and you meet your true love, but you're wearing Max's ring on your finger?"

  How dare she throw that back in my face? That had been a confidential confession given during a moment of bonding. "At least he'd never accuse me of being like my family."

  "Fine. Whatever. I give up." She retrieved my phone and tossed it on the couch next to me. "Call him. I'm going to bed."

  She walked into her room and slammed the door again as hard as she could.

  I stared at the phone. God, I
was so lonely. So miserable. Dave was with his wife. Phoebe was off in Chicago with her fiancé. I had no one to call, except Max.

  But I didn't pick up the phone.

  After a long time, I retrieved the rest of the wine, put in a war movie, and imagined Otto's head on the body of every person who got killed.

  And each time I went for the phone, I made myself wait another fifteen minutes. If I still had to call Max when those fifteen minutes were up, then I could do it.

  But the wine took over before I succumbed. I fell asleep while "Otto" was getting blown up by a hand grenade between his legs.

  Chapter Fifteen

  If I caught my heel on a cobblestone, fell, and broke my collarbone, then maybe I'd have a legit excuse for skipping my sister's engagement party. Six-weeks-worth of pain and my arm in a sling would be worth it, don't you think?

  I had a raging headache from the wine episode last night, and I still hated everyone in my life.

  But I wasn't going to give any member of my family the satisfaction of knowing I was miserable. They'd gloat and wave law school applications in front of my face, and then I'd have to karate chop them all into oblivion, and that would certainly put a damper on the party. Plus, it would make me look bad, and after last night's humiliation, I was somewhat in favor of a low-key evening. Engaging in various martial arts on my family members wouldn't be conducive to that goal.

  Therefore, I was going to be chipper and positive and basically scintillating tonight. And try to avoid as many people as possible.

  I forced a smile to my face and looked into the lobby of the Sleeping Pines Country Club, which was decorated with white roses. No, not decorated. Saturated with them, in an ostentatious display of money and connections. The paintings hanging on the walls were all originals that belonged in a museum, and the expensive Italian marble floors shouted "guess how much I cost!" The doorknobs were engraved gold leaf, as were the intricate designs on the ceilings.

  There was a man in a tuxedo at the front door, opening it for everyone, bowing obsequiously as each person glided past.

  So not my style. No wonder my mom had been worried I would embarrass her. This place was seriously out of my comfort zone.

  "Shannon? Shannon McCormick? Is that you?" There stood one of my parents' friends. I wasn't sure of her name. She looked familiar though. She'd probably had cocktails with my parents when I was growing up.

  "Hello," I said. "It's so lovely to see you." God, was I impressive or what? No sarcasm in there at all.

  I did the requisite floating-air-cheek kiss with the woman. "Shannon, your sister looks so beautiful. Soon to be married at age twenty-three. To a doctor! How wonderful!"

  "Fabulous. We just love him." Smile, Shannon. Get away before she asks...

  "So, when are you going to follow in your parents' footsteps and go to law school?"

  I gritted my teeth. "Oh, I don't know. We'll have to see."

  "Shannon works at Miller & Shaw, you know." My mom magically appeared out of thin air, no doubt driven by her sixth sense to protect the McCormick family name from being maligned.

  "Oh!" The nameless woman looked startled and impressed. "I didn't realize you were a lawyer. At M&S? Impressive."

  "I'm not a..."

  "Shannon. Your sister is looking for you. Let's go find her." My mom interrupted before I could shatter the image by announcing I was the social director, not a lawyer. She grabbed my arm and dragged me away.

  "Mom." I pulled free. "No matter how hard you try, someone here tonight is going to figure out I'm not a lawyer."

  My mom shot me a look, then she stopped and straightened my dress. "I'm glad to see you bought something decent. You look very nice."

  Of course I looked nice. It was my sister's engagement party. Just because I wasn't a professional didn't mean I had no social skills. "I even got it altered to fit me. How about that, huh?"

  My mom eyed me. "Off the rack?"

  "Of course. I'm a social director. I don't have the money to buy designer clothes." Like she didn't already know that. It was her way of gently reminding me what I'd given up by refusing to go to law school.

  "I really wish you would let me buy your dress for the rehearsal dinner. We could go to one of the boutiques on Newbury Street and get you something that's perfect for you."

  Something up to her standards, she meant. My mom would praise the heavens if I actually let her pick out and fund my wardrobe for the rehearsal dinner. Think of the control she'd have had over me then. It would be a dream come true for her.

  Well, too bad. There was a limit to what I'd do. I'd buy a decent dress and show up freshly showered, but I wasn't going to let my mom start funding my existence. The minute I did that, my independence would be gone. Not that I was independent, according to Emma. What did Emma know about independence? She still got three grand a month for living expenses from her parents.

  I took a deep breath. Hadn't I resolved to be positive tonight? No hating anyone, no bitter feelings about myself. Besides, what was the point in being confrontational with my mom anyway? It wasn't like I'd change her, no matter how many psychic commands I sent in her direction.

  Now, if Blaine were here, that might change her. At the very least, I might be spared disparaging looks for an hour or two. Not like there was any chance of him showing up tonight, though.

  He'd been sequestered all day Friday so I didn't have to see him, which spared me any post-nipple-sighting small talk, but I was astute enough to notice that by not seeing me all day, he hadn't had to get any final details about the engagement party. I'd finally left him a voicemail with the directions and said to meet me there, but I wasn't holding out any hope.

  Not that I wanted to spend the night with him after he'd insulted my clothes and gave me those smarmy looks when Dirk's name came up, but his presence would have made my family a lot more bearable, and for that, I'd be willing to put up with him. Not that he was coming anyway.

  Figured. I'd actually be dressing up to his standards today, in my nifty black cocktail dress that was off the rack, but still mind-bogglingly expensive, at least for my budget. But my mom could smell bargain clothes like a dog could smell a cat under a bed. So what if I'd have to forego groceries for three months? It wasn't worth the aggravation to push my mom that far.

  My mom dumped me in a little discussion group of fifteen-year-olds, who all looked more sophisticated than I felt. Especially when I realized they were discussing the distribution of money from their trust funds. Nice.

  I tuned out the conversation and glanced around the room. Typical McCormick family gathering. Lots of designer names on the clothes, not an off-the-rack suit in the place, and there was my little sister, looking all radiant and happy while she hung on the arm of her oh-so-handsome doctor fiancé, Geoff Ziegler.

  My dad had his arm around Geoff's shoulders and was laughing at one of Geoff's jokes. And it wasn't his "work laugh." It was a real laugh. He actually liked Geoff. My sister had made my dad truly happy.

  I studied my sister. Flushed cheeks, sparkly eyes, huge smile. She looked legitimately happy too. How could that be? How could living life to make my parents happy actually be emotionally satisfying?

  So, she had it all. My parents loved her. She loved herself. She loved her life. She loved her fiancé.

  So happy for her.

  "Shannon."

  I turned to find my brother Travis standing behind me. His insanely beautiful and smart girlfriend was leaning on his arm, decorated with an impressive quantity of diamonds. Travis made very good money as a stockbroker, and he loved to spend it on showy things. He did my parents proud. "Hi, Travis. Hello, April. So good to see you guys."

  April gave me a smile, her eyes already drifting over my shoulder as if she was trying to find someone she actually wanted to talk with. "You look lovely, Shannon." She was holding a huge box, beautifully wrapped in silver paper with gold wedding bells on it. A discreet card was tucked under the ribbon. I wondered if I should chec
k to see if my name was actually on there. And I wasn't coughing up the five hundred bucks until they asked for it. Maybe I could work out a payment plan.

  "Where's Max?" April asked.

  "I broke up with him." Note the pronouns. I broke up with him.

  April looked startled as she finally looked directly at me. "Why?"

  "Because." Okay, a bit too much hostility there. How was I going to make it through the evening if I was already turning into queen bitch? It was a hell of a lot easier than trying to explain that I felt he simply wasn't the one. On the plus side, I had managed to refrain from calling him last night, and I was pretty proud of myself. And if I'd seen Emma at any point today, I would have apologized and thanked her for interfering. But she'd been gone by the time I woke up, and she hadn't reappeared.

  Which was fine.

  It gave me the day to wallow alone and to try to decide how I was going to present myself at the engagement party to best hide my misery.

  "I always thought Max was nice," April said. "I've run into him at quite a few social functions and he's always been charming."

  Charming didn't mean he was my soulmate.

  Travis looked at me sternly. "You dumped Max, and Mom says you're still at M&S as the social director. Is that true?"

  I lifted my chin. "Yes."

  He met my gaze. "Why?"

  "Why what?"

  "Why are you still there? You can't tell me you like playing mommy to all those lawyers."

  He had me there.

  Travis shook his head. "You could get into any graduate school. You're smart, you work hard, you could do anything. So why are you doing that?"

  If only he hadn't added that last question, it could almost have been taken as a compliment. "Because I want to." But even as I said it, I knew that it was at least a little bit of a lie, both to him and to myself.

  "Travis! April! When did you guys get here?" My dad slung an arm around each of them and started to walk off with them. "Come over and say hello to Lindsay and Geoff."

  I cleared my throat. "Hi, Dad."