by Vivian Ward
I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but my imagination has been running wild ever since I met up with him at the lounge. I’ve been telling myself to stop it, but I can’t help it. My mind races and it won’t turn off.
All of the possibilities keep swimming through my head.
And poor Logan. My innocent fiancé who has no idea that I’ve met with his boss or that I’ve been dreaming of fucking the man.
The worst part?
I’d never cheat on Logan in a million years.
But it doesn’t stop me from thinking about all of the what-ifs.
What if I did sleep with his boss?
What if I liked it?
What if his boss liked it?
See? There I go again. What I need to be thinking about is what would Logan do if he knew any of this. Would he still love me? Would he still marry me? Would he kill me?
Those are the important questions.
“What’s on your mind?” Meagan asks, waving her arm in front of my face.
I almost forgot that we were at lunch and that she’s been talking to me non-stop for the last 20 minutes. She tends to have that effect on you though; she never shuts up.
“I’m just having lunch,” I say, acting like everything is normal.
“Bull,” she waves her spoon back and forth. “I know something’s on your mind because you haven’t hardly eaten anything and you’re completely ignoring me. You’ve sat there like a zombie this entire time. What’s going on?”
I think about telling her for a minute, then decide against it.
“Nothing,” I lie. “Can’t a woman just be in deep thought?”
“Did you forget that I’m a human bullshit detector? Spill it.”
I suppose if there’s one person that I’m going to confide in, it should at least be Meagan. Besides Deb, she’s my closest best friend, and she does know all about the invitation and how Mr. Ford might withdraw it if I don’t go.
“You know my bridal shower? Well, I went and met with Logan’s managing partner about his party.”
“What’s a managing partner again?” she asks.
“It’s kind of like his boss. He’s the guy in charge,” I explain. “Anyway, I went and met with him at The Indigo Room and,” she cuts me off.
“You mean you went and met with him at that swanky lounge? Does Logan know? What was it like in there? Tell me all the details.”
I almost want to slap her. It’s not like it was a date or like I was excited to meet up with him. It was nerve-racking, and I still feel bad about going there without Logan’s knowledge. I’ve never been one to keep secrets or hide things from my partner.
“It was nice and no; Logan doesn’t know,” I say. “I was hoping that after I explained to him about my bridal shower, that he’d give Logan a break.”
“Did it work?” she asks.
“No, not at all. Somehow, he got me to agree to go with Logan, and I said I’d be there.”
Her jaw drops and then she purses her lips closed. She’s pissed, and I don’t blame her. I’m mad at myself.
Mr. Ford is smooth. I’m still trying to process how he talked me into it. It’s like I was in a daze while I was with him and I just wanted to make him happy, so I did.
“Are you telling me that you’re throwing your bridal shower down the drain? All the hard work that I put into this is out the window? That none of us are going to be able to come to your party? The one we’ve been planning for you?”
She’s beyond pissed. She’s hurt, and I don’t blame her, but I’ll do anything to help my man. Sometimes we have to do selfless things for the people we love, and our whole future rests in the hands of Mr. Ford.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying Megs. We’ve just got to figure something out. Help me here. I don’t want to lose out on it either,” I explain to her.
She finishes her yogurt and licks the spoon clean.
“Sounds like you’re trying to get out of it if you ask me. What can I help you with? Cancelling everything?”
This is killing me. The last thing I want to do is hurt my friend.
“No, but I need your help figuring out how I can be in both places at once. Can you clone me?”
I push out my bottom lip, pouting.
We both laugh.
“Yeah right, if I had cloning powers I wouldn’t use them on your sorry ass,” she teases. “How can we pull this off? Obviously, it means a lot to you if you’re willing to go to this extreme, so I want to help.”
The two of us lean back in the uncomfortable break room chairs, staring at the clock as we watch the hand count down seconds until our break is over.
“What time is this party of Logan’s?” she asks.
“I’d have to ask him, but I think it starts at 8 PM? I don’t remember. Why?”
She sits up and turns to face me.
“I was just thinking,” she leans forward. “What if you had your bridal shower and then rushed to his party when it was over? Could you be late? Would that be okay?”
I draw my mouth into a line as I think about her idea.
“No, I don’t think that’ll work. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to make a grand entrance with him or something. I don’t think his managing partner will go for me just showing up for the last hour or so of the party; but then again, I don’t know how long they usually last.”
“Hmm.”
The two of us go back to the drawing board with only minutes left of our lunch break. I wish I could go back in time to change the date that we scheduled my bridal shower.
“I’ve got it,” she says. “You can’t be late, right?”
“Right,” I agree with her.
“What if we can get you there on time? Would that work?”
“How are we supposed to pull that off?” I ask her.
“I’d had some games and things planned out but what if we hurried it along and got everyone out the door? That away you could still have your bridal shower and still make it to the party?”
“So just cut it short and rush through it?”
“Yeah,” she says. “We’ll do the important parts and skimp on the rest. How long will you need to get ready for the party?”
I think about how we could make this plan work. It could be viable if it all plays out just right.
“If I had to, I could do my makeup and hair before the bridal shower so that when it’s over, all I have to do is throw on my dress, pantyhose, and heels.”
“So about 30 minutes then?” she asks.
“Yeah, about that long.”
She smiles and throws her arm around me.
“We’ll work something out. I know Deb is your bestest friend, but I’m determined to be bumped up on the list.”
“Thanks, Megs,” I say to her, returning her hug.
“No problem, Pipes.”
Now that we’ve got a plan and I have her help, I don’t feel quite so overwhelmed. Hopefully, everything goes perfectly as planned and we can pull it off.
Chapter 11
Piper
With dinner coming out of the oven as I hear his car door shut, I feel like for once that something is finally working out.
Putting the food onto our plates, I stop what I’m doing as soon as he walks into the kitchen. Eager to greet him, I wrap my arms around him to welcome him home.
“Hey, babe,” I squeeze him. “How was your day?”
“Good,” he returns my hug. “Dinner smells great. Need any help?”
“No, I’ve got it,” I say, tightening my apron. “Are you hungry?”
He takes his tie off and collapses in the kitchen chair for emphasis, making me laugh at him.
“I'm beaten. I’ve got to admit that this case is going to age me by 20 years. Hopefully, you like older men or at least those who look like they’re older.”
I almost stop dead in my tracks as I think if only he knew. Instead, I continue getting our plates together so that I can sit down and enjoy a home-cooked meal with him.
I hate when we eat takeout from cartons.
“Speaking of your work, I’m going to go shopping for a new dress to wear to the party,” I say, waiting to see his reaction.
“We’ve discussed this Pipes; you can’t go. You have your bridal shower that day.”
“I know, I know,” I assure him. “But don’t worry. Meagan and I came up with a plan, and we’re going to pull it off so that I’ll be able to join you.”
He looks annoyed. Leaning back in his chair, he rubs his temples and runs his hands through his hair as he draws in a deep breath.
“Listen, babe. I appreciate your effort to be there with me, but you don’t have to do that. I don’t think Ford will do anything and you can always make it to the next party once I make partner. Ford hasn’t said another word to me, so I’m sure he’s already forgotten about it.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him how wrong he is and how I know for a fact that Mr. Ford would do those things. He promised me when we had our meeting, and I believe him. Logan is in denial.
“Really, it will be fine. I’m happy to be there with you. It’ll be nice to get a new dress, too.”
I offer a fake smile to show him how glad I am to be such a supportive fiancée, and I am but not under these circumstances. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if I hadn’t lied to him and he knew about the meeting and how the meeting went. I don’t like keeping it from him, but the sooner I let go, the better off I’ll be, and I can let go of some of this guilt.
Nobody tells their spouse or partner everything. Do they?
Up until now, I never had a secret from Logan.
“Tell me again why you’re so hell bent on being there again?”
Blinking, I don’t know how to answer him. I could be honest with him and tell him about the meeting and let him know that Pardo or Lester might get the job instead, but I don’t.
“Because I’m a good fiancée who loves her man. Besides, babe, I can make it work.”
He looks at me, skeptical that I can pull it off.
“It’s true. I was talking to Meagan today at lunch, and we’ve got it all figured out.”
“Do tell,” he says, pouring himself another glass of wine. “I want to see how you two are going to pull off two parties at once.”
“No, not at once,” I say. “I’m still going to do my bridal shower, and then I’ll go to your party with you. Easy peasy.”
“Uh-huh,” he shoves his fork in his mouth. “How?”
“Basically, we’re going to cut the bridal shower short and I’ll get partially made up beforehand so that I don’t waste too much time getting ready for your party after my shower is over.”
He thinks about it for a second and grins.
“That’s not a bad idea, but I feel bad that you’re going to cut it short on behalf of me.”
“I don’t mind one bit, babe. I’m happy to go with you, and I want to,” I lean over and kiss his cheek.
“I do like your thinking,” he returns the kiss on my cheek. “So what are you going to wear? Another one of those tight little white dresses that I like so much?”
Tossing my head back, I laugh. There is no way in hell that I’d wear something like that to his boss’s party, especially with the chemistry between Mr. Ford and me. I still can’t get over the fact that he wants me to call him Olly. Hopefully, he doesn’t always want me to do that because I don’t know if I can.
“No, it won’t be anything like that, but I’m sure I’ll find something to wear. I’m going to talk to Diane to see what some of the other wives wear to this sort of thing because I don’t want to dress inappropriately.”
He places his hand on top of mine and smiles at me.
“I’m sure whatever you find will look great on you. You could wear a trash bag and look beautiful.”
While he might think so, I disagree, but he hates when I argue with him so instead of doing that, I just kiss his cheek as I clear the table.
“Whatever you say, my sweet fiancé.”
Stepping out of the dressing room, I turn and look at myself in the mirror as I examine the dress that I’m trying on. I don’t think that it works with my body type.
“Does this make my ass look fat?” I ask Meagan. “I feel like I’ve put on ten pounds. I’m so worried that my wedding dress isn’t going to fit.”
“Look, skinny bitch, your ass looks fine. Actually, your ass looks amazing. Have you been doing the stair machine?”
“A little. Why? Does it make it too bubbly? Should I stop?”
Examining my ass in the mirror, it does look rounder. Shit, maybe too round. What if it got so big that my dress doesn’t fit?
Ever heard the song, “Fatty, fatty, two-by-four, can’t fit through the kitchen door”? Well, my song shall be, “Ass so big, ass so round, can’t fit into a wedding gown.”
“What? No,” Meagan says. “I wish my ass looked like that but I don’t like the dress. Try on that black one.”
I knew this dress didn’t look right on me and I’m glad that she agrees. It’s one of those dresses that looks better on the hanger.
“I don’t know. Maybe we should go to a different store. That black one might be a bit too much.”
It’s kind of revealing around the chest, and it looks a little too short but I could be wrong. I’m just not sure that it would be appropriate for Mr. Ford’s party.
“Go. Now.”
She uses her finger to draw an imaginary U-turn and directs me to the dressing room.
“I’ll be here waiting for you, and I want to see what it looks like on your hot little body. Scoot,” she brushes me away with her fingertips.
Rolling my eyes at her, I turn and walk back into the changing room and begin taking off the dress that I’m wearing as I stare at the black dress hanging before me.
It’s a beautiful dress and has sequins on the cups, but I’m worried it’ll be too low-cut and too revealing overall. I shouldn’t even try it on, but Meagan insists that I do. She’s the one who found the dress and picked it out. She won’t let me say no to at least trying it on.
As beautiful as it is, I almost hope that it doesn’t fit so that I can tell her I was right and she was wrong. On the other hand, I do want it to fit because it’s so pretty.
Slipping it on, I realize that my worst nightmare has come true as I zip it up. It fits like a glove and hugs every curve of my body perfectly. The only thing that could make it better is if I had a new pair of lace stockings to go with it, and maybe a good pair of fuck-me heels.
Opening the door to the changing room, I walk down the short hallway to the circular area that’s filled with mirrors where Megs is waiting for me.
“Oh. My. God,” she says, gasping and covering her mouth. “You look fucking HOT!”
This dress….looks ahhh-maze-balls on me. Holy shit! Even I know that this dress makes me look smokin’ hot. There’s no doubt in my mind that this is the dress.
It’s sexy, yet classy.
It demands attention.
And I like it.
Turning in the mirror, I check my ass one more time, and it looks perfect. My boobs look perfect. Everything looks perfect.
“You like?” I ask, grinning ear to ear.
“Um, yeah,” she says, admiring my curves. “You look hot girl. Damn. If I were your man, I’d bend your ass over before we even got to the car!”
We both laugh as I smooth out the lines in the dress.
“I think I’m going to buy this one,” I say to her. “I don’t know if I’ll have the guts to wear it to Mr. Ford’s party, but I can wear it some other time. It’s too perfect not to own it.”
“What? You have to wear this to his party. You want your man to have that partnership, right? This is his ticket. Hell, you could probably make partner in that outfit,” she laughs.
“Ha-ha, very funny. Okay, let me go throw on my regular clothes and then we can check out.”
Slipping back into my jeans, I button them up and pull my oversized shirt
over my head before I replace the dress back on its hanger.
I’m still amazed at how awesome this dress is, and maybe she is right. I have to wear this to the party. It’s too good of a dress not to wear to impress his managing partner. Plus, if I’m giving up some of my bridal shower for Logan, I want to make sure that he makes partner with his law office.
Grabbing my purse off the bench seat, I collect the dress and make my way to the register. I’ve decided that I won’t show Logan this dress until we’re ready to go. I can’t wait to see his eyes pop out of his head.
“Let’s go do some shoe shopping,” I suggest to her after we pay for my dress and are leaving the store.
I'm going to get those fuck-me heels, and I'm going to rock that party.
Chapter 12
Piper
Airplanes are taking off and landing in a steady, constant stream and I can’t wait until Deb’s plane arrives.
I’ve been so excited to see her, and I can’t wait to wrap my arms around her. It seems like ages since we’ve seen each other. My heart beats a little faster each time I see a plane coming down the runway until I realize that it’s not her.
“Are you happy your friend will be here soon?” Logan asks.
“Oh, you have no idea! Thank you for taking off half a day to come with me and join us for dinner. You’re the best!”
Standing on my tiptoes, I kiss him on the lips which makes him smile. Even though I’ve got long legs, he still towers over me at 6’4”. I love that he’s so tall.
“What does a guy like me got to do to get more than a kiss on the lips?” he teases.
“Logan!” I playfully slap him on his chest. “Behave yourself,” I giggle.
“Where are we going to dinner? Don’t tell me that sucky place that she likes. What’s the name of it again?”
I know exactly what he’s talking about. Deb’s favorite place is a pizza joint where they have red checkered tablecloths and they hand-toss the dough right in front of you before they fire the pizza in a giant, brick oven but that’s not where we’re going.