A Convenient Arrangement

by Maggie Marr

  No problem, have worked with a dozen that I love. Will send you ideas with links to their work.

  Milan didn’t respond. Gwen wasn’t surprised. She had discovered that often, the more difficult the person, when you presented a solution without getting worked up, they didn’t know what to do with your positive energy. It was almost as if Milan wanted Gwen to flip out with her.

  Gwen continued to scroll. Really? Aside from the videography freak-out, Milan had sent thirty texts about flowers. And the wedding wasn’t until June next year? Oops. She almost overlooked a text and a voicemail message from Aubrey. Gwen pressed her number and put the phone to her ear.

  “Hello,” Aubrey’s breathing came in quick pants, as though she’d been running.

  “Hey, just ringing you back. You okay?”

  “Uh, of course, yes. I mean—” Justin laughed in the background. “Fine here.”

  Hmm, Aubrey wasn’t supposed to be out of bed. What could she possibly be doing that would leave her breathless… Oh. Oh my.

  “Want me to call back?” Gwen offered quickly.

  “Uh, no. It’s good. Now is a good time.” Aubrey took a deep breath. “We wondered if you might want to come over and grab dinner tonight. Just getting absolutely stir-crazy, and not even my husband is enough for me right now.”

  She heard Justin mumble something in the background.

  “Uhm,” Gwen glanced around Leo’s apartment. It was already one o’clock. By the time they made it to her place and she fixed a late lunch—“I’m not sure if—”

  “Oh my God.” Aubrey’s voice lowered. “Are you still on your date?”

  “Well…”

  “You are! You spent the night.”

  A smile curled over Gwen’s lips and heat flushed her neck. “We’re actually on the way out to have lunch and—”

  “Bring him to dinner.”

  Panic quickened through her blood. “Ooo.” Gwen shook her head. “Noooo, I don’t think that’s a good idea. At least not yet. I mean, we’re not quite at the ‘let’s meet your friends’ kind of place.”

  “Hmmm,” Aubrey said. “Okay. I get it. Well, if something changes or he has to leave or if you change your mind about introducing him to your pregnant friend, we’ll be here. I think Justin is ordering Chinese tonight. Maybe Mr. Chow.”

  “Mmhmm, it’s really good.”

  “Did you go there last night?”

  “Takeout.” Gwen walked toward the kitchen. Pans of dead food still sat in the sink. “He tried to cook but totally killed dinner.”

  “He cooked for you? On a first date?”

  “Well, it’s not exactly the first date.”

  “Oh my God, what have you been hiding from me? Are you having a relationship that I don’t know about?”

  “Not a relationship, definitely not that.” Not yet, Gwen didn’t say the words, no reason to jinx herself. “Just somebody I really like. We’ll see how it goes.”

  “My, my, my. Much sneakier than I would ever suspect. Hiding an entire man from me? He must definitely like you if he tried to cook. That usually doesn’t go well for them. You know, my husband never cooked for me.” Gwen could picture the pointed look Aubrey was now shooting toward Justin, with a grin on her face to emphasize that she was teasing. “Okay, well if you change your mind, you know where to find us. Have fun. And don’t forget Sunday dinner tomorrow.”

  Gwen’s jaw dropped open. Before she could stutter out a response, Aubrey was gone from the line. Tomorrow? Oh my goodness, Sunday dinner tomorrow. At Justin and Aubrey’s, with all the Travatis and the extended family. Oh my gosh…she’d been planning to go and then thought maybe she shouldn’t but she’d promised and… She slid the phone into her pocket. What the heck was she going to do?

  *

  The cold air jolted Leo. He and Renley walked across the street and entered the park. A jogger darted by, his fluorescent green jacket a streak of color. The path was clear of snow and the sky was a sharp crystal blue, the clear kind that only hung overhead on a cold winter day. Renley had done his business, but there was no way Leo wouldn’t give his faithful buddy a walk. He’d already texted his dog walker and asked him to swing by in a couple hours to pick up Renley for an overnight. Leo hoped that he’d be staying with Gwen.

  His chest heated. He wanted her. He liked her. She made him smile, and her smile and humor made him feel good.

  His phone buzzed and he pulled it from his coat pocket.

  “Hey.” His breath puffed a tiny grey cloud into the winter air.

  “You sound out of breath. Working out on a Saturday?”

  “Just walking Renley.” Leo glanced at the sky again, the spires of the skyscrapers reaching into the bright blue above the leafless trees. Happiness, like a warm spill of sunshine, burst through his body. “Cold, but damned beautiful.”

  “What the hell, man,” Justin joked. “You on happy pills today?”

  “Naw, brother, just taking in the beauty of the world.”

  “Okaaay, who the hell stole my brother’s phone?”

  “Ha. What do you need? This call work or personal?”

  “A bit of both, actually. First, we’ve got a meeting with Devon and Theresa Bennett this week. Seems the deal with the feds is set, but there are some details about Devon testifying that she needs to discuss with all of us.”

  Leo’s belly tightened. A long sigh escaped his lips. The only good thing coming out of Devon’s deal with the U.S. government to testify against a Russian mobster was the immunity from prosecution he’d receive. But the aftereffects of his testimony—well, those could be a tsunami of pain for the entire family.

  “Okay,” Leo said, and let it go. He refused to let his concerns about his little brother ruin his time with Gwen. Not today. “What else?”

  “Aubrey’s stir-crazy.”

  “That’s to be expected, right? I mean, she usually goes like a gerbil on speed, and now she has to lay in bed all day. That would suck.” Leo would hate being trapped in bed all day for weeks…unless, of course, it was with Gwen.

  “She wants some people to come over tonight. Just family. Justin and Shelly are in, Devon is coming, Mrs. Bello. Aubrey wanted me to call you too.”

  “Sorry, man, I’ve got plans.” Renley pulled at his leash.

  “Charity event? Hookup?”

  “Neither. I just, you know, last night—”

  “Oh, that’s right. The cooking for the woman thing. The not-a-convenient arrangement-but-not-a-relationship-yet thing. How the hell did that go?”

  “The food was a disaster.”

  “But if you’ve got plans for tonight, it couldn’t have gone too badly.”

  A smile spread over Leo’s face at the thought of Gwen still tucked away in his apartment. They’d head over to her place, and he would spend the rest of the day curled up beside her, eating good food and having great sex.

  “Turned out okay. Ordered Chinese food, hung out, it was good. Very good.” Renley sniffed at a bush covered in snow.

  “Gotcha. You’re welcome to bring her—I mean, we’d love to meet the woman who actually has you cooking a meal.”

  “Right.” Leo shook his head. “Um, no. Too soon.” No way Gwen would arrive at Aubrey and Justin’s on his arm. Who knew where this thing between the two of them was headed, but he was pretty damned sure, based on everything she’d said, that she had no desire to out them to his family yet. “Not sure I want to overwhelm her with everything Travati.”

  “Fair enough. You know where we are if you change your mind.”

  They said their good-byes and Leo touched the red button on his phone. Renley waited before him patiently. “Cold, buddy? ready to head back?” Renley turned toward the high-rise and started to walk.

  Taking Gwen to Aubrey and Justin’s as his date would change the dynamic just beginning to build between them. He knew this thing with Gwen wasn’t one of his disposable convenient arrangements, but what was it? He didn’t want to lead her on. Gwen meant too much
not only to him, but also to his family, some very scary members of his family who would utterly kick his ass if he broke her heart. But he wasn’t like Anthony and Justin. Leo’d never pictured rounding out his life with a wife and children. Sure, he could maybe imagine himself in a committed relationship, but marriage? And kids? No way. Not a life he wanted. What about Gwen? What did she want? He and Renley jogged across the street toward his building. What the hell? Today was too soon to think about commitment and relationships and kids. He turned the corner and the doorman pulled open the front door.

  Get through one date, one weekend, a couple of nights before worrying that they were on different pages as far as the future was concerned. He slid onto the elevator and pressed the button. That he even considered the word future where a woman was concerned was a pretty drastic change. Not his usual MO. He leaned forward and patted Renley’s head. No, the only thing he wanted to think about right now was getting Gwen, having lunch, and spending the rest of the day wrapped in her arms.

  Chapter 11

  “No, Mother, absolutely not! Cipriani won’t do. I must have the Grand Ballroom at The Plaza. Grandmother was married there, you were married there. How can you possibly think another venue would be adequate?” Milan crossed her bony arms and stomped her foot.

  Gwen sat next to Mrs. Vanderpelk at the dining room table, its surface covered with look-books and samples all produced by Milan. Well, collected by Milan and produced by Ramona, the Vanderpelk’s housekeeper. Monday meetings with Milan and her mother weren’t fun. In fact, with Milan already stomping and whining more than a year in advance of the wedding, they were barely tolerable.

  “You must get the Grand Ballroom for me.”

  Must? A tall order, as the Grand Ballroom at The Plaza was often booked two years out. Some prestigious families booked the room twenty-four years in advance for their newborn daughters, simply assuming, or willing to take the chance, that the baby would be ready to wed by that date over two decades later.

  Mrs. Vanderpelk took a soothing tone. “Darling, I can try, as can your aunt. But here’s the thing with a place like The Plaza—it’s simply not about the money. What about the weekend before or the weekend aft—”

  “No!” Milan slammed her hand on the table and Mrs. Vanderpelk shuddered. “That doesn’t work for Jefferey or for me! The anniversary of when we met is that exact Saturday. It must be that Saturday and it must be at The Plaza.”

  Must. Must. Must.

  A weary look passed over Mrs. Vanderpelk’s face as she turned toward Gwen. “We will do everything in our power to make Milan’s desires for her wedding a reality. Can we move forward as though we have The Plaza? Continue the planning?”

  “Absolutely.” Gwen nodded. Please let Milan’s mother be present at every consultation. Mrs. Vanderpelk was difficult in her own right, but the woman was much closer to sane and reasonable than her daughter. “Could we begin with the dress?” Gwen glanced at Milan, who still stood stiff and angry at the end of the table with her arms tightly recrossed, glaring at her mother.

  “We could”—Milan narrowed her eyes at Mrs. Vanderpelk—“if mother hadn’t pissed off Karl.”

  Mrs. Vanderpelk waved her hand dismissively and shook her head. “Darling, Karl hasn’t designed a wedding gown in years and he isn’t going to start now.”

  “He would if you asked.”

  “I did and he won’t .”

  “It’s only because we didn’t attend the last show. Your order was miniscule.”

  “I’ve been leaning more toward Dior as of late. I’m certain we could get—”

  “I don’t want a Dior gown, I want Chanel.”

  Gwen let her attention drift as Mrs. Vanderpelk and Milan shot horrible looks across the table at one another, their squabbling degenerating into low-level snippy comments. She maintained her smile as if she couldn’t hear them arguing.

  Yes, she’d had clients before today who’d had couture gowns made for them, and yes, she’d worked on multimillion-dollar weddings, and yes, she’d had difficult brides, but today, at this moment, Milan’s toddleresque temper tantrum put Gwen in a less than kind humor.

  The woman was engaged to a man she presumably loved and was having the wedding of the season, which her very wealthy parents had agreed to pay for. And yet, Milan was throwing one more in a series of world-class fits, this time because she preferred a couture wedding gown by Chanel instead of Dior. Gwen compressed her lips into a thin line and scanned the haphazard scatter of Milan’s ideas all across the table. A multitude of decisions to be made over the next eighteen months. Her job was to help Milan make those decisions, to turn this hodge-podge of ideas into a cohesive, well-planned event.

  Gwen cleared her throat. “Perhaps we focus on the type of gown right now, knowing what you love, and then both the designer that you choose and I can use your unique aesthetic as a jumping-off point to design around.”

  Both mother and daughter stopped bickering and turned toward her.

  “My unique aesthetic?” Milan puffed up a bit, standing straighter behind the chair at the far end of the table.

  “Well, of course.” Gwen nodded toward the myriad pictures on the giant table. “It’s obvious from this collection you have an innate sense of style that is all your own. I want to use your aesthetic to create your amazing wedding.”

  “My wedding,” Milan mused, reaching out toward a picture of a bouquet made up of orchids and magnolias.

  “Her style.” A look of revelation spread over Mrs. Vanderpelk’s face. “Yes, Milan’s style is unique and amazing, with such wit and charm.”

  Milan looked up from the picture toward her mother suspiciously, but her face relaxed into a slight smile when she noted Mrs. Vanderpelk’s sincerity.

  Her mother continued. “She’s had her own style since she was a child. Haven’t you, darling?”

  Milan nodded. She reached down the table and started pulling more pictures toward her. “Yes. Yes, I have.” She looked at Gwen. “You’re absolutely right, let’s focus on my aesthetic as the place to begin.”

  Gwen returned her nod and took a long deep breath. Calmer. Milan and her mother both seemed calmer now they had agreed upon a place to begin. Yes, Gwen had dealt with many, many overindulged and entitled brides, and most, she’d discovered, had similar fears and triggers. These women had been given every thing any person could want while growing up, but the one thing their childhoods had lacked was the praise and attention of their parents.

  Milan did have an aesthetic, and she knew it, but her own sense of self and style had gone unrecognized until this very moment, by the one person who had been perhaps the most important in her life, her mother. Gwen’s chest tightened and she reached for the look-book that contained pictures of cakes.

  Yes, a mother, a woman who was meant to be your template, to give you praise and attention, to instill in you a sense of value and self-worth and importance in the world. A strong woman who loved you and who you were.

  Deep breath.

  Gwen had been lucky. She’d had such a mother, if only for a short while. She pasted her professional smile onto her face and turned to Milan. The bride-to-be now sat surrounded by glossy pictures, a tiny smile hovering on her lips. Gwen would focus, as she had before, on helping this bride articulate her own style, all while maintaining a calm, pleasant demeanor. But inside she felt the Vanderpelk-Westerfeld wedding couldn’t get here soon enough.

  *

  “I didn’t agree to media interviews.” Leo glared across the table at his app designers.

  Ilko took a bite of the yellowtail sashimi, unfazed, and Todd shoved an entire salmon nigiri into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. “Bruh, you’ve got to have the media fix. You’re a businessman. A successful businessman. You had to know we’d need some interviews when you said yes to the campaign.” He upended his cup of hot sake into his mouth. His fingernails were painted black with white skulls, probably to match the white skull-and-crossbones motifs bleached into hi
s beard on each cheek.

  “Just a couple interviews.” Today, Ilko’s hair was the same yellow as a newborn chick’s fluff. She wore a red captain’s cap and big red glasses. Leo thought she had kind of a Ronald McDonald vibe going. “Nothing too major. New York Times, Forbes—”

  “Wired.”

  “A few more.”

  “They love you man. I mean, we had to cut off the interviews at twenty-five—”

  “Twenty-five?” Leo froze, his chopsticks gripping a tuna roll suspended in midair. Yes, he was good with the media, and he’d been giving interviews ever since he’d started working at Travati Financial, but these interviews about the Convenient Arrangement app would get personal. How could they not delve into his lifestyle—past, present, and future? He wasn’t exactly certain what his lifestyle would be in the future, at least not the near future. He wasn’t participating in a convenient arrangement, he was in a relationship. Or he guessed that’s what the thing with Gwen was, because they’d spent nearly every night together since his disastrous attempt at dinner. Giving interviews to multiple media outlets about his “Convenient Arrangement” lifestyle when he was actually in a real relationship stunk of hypocrisy, and Leo didn’t like that smell. “When?”

  “The interviews? They begin end of this week. You’re booked for two days of back to back to back, almost like a press junket for an app.” Ilko high-fived Todd. “So awesome. The media is going to be strong behind this launch. This plus the party—”

  “Hey,” Todd jumped in, “did that party planner lady, what’s her name, Jenn or—”

  “Gwen.” Leo sipped his hot tea. The nonchalance with which Todd tossed around Gwen’s name irritated him. She wasn’t just “that party planner lady.” No, she was so much more. More than even he’d imagined. Thoughts of her lips, her eyes, her flesh careened through his mind. Damn. He’d spent last night at her apartment, he could barely stand being away from her today, and it was only Tuesday. Not his style. But he was definitely having her over to his place tonight. So much for playing the whole damn thing cool.