But I overlooked it, because…well, hell I don't know why. I just did.
When I arrived at Fletch's house, the maid let me in. Fletch and his mom were out, she said. Meeting with the Board of Directors.
Fletch showed up an hour later. He looked exhausted, like he hadn't been given time to grieve before being thrown into the business world.
"They want someone with more experience," he said, his voice full of defeat.
"Can they do that?"
He gave me a weak smile. "No. Mom and I have a controlling interest. Besides, we're privately held. The Board has a more advisory role.
"So, you're going to do it? Take over GroundFloor."
He shook his head. "That's the thing, Ellie, I don't want it."
"Are you afraid?" I asked.
Fletch grabbed both my hands in his. "I don't want that life for us. Not yet, anyway."
Us.
He led me into his dad's home office and sat behind the desk. He looked like a toddler playing office. "I can't do this, Ellie. I can't be the person that's needed to run GroundFloor. I'm not my dad. Hell, I haven't even finished college."
"Neither did your dad."
"But what am I supposed to do?"
"Act like the badass you are and don't let the board push you and your mom around."
He swung back-and-forth in the desk chair, looking about as lost as I felt.
I smacked my hands down on the desk, and Fletch stopped fidgeting. "You can do this, Fletch. I know you can."
His shoulders rose and lowered. "Do you want this for us?"
"I want it for you. This has always been your dream, even when you and your dad were fighting. You wanted to run GroundFloor someday."
He shook his head. "I don't want to be like him."
"Then don't be. Put your own spin on things. But don't walk away from this opportunity because you're scared."
Fletch nodded. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely," I answered, unaware of what I was really saying, or what any of it really meant.
Fletch stood up and walked around the desk. His lips touched mine. "Thanks, Ellie."
And that's how I pushed Fletch Colson into becoming the CEO of GroundFloor.
Chapter Eleven
My head aches, and when I blink my blurry eyes open, the little blue numbers on the clock blink back at me. Quarter after five.
Fletch is long gone, and I wake up alone like I do so many days now. Not by choice, but when you and your boyfriend travel extensively for work, it's hard to get in sync.
Maybe that's what's wrong with Michael and me – we don't spend enough time together. In fact, much of our relationship has been spent texting each other from separate cities.
I roll over and rub my face in the pillow. I don't remember too much of how I got back to my room, except Fletch was here, and he gave me ibuprofen. But the pounding in my head says it wasn't enough, so I roll off the bed and drag myself to the dresser where my purse sits.
Think, Ellie, think. What did you say or do with Fletch?
I'm positive I didn't kiss him.
However, I'm not so sure what I told him. Did I say anything stupid?
We were two intoxicated people, hanging out in my bedroom. How could that not go wrong?
Except I'm pretty sure it didn't. I think he put me to bed and left.
Like a friend would.
I'm still in my golf clothes – a sign nothing happened between Fletch and me. If it had, my clothes would be strewn across the floor.
I change into another sundress and sweater. I can't remember the last time I wore this many sundresses in a row. My normal wardrobe consists of business suits during the week and jeans for the weekends. I have a few dresses to wear during the summer months, but mostly everything I own is navy blue and meant for work.
My brown hair is still up in a bun, but it's a mess with loose hair flying everywhere. I unpin it, and begin running my fingers through my hair. Soft waves fall over my shoulders.
Fletch always liked my hair like this.
What am I doing? Ever since picking Fletch up from the airport, I've been obsessing over what he thinks of me. Why should that even matter? Fletch and I are done. In the past. History.
And still, I can't stop myself.
What is it about that guy?
I slink down the stairs, my head still throbbing, and exit through the back of the house. From here, I can see the rehearsal. Brady and Sophie stand under a canopy. Calista and two other girls stand to Sophie’s left. Fletch, Reid, and some guy I don't know stand to the right of Brady.
The officiant is running through the ceremony, and part of me wants to sneak down so I can better hear.
Who am I kidding? I want Fletch to see me. I want to judge his reaction to me so I can see if I made an ass of myself.
To my left, the pavilions are a whirl of activity. Tables and chairs are being set-up, and the catering staff buzzes around trying to get everything ready before the rehearsal dinner begins in half-an-hour.
I really don't know how they're going to do it.
Late afternoon sun warms my face as I sit down on the deck steps. So far, today hasn’t been horrible. Fletch and I got along, and maybe we can even be friends again.
I sigh, letting all the air rush from my lungs.
And then it hits me: the conversation Brady and I had out on the golf course. Sophie is pregnant, and Brady is in way over his head.
Pregnant. How could Brady be so stupid? And who said he had to get married to a woman he's not even sure he loves.
It makes me angry. At Brady. At society. At Sophie for going along with such a stupid plan.
Brady Pearson has no business marrying anyone, and I give this marriage two years max. Especially since they haven’t worked out major details - like where they’re going to live.
I stand and walk down the stone stairs toward the rehearsal. Paige sits in the back row, watching the ridiculousness.
"Hey," I say. "How was the spa?"
"Boring and spa-like. Sophie is…Is it bad to speak poorly of the bride?"
"I don't think it's bad luck. Why?"
"She and Calista spoke French the whole time, and so did the other two girls. I couldn't understand a word of it."
"That seems rude. Do the others speak English?"
Paige shrugs. "Didn't seem that way. But what am I to Sophie anyway? I'm just some random girl at her wedding."
"And so am I," I say, shrugging one shoulder. "Although Brady did say I was one of the guys."
"At least you have that. I'm relegated to the girl who used to date Sophie's current favorite rock singer."
"Do you think she wants to hook up with Reid?" I ask. "Like a last hurrah before the wedding?"
Paige lifts her eyebrows and tilts her head. "I think she would if she could get away with it." She pauses and places a finger over her lips. "Let's pretend I didn't say that."
"Sometimes, you're too nice, Paige." And I mean it. How she could be friends with Calista is beyond me.
"You know, Sophie did say one thing in English."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. She said that Fletch can't keep his eyes off Calista."
My heart plummets to my feet, and I kind of double over, waiting for my breath to stabilize.
If Paige notices, she pretends not to. She stretches her hands over her head. "How was golf?" she asks, as if nothing were wrong.
I gasp for breath. Stay normal, Ellie. Stay normal. Don't forget Paige is Cal's friend.
"Despite the fact I suck, much better than what you went through."
"I would give anything to be able to hang out with the guys, but Cal's my friend. And you know how she feels about you."
"Like I'm the anti-Christ."
Paige gives me a sad smile. "Something like that. But don't worry, I know you're not."
That's a small reassurance, I guess.
I turn my attention back to the rehearsal. Calista pops out of line and consults a clipboard. A c
lipboard for God's sake. She's taking her maid of honor responsibilities way too seriously.
"So," Paige says. "How do you think this is going to play out?"
"Like a nightmare. I mean, do you really think Brady should be getting married?" I don't mention the pregnancy.
Paige eyes me cautiously, reminding me yet again that I'm not really part of the group. I'm here because I'm Brady's friend. I used to be Fletch's. Years ago.
"Absolutely not. Brady needs a few years to grow up."
"So when the officiant gets to the 'speak now or forever hold your peace' part, how many people do you think will object?" I ask, somewhat jokingly. But not really.
"You're assuming they both show up," Paige answers. "I have serious doubts about Sophie making it to the aisle."
I perk up. "What? Why?"
"She has a major case of cold feet," Paige turns toward me, and lowers her voice even though no one is in our vicinity. "Calista is all but running the show. I think she's pressuring Sophie to marry Brady."
I scrunch up my brow. "Why would she do that?"
"Seriously? Have you seen this house? Brady's family is loaded. Plus, his company is starting to really take off. It's a perfect match in Calista's eyes."
"So you think Calista wants her friend to marry Brady because he comes from money?"
Paige nods. "Look, I love Cal, but she gets weird about money. She says she won't marry down."
"Is that why she hates Fletch and me even talking?"
Paige looks over her shoulder to where Calista stands and lowers her voice. "Cal doesn't want the two of you together. She thinks she still has a shot at Fletch. And the farther away you are, the more out of mind you become."
Ding. Ding. Ding. That’s why she came after me in San Francisco - because she still wants Fletch.
How did I not pick up on that one? I swear, sometimes I can be extremely thick.
"Do you think she still has a shot at him?"
"Against you? Not a chance. I've seen how Fletch looks at you. Despite you not being there for him since his dad died."
"I haven't been there?" All the emails and phone calls in the days after Will Colson's death must have meant nothing to Fletch. Giving him a safe place to grieve – at my apartment – must not have been good enough.
"That's what Cal says." Paige glances at the ground then back at me. "What happened between you and Fletch, anyway? One moment, the two of you are driving off into the sunset; the next, you're not talking."
"He became everything he claimed to have rejected."
"Like?"
I tilt my head. "How much do you about what went down after Fletch's dad died?"
Paige is silent for a moment. "Only what Cal told me."
I nod. "Which is what?"
"That you couldn't deal and walked out on him."
"I…I walked out on him? Really?"
Paige shifts uncomfortably next to me. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine."
"No," I say. "I need to set the record straight." My hands shake like hell, and my chests rises and falls with each rapid breath.
"I love you," Fletch had said into the phone when I answered on the second ring. He'd left my Boston apartment just hours earlier, on his way back to San Francisco. To the important life he was building. "I love you with all my heart."
I laughed. "I love you, too."
"No matter what happens, Elle, I want you to know that, okay?"
"What's with all the urgency?" I had teased. "Are you missing me that badly already?"
"I miss you every minute of every day," he'd answered. Then his voice turned, and he said, "I have to go."
"Okay."
"I love you. Forever. Don't forget that."
"I won't," I said.
He clicked off.
It was the last time I talked to Fletch until yesterday.
"Ellie?"
I snap my head up. "He didn't want it, Paige. He didn't want to be who he is today. I pushed him into it. I made him take the job.”
She looks at me strangely. "So you left him once he took the job?"
"No. He came to my Boston apartment. I’d…I’d just moved in and he wanted to know if I would…”
I trail off, unable to finish the rest of my sentence. It hurts too much.
"What did he want?"
A lump wedges in my throat, and I croak, "For me to move to San Francisco. To be closer to him. But I couldn't do that. My job was in Boston."
Paige screws up her face. "You could have worked for GroundFloor."
I shake my head. "He never offered that to me."
"So you chose your job over him."
"No. I turned down moving across the country, giving up a sure job, and being a hanger-on."
"What did Fletch do?"
"Over time, he stopped calling."
"What's the last thing Fletch said to you?" Paige asks.
My lip quivers, and I try not to cry. "That he loved me."
Paige takes my hand in hers and squeezes it. "I think the two of you need to talk."
She's right. But how do I start that conversation? And if I did, would Fletch be willing to have it?
Chapter Twelve
”Everyone has an assigned seat," Calista says, holding on to her clipboard. "Paige and Ellie, you're sitting over there with Sophie's cousins. At table twenty-seven." She points toward the back of the third pavilion.
The table she directs us to is as far as you can get from the action. I sigh. Once again, relegated to the outskirts.
"C'mon, Ellie," Paige says, taking me by the arm. "Maybe Sophie's cousins are cute."
"I highly doubt that."
"You never know."
We wind our way through the tables and random clumps of people, until we reach table twenty-seven. Sure enough, Sophie's cousins are cute.
In that adorable little kid way.
"Fuck my life," Paige says. "We're at the kiddie table. What the hell did I do to Cal to deserve this?"
I double over laughing. "Sophie probably wanted to keep us together."
"They probably don't even speak English," Paige says.
"Awesome."
We take our seats - Paige on one side of the round table, me on the other. "Do you think we're supposed to babysit them?" Paige asks
I shrug. "I'm not babysitting anyone."
The pavilions looks amazing: pale, pale blue tablecloths with sand-colored and white accents. It's all very beach-y yet elegant. Overhead, strings of lights criss-cross the outdoor room, giving the illusion of stars against an inky black sky. Right now, the sides of the pavilions are open, allowing a warm breeze to pass through.
"It's really pretty, isn't it?" Paige says.
"It is."
Paige sighs. "I want my wedding to be as pretty and fun as this one."
Glad to know someone is having fun.
"We missed you at the spa," Paige says.
I stare at my hands. "Brady wanted me to golf with the guys, so I didn't really have a choice."
The weight of Brady's secret is crushing down on me, but I'm loyal and won't expose him. Still, I wonder how much Calista or Paige knows.
One of Sophie's cousins says something to us in French, and we both stare at her, not understanding.
"Do you know what she wants?" Paige asks.
"I took six years of Spanish."
"Oh." Paige shakes her hair so that it flies around her face. "I hated taking French, but Calista ate it up."
"Probably because she wanted to go to the Sorbonne so badly," I say.
The little kid rattles off more French at Paige and me, but we ignore her.
"This is going to be fun," I say, shouting a little so Paige can hear me across the table.
"Should we eat?" Paige asks. The catering crew has finished setting up the buffet, and the food smells heavenly even though I’m not hungry.
"Probably." My gaze wanders to the front of the pavilion where the wedding party has gotten up to get their foo
d.
Paige meets me at my seat, and we wind back through the tables to where the buffet is. It's seafood-lovers heaven; clams, oysters, lobsters, crab all spread out, waiting to be selected.
I take a dinner roll and some mussels in a broth.
Paige says, "Well, fuck me. What am I supposed to eat? I have a shellfish allergy."
"Oh no." I say. "Should you even be near this stuff? Do you have an epi pen?"
"I'll be fine as long as I don't ingest anything." She copies my lead of selecting a dinner roll and the salad.
"Looks like I'll be losing weight on this vacation," Paige says.
I’m barely paying attention because my eyes are trained on Fletch who has his eyes trained on me. My heart skips, and I smile at him. He smiles back.
It's a start.
"Go talk to him," Paige urges. "He clearly wants to talk to you."
"Clearly he doesn't, or he'd come over here."
Paige studies me carefully. "You know, Ellie, you're really stubborn."
I hang my head and glance over at Fletch through my curtain of hair. "I've been told that before."
It was my stubbornness that kept me from giving up on Fletch our senior year. And it was my stubbornness that led me away from him after his dad's death. I should have taken control of that situation. But Calista, she was there, telling me things I knew were true, but didn’t want to hear. I refused to reach out first, and instead waited for Fletch to come to me. It didn’t work out so well.
Maybe it's time for me to stop being so stubborn.
"Can you take this?” I hold out my plate. “Will you get sick? " I ask.
“As long as I don’t eat it, I’m fine.”
Courage bubbles up inside me. "I'm going over to talk to Fletch."
Paige grins at me and takes my plate. "Good luck."
I twist my hands together as I walk across the pavilion. Fletch doesn't take his eyes off me. They're burning into my heart, and I can't stop it. Fletch is melting me away again.
My legs tremble slightly until I'm standing before Fletch who's seated at a long table.
"Hey, Ellie," he says with a smile dancing on his lips. "You look much better than you did earlier."
Is that why he was staring at me? Because he expected me to look hungover?
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