Seven Books for Seven Lovers

by Molly Harper, Stephanie Haefner, Liora Blake, Gabra Zackman, Andrea Laurence, Colette Auclair

  Clive’s leaving. I quickly dart my eyes back to my screen, so I can only see Shane’s feet again. He isn’t moving. What is he doing? I can feel his eyes on me. My heart drums louder.

  Slowly, I glance up.

  My stomach jumps.

  He’s looking right at me.

  It’s just like the first time I saw him at school. I looked across the lecture hall, and there he was, disheveled hair, wrinkled shirt, and copper-brown eyes. Staring at me. An entire conversation passed between us, unspoken but understood.

  Now it’s the same conversation, only this time it’s forbidden.

  The corners of his lips turn slightly as he holds my gaze. I should look away but I can’t. There’s an emotional swell in my chest. I chew on my nail and feel a smile wanting to escape behind my hand. My face contorts trying to hold it in.

  Don’t do it. Do not smile. Keep it back . . . he smiles . . . and oh my God, it’s a great one.

  Major tummy flip. It’s a double.

  “There’s a smile I don’t often see,” Bradley calls out from behind Shane.

  My stomach drops like a stone.

  Of course, Bradley thinks the smile’s because of him, because he’s heading in my direction, and he’s my fiancé. The smile should be for him.

  Oh, God. I’ve failed.

  I was supposed to be able to control it.

  Keep the past from muddling up my future.

  I’m not smiling anymore.

  “Hi,” I say with forced enthusiasm as Bradley nears. I bet I look guilty. I feel guilty. It’s percolating under the surface.

  He sits on the edge of my desk the way Clive usually does. I dart my eyes back toward the conference room, but Shane’s turned and walked back in.

  “I was thinking again, that you should call Ren about meeting with the wedding planner on Monday. It might be something you guys can connect on. It could be really good for you two.”

  He’s solving. Helping.

  I’m failing.

  “Yeah, okay, she might like it. I’ll call right away,” I add, digging for my phone. Whatever he wants. I’m the worst fiancée. The worst human being.

  “Good. All right, I need to finish up a few things before we head out.” He slaps his hands on his thighs and rocks up. “So, I’ll catch ya in about thirty?” He smiles and heads toward his office.

  Looking around, I’m half convinced everyone witnessed the exchange and can see right through me to all my unsupervised thoughts.

  ELLIE-BELL: Anything?

  KENZI SHAW: What’s the line in My Best Friend’s Wedding? After she says, “I’m pond scum”?

  ELLIE-BELL: What are you talking about?

  KENZI SHAW: It’s “You’re lower.” And I’m lower. I’m the fungus that feeds on pond scum. The gunk that cruds up the stuff, that sits under the slime.

  ELLIE-BELL: That’s a line in a movie?

  Not exactly. My back is tensing. The muscles that run along the neck and shoulders are starting to spasm. I glance again at the conference room door. Forget fireworks, our TFT produced TNT. It’s an epic fail. And I’m the one who’s going to blow up. All my plans. Everything I want. One big kaboom, kerplowey, kersplat, and for what?

  It’s about the movie concept, that’s why Shane’s here. So he doesn’t see me with Bradley, that doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like Julia Roberts’s character, Julianne, in My Best Friend’s Wedding when she pleaded with Michael, Choose me. Pick me. Let me make you happy.

  No, Shane said, It’d be fun to work together, who else would pull off this concept, and he apologized for the past.

  Okay, so old feelings still exist for me. So what. Relationships aren’t all about fireworks. Those fade over time, right? I straighten, pen suspended in air. My heart sinks.

  It’s been seven years.

  He’s like Connor Mead . . . and I’m like Jennifer Garner’s character, Jenny Perotti. What was his line? I quickly Google Ghosts of Girlfriends Past to find it. Here, yes . . . The power in all relationships lies with whoever cares less. It’s true. If I’m still muddled up in old feelings, Shane still holds this power over me.

  He always did. And not just over me. Over all the girls. It wasn’t that I didn’t care that every female in college thought they had this special connection with him, I just got used to it. Although at Fossie’s, the flirty Mary didn’t seem to get his normal attention. His attention was solely on me.

  Either way, I need a ghost buster.

  Oh, I need to call Ren! Dialing quickly, my eyes keep darting to the conference room.

  “Hello?”

  “Ren, hi. It’s Kenz.” Oh my God, I’m my mother. “Well, of course you know it’s me—”

  “Hi.”

  “Well, I’m calling to ask if you’d like to maybe meet me Monday, at the wedding planner’s? Bradley said she was a friend, so—”

  “Oh, I planned on it. I can only be there to get you started. But at least that way someone will be around to steer you in the right direction.”

  Yes, because I couldn’t be trusted on my own. Well, maybe I can’t. Her registry pops to mind—yeah, not the time to get into that. “Okay, well, I’ll meet you there on Monday, then?”

  She reminds me to dress appropriately before she hurries off to meet my mom and her decorator. They’re planning the nursery. Can’t plan my wedding, can’t save my paintings, can’t understand why I’m upset, but . . .

  Eloping is sounding better and better. Maybe we should just get it over with before I do something stupid and Bradley leaves me, too. Kneading my neck, I roll my shoulders to loosen the tension. I need to be working, not thinking.

  “Kenzi, how are things moving along with Bennett’s new concept?” It’s Clive, he’s walked around my desk and is leaning over my shoulder to see the screen. I didn’t even hear him walk up. Everyone’s in ghost mode.

  I zoom out so he can see the entire collage of the movie stills Shane provided. All ten from our list can easily be identified, plus a few extras like When Harry Met Sally and Pretty in Pink. It’s one wide and narrow piece, which can then be spliced where needed for individual marketing pieces.

  “Has Shane seen this yet?” Clive asks, still over my shoulder. He chews his gum loudly. It smells of spearmint.

  “No, not yet. I wanted to get a little further alo—”

  “No, this works, he’ll be thrilled. I’d save it off and make sure he knows it’s almost completed.”

  “But it’s not.”

  “Well, I’d like to bill him for stage two and that looks far enough along.” He stands, folds his arms, and chews, while regarding my screen with his head tilted.

  Since we bill in thirds we received payment with the contract sign-on. The second will be upon conceptual approval, and third is with completion. I’ve never seen him so anxious to bill a client before. And it’s not done. I’m not ready.

  Before I can argue, Clive has turned and is starting to leave.

  “Oh.” He spins and backtracks a few steps. “I invited them to the after-work thing. I’d be taking them out anyway since they made the trip.”

  Wait . . . “Who?” My heart’s beating faster.

  Clive pops his eyes. “Peterson. Bennett. The clients.”

  My I-can-handle-this bubble bursts. It’s splattered all over my engagement party outfit, and there’s no time to change.

  Clive waves a hand dismissively. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

  He invited Shane to my engagement party.

  Yeah, I think that might be a problem.

  CHAPTER TEN

  My Best Friend’s Wedding Advice

  I’VE STRIPPED THE CARDIGAN and lost the ponytail. I may have sprouted a she-devil tail, however. I’m actually surprised no one’s stepped on it yet. I’m feeling unkind and undeserving.

  I should be happy.

  This is Bradley’s and my night, and Ditty’s is one of my favorite places in downtown Indy. It’s a bar and restaurant that features piano music during din
ner hours, with an additional piano player joining for boisterous, dueling entertainment later. By midnight, it turns into a group karaoke all-out glee concert.

  My emotions are volleying from one extreme to another as we walk in, and I feel my devil tail swish like an agitated cat’s.

  “There they are,” says Bradley, pointing to the row of tables put together along the side. His hand is at the small of my back to gently guide me toward our party.

  Half the office has arrived. A waitress is passing drinks to Tonya and Ellie, and Maggie, the receptionist, is waving us over. Some of the guys from Programming are here, and most of the sales reps. I don’t see Clive, Rand Peterson, or anyone in particular that usually wears jeans.

  “Hey, girly, look at you,” says Tonya, with her straw between her lips. She’s in another expensive-looking outfit I’ve never seen. Guess she thinks a Starbucks makes up for everything.

  Whatever. If I make a big deal about it, it will only ruin the night and drag Bradley into more of my Shane past.

  The buzz of multiple conversations carries over clanking dishes and the music. There’s already an unmistakable energy in the club. The man at the piano is playing “Knock on Wood.” Every time he sings the chorus, people tap out the beat on their tables. I can’t help but think of Casablanca. There’s a song with this line in the chorus where they do that. Not the same song, but similar enough.

  “You look gorgeous, Kenz,” Ellie says over the music as I slide next to her.

  “Thanks, Ellie-bell, you do too.” I lean in toward Tonya with my best pasted-on smile. “Maybe we can talk sometime tomorrow?” I should have been an actress, because I keep putting in one epic performance after another. I’m not ready to just let this go. I deserve an explanation, even if I won’t get an apology.

  “Yeah, okay.” A relieved smile forms on her face. “Tomorrow, for sure.”

  Within minutes, we’re a group of twenty. Everyone’s chatting, drinks are flowing, and appetizers have arrived. This is great. I admit it feels pretty nice to have all these people here for us. I’ve almost forgotten everything. I smile at Bradley and take a sip of my drink.

  “Ow!” I jump and narrow my eyes at Ellie.

  She kicked me. Hard. Her pointed pumps could be considered lethal.

  She’s nodding with a guess-who’s-here expression. That’s when I see Clive, Rand Peterson, and Shane, walking our way. No tummy flip. I’m on lockdown.

  There are empty chairs across from Bradley and me. Right across. This means he’ll be staring at us all night. The happily engaged couple. My insides twist. How am I supposed to get my footing, if he’s always underfoot?

  “Hi,” I say when they approach, and quickly laugh at something Bradley said. I have no idea what he said.

  Tonya smiles and flips her hair flirtatiously. “Hi ya, boys. Not a party without you.”

  “Considering I’m the one footing the bill,” Clive says and takes a seat.

  “Well, there’s that.” She looks at Shane, grins, and pops her eyes. “Hi, Shane. You look all kinds of handsome.”

  Bradley whips around and gives her a cool-it look. What is that?

  Shane pulls out the seat across from me, while looking at Tonya. “Well, I didn’t actually change, but thank y—”

  “Don’t you think, Kenz? Shane looks hot?” Her eyebrows are high.

  Now I’m the one giving her a cool-it look. What is she doing? I thought we had a truce? Shane looks from her to me with a confused smile.

  I pretend like I didn’t hear and am suddenly fascinated by what the piano player is doing. Yup, he’s playing the piano.

  Bradley’s arm drapes around my chair, and he leans back, looking as annoyed as I feel. He can’t be thrilled my ex is here. Clive’s an ass for inviting them. Actually, I’m not sure Clive really knows anything. He’s been so focused on Shane’s account, I doubt he’s dialed in.

  “What, Ellie? I didn’t hear you.” I turn toward her and lean in.

  Ellie makes a screwed-up expression and whispers in my ear. “I didn’t say anything.”

  I dart my eyes to the crowd and laugh. “I know? Right?” This cannot be my plan for surviving this evening.

  Bradley’s making small talk with Terry from Sales, sitting to his left. I lift my glass and take a drink. I’m thinking about ordering another.

  Shane’s looking at me.

  My stomach somersaults. Damn it.

  “You look beautiful, Kensington.”

  Another flip. Another TFT fail. I smile involuntarily and feel my cheeks burn. I’m sure they’re a bright scarlet. Bradley turns. I’m certain he’s heard and will notice my new rosy complexion. I take a sip of my drink, feeling warm and extremely thirsty all of a sudden.

  “Bennett, Kenzi tells me you should have your concept wrapped soon. So, you’ll be heading back to the farm? You do live on a farm, don’t you?”

  Yup, he heard.

  Clive leans forward on his elbows. “Oh, it’s a farm all right, but it’s right off Lake Michigan, near La Porte. Big tourist town and just beautiful property . . . made a trip up there when we first pitched the Carriage House.” He turns to Shane to confirm.

  “Yes, that’s right. Hopefully we can open within a year’s time.” Shane nods modestly.

  “Hell of an operation, Shane. Really something else,” Clive adds.

  Clive’s seen it? Shane’s really doing it? I can’t help but be surprised, maybe a little impressed. I mean, I knew, obviously, that Shane was the owner, but I guess it didn’t really register as real. The boy I knew always had big ideas, but that’s as far as they went.

  “In fact, Kenzi here should go take a look.” Clive is rotating his beer glass around in his fingers. “If you’re putting her murals up inside, she should see the space,” Clive says with a wink. It’s the let’s-keep-Mr.-Bennett-happy wink. He takes a drink, his eyes on me over the rim.

  Tonya clasps her hands together. “Oh, that would be great! Kenz would love that!”

  What is she doing? My assessment of the situation swings wildly between two scenarios. She’s either looking out for me or stabbing me in the back. Again.

  Shane’s eyes flick to me. It’s a shared don’t-mention-anything exchange. There’s no way I want to explain how I’ve already seen his farm. It was years and years ago, and now is not the time to bring up our past. It’s weird enough he’s at my engagement party.

  Shane regards Clive. “I do actually think that would help.” He leans back in his chair. “I was going to head back Tuesday night, after your client outing.” His eyes move back my way. “If you’d like to see the restaurant and theater site, I’d be happy to take you up. You’re welcome to tag along, Bradley, of course.”

  Bradley huffs. His chin’s up.

  “It is a farm, though, remember?” Shane asks, his lips pressed in a tight line.

  Clive doesn’t let Bradley answer. “Well, we can’t have the whole office gone on some field trip now, can we? Bradley, you and I have a meeting Wednesday morning with the Colts franchise anyway.”

  Clive’s got him on a technicality. The Colts pitch is a huge deal. Bradley’s pissed. I can tell by his forced smile and how he’s drumming his first two fingers against his beer. I don’t blame him.

  Bradley’s focused on Shane. “Then we can expect it done, by what, next Friday?” He turns to me, his expression still stern. “At the absolute latest, right?”

  I nod. My throat tightens. I don’t dare swallow or answer.

  “Good. I’m sure Shane would like to get back to his farm life,” Bradley says, then takes a long drink. His arm is now resting around me instead of the chair back. His fingers are weaving through my hair. There’s an unmistakable tension.

  “I love work parties,” Tonya says. “Ow!”

  I’m certain Ellie kicked her.

  “Shane, are you guys staying in town this weekend?” Ellie blurts. “Ow—what the hell?”

  That kick was from me. Ellie knows Bradley’s going to Lansing
until Monday night. The last thing I need is for Bradley worrying about that while he’s gone.

  Our waitress and two other servers appear carrying trays of food. Thank goodness. They ordered family-style before we arrived to make it simple. Plates of everything are being set up in the table’s center. Everyone’s grabbing dishes, passing bowls, and commenting on the food—everyone except for me.

  I’m leaning with my chin in my palm in a sudden fog. Clive just volunteered me to drive up for an overnight with Shane Bennett. I finish off my drink in one long sip and ask Bradley to order me another.

  We agreed no gifts, that the dinner was more than enough. But Maggie’s passing something under the table and giggling. Something’s going on. I catch Clive and Maggie whispering. They feign innocence when they see me watching.

  Ellie looks like she’s going to burst. She laughs and looks at an index card, then Bradley. “So, how did you and Kenzi meet?” she asks loudly.

  Everyone’s stopped what they’re doing to listen.

  “Er . . . well, at work,” Bradley says. He looks as confused as I feel. She already knows how we met, why is she asking? And what’s with the cards? I notice everyone now has them.

  “Well, that’s lame,” says Tonya.

  Clive waves a hand in the air animatedly, his card clasped tightly between his fingers. “You need to spice it up. Make something up.”

  “Wait, I’ve got it,” says Shane, grinning. He’s talking loudly, too. No index card. “It was a mental institution.”

  “What? How much have you all been drinking?” Bradley asks, looking around, confused.

  This ignites laughter all around.

  Ellie reads her card then yells out, “Wasn’t it because of Dionne Warwick?” It’s like some badly rehearsed play and everyone has a part.

  “Oh, that’s me,” Maggie says and stands glancing at her card. She finds her place with her index finger, then with dramatic flair she literally shouts, “Who is Dionne Warwick?”

  They all yell at once, “Sacrilege!”