Playboy Ever After

by Chance Carter

  I sighed, “I know, Will. Like I said, if I don’t find anything I can fall back on my office experience. I just really want to try something new. Something fresh.”

  Something that wouldn’t remind me of Max.

  “Maybe you don’t even need to be looking at jobs right now.”

  I tossed a quizzical stare at my best friend. “What do you mean? Of course, I do.” My tone came out harsher than I intended. I sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. This whole process is just taking a toll on me, you know? I feel like I’m running out of time to find my place in the world, meanwhile everybody else seems to have it all figured out.”

  “You could take some time off, do some soul searching.” She wouldn’t meet my eyes, still staring at the screen of her laptop.

  She’d been acting strange all day since I first asked her to come over and help me look for jobs. Willow was normally a fairly strange person anyway, so I didn’t think much of it at first. But telling me not to apply to any jobs was distinctly out of character. When I first quit two weeks ago, she’d sent me an email with links to several job boards that very same day.

  “I don’t understand you at all,” I mused.

  Willow laughed. “Me neither sometimes.”

  Her phone trilled from the arm of the couch, and Willow practically leapt into the air.

  “Oh my God, relax,” I said, laughing. “It’s just your phone.”

  She snatched it up and rose to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

  I lifted a brow in response to her strange and sudden need for privacy, but didn’t press it. She was entitled to not have me listen in on her phone calls if she wanted.

  Willow slipped off to the bathroom. While I continued searching for jobs, finding nothing that I was qualified for much less interested in, I was feeling even more demoralized by the second. The anxiety swirling thick in my chest refused to abate, and all I wanted to do was call Max. I’d been fighting the urge all week. Willow was great, but I knew a few words and a hug from Max, and I wouldn’t be worrying anymore. Too bad I’d burned that bridge.

  She came back a few minutes later, smiling nervously at me as she resettled into her spot on the other side of the couch.

  “Right... where were we?” She rubbed her hands together and pulled the laptop back over her knees.

  “Maybe I should just go home.” The words came out small and weak, which was exactly how I felt for saying them in the first place.

  “You are home.”

  I tossed her a pointed look and her mouth formed into a silent “O.”

  “You can’t go back there,” she said, less than a second later. “You hated it there. You spent all your teenage years plotting your escape.”

  “True,” I said, “but I also know that my parents will take care of me. I’ve got some money to get me by, but rent isn’t cheap and if I don’t find a job soon then I’ll blow through my savings in no time.” I shrugged. “Besides, maybe it’s gotten less horrible. I mean, it’s not like they ever beat me or anything. Surely they can’t be as controlling, now that I’m a grown adult and all.”

  She snorted. “Less horrible? I doubt it. If anything, you going back would just give your parents the motivation to tighten things down even more. I might never see you again.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “I don’t know what I was thinking. This is all just stressing me out. I’m beginning to wonder if leaving Goodman-Westfield was a mistake.”

  Willow reached down the sofa and rested her hand on my arm. “You did what you needed to do. Now you just have to trust that things are going to work out. Don’t go home. Stay in New York with me and we’ll find you a job if it’s the last thing we do.”

  We lapsed into silence, save for the clicking of keys as we scrolled through pages of job listings.

  I wondered if Max missed me. As an employee. As a lover. Probably a little of both, though I hardly found the idea comforting. At the end of the day, he had still let me go. He’d let me leave. It wasn’t like he was supposed to chase after me on a white steed or anything, but he didn’t exactly put up much of a fight. I barely spoke to him during those last two weeks, and he did the same. Maybe he was secretly relieved that I quit the job… and him.

  Our quiet was interrupted once more by Willow’s cell phone. She swore and jumped off the couch, bounding to the bathroom without even excusing herself this time.

  I tried to listen to see if I could catch any lines of her conversation, but she was too far away and I didn’t think it would be right to get up and snoop. She returned a couple minutes later, her face a little pinker than when she’d left.

  “What is going on with your phone today?” I asked jokingly, even though I was completely serious. “Have you started a telephone sex line or something?”

  She burst out into nervous laugh, “No, nothing like that. I’m getting a haircut next week and they keep having to move my appointment.”

  That was one of the worst excuses she’d ever come up with, but something about her evasiveness told me not to press further. She leaned over her laptop, letting a curtain of her hair cover her face as she got right back down to business.

  “You know Emma, if it comes down to it, that telephone sex line thing, might not be a bad idea for you.”

  Chapter 32

  Emma

  For the third time in the past minute, I reminded myself to breathe.

  It wasn’t a big deal, just a job interview for a cushy position in a consulting firm. Granted, it was a firm I couldn’t even remember applying to and a job that I was undoubtedly unqualified for, but still. I was going to be fine. If I didn’t get it, no big deal. I wanted to stick with more creative stuff anyway, didn’t I?

  I took another breath. In. Out.

  It had been a week since my last day at Goodman-Westfield and I hadn’t had any other bites on my resume yet. Much as I told myself this wasn’t a big deal, it was kind of a big deal. I needed to start earning income soon.

  I straightened my blouse again, unnecessarily so, then grabbed my keys and purse, and was out the door. The company’s head office was in a swanky building in downtown Manhattan, not too far from where I’d been working only a week before. It was almost like going home.

  I couldn’t help but think about Max the entire subway ride downtown. I wished I was heading back to his building instead, and that I could walk right back in like I’d been on a long coffee run and nobody would be the wiser. But there was a new person sitting at my desk now, a young woman named Farah who I tried not to be too jealous of when I was training her. She was sweet and clever, and would probably be a great personal assistant to Max. I knew I had no claim over him anymore, but all the same I hoped that a personal assistant was all she would be.

  I re-straightened my blouse. Again. Staring up at the glass skyscraper, I gulped. Over the past week, the stress of not having a job had been getting to me. Not quite as much as the angst of not having Max had been getting to me, but the two together combusted into something quite desperate indeed. Because of that, this whole situation felt very life or death.

  I lowered my gaze and prepared to walk through the revolving front doors, only to see Willow blocking my path. She was grinning from ear to ear, and I frowned as I approached.

  “Are you here to wish me well?” I asked.

  She laughed and grabbed my arm, tugging me in the opposite direction. “Not exactly.”

  I struggled against her grip. “Hey! I’ve got a job interview in ten minutes. What are you doing?”

  “I need you to trust me,” Willow said, still dragging me down the street. “Can you do that?”

  I stopped resisting and starting walking alongside her. She still didn’t let go of my hand, and in fact squeezed it harder than ever.

  “Willow, tell me what’s going on.”

  “What’s going on,” Willow said, pulling me to the curb in front of a big black limo, “is that you’re getting in that limo.”

/>   The driver got out when he saw us and walked around the back, opening the door. Willow waved impatiently toward it.

  “Come on, girl. We don’t have all day.”

  I took one last look at the building I was leaving behind and groaned. “Fine. But you better tell me what’s going on once we get inside.”

  Willow did not tell me what was going on when we got inside. In fact, she stayed irritatingly silent as she uncorked a champagne bottle and poured me a glass.

  I wasn’t stupid. I knew that Willow didn’t have this kind of money, which only left one question—where was all of this coming from?

  “Willow,” I said. “Does this have something to do with Max?”

  She spilled a little of the champagne as she handed it to me, wincing. “It’s a surprise.”

  “Willow...” I lowered my voice but accepted the glass all the same. I needed a drink. I’d been on one roller coaster ride of a day so far and suspected it wasn’t going to be over anytime soon.

  “It’s a surprise,” she persisted. “You’ll ruin it if you keep asking me questions. You know I’m not a great liar.”

  “Which is why I’m asking you in the first place,” I muttered bitterly.

  Willow laughed and tipped back her head as she drank more of the champagne. I watched out the window, looking for clues. If this did have something to do with Max, then why was Willow involved? And what was up with the limo?

  “Did you fabricate a job interview to get me out here today?” I asked.

  Willow’s only response was a mischievous grin. I sighed.

  The ride only got more confusing when we arrived at our destination.

  “We’re here!” Willow announced cheerily while we waited for the driver to come open the door.

  I peered out the window, not quite believing my eyes. “The Fulton?” I asked. “What are we doing here?”

  “You really don’t understand the concept of a surprise, do you?”

  I glared sourly at her.

  The Fulton Hotel was an elegant, art deco building that had stayed relatively untouched in terms of style since the 1920s. I picked it out when I first moved to New York as the dream venue for my dream wedding. Everything about it, from the golden geometric patterned lights to the sumptuous maroon carpeting spoke of old world glamor. They had a gorgeous honeymoon suite too, one I would kill to spend the night in. Especially if it meant I got to have my dream wedding beforehand, too.

  Willow and I stepped out onto the sidewalk and she grabbed my hand again, pulling me through the front doors. My head swiveled this way and that as I struggled to take in the hotel’s opulence, wanting to commit as much of it to memory as possible. I didn’t know when I would get another chance to do so. The fact that I was even inside the building was a dream come true.

  Willow stopped in front of the elevator and we stepped inside. She punched the button for the fourth floor and swayed back and forth on her heels as we ascended.

  “When are you going to tell me what the surprise is?”

  I was starting to get impatient now. This whole journey had been overwhelming to say the least, and I feared that my imagination was going to make a fool out of me if I didn’t put a stop to it soon. Visions of Max in a black tux, waiting downstairs by an altar wrapped in golden vines danced through my head.

  “The thing about surprises is that you find out when you’re supposed to find out,” she said. “And not a second before.”

  I groaned, “You’re killing me.”

  “Well you’re going to love me in a minute, so I wouldn’t say anything you’ll regret.” She winked.

  The doors slid open and Willow grabbed my hand again, practically bounding down the corridor. She lurched to a stop in front of one of the rooms, digging in her purse and producing a keycard. After unlocking the door, she thrust it open dramatically and all but pushed me inside.

  My confusion churned, turning into something else. Disbelief. Excitement. Anxiety.

  I wanted to believe that the scene in front of me was real, but I was afraid that if I did it would all disappear into a gust of smoke.

  Paulina Westfield was lounging on a chaise by a long, sun-soaked window overlooking the opposite hotel. She had a glass of champagne in one hand, and she used the other to beckon me closer.

  It wasn’t Paulina that had me so concerned, though. It was the garment rack positioned next to her, or rather the white gown hanging from it.

  I rushed forward, not even saying a word of greeting to Paulina before my hands clutched at the lace and silk dream in front of me.

  “Oh my God...” I ran my palms down the length of it, smooth beading gliding over my skin. “This is... this is my wedding dress.”

  The words didn’t even start to sink in until a few seconds after I’d said them. So, I said them again.

  “This is my wedding dress!”

  Not only did I now understand that all this cloak and dagger nonsense had been to surprise me with my dream wedding in my dream venue, but this was also my dream wedding dress. A sweetheart neckline, lace cap sleeves, and a tight-fitting bodice with an A-line skirt. Pnina Tornai. Expensive as hell.

  It was my dress. The dress I never thought I’d end up owning, but had salivated over anyway, because it was something to do.

  “We had to conference with the Pnina ourselves,” Paulina drawled, rising to her feet. “It was not easy to get it done in such a condensed amount of time, so if it doesn’t fit properly, I’m afraid it will have to do.”

  “Have to do?” I repeated, turning to her with wide eyes. “I would walk down the aisle in this dress even if it was so tight I couldn’t move. This is incredible!”

  I flung my arms wide and gathered Paulina into a massive hug before she had a chance to scuttle away. She weakly embraced me, taking a sip of champagne over my shoulder.

  I released her and turned to Willow, who’d followed me into the room and was now standing just behind me.

  “You did this? I’m confused.”

  “I did nothing,” Willow said. “Except provide a little expertise where I could. And kidnap you today, obviously.” She smiled, “It was all Max, Em. He found your Pinterest board.”

  “That boy is a hopeless romantic,” Paulina said, airily. “He gets it from his mother of course.”

  My chest bubbled with excitement. I still couldn’t believe all this was happening. Even though the facts and proof were in front of me, I half-expected Max to be missing in action by the time I got downstairs.

  “You need to start getting ready,” Willow said. “I just texted the stylists and told them to come up. You should probably go hop in the shower.”

  “This is happening now?” I asked. “Like today?”

  I didn’t know why they would pull me in here with so much drama if it were happening tomorrow, but it was still too surreal for me to digest.

  All the feelings that I’d been trying to suppress for Max burst in my chest like fireworks. Tears sprang to my eyes and Willow wrapped me into a hug before I started blubbering like a crazy person right in front of my soon-to-be husband’s mother.

  “If you want this, it’s happening now,” she murmured, rubbing my back. “But you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

  She was confusing my crying for hesitation, which was understandable. But the second I realized that it was the day of my wedding, I knew there was no place I’d rather be.

  “No. I want to be here,” I told her. “Now let go of me. There’s a lot of work to do, and if I’m getting married today, I’m gonna need some time to shave my legs.”

  Chapter 33

  Emma

  Max had tailored almost every detail of this day to my fantasy design. The hairstylist already knew what I wanted for my hair, the make-up artist already knew what I wanted for my face, and the only thing that seemed to be missing was the groom. I hadn’t seen Max in over a week. Outside of my dreams, anyway. Part of me kept wondering if this was all another dream, a big cosmic jok
e that I’d wake up from… back in my little bed in my little apartment that I was going to lose soon because the only job interview I’d managed to score turned out to be fake.

  Then I’d reach over and run my fingertips over the dress, and I’d feel how the textures swirled together, just like I knew they would when I looked at the pictures.

  Though Max had gotten every detail perfectly right, the one thing I hadn’t planned for my wedding was being rushed. I felt like my hair and make-up were being perfected by forces of nature, not by two women wielding hair spray and blush.

  Being rushed ended up being a good thing. At first it was a little overwhelming, but I soon found I didn’t want to wait any longer to see Max. Knowing he was downstairs waiting for me was torture.

  “What did he say to you?” I asked Willow, as she inspected her maid of honor dress in the full-length mirror.

  A pained expression crossed her face. “I don’t think I’m supposed to say anything. I know there’s a lot that he wants to tell you and I don’t want to ruin it.”

  My heart picked up even faster, something that I hadn’t thought possible.

  “Wait.” I put out my hand to stop Megan, the hair stylist, midway through braiding a section of my hair. She moved to the side to allow me to see Willow properly, and I skewered my best friend with my best hard gaze. “He’s not just doing this because he thinks it’s the only way to get me back, is he?”

  Willow’s mouth flopped open and my heart sank. I hadn’t considered this possibility until now, because I was so high on the fantasy of my dream wedding, but my dream wedding would be a nightmare if the groom didn’t want to get married at all. And why would Max have a sudden change of heart on one of his key issues?

  God no. My stomach surged up my throat and I felt like I was going to puke.

  “Calm down, darling,” Paulina purred.

  She was back to reclining on the chaise, holding her champagne flute aloft and looking for all intents and purposes like an ancient Greek goddess.