“I take it Paxton canceled on you?”
“No, what makes you say that?”
Miranda jumps in. “Uh… Let’s see, today’s date is circled on your calendar and there’s an x and o on the date. Which is code for Paxton.”
“How do you even know what’s on my calendar?”
Miranda’s shoulder flies up and plops back down before she explains, “I looked.”
“That simple, huh? That could be code for flow.”
This time Brooke takes over. “Cut the crap, Annabelle. We’ve known you long enough to know what it means, and flow came a week ago. What was his excuse this time?”
“Fine… You’re both right and, as usual, work. He said something about getting a text from his boss about some incredible once-in-a-lifetime event in Japan. I think that’s where he’s headed, but I stopped reading after that.”
“When are you going to just toss in the towel? You need to either stop worshipping him, or tell him,” Brooke explains as she grabs her glass and leans back.
Replaying her words in my head, I drag my lower lip through my teeth. My mouth opens and closes just as quick. I don’t have the words to respond to her statement. The mere thought of giving up on a future with Paxton scares the living hell out of me. Back in high school when I shoved my feelings aside, I’d always thought there would come a day where I could explain them to him. I thought that over the years he would let his heart open back up and be willing to let love in. The older we get, the more I realize this is never going to happen. But giving up on us isn’t in the cards. I’d rather have him as my best friend for the rest of my life than to never have him. We might not get to have nights like Brooke, Miranda, and I are having tonight, but when we do they mean something. Each text, each conversation, or FaceTime means something. We’ve learned over the years how to make the most of it all. If Paxton’s deep in a jungle during a holiday or birthday, he finds a way to communicate with me that day. He’s never missed one, and neither have I.
Glancing up at the two of them, I finally let my voice open up. “I could never give up on him. The two of you should know this more than anyone. I’d rather die alone than never have him in my life. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen, and if not then he’s still my best friend.”
“I get that he’s the only guy you’ve ever loved, but have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re hot as hell, Annabelle, and instead of living and searching for a new love, you’re wasting it away for nothing.”
I let Brooke’s words sink in some. She’s always been vocal about my feelings for Paxton, unlike Miranda who understands and at times agrees to disagree with me. My eyes travel down my body, taking it in. I wouldn’t classify myself as hot as hell, but I’m cute. Just like anyone, I could pick apart my body and wish that my five-foot-seven frame was taller. That my golden-blonde hair was brown and wavy instead of straight. That my forest-green eyes were blue and captive like the island waters that Paxton has taken pictures of over the years. That my creamy complexion was more of a deeper exotic tan from lying under the baking sun for hours. Instead, I compare myself to me—Annabelle Quinn: the friendly, outgoing, hopeless romantic who’s hiding behind her job.
“Whatever, Brooke; I’m not hot but cute. What do you want me to do? What would make you back off some and realize that I only have one soul mate in this world and he just so happens to hate love?”
“Date. Pull out your phone, create an account or look in your magical database at work. Give it a real go, not just a half-ass one like you normally do. Or, how about let’s go out and get crazy.”
“It’s almost ten in the evening; I’m not leaving or changing out of these yoga pants.”
“See, that’s our point right there. Screw those pants and slap on a skirt and heels. Let’s go get crazy for once. Or is Little Miss Annabelle scared that we might be right,” Brooke challenges while not breaking eye contact with me. She knows how to get under my skin, and dang her for it.
“You want to go out? Then let’s do this. I can have fun. I used to be the life of the party.” Standing, my hands find my hips as my eyes flit between the two of them.
“When were you the life of the party? Was this before we knew each other?” Miranda asks and earns a death glare as I head toward my bedroom in search of an outfit that will play up the game a little more tonight. I’m sure by the morning I’ll end up cussing them some and then going back on my word. But for tonight, I’ll allow the fun side of life to take over. They both have made solid points this evening. I need to decide if I want to waste the rest of my life loving someone who will never want to settle down. Or finding someone who will love me for who I am while accepting the fact that I have a male best friend. How does that even work? Can this be possible? Stepping back out into the living room, I notice that both of them are freshening up their makeup and have changed clothes. When they notice that I’ve joined them, Brooke lets out a low whistle. It hits me that they were already prepared for this act tonight. I just got played by them.
“Did you both have clothes in your purses?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Brooke explains as Miranda just shrugs it off like this is how she arrived.
“Fine, let’s go before I change my mind.”
One last look in the mirror by the front door, I pull up at the silky material draped over my shoulder. Instead of wearing a dress, I settle on a pair of black skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder gray chiffon top paired with a pair of gray heels. Just as the elevator doors close, my phone vibrates in my hand. I can’t help the smile that dances when I see that it’s Paxton calling.
“Don’t answer it! Send him to voicemail or I’ll make you go out every night with me for a month.” Brooke’s voice is stern, letting me know she means business.
“Why?”
“Because as soon as you answer, you’ll change your mind or be in a mood all night. Tonight is about three friends going out to have a great time. That means the one who has a penis isn’t allowed to join in on the fun tonight. You can do this, hit the red button.”
Blowing out all the air in my lungs, I tap the reject button and decide to turn my phone off before putting it back inside my clutch. I know that he’ll leave me a message, and if I don’t call back within an hour Paxton will call again. Instead of having to force myself to ignore him, it’s better that the phone stays off until I arrive back home.
“I’m proud of you, Annabelle,” Miranda approves while leaning her head down on my shoulder.
“Why?”
“Because you’re letting loose, if only for one night, and you rejected his call which I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do.”
“Do you think he knows I sent him to voicemail.”
“Yep, and it serves him right.”
I can’t help but laugh at Miranda’s comment. I just hope that by morning I’m still laughing.
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Excerpt from Forty Candles
Jules
The racket coming from downstairs has me bringing the comforter back up and over my head. In some twisted way, my mind’s telling me that this will buy me a few more minutes before I have to face my new reality. As much as I’ve tried to ignore this situation, I can’t anymore. This is real. This is mine and my fifteen-year-old daughter Sophia’s new world. I bet you're wondering what this new world is? No, we didn’t have to pick either the red or blue pill, but it is close to being in the Matrix. It’s a flashback to a time in my life that I thought I’d never have to face again. Living with my parents. Sleeping in my childhood twin bed with my teddy bears staring at me from across the room. How my mother hasn’t changed this room in twenty-one years is beyond me. Was she holding on to a past that should have been ripped from the walls and burned when I left for college? How is it that she could remodel the ENTIRE house but this room? Even Sophie scrunched up her nose when she helped lug my stuff up the stairs. Of course me being me, I shrugged her facial expression off as b
eing a grumpy fifteen-year-old. I’m not even sure what she mumbled before she left to head up to the converted attic- that she’ll now call her room until I can find us a new place to live.
It’s a dream gone wrong this morning. The day that you try to avoid for all of your adult life. Moving back in with your parents at thirty-nine was never on my list of achievements. I can’t even blame it on their health. Both of my parents have more energy than I do on a good day. Healthy, carefree and involved in every society that Savannah has to offer. That’s another embarrassing moment. It’s bad enough that my divorce isn’t final because the jack ass that I married is being what I would call a douche canoe. Yes, it seems that my punishment is to have a long drawn out proceeding that also includes me not living in the house that I made a home for our family. It’s okay, because neither is, David. So. On top of being homeless, the tennis club, the country club, the bridge club, my dad’s golfing friends, and let's just say the whole town knows about mine and David’s separation. Mother said that it’s for the best, no reason to sweep it under the rug and hide from it. She’s also convinced that by the town knowing, this will lead me in a new direction of finding a man to take care of Sophia and me. It doesn’t matter that the ink hasn’t been placed on the paper, that I don’t want to find another David- she will not stop until she finds me a proper southern gentleman.
I use to think David was proper. That he would be the one that I’d grow old with while sipping sweet tea on the front porch as we watched over our grandchildren. That changed the day I came home early from a business meeting and found him with his secretary bent over his desk in the study. I’m not even sure if I was surprised. All I could think of while her legs wherein the air screaming his name was ‘thank God Sophia didn’t walk in on this.’ It’s bad enough if you walk in on your parents, but your father that you admire doing his bamboo-that’s the stuff that causes the need for therapy when she’s older. But I have to stop and look around my childhood room and take in the noise from downstairs-this is another checklist for therapy when she’s older. It’s bad enough that I had to endure my parents growing up, I’m now inflicting them on my child. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t mistreated or anything like that. It’s just that my parents mingle with the right crowd as they put it. They expect us to be apart of this lifestyle. Attending Friday night dinners at the country club. Tuesday and Thursday tennis lessons at the club for Sophia. Which let me warn you, she doesn’t have one single athletic bone in her beautiful body. She got that from me, and no matter how hard I tried in the past we gave up on her loving sports.
The only good thing that David and I did great, was create, Sophia. She’s smart, she’s her own person, and not spoiled by David’s family. Yes, I married up and into a family that has more roots in this town than the hundred-year-old oak tree in the middle of the park. The problem with upgrading my lifestyle all those years ago, they have better lawyers and money to keep this short and straightforward process drawn out until they’re all ready to give up. I might not have my house or anything from within those walls other than my clothes and a few items that I was able to pack up – but I do have my company. That’s one thing David can’t touch.
Designs by Jules is mine and mine alone. I started my own company before we married, and have put blood sweat and tears in that place from the day I opened the doors. Other than the custody of Sophia, this is my fight. Without my business, what would we have left? A name that means nothing to me anymore. A life where I’m confused on where I went wrong in my marriage. A life where I’m living with my parents.
“Mom,” I hear Sophia’s voice filter through the door.
“I’m up,” I respond as I sit up in the small bed and pull the comforter up a little further as if I need it for protection. As Sophia enters my room, I take her in. The way her curly red hair resembles mine, the way she’s paired a pair of ripped jeans with half off the shoulder black top with her black and white checkered chucks. She’s artistic in her style, bringing back a mixture of the 80’s to today versus a shabby chic look. What she doesn’t wear are dresses with frill or lace. David and I did agree on one thing throughout the years. That letting Sophia find herself, not molding her to what our families wanted. She’s smart and would find her way. She expresses herself with clothing and as long as she’s not covered in a hundred percent black and dying her hair black- we’re good with this.
“We need to move, have you seen this,” she asks as she holds up a baby pink tennis shirt and white top with a thin pink stripe along the bottom. I try to hold back but I can’t. A burst of laughter falls from my lips. It’s not that I’m laughing at her. I’m laughing because it’s been less than twenty-four hours and the first outfit has already been purchased.
“Sophia, I’m afraid there’s more where that came from.”
“Mom, I am not wearing this, and you can’t make me.”
“I’m not, but you might want to hide from your grandmother.”
“She can’t make me either. This is totally not fair,” she states as she plops down on the edge of my bed and almost tosses me from it. I lean forward, placing my hand on her back before I respond. “Sophia, I know this is a change, but I promise it’s not forever. I’ll start looking today, and we’ll find someplace new.”
“Whatever,” she states and quickly stands before turning back to look at me. “Grandma wants you down for breakfast, she’s on the warpath-just a warning.”
“Thanks, kid. I’ll be down in just a few.” Offering her a smile for reassurance that our lives will be okay again, I can’t help but be worried about what this is doing to her internally. When I told Sophia about the upcoming divorce, her response was “Not shocked, Mom. Seen it coming years ago.” I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d walked in on her father before over the years. Did she hear rumors, witness the action for herself? I asked, and she told me she hadn’t, but she did sense it. She also reminds me that I don’t smile anymore. That it’s been a long time since she seen a genuine smile on my face. That was the moment I knew I had to get her out of the negative energy. That even though my parents will drive us crazy, this house is a place I can smile and be myself. Well, to a point.
Tossing off the blankets, I stand and make my way over to my tiny closet. Rummaging through, I find my black pencil skirt, turquoise silk button up top and hold them up close together. Today is an important day. A day that could take my company to the next level if hired. We really need this contract with Ward Properties. Not just for the spotlight of being the one design company in Savannah to handle all of their properties, but I need this for us. I want to show my daughter that no matter how hard life is, the right thing still happens. That even though her father isn’t beside me anymore, I can still be the women that started Designs by Jules.
Quickly I dress and throw on a little makeup, trying to conceal the black circles that I’ve got going on under my eyes. My shoulder length auburn hair is uncontrollable this morning. I twist it in a low ponytail, taming down the fly away that frame my pale complexion. Stepping back, I do a quick once over – verifying that everything looks put together well. It’s easy to hide the mess that’s resting inside. With a sharp exhale, I take off downstairs and brace myself for this morning’s events.
“Good Morning Jules, it’s nice for you to join us for breakfast,” my mother states in a tone that’s not welcoming.
“Morning, mother, where’s Sophia?”
“Your father took her to school, and I’ll pick her up this afternoon for you,” she states while not looking away from her newspaper.
“I’ll pick her up, thanks though.”
“Don’t you have work today, or are you blowing that off as well?”
“Stop, mother. I’m not blowing anything off, and this is our routine. I take her to school, I go to work, I pick her up, and then I come home to cook.”
“Yes, but that was your old one, don’t you need us to help?”
“No, you’re doing enough as it is,” I stat
e as I pull down a travel mug so I can fill it with coffee and get the hell out of here before I say something I’ll regret.
“Suit yourself, but I have bridge tonight so dinner will be in the oven before I leave.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I respond as I really need to get out of her and to the office before my meeting. “I’ve gotta go, see you this afternoon,” I state as I place a gentle kiss on the side of her face and take off. Once outside on the porch, I let the air that I was holding in my chest out in one long sigh. “That was better than I expected,” I say as I open the door to my Camry and slide in.
Driving across town to my office, I park and sit here for a moment taking everything in. I’ve spent weeks preparing for this meeting. Drawing up new designs, putting together a presentation that would knock Mr. Ward off his rocker. I’ve heard rumors about him, about the company, and never thought in a million years that I would have an interview for being their chief designer. Lenny Ward is close to my age but was always out of my league when we were kids. I’d only ran into him a few times, as we had different social circles. That meaning, I was married and him very single. Seems the single guys aren’t at the club while the ladies play bridge on the weekend.
Lenny Ward has been described as vicious, cold, a player, and downright brutal when it comes to his family’s business. Never in all the years of design have I felt this nervous to present my ideas. If they like the ones I have today, I’ll be contracted to design all of their homes to come, including the mock houses. If I’m passed over, it’s back to the drawing board. Time to take off the southern gloves and play hardball with the man that could ruin it all.
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