Aggressively flipping her head toward the fully occupied cherrywood bar and nearly slapping another patron in the face with her hair, Erin said, “There’s nowhere to sit.” She frowned.
I rolled my eyes toward the Great Gatsby-esque lights on the high ceiling.
“Stop acting like a geriatric. You’re only twenty-six. I think you can stand for a few minutes.” I glanced at my watch and then toward the entrance of the crowded restaurant. Hurry up, Nicholas. “Would you mind ordering me a glass of prosecco, Ger? My sister could use a shot of Jagermeister.”
“Ugh,” Erin said, shuddering. “A whisky sour for me, honey.” Gerry retreated his slender frame to the bar, and Erin turned back to me. “I haven’t put an ounce of Jager into my body since I almost died from it. You were a horrible babysitter.”
My eyes bugged out. “Babysitter? You weren’t five. You were visiting me in college and if I recall, very anxious to be independent. And you didn’t almost die. Although the smell of your stale puke wafting through our dorm room for the next forty-eight hours almost killed me and my roommate.”
Erin examined her maroon-painted fingernails. “You have your version, and I have mine.”
“Seriously? But for me, you would have lost your virginity to some sleazy frat boy while you were passed out drunk. I protected you.”
“Protected her from what?” Gerry asked with a curious arch of his brow as he returned with our drinks. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” Erin said before taking a sip of her drink. “Where is Nicholas?”
“I’m sure he’s on his way, but I’ll text him if you’re so concerned.” I sent Nicholas a quick text asking how long he would be and turned back to Gerry, who was still looking at us expectantly. “Erin never told you how I swooped in and saved her from an overzealous and completely shit-faced college sophomore who had no idea she was only fifteen?”
“Unlike my sister, I developed very young,” Erin said, her eyes dropping to her significant cleavage with a smirk.
“I’m not going to argue with you, but I got my boobs pretty early too,” I said. Erin had several inches on me both in height and general frame, and although we didn’t share many physical attributes, our large bra size ran in the family.
“I thought you weren’t going to argue with me,” Erin said, rolling her doe eyes.
“Anyway…” I said to a bemused Gerry. “I let Erin flirt shamelessly with the guy, Zeke, but maintained a hawkeye watch on her the entire night because I knew she wasn’t used to drinking. When I saw Zeke lead a swaying and half-awake Erin into a bedroom, I followed them, pulled him off of her with strength I didn’t know I had, and told him to get the hell off of my fifteen-year-old sister before I called the cops.” Turning to Erin, I said, “I was never invited to one of their parties again, by the way.”
Ruffling Erin’s hair, Gerry said, “Thank you for protecting my wife’s virtue.”
“I’m glad someone appreciates me,” I said, nudging my sister.
Smoothing down her hair, Erin said, “I appreciate you.”
After we finished our drinks and Erin showed me pictures of their newly furnished house, she looked at her watch and made a sour face. “Where’s your man? It’s seven thirty.”
“I don’t know,” I said, reaching for my phone and seeing Nicholas had returned my text. I read his message and looked up at Erin and Gerry with a frown. “He’s running late. He said we should sit down and order drinks and appetizers.”
“Are you okay with that, sis?” Erin asked hopefully.
“I don’t mind waiting as long as we keep drinking,” Gerry said, raising his empty glass.
I was about to agree with Gerry when Erin piped in. “We’ll lose our table.”
“Technically, they need to wait fifteen minutes before giving away our table. Do you mind stalling a bit? He should be here soon.”
“Fine,” Erin said, leaning against Gerry as if she were too exhausted to hold herself up. “Have you heard from Hannah lately?”
“No,” I lied. I wasn’t ready to tell Erin I took her advice and asked Hannah for help and that her agent was now reading my book. I’d never hear the end of it. “I’ll buy the next round of drinks,” I said, scurrying to the bar.
When Nicholas still hadn’t shown up ten minutes later, and I didn’t think I could take one more inquiry from my sister regarding his arrival time, the hostess led us to our table where we ordered another round of drinks and a couple of appetizers to share.
“I should pick Nicholas’s brain about our new phone app. I’m not sure I trust our intellectual property lawyer,” Gerry said, tossing the pit from a marinated olive onto his plate.
I glanced at my phone again. “Assuming he ever gets here, I’m sure he’d be happy to help you.” I sat up straighter, hoping to spot Nicholas walking through the restaurant toward our table. Where the hell was he?
Echoing my inner thoughts, Erin asked, “Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” I said, sinking lower into my chair as my stomach churned with anxiety. He hadn’t responded to my last text, which I hoped meant he was on the subway.
“Would he mind if we ordered our main courses?” Gesturing toward the empty plates on the table, Erin said, “I’m starving, and oysters and olives aren’t going to cut it.”
I was famished too. “Fine. Let’s order.” I caught the eye of our waiter and waved him over. I sent another text to Nicholas telling him if he didn’t get here soon, we were eating all of the fondue.
Forty-five minutes later, I poked a fingerling potato into the four-cheese fondue and brought it to my mouth with a sigh. “I’m out.” I raised my palms up in defeat.
“Me too,” Gerry said, tossing his napkin on his plate. “I’m stuffed.”
Erin yawned. “I’m sleepy. It’s almost my bed time.”
“You really are an old lady,” I said with a chuckle until it dawned on me it was eight thirty, and Nicholas was still nowhere to be seen.
“I’m so sorry we didn’t get to meet Nicholas,” Erin said.
“He could still be on his…” I cut myself off as my heart sank in realization. Nicholas wasn’t going to make it. “He’s been so busy at work lately. But next time, I promise,” I said, with a meek smile in my sister’s direction. We had saved dinner for the tail end of their trip, and they were headed home in the morning.
In a show of unexpected kindness, Erin patted my hand across the table. “Maybe his boss cornered him, and he couldn’t get out of it. Or maybe he was working against a crazy deadline. Maybe the electricity went out, and he got stuck in the elevator.”
I bit my lip. The last one was highly unlikely, but I appreciated my sister’s imaginative attempt to let Nicholas off the hook.
“I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, and he’ll make it up to you,” she said confidently.
Gerry smiled kindly. “When I mess up, Erin likes to drag me shopping with her as punishment. I’m sure you’ll come up with comparable retribution for Nicholas.”
“Not meeting us, not to mention missing an amazing dinner, is punishment enough,” Erin said, only half-joking.
“Damn straight,” I agreed in a tone suggesting a lighter mood than I was in. I checked my phone again to see if Nicholas had returned my text. The answer was no.
“Dinner’s on me,” Gerry said, calling over the waiter.
“Thank you,” I said, too resigned to insist on paying my share.
Outside the restaurant, we exchanged hugs, and I offered another embarrassed apology on Nicholas’s behalf before hailing two cabs—one for them and another for me. As my taxi driver mumbled nonstop into his cell phone in a language I couldn’t pinpoint, I leaned my head back against the seat and attempted to ignore the tight knots in my stomach resulting from Nicholas skipping out on the entire dinner.
Back at
home, I was about to slip under my covers when I heard the jiggle of a lock followed by Nicholas’s entrance into the apartment. About thirty seconds later, he leaned against the door of our bedroom.
“I’m so sorry I missed dinner, Kimmie.”
Tilting my head down and frowning, I said, “You and me both. What happened?”
He sat on the edge of our bed. “I was finishing up something and completely lost track of time.”
My stomach sank. Despite Nicholas’s workaholic tendencies of late, I fully expected him to make an exception to meet my sister and hoped for a better excuse than “I lost track of the time.” It wasn’t even on Erin’s list of possibilities.
“I texted you. More than once,” I said in a low voice, in an attempt to disguise my annoyance.
“I got so wrapped up in what I was doing, I didn’t even notice the phone vibrating. I hoped I’d get there for dessert, but then I saw your last text about meeting me at home.” With a wry smile, he said, “On a bright note, I was saved from the wrath of the infamous Erin.”
Wincing, I said, “So not funny, Nicholas.” As much as I enjoyed complaining about my sister, she was the only person in the world who shared my history—only we made silly faces behind our dad’s back when he slurped his cold cereal, and only we, along with my father, were victims of my mom’s absentminded habit of turning off the light whenever she left a room even if we were still in there—I really wanted her to meet the first man I’d ever truly loved. “It’s not like I sprung these plans on you at the last minute.”
Nicholas to his dresser, and with his back to me said, “I didn’t realize it was so important to you. It’s not as if you’re super close.”
I weaved my fingers through my hair and pulled. “She’s my only sister, Nicholas.” Blinking back the onset of tears at his nonchalance, I said, “It’s bad enough you stood us up. Please don’t try to downplay it too.”
“You’re right,” he said, turning around. When his eyes met mine, his face dropped. “Shit, Kimmie. I really am sorry.” He sat back down on the bed and took my hand in his. “I screwed up royally, didn’t I?”
I shrugged, unable to communicate my conflicting emotions. As disappointed as I was with Nicholas for working through dinner and angered by his casual dismissal of the situation, I also didn’t want to be the needy girlfriend who got in the way of his career advancement.
Handing me a tissue, he said, “I promise to make it up to you.”
Wiping a tear from my eye, I said, “What do you have in mind?”
Nicholas appeared to contemplate for a moment before responding. “How about we take a road trip to Massachusetts as soon as things slow down a bit?”
“Yeah?” We had never taken a trip together.
Nicholas nodded. “We can make it a long weekend. A night or two with Erin and Gerry and then a couple of nights in a hotel in downtown Boston just the two of us. We can go to Faneuil Hall and do all the fun touristy stuff.”
“Sounds fun.” I was still mad but bending.
“Please don’t hate me, Kimmie Long.”
“I don’t hate you,” I muttered.
He cupped my face with his hands. “Maybe not, but your brown eyes are blue, and it’s my fault.”
My mouth quivered. “It is your fault.”
Nicholas lowered his forehead toward mine. “I take full responsibility.”
“Okay,” I conceded with a small smile. At least he was trying.
“Does this mean you forgive me?”
“Yes.” I could never stay angry with him for too long.
Nicholas joined me under the covers and pulled me to him. “Thank you,” he said with a squeeze.
“You’re welcome,” I said, melting into his embrace.
Chapter 16
Constance Dash has just turned thirty-four, but she’s already counting down the days until her thirty-fifth birthday with dread. Although she lives with her boyfriend of several years, she has a nagging fear he might not be The One. Should she toss her concerns aside and settle down like most women her age, or should she be honest with her boyfriend and risk being single on the dark side of thirty-five?
My phone rang, interrupting the drafting of my five-pink-champagne-flutes review of Thriving at Thirty (Five). Not used to my cell phone ringing during work hours, I jolted out of the chair where I was eating lunch in my law firm’s cafeteria. I didn’t recognize the number, but it was a local call. With trepidation, I answered, “Hello?” I was afraid something might have happened to Nicholas, like a heart attack from too much stress. His schedule had not slowed down at all, and I was beginning to worry it was more permanent than a temporary result of a rough patch at work.
A female voice asked, “Is this Kimberly Long?”
“Yes, this is she. Who’s calling, please?” I put a finger in my ear in an attempt to drown out the noise from the conversations taking place around me.
“Hi Kimberly. This is Felicia Harrison from Harrison & Gold Literary.”
My mouth instantly dried up, and I took a sip of water before responding “Hi” as calmly as I could. My heart beat rapidly beneath my v-neck cashmere poncho, and I breathed deeply through my nose to calm down.
“Your friend Hannah Marshak asked me to read your novel, A Blogger’s Life, as a favor to her. I just finished it.”
My first reaction was the realization I shockingly won my bet with Bridget, and I smiled to myself, but amusement quickly morphed into terror. Did she like it? The silence was deafening, and I took it as my cue to say something. “Thank you so much for taking the time.” I took another deep breath.
“I loved it.”
Leaning forward in my chair, I blurted out, “Say what?” Mortified, I corrected myself. “I mean, you did?”
Chuckling, Felicia said, “Yes, I did. I think with some rewrites, it could be a winner. I’d like to run my ideas by you and find out more about you and your publishing goals if you’re interested.”
“Of course I’m interested.”
“I’m so glad. How about Thursday evening? Five o’clock?”
Without hesitation, I responded, “That would be great,” only afterward remembering I worked until five thirty and would have to leave early. I hoped Rob wouldn’t mind, considering the circumstances.
“Where’s your office?”
“Twenty-seventh and Park, but I can come to you, if it’s more convenient.” I would travel by train, plane, or automobile.
“How about we meet at the lobby bar at the Ace Hotel?”
“Perfect.” The Ace was only a few blocks from my office. I could leave at 4:50 and still be on time.
“Terrific. I’ll see you then. I saw your picture on Pastel Is the New Black, and Hannah mentioned you were very petite. I should be able to spot you, but if you see a woman with straight brown hair down her back with her nose in a manuscript, it’s probably me.”
Even though I knew exactly what she looked like from her website and additional internet stalking on Google Images, I responded cheerfully, “Good to know.”
“See you Thursday, Kim.”
“See you Thursday,” I repeated before hanging up the phone. I immediately called Nicholas.
He picked up after the second ring. “Hey.”
Drumming my feet against the floor, I asked, “Guess who just called me?” in a raised voice, unable to contain my excitement.
After a brief silence, during which I bounced up and down in my chair, dying to do a victory dance, Nicholas said, “Um, Felicia Harrison?”
I pouted. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess?”
“Thanks for stealing my thunder, smarty pants,” I said. “But, yes, Felicia freakin’ Harrison called me. She loved my book. Can you believe it?”
“Of course I can believe it, Kimmie. It’s a great book.”
&n
bsp; “You started it?” If my smile got any wider, I’d need a bigger face.
“Well…no. But I know it’s terrific. And I’ll read it soon.”
Undaunted, I continued, “She wants to get together to discuss it. We’re meeting on Thursday after work.”
“Hooray, Kimmie! Congratulations.”
My elation morphed into anxiety as I took a virtual tour of my book, wondering what parts she didn’t like. “What if she wants me to rewrite the whole thing?”
I heard Nicholas blow air out of his cheeks. “Don’t let your mind wander, Kim. Just hear what she has to say.”
I bit my fingernail. “You’re right.”
“Listen, I’m so happy for you, but I have to get back to work. We’ll talk more at home later, okay? I’ll probably be late.”
“Okay.” The words “I love you” were spilling out of my mouth, but he disconnected the call before I could finish. Too keyed up to let it get to me, I vaulted from my chair and hoofed it out of the cafeteria to the elevator bank. When I reached my floor, I barreled through Rob’s office door. “Guess what?”
From Rob’s visitor chair, Daneen turned around and eyeballed me. “Let me take a stab. You reached ten thousand fans on your blog?”
I smirked at her. “That was so last month.”
Rob glanced from Daneen to me and rolled his eyes. He was familiar with our hate-hate relationship. “What’s the big news, Kim?”
Glancing at Daneen, I said, “I can tell you later if it’s a bad time.”
Daneen shrugged halfheartedly. “We’re all friends here, Kim. Besides, the chances of you being the slightest bit productive until you dish the hair-raising developments in the blogosphere are nil.”
Rob chuckled. “Daneen has a point. What’s up?”
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