Seven Books for Seven Lovers

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

  Now I have tears. Ren’s not judging me in the least. No, Ren’s just saying to be sure. That I need to be sure. Wow. “Thanks, Ren.”

  WALKING INTO THE CONFERENCE ROOM, I pull the dimmer up slightly to bathe the room in a dingy yellow haze. The three printouts of my paintings are still leaning on the board. They’re really not bad. Of course, now I’ll never see the originals again to be sure. Mom felt bad.

  I pull my ring off and rotate it mindlessly between my fingers. I could maybe open my own studio. I never even tried. Why didn’t I?

  The Wedding Planner pops into my head. Not that psycho Bethany Chesawit, but the movie. When Steve, who is engaged to Fran, says to his friend about Mary, “Fran’s great, but what if what I think is great, really is great, but not as great as something greater?”

  And what if there isn’t?

  Can I really stand on my own?

  That’s what I spent all night debating. And Ren’s right, you have to be sure. And about this, I am. I just need the courage to act on it.

  “Hey, watcha doin’ in here all by yourself?” Ellie’s in the doorway. She looks guilty. She shouldn’t have told Shane about the wedding planner’s yesterday, and I am mad, but not at her. Not really.

  “Hey,” I say, wiping under my eyes and turning toward her.

  “Kenz, I tried to warn you Shane was on his way.” She takes a few steps inside.

  “You mean after you told him where I was, right?” I slouch back in the chair.

  “Well, after, yeah.” She pulls out a chair and sits. “But I swear he basically beat it out of me.”

  I narrow my eyes. She probably Googled the address and printed out the map for him.

  “Are you okay? You don’t look okay.”

  I nod, and manage a small smile. “I’m going to be.”

  “So . . .” Her lips squish to the side. “What happened yesterday?”

  I laugh in spite of myself, then explain about the mix-up and how they thought Shane was Bradley and his ridiculous imitation.

  Ellie’s staring at me in disbelief. “But why would they think Shane was Bradley?”

  I lift my chin, then wave away the question. “It’s complicated. Anyway . . .” I tell her about the Dirty Dancing lift, and the other couple, how I know them, and how her mom knows my mom. Then I lean close and lower my voice to almost a whisper. “On Saturday, after the symphony, he kissed me.”

  Her mouth drops, but I’m going for the full oh-my-God finale. Why not, I’m on a roll so far today.

  “And yesterday, Shane said it wouldn’t happen again unless . . .” I tap my ring. “Unless I get rid of this and call off the wedding.”

  “You’re calling off the wedding?” Tonya’s standing frozen in the doorway.

  “SO, WHAT ARE YOU HUNGRY for?” Bradley asks as we walk to his BMW in the parking garage for a late lunch. “Pizza?”

  Maybe if it’s in Italy. I’d like to be anywhere but here. Am I doing this? You have to be sure. I’m sure. I’m doing this. “Mm, I was hoping we could talk.”

  The sedan gives a beep-beep and unlocks. “Okay, we can talk while we eat. I’m starving.”

  What am I doing? I can’t do this. But I’m going to. Oh my God, I’m going to. I’ve spent too much of my life measuring my own worth based on other people’s standards, and I can’t do it anymore.

  I’m exhausted from trying.

  It’s time for plan B, which really is plan Me. Even if that means I don’t have a plan at all. Plan B just means plan A isn’t going to work any longer.

  “I can’t marry you.”

  The words just hang stagnant in the air.

  Bradley’s hand is wrapped around his keys in the ignition, but the motion’s stalled.

  “I, um . . .” My chest feels tight. I don’t want to hurt him. That’s not my intention.

  He looks confused, but then tips his head back and splays his hands open. “If you’re not happy with the wedding planner or whatever, hon, we can switch stuff.”

  He’s saying the words, but his expression tells me he understood what I meant. I can hear my heart drum in my ears. I can’t believe I’m doing this. What am I doing? But the truth is that I know what I’m doing.

  I slip the ring off my finger and hold it out to him. Tears well up and overflow my lids. “I’m so sorry, Bradley.” It’s whispered, and it’s meant.

  Another sharp breath cinches his nostrils. He rubs a hand over his jaw, and exhales for a long time. “What are you doing, Kenz? Are you serious? What’s your family going to say?”

  “What’s my family going to say?” He’s proving my point. “At this moment, I don’t care what they’re gonna say. So why do you?” I push the ring at him again.

  His blue eyes search mine. He reaches out and closes my hand around the ring, keeping his hand over the top. “You know I love you. You know we make sense. We can do the wedding whenever you want. Just think about what you’re doing, okay? Don’t make an irrational decision.” He pushes my hand to me then leans back in his seat.

  Bradley hasn’t lied to me. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He said he loves me. “I do love you, Bradley. But . . .”

  Not like the movies.

  And there it is. The truth. My real dark and deep secret. It’s time I confessed. “I think, no, I know I want something more, I want . . .” I turn and look at him, determined to make him understand. “I want what I see in the movies, I want . . .”

  “What?”

  “No, listen. When the main characters meet, you’re filled with this warm hopeful glow, ya know? And we laugh, sometimes till there’s tears, because of all the little embarrassing situations they find themselves in trying to get together. And then there’s this romantic confession of love, and you’re elated because they’re finally together. And they should be. You know this. And even though it was completely predictable, you cry. I cry . . .” I realize I am crying and smiling and probably not making sense.

  He’s shaking his head with his upper lip raised. “Look, I don’t know what all this is, but this is the real world, and—”

  “But I don’t want the real world. You’re not listening.”

  “Okay, let’s just slow down a minute.”

  With the ring still in my hand, I sit back. This is horrible. Tears stream down my cheeks. If I know this is the right thing, why is it so hard? Clearing my throat, I try again. “I know this seems like it’s out of nowhere, and maybe it doesn’t make se—”

  “It’s Bennett, isn’t it?”

  My heart skips. I look up and meet his eyes. I’m hurting him. I shake my head. “No. It’s not. It’s me. Somewhere along the way, I just, I don’t know, I lost who I am, what I wanted for myself . . . And yes, I want to get married and have babies, but I—”

  “I don’t get it, Kenz. I mean . . .” He’s sitting rigid with a look of confusion.

  Well, why wouldn’t he be confused? I’m still figuring it out. “Bradley, I’m sorry. I do love you but it’s not enough. It’s not—”

  “Don’t.” His hand is up to hold back my words. “Don’t say anything else, please. Just . . . shit, Kenzi.” His eyes are moist, he looks gutted. He cranks the engine without looking at me. “Just think about what you’re doing. I, ah . . . I need to clear my head.”

  Guilt devours my insides like acid. I nod, wiping at my cheeks. “Okay.” I owe him that. I owe him a chance to digest what I’ve said.

  My hands shake as I reach for the handle.

  I’M NUMB. I’M SITTING AT my desk with earbuds in, furiously painting away the last few hours of the workday. I should take off for Vegas, right now. I should. My bags are packed. I don’t have a bathing suit, but I could buy one there. Ellie could come. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?

  I could stay in Vegas. That could happen.

  My mom’s called again. I’m not ready to talk to her. I’m not sure if she’s calling because of the wedding planner’s, or if Bradley called Grayson. Because if he did, then of course Grays
on would have said something to Mom.

  Bradley hasn’t returned. I guess I can’t blame him. Ellie must be at an off-site client meeting, she’s not online. I see Tonya coming down the hall. She’s not looking at me. Her mouth is pinched tight and she’s walking faster than necessary toward the door.

  I can’t believe I’ve called off the wedding. I’m risking everything for what? I have no guarantee from Shane. Nothing. He asks me for time and feeds me this big romantic list thing, only to pull back and say in his I’m-so-sexy British-blend accent, ‘Please call off your engagement, and then maybe I’ll kiss you again.’

  And the fool thing is . . . I did. I broke off an engagement with a handsome, stable man. But I didn’t do it for Shane. I didn’t. It’s part of my plan. It’s the climb-the-tower-and-rescue-you-right- back plan.

  And who I’m rescuing is . . .

  Me.

  The girl with paint in her hair who still believes in the fairy tale, only this is the grown-up version. Because maybe there’s not a happy-ever-after with someone, maybe it’s about being happy with yourself.

  I should think about a new job, too. And if what Clive said is true about the financial trouble we’re in, looking for a new job only makes sense.

  My stomach jumps. I really could start my own studio.

  So why do I still have his ring? Why haven’t I called Aunt Greta or Mom and told them? Or even Ellie? I haven’t called anyone, I just keep checking my phone to see if Bradley’s called and watching the door for when he gets back. Is he going to come back?

  And what about the client appreciation event after work? Shane will be there. Bradley’s supposed to be. Tonya can’t miss it. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise as I look at the clock.

  It feels like the quiet before the storm.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Failure Launched

  THE RIVER PAINTBALL FIELD looks like a crazy military obstacle course. Hay bales and tractor tires are thrown among wooden forts and stone walls. We’re here for open-field play, which means our group is playing along with other groups. There are referees and rules of engagement. I have no idea what those rules are, because I’m not listening.

  “Stop looking at him,” Ellie whispers as I fasten my combat jumpsuit. Which is very attractive, by the way; black step-in rompers that zip up the front, with a giant insignia advertising patch on the back. It might as well be a target.

  “Who?” I pop my eyes at her. I know who. Shane is standing with Clive and Rand Peterson listening to the ref’s spiel. He’s geared up military-style. He has black war paint streaked under each eye and is holding the paint gun on his hip, with a belt of ammunition hanging low on his hip. This would be completely hot if the gun thing wasn’t bright neon blue with a see-through bubble on top.

  No, it’s still hot.

  I keep catching him looking in our direction. Probably because I keep looking in his. I pretend not to notice.

  “Here, lean over.” Ellie swipes my cheeks with what looks like shoe polish.

  “I don’t really think that’s necessary,” I say but let her do it anyway.

  Everyone from the office is here, except Bradley. So far, he’s a no-show. Tonya’s helping Maggie, our receptionist, with her jumpsuit like they’re the best of friends and chatting up some of her clients. Tonya’s too cool to play, but suited up for team support. She hasn’t talked to me since this afternoon. I don’t care. I don’t have anything to say to her anyway.

  For the record, Shane hasn’t talked to me since yesterday either. I also haven’t talked to my mom. She’s called twice. I’ve only talked to Ellie, but when she noticed the ring was gone, I told her I didn’t want to talk about it.

  “There’s Bradley,” Ellie whispers and points across the field with a holy-shit expression.

  It matches mine. My stomach thuds to the floor. He’s here. I can’t believe he’s here. I really didn’t expect him to show. What do I say?

  Clive spots him and starts in his direction with extra gear. Bradley’s glaring at Shane. What happened to clearing his head? He looks pissed. His jaw is jutted, and his brows are pulled down. I wonder who he’s talked to. Tonya turns first to look his way, then toward me.

  A horn sounds and we’re set loose in the huge field of junk obstacles and bunkers. There are maybe thirty players from the Safia Agency if you include clients and twenty or so others out on the course. When the second horn goes off, we’re supposed to start. Huh, guess I was listening.

  “Ellie, come on.” I grab her arm with one hand and my supersoaker paint gun with the other. I’m feeling a bit renegade and rowdy. I’m mad at the world and mad at myself and ready to . . .

  The second horn blasts. “Shit!” I snap my helmet down and start jogging to the side where oversized farm equipment tires are stacked. “Here’s the plan. We hide.”

  “We hide? What kind of plan is that?” Shots zip through the air like mosquitoes.

  “A good one!” I’m running now. People are screaming and darting everywhere. This is insane. The monstrous tractor tires are stacked up like stairs. We climb the first, then the double stack, and fall over into the tower of three.

  The shots and screams are muffled from inside. “In Failure to Launch, she runs around and hides, and then at the end jumps out and gets the last one standing. That’s the plan.” A paint bullet splats across the top tire.

  “All I remember from the movie is trigger fingers, and V for victory.” Ellie holds her fingers up in the peace sign.

  Another one whips overhead and splashes right near our helmets. We scream, then peek up over the top like prairie dogs, the tips of our paint shooters hanging over.

  “There’s Bradley,” Ellie says and jabs her gun in his direction. He looks like Rambo, all rage and brawn. “There’s Shane. They’re firing at each other. Bradley’s yelling something.” Ellie turns to me. “Does Bradley blame Shane for you calling it off?”

  “Maybe. Yeah, probably,” I say, watching the two of them dodge each other’s fire. Rand is alongside Shane. They almost hit Bradley. Clive is helping him. How is this team-building or a client appreciation event? Maggie, the receptionist, dashes across the open field, arms flailing.

  She’s hit! She’s down. She’s out. Oh my God, people, stop hitting her! Tonya steps from the safety zone to help her.

  “Tonya!” Ellie’s waving her in.

  “What are you doing? Screw her, she’s not even playing!” I yell, but I’m too late. Tonya’s up and falls in from the top.

  “Oh my God. What the fuck!” Tonya slinks down to the ground, gasping. “Those things hurt!” She’s looking right at me when she says it.

  “If you’re not playing, why are you suited up?”

  “They wouldn’t let me near the field unless . . . anyways, I need to talk with you.” Another splat on the tire’s edge bounces and sprays Tonya on her shoulder.

  All three of us drop even lower.

  I huff. “Now? Now you wanna talk?”

  “Look, Kenzi. I’m really sorry, okay? I don’t even know what to say. I just . . . I really didn’t mean for it to happen. I’m so, so sorry.”

  I look at Ellie then back at her. Why is she apologizing now when she wouldn’t before?

  “I just. Shit. It was before you worked here. And then when you did, well, you guys weren’t serious, and then you were, and we stopped, but then it just happened again. You were broken up, well, fighting, anyway.”

  Wait. What? Another paintball zips over our heads.

  All the noise outside suddenly seems to have blended together. I see Tonya and I hear what she’s saying, but I’m not grasping the meaning. I look at Ellie and she’s looking down. I can feel my mouth hanging open, but I can’t seem to form any words.

  It just happened again. You were broken up. My jaw hits the ground. Bradley?

  She’s talking about Bradley!

  “Oh my God. You didn’t know,” Tonya says then turns to Ellie. “She didn’t know? Oh, shit. I thought th
at’s why you called the wedding off. Bradley said you must have found out.” Tonya’s standing. Panicked.

  A string of paint fire zips near Tonya’s chest from someone overhead. She screams. I look at Ellie confusedly.

  Ellie’s tearing up. “Kenzi, I just found out, I didn’t know what to do.”

  She knew, too?

  Tonya’s hunched down again. “Kenz, don’t aim that at me, what are you doing? I’m sorry, I’m—” She slowly puts her hands up in surrender.

  I’m in a fog. I can’t believe this. Tonya is messing around with Bradley? Tonya and Bradley. Tonya and Shane. I’m breathing heavily through my nose. Blinking through tears, my eyes refocus and narrow to angry slits.

  I lift the supersoaker paint thingy. My finger moves to the trigger. “Run.”

  In an instant, Tonya springs up and is over the tire’s edge. I hear her scream as someone shoots at her. I can’t move. Ellie has tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Just go, please.” I scarcely manage to get the words out.

  “Kenz, I really just overheard them. I swear.”

  A heavy ache rocks inside my chest. “I broke it off before I knew. So I . . . just go. Please.”

  Ellie climbs out and one just misses the back of her head. I wrap my knees up and sit like a ball inside the tractor tires. I didn’t need the target on my back; turns out I’ve always had one.

  I felt bad, guilty. I was worried I’d hurt Bradley when all this time, oh . . . The tears sting warmly on my cheeks. I swallow hard, forcing down the urge to all-out cry.

  My plan B just became one of survival.

  In all the romantic comedies I’ve seen, I can’t think of one where the girl ends up sitting inside humongous tractor tires jilted by her fiancé and two best friends. Okay, so I broke it off with him first, and Ellie really didn’t stab me in the back. She just found out. Tonya did, though.

  Twice.

  That engagement ring was like the pin in a grenade; I pulled it off and my whole world blew up.