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

by Stephanie Rowe

  "No, don't go. I'm really going to try to work this out. I want this to happen between us. I really do."

  "Fine. Give me a call when you have the details of the contract hammered out." I hung up the phone and handed it back to Emma.

  She grimaced. "I'm really sorry about interrupting. I had no idea you and Van would be out here kissing."

  "Me either." I leaned against the wall and let my head flop back against the plaster. "What am I doing?"

  "You're stringing two guys along, which is great. Now that I'm dating only one guy, we need one of us doing double duty." Emma gently tugged on a strand of my hair. "Don't worry so much about it. It'll work out."

  I looked at her. "But I'm confused. I mean, Noah's the one I want, so why did I kiss Van? And love it so much?" And I really had loved it. The mere recollection of his lips on mine sent goosebumps cascading down my arms.

  "I don't know." Emma tucked her arm through mine. "But let's go in there and find out."

  Against my better judgment, I returned to the party. It would have been the better plan to go into hibernation until I figured things out, so I couldn't screw anything up, but I was the guest of honor, wasn't I?

  Van had returned to the seat next to mine—that was a good sign, wasn't it?—and was chatting with Lindsey. April was listening to a discussion between Phoebe and Dave, and she didn't look happy.

  She looked like I usually felt at McCormick family gatherings. Alone, unhappy, and an outsider.

  So I sat down in my seat, set a hand on Van's shoulder—I felt the need to bond even if he was engaged in another conversation—and faced April. "How are you doing, April?"

  She turned to me and shrugged. "Fine."

  Should I ask about Travis? I wasn't sure whether that topic was open for discussion or whether it had been simply a momentary bonding. "How's the pregnancy going? Feeling all right?"

  "Usually. I think I've been pretty lucky." She twisted her napkin in her lap. "What's up with you and Noah?"

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Van look in our direction. I ignored him and faced April. "I don't think anything's going to happen with him."

  "Why not?"

  Was Van still listening? "Because I don't want a man who has to debate whether I'm worthwhile to pursue. After twenty years, if he doesn't know he really wants me, then it's not enough. Don't you think?"

  April nodded. "That's what I was trying to tell you about Travis. If he doesn't want me on his own, what do I have to gain by forcing him into marriage?" She nodded at Dave and Phoebe. "If I do, I might end up like Dave's wife."

  "I'll never let that happen to me."

  "How do you know? I mean, we can do our best, but it might still happen." Her eyes got teary again. "I don't know what to do."

  Hormonal pregnant woman again, but this time I didn't feel panicked. I felt like I understood her. "Have you talked to Travis?"

  She nodded. "He gets mad and storms out."

  "Guilt."

  "What?"

  "For his whole life, when Travis feels bad about something, he gets angry instead of dealing with it. If he's getting angry, that's a good sign. It means he cares a lot, so all hope isn't lost."

  A glimmer flashed in her eyes. "You think?"

  "Yep."

  "What about your mom? Would she accept me then?"

  I frowned. I wasn't so sure I could provide happy news on that front. "Honestly, I've never figured out how to win my mom's approval, so I can't help you there."

  April studied me. "Bummer."

  "Yeah." I held up a wine glass. "Cheers to being McCormick family rejects."

  She lifted her water glass and smiled. "Cheers."

  As I sipped my wine and looked out at the table, I felt the best I'd felt in a while. There was the distinct possibility of friendship with April, I was thoroughly reconciled with Emma, Phoebe and Dave, and there was something very interesting looming on the horizon with both Noah and Van.

  Very interesting indeed.

  Chapter Forty

  Five days later, either Noah had been in a plane crash on his way home, or he'd decided not to call me.

  I wasn't sure which reason I preferred.

  It was almost five o'clock on Wednesday, and I was about ready to head out to the reception at the New England Aquarium for the firm when Isabel appeared in my doorway. Her face was tight and tense.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Otto needs to see you now."

  I frowned. "Can't it wait until tomorrow? I have to leave now to get over to the Aquarium to make sure the food is all set." Okay, so I was also hoping to avoid Otto. Who needed to see him last thing before leaving the office? He'd give me nightmares all night long.

  Then again, knowing I had a meeting looming with him would be equally stressful.

  "Kathy said now."

  "Are you sure?" My gut sank a little bit. What could be so important? Somehow, I doubted he was consumed with a burning need to give me a raise or compliment me about something.

  "Now."

  Crap. "Can you do me a favor? Will you go over to the Aquarium and get things rolling in case this takes a while?" Translation: in case Otto needs an hour to bawl me out.

  Isabel's eyes widened. "You want me to go run the event?"

  "Just 'til I get there. You know what's going on more than anyone else does." Blaine had eased off a bit and actually let Isabel help me. Was it because of Emma or merely a reduced workload? Either way, I wasn't going to question it.

  "Okay." Isabel looked excited. "I'll head over now."

  It was weird to see her that fired up. It reminded me of how I had been when I started there. And it made me realize that I hadn't felt that way in a while. I was probably still recovering from the casino episode.

  I pushed my chair back. I might as well get it over with.

  Otto's door was shut when I knocked on it. "Come in."

  Darn it. My wish that he'd dropped to the ground in a coma hadn't come true. I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  He set down the contract he'd been reading and folded his arms on the desk, staring at me. "Sit down, Shannon."

  I sat and folded my hands in my lap to hide their trembling. "What can I do for you?"

  "I ran into Brett Stephens at a bar association meeting this afternoon."

  Brett Stephens? Who was he?

  "He clarified some things for me."

  I frowned. I had no idea what he was talking about.

  "You told me his daughter left the firm because you managed her out because she was a poor investment."

  Stephens? Missy's last name was Stephens, so was Brett Stephens her all-powerful attorney father who had been planning to call Otto and tell him off? Crap. "Otto—"

  He held up his hand to silence me. "Apparently, she left because of the casino night."

  I gritted my teeth. "Otto—"

  "She told him that I was a bastard who she could never work for, because of how I'd treated you." His face was red and sweat was dripping down his temples. "Apparently, she didn't understand that it was you who screwed up, not me. Isn't that your job, to make things clear for the interns?"

  I dug my fingernails into my hand, frantically running through my options. What was the best method for damage control?

  "And then, on top of that, you lied to me to explain why she'd left?"

  "She wasn't a good fit for the firm, Mr. Nelson. I wasn't making that up."

  "But you lied."

  Crap. "I—"

  He flipped a yellow legal pad across the desk. "You've been having interns sign documents that you aren't responsible for the bad situations you put them in?"

  Jessamee. Traitor. That notebook had been in my desk drawer. She'd ratted and someone had searched my desk. Unbelievable. "I can explain that..."

  "I don't want an explanation. Lying to interns, lying to me, making poor choices for outings, and having interns sign contracts to indemnify you." He scowled. "Lying to me." He spat out the last one with extra
venom, and it was all I could do not to cringe.

  I didn't suppose it would be in my best interest to point out he'd already mentioned that one. "Sir, there are explanations for all of that."

  "Do you realize the interns have given you a vote of no confidence?"

  I blinked. "What?"

  "Ms. Bouchillion brought me the memo. They feel that association with you is hampering their career opportunities."

  That little bitch. After all I'd done to help her when I'd really wanted to lay her out with a slap shot to the head.

  "This firm is built on an impeccable reputation. We simply can't have people representing us in a poor light. You're in charge of the interns, so you are the face of the firm to the people who are our future." He shook his head. "Your behavior is beyond redemption." He glared at me. "Ms. McCormick, you are fired."

  I froze, shocked into disbelief. Fired? As in fired? As in, no job? "Mr. Nelson, please give me a chance to explain."

  "Kathy? Can you please come in?" His secretary walked in as if she'd been hovering next to the door waiting to be summoned. Had she known my future when she'd called Isabel? Had she knowingly sent me in here with no warnings? "Please escort Ms. McCormick to her office to collect her personal belongings. Would you like me to have security accompany you?"

  Kathy looked at me. "I think we'll be fine."

  I couldn't give up. I couldn't let this happen, not after all I'd given to make this work. "Mr. Nelson, please let me explain."

  Kathy took my arm. "Come on, Shannon. It's over."

  "But it can't be." How could this happen? I thought I'd worked my way off probation? That he'd started to see what I brought to the firm?

  Otto sat back down at his desk and turned his back on me. Dismissed. "Mr. Nelson, please..."

  "Shannon." Kathy tugged on my arm. "Come outside with me for a minute."

  "But..."

  "Come on."

  I took one last glance at Otto's back, then I followed Kathy out of the office. She didn't stop walking when we got out there. Instead, she escorted me down the hall. Back to my office. "Kathy, there has to be something I can do."

  "There isn't. Have some pride and don't make him have to call security."

  That was my choice? Walk out with dignity or be dumped on my butt? No appeal? Tears were battling at the back of my eyes, but there was no way in hell I was going to let them out. We passed many attorneys, one of whom asked me what time the Aquarium festivities started. I muttered some answer, and forged ahead.

  There were too many people around. I had to leave. I had to get out with some dignity.

  I made it to my office and grabbed my purse. "Can I come back later for my pictures?" I had to get out. Get out, get out, get out.

  "No. Take your stuff now." She nodded at the corner. "There's a box."

  The box hadn't been there when I left. Someone had delivered it. That cardboard moving box. Such a statement of premeditated finality. It even had my name written on the side.

  Kathy shut my office door and started pulling photographs off my desk and setting them in the box.

  I bit my lower lip and ordered my tears to subside. No way was I going to fall apart in public. No way. Keep it together, Shannon.

  Kathy and I worked together for twenty minutes packing up my office. She checked every piece of paper I packed to make sure there was no firm information going home with me. I'd never felt like such a crook.

  She rode the elevator downstairs with me and walked me out to the sidewalk. It was too early for Van to be on duty, but it didn't stop me from looking over at the desk to see.

  No Van.

  Kathy held out her hand. "Your keycard."

  My keycard. To my office. To the firm. I fished it out of my purse and handed it to her.

  She took it without hesitation. "Good luck, Shannon. You know there are people here who will give you a reference."

  I said nothing. What was there to say?

  She gave me a sympathetic smile and then walked away, leaving me standing on the corner with my box. Three years of soul-draining service, reduced to one small box.

  Fired from a job that wasn't even worthy of me, according to my family. My family. What were they going to say?

  The rehearsal dinner for Lindsey's wedding was two days away. How the hell was I going to manage that?

  Forget it.

  I wasn't going.

  Tears sprung out of my eyes, and this time I couldn't stop them. I couldn't cope and there was only one person I wanted to talk to.

  I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Van's number, praying for him to answer.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Van didn't answer.

  So I hung up and dialed again.

  This time, he answered on the fourth ring, sounding breathless. "Hello?"

  All I could do was cry.

  "Shannon? What happened?"

  Fresh sobs burst free.

  "I got fired." Well, that's what I was trying to say. It came out sounding like unintelligible gibberish.

  "Where are you?"

  Wow. He'd understood. Must be a trained speech therapist or something. "On the sidewalk outside my office building."

  "Stay there. I'll be there in ten minutes."

  Stay here? "I can't. Everyone will see me." At that moment, the bus I'd reserved for the Aquarium pulled up. "I have to leave." I grabbed my box and stumbled down the street. I'd never realized how difficult it was to navigate city streets at rush hour when being blinded by tears.

  I sidestepped a cab honking at me and made it across the street unscathed. Unfortunately. A few good tread marks on my head might do wonders for my mental outlook.

  "Where are you going?"

  It sounded like Van was on the highway now. "I don't know. Somewhere away." I stopped in front of Mrs. Field's cookies. Chocolate. "I'm getting cookies."

  "Good. But where are you?"

  "I don't know." He cursed and I yelled at him. "Don't swear at me!"

  "I wasn't swearing at you. With you."

  Oh. That was better.

  "Where are you?" he asked again.

  God, was he a pest or what? I looked at the street signs and reported my location. Van gave me directions about where to meet him a couple blocks over, and I hung up.

  I ordered three dozen cookies and ate ten of them by the time I reached the spot I was supposed to meet Van.

  I sat on the curb with my bag of cookies and my box and my red puffy eyes, watching cars drive by. I had no idea what kind of a car Van drove, so I was embarrassed by leaping up on three different occasions and practically diving into the passenger seat of a car which slowed down to make a turn.

  One woman even shrieked and powered her window shut, nearly taking off my head.

  By the time the navy-blue SUV pulled to a stop in front of me, I refused to get up or acknowledge it.

  "Shannon!"

  I looked up to see the passenger door of the SUV open and Van leaning across the seat. He was wearing an old tee shirt and a pair of cut-off sweats and a baseball hat. Even though his sunglasses obscured his eyes, I knew he wasn't laughing at me. I stood up and let the fresh tears flow. "Van."

  He slammed his truck into park despite the annoyed honking of the car behind him—my hero, willing to brave the wrath of a Boston driver—and jumped out.

  He had me enveloped in a massive hug before I had a chance to move. I smashed my face into his shoulder and let him protect me. Did it feel good or what to have his arms around me? So good I bawled even harder.

  I felt his lips on the top of my head, and I cried more.

  He made comforting noises and rubbed my back. He didn't tell me to stop crying or to shape up. He just held me while I poured it all out.

  After what felt like an eternity, I had no more tears left. Were his arms cramping from holding me?

  Van put his lips against my ear. "Can you make it to the car?"

  I could do that, couldn't I? It was only a few feet away. "Probab
ly."

  He chuckled and guided me to the car, keeping his arms securely around me. He helped me get in—the narrow skirt that went with my suit wasn't exactly conducive to climbing into an SUV that didn't have running boards. He fastened my seatbelt like I was a little child and then kissed me, definitely not like a little child.

  "I'll get your stuff."

  My box ended up in the backseat, my cookies on my lap, Van in the driver's seat, and then we were off. To where? Didn't know, didn't care. I let my head flop back against the seat and closed my eyes.

  When he took my hand and held it, I didn't feel like crying as much, and some of the emptiness seemed to lessen.

  We didn't talk until I felt the truck bump up over a curb. I opened my eyes to find myself in a quiet suburban neighborhood, pulling into the driveway of a cute little ranch house. White walls, black shutters, and a well-kept small front lawn. "You live here?"

  "Yep." He pulled into the garage and shut off the car. "I hope it's okay to come here. You didn't seem to be in the mood to offer an opinion."

  "No, it's fine." I sure didn't want to go home where I would run into Dave and Phoebe and have to answer questions. Questions. How did one respond to "How was work today?" after you've been fired?

  He grabbed the cookies. "Let's go in."

  I followed him into the house. The first room we entered was a kitchen. It was clean and neat, not bad for a bachelor. "You have roommates?"

  "Nope." He set the cookies on the counter. "Want something to eat?"

  "The two dozen cookies filled me up."

  He grinned. "Two dozen?"

  "Yeah." I tore off my blazer. "Do you have something I could change into? I'm not in the mood to be wearing work clothes."

  "Sure. Be right back." He jogged out of the room.

  He hadn't asked me what happened, giving me my space until I was ready to talk about it. How did he know the right approach to take? How had he sensed I didn't want to recap it yet?

  Van reappeared holding a tee shirt, a pair of sweats and some socks. "I'm afraid they're going to be huge on you."

  "Better than the suit. Thanks." I followed his directions to the bathroom, where I shed the prison garments and pulled on Van's clothes. It took me an extra minute because I held them to my face and inhaled before I put them on. They smelled like Van, and it felt so good. Not that I was a stalker or anything. I needed some comfort, and Van's clothes were like my snuggle blanket.