Love, Lies and Louboutins (Heartbreak Book 2)

by S. M Phillips

  “Ever so dramatic, Emily, as always.”

  “Excuse me, my version of dramatic has nothing on hers, that’s a bloody fact. I’ve never heard anything like it before. I dread to think what she’s like at home. Her fella must have the patience of a bloody saint. Lord knows, I couldn’t cope with that twenty-four -seven.”

  “It could have been nerves. It’s pretty common to ramble when you’re nervous you know. Especially if you’re not from around here. I bet she was well out of her comfort zone the poor love. And Emily, don’t forget, she put herself out of her comfort zone to come and see you,” Rachel muses. She always manages to seek out the best in everyone. Me? Well, I guess I’m just seen as the hard-faced bitch to everyone, but I’m totally not. I’ve just got a very low tolerance for drama if it’s not my own and a killer resting bitch face. “Maybe I’ll agree with the nerves, but she is from around here, you know?”

  “No, she can’t be… hold that thought for a second.” Rachel gives me an apologetic grin before hurrying over to a waiting customer.

  I don’t mind all that much as it gives me some time to read over my notes and check my emails. I pull out my big, trusty red pen and scribble handful in big bold letters across the front on the off chance that I forget what I’m letting myself in for with this one. Are they all going to be like this? I bloody hope not otherwise I’m gonna need to shut it down, and fast before these bridezillas get out of control.

  God help me. I’m going to have my work cut out with this. One thing’s for sure, it’s definitely going to be the making or breaking of me. I’ll happily bet my life on it.

  An hour or so passes before Rachel comes back to me after the mad lunch hour. It always gets busy in here, no matter what day of the week it is, and when I see Rachel rushed off her feet, I feel sheer pride rush through me at her happiness and success.

  Hopefully, one day, I might have the same. I’d love nothing more than to have a diary full of bridezillas to keep me busy, but first of all, I need to remember that everyone’s going to be different and undoubtedly, we’re going to have some differences of opinion from time to time.

  More importantly, I’m going to need to invest in some comfortable shoes. These bad boys sure look the part, but neither my feet nor my clients are going to thank me for it in the long run. A successful event planner is a happy and pain free one, and right now I’d much rather be having wild, frantic sex with a cactus than spend another second in these Louboutin’s.

  “I’m so sorry I kept you,” Rachel whispers as she graces my table and she looks all flustered.

  “Oh, don’t be,” I reply, barely looking at her. Her eyes land on my iPad. I feel zero shame when she looks down at the screen – none whatsoever. A girl’s got to do what a girl’s go to do.

  “Choreography for Magic Mike?” she questions and her perfectly preened brows shoot up. She looks completely baffled.

  “Yep,” I can’t help but flash her a wicked grin and she looks shocked and takes a step back.

  “Look, I’m all for some Channing Tatum action, but haven’t you got work stuff you need to be doing instead?”

  “Calm down, Mum. This is work…” I point eagerly at the screen just as a multitude of fit, hunky men gyrate seductively across my iPad. “You reckon Matt and Doug would be up for it?” I ask, and she bursts out laughing.

  “Please tell me you’re joking?”

  “Actually, I couldn’t be more serious, and seeing as you were the one who, what did you call it? Oh yes, oversold me, you’ve only got yourself to blame. You know, if you stop and think about it, this is all your fault and you will help me fix it.”

  Rachel stares at me as if I’ve gone completely bat-shit crazy. Who knows, maybe I have, but if I’m going to pull this off, then I’ll need all the help I can get. “He won’t do it. Neither of them will, and you know it, Emily.”

  Rachel’s problem is that she gives up far too easily. None of us really know if either of them will do it unless we ask them, or bribe them somehow. “I’m sure if you work your magic on Dougie boy, maybe tell him you’ll let him practice his moves on you, he’ll be up for it then. You’ll see.” I can’t help but tease her. “How are things going with you guys, anyway? I’ve not seen him pottering around for a while. You’ve not binned him, have you?”

  Without a word, Rachel pulls a seat out and plonks her arse down with what I can only describe as the world’s most monstrous grin on her face. “Oh, he’s just… amazing.” She sighs and even though I’m super happy for her, I can’t help but feel she looks a tad possessed.

  “You guys make me sick, but I promise it’s in a good way,” I add when she shoots me the daggers. They’re like loves young dream. Anyone would think she was a teenager again. “I thought I’d be planning your wedding first, you know because you two are like super official these days.”

  “Don’t be stupid. I love my Doug to the moon and back, you know I do, but why would I marry him? We’re so happy right now, sometimes I have to pinch myself just to make sure that it’s actually happening. I don’t want anything to change and a wedding would definitely do that. I don’t want all that stress. Yes, I know you’d make it as stress-free as possible for me, but I think we should just keep it as is for now, because that seems to be working. Although it would be amazing for your business though, wouldn’t it? Just think of all that exposure.”

  “Yeah, it would be pretty cool,” I agree. “But like you said, that’s not gonna happen right now so I may as well stick that idea to the back of my mind.” I pout back at her playfully. I know Rachel, and I know she would love to get married one day, and when she does this chick is going to be the one to bring all that magic together, just you wait and see.

  “Unless…” she says after a short pause, “maybe we could always fake one if you needed us to? Emily, this could be the start of something big.” Her eyes grow wide with excitement and I can see she’s getting the wedding bug and she isn’t even having a bloody wedding.

  God love her, I know she’d well be up for it as well. Rachel would do absolutely anything to see me succeed. Finally, I have to admit, “now that is something I would love to see.”

  “Right, well that’s settled then. We need to do it and we will.”

  Pour Doug. I really hope he knows what he’s let himself in for with this one. When she sets her mind to something, there’s no stopping her until it’s done.

  “Honey, I’m home.”

  “So, I can see,” I call back, carefully making my way down the hallway. “What’s going on here?” I ask, my voice full of shock as I stand at the kitchen doorway. Matt on the other hand looks somewhat confused, his cute little frown line etching on to his face.

  “What does it look like?” He asks flatly. “I’m cooking dinner.”

  “Yeah, I can see that, but what’s with the attire?” My darling hunk of a boyfriend is standing in the middle of my kitchen fiddling with my potato peeler while wearing nothing but an apron. It’s not just any apron though, oh no, it’s one of those flaming naked chef ones.

  “Oh, this old thing?” He bats his hand in to the air as if it’s something that he usually wears on a daily basis. “Tell me, do you like what you see?” he asks. His rugged face softens as a grin takes hold and I can’t stop the childish laugh that escapes me. There’s no denying that life is much more fun at home when he’s around. Plus, he kind of stops me from overdosing on chocolate and ice-cream without him even knowing it too. Now if that isn’t a superhuman I don’t know what is. I kind of like having him around too. At first, I was scared, because I’ve never allowed anyone to enter my personal space since dick-wad Tyler, but so far, he’s proving himself to be a right little keeper.

  “I guess that all depends on what’s underneath,” I tease, slowly swiping my finger up and down to make a point of his clothing options. I am however very pleased and highly amused to see that he’s still wearing my socks. See, all that fuss this morning and for what? I bloody knew they’d grow on him.
I hope he doesn’t become too attached though because they’ll be coming back home to Mamma as soon as they’ve been washed.

  “Parker, did no one ever tell you that you can’t have desert until you’ve eaten all your dinner?” He says and then winks back at me. Personally, I’m not all too sure how I feel about it.

  “Oh, well in that case I sure hope you’ve washed. I don’t fancy nibbling on any stray pubes with every other mouthful.” I scoff back at him and his face is utterly priceless. Well, two can play at that game, mister. If he thinks he can try to embarrass me, he’s got another think coming. I didn’t win the crown for Innuendo Queen for nothing you know.

  “Jesus Christ, woman. Here I am trying to cook up a romantic feast for two to celebrate your first official day of being a super lady boss and all you care about are loose pubes? And they say romance is dead.”

  God love him. I’m really touched by his kind gesture, honestly, I am. So I walk over to Matt and place my hand gently on his bare shoulder and smile sweetly at him, “You Know, I appreciate all this, really I do, but romance won’t be the only thing that’s dead if I find anything in that delicious looking meal.” I warn him and as he nods back at me, his free hand slowly creeps around my side just before he slaps my arse — hard.

  “Don’t be so ungrateful.” He mocks and I know that he’s not really offended. Actually, in all the time I’ve known Matt I don’t think I’ve ever seen him be offended. I guess he’s just a laid back, happy-go-lucky kind of guy, and he’s all mine. “Why don’t you go grab a shower while I finish this off?”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?” I pout my lips at him and he laughs. “I thought you might have missed me just a little bit?”

  “Emily, when I’m in the kitchen I don’t like any distractions, and you, Parker, are a major distraction.”

  “Oh, well I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” This little titbit could definitely be used to my advantage in the future, I’m absolutely certain of it. “Carry on then, knock yourself out.”

  The smell of delicious home cooked food hits me as soon as I step out of my bedroom. With the promise of food, it didn’t take me all that long to shower. In and out in a jiffy, and because my feet look and feel like they’ve been attacked by Wolverine, I made the quick decision of sticking my pyjama’s on. Nothing too daring, just good old comfortable. You can’t go wrong with comfortable and there’s not a cat in hells chance that I’m about to leave this house again unless it goes up in flames, and even then, I might be a little reluctant depending on my energy levels.

  I’ve well and truly outdone my work duties today and what I need now is food, a healthy glass of wine and a mahoosive bear hug from my man. I’d usually be quite partial to a good foot massage, but nothing is going near my feet until these monstrosities have healed.

  All this for a flaming pair of shoes. One sexy as hell pair of shoes, mind. All this just to fit into society. Well, I say a big massive fuck you to society, at least until tomorrow when I have to do it all over again.

  “Dinner is served, my Lady,”

  “Thanks,” my God it smells so good. If I had any doubts earlier — not that I did but hypothetically speaking — then he’s now gone and secured himself as a keeper. “How did I not know this already?”

  “Know what?” Matt doesn’t look at me as I hobble over to the kitchen table, which is probably a good thing. I’m pretty sure that he’d happily take a pass at looking at my Smeagol feet. Seriously, they’re a mess. So much so that I’m pretty sure they’d put him off his food and all of his efforts would go to waste.

  “This…” I point towards the kitchen. “How did I not know you’re such a dab-hand in the kitchen?”

  “You never asked,” he laughs, and he looks so happy and care free. When I think back, it’s true. I’ve never felt the need to ask him about his cooking skills and it’s never come up in conversation, either.

  “I just presumed that all the takeaways were your way of telling me that you weren’t all that clever when it came to cooking.” Hello, who am I to judge anyone? I can’t cook for shit and that’s no secret. Years ago, I once placed an egg in a cup and poured in some boiled water from the kettle and let it sit for three minutes. This chick learned the hard way that that isn’t how you boil an egg. But that’s a whole other story.

  My mouth waters as soon as Matt places my dinner in front of me. Not only does it look and smell amazing, but it’s my absolute fave — Spag-bol. You just can’t get better than that. Let me tell you, he can keep feeding me this until I struggle to move out of my chair. Like I said earlier, this one is without a shadow of a doubt a keeper. Bloody hell, he could even be, dare I say it — the one. “It smells so good,” I confess, unable to hold back my emotions any longer.

  “Just you wait until you taste it,” he smirks back at me.

  “Oh, hello, Mr Modest, where the hell have you been hiding?” I reply trying my best to sound serious, but I can’t stop the happiness from spreading up and across my face. Tyler never cooked for me, actually Tyler didn’t do anything for me apart from stick his knob elsewhere and cause me a vast amount of unwanted pain and wasted tears, but the less said about him the better.

  I bet none of those other Tinder guys would go out of their way to cook for their chick, either. Well not unless they wanted a shag at the end of the night.

  I shudder a little at the thought of my brief, yet memorable Tinder days. What the hell was I thinking? And I’m going on about the one’s that I was aware of, not the ones that Cruella set up to ruin my career, the crazy psycho bitch. But alas, I don’t really like to dwell on the past too much as it’s full of nothing but a bunch of worthless negatives. I mean, just look at me now. I’m happy, I’m with a wonderful hunk of a man and he makes me laugh, not to mention that I now have my own business.

  Maybe in some crazy messed up way she kind of did me a favour. However, that being said, I still don’t like her, and I’d never even think about pissing on her if she was on fire. No, her cards have well and truly been marked by me — for life.

  “Well,” Matt asks with a knowing grin, “are you at least going to try it?”

  I pick up my fork, my hangry beast suddenly taking over and threatening to jump out of my stomach if I don’t give it what it needs pronto. “So, how many other girls have you cooked for?” I ask before I can stop myself. Whoa, back up Parker. Where the hell did that just come from, and more importantly, what does it even matter, anyway?

  Matt’s eyes slowly leave his plate and lock onto mine. It’s hard to make out what he’s thinking. He does look a little confused, but I bet not as much as me. He’s quiet for a moment and then his mouth opens and then closes again just as quickly, like he was thinking of answering me and then he thought better of it. Oh crap. This is bad, this has to be bad. Why is he not answering me? Have I awoken some secret hidden memory from his past? Does he not trust me enough to confide in me? Oh, Emily what the hell have you gone and done now?

  After a couple of minutes of awkward silence, Matt reaches for the bottle of wine on the table, opens it and pours me a glass. Now this could go one of two ways. Either we’re going to laugh about my stupid runaway mouth, or I might be about to hear some things that I’d rather not know about. Regardless, this wine will most definitely come in handy.

  “I had no Idea you could cook,” I say again, desperately trying to change the subject. Wow, I sure know how to ruin a moment don’t I?

  “I guess I’m just selective with who I cook for,” he says finally as he twists his fork into his spaghetti. His face is still super serious and that comment he’s just spouted could have so many hidden meanings. My God, I’m dead. I can’t deal with this. How am I supposed to deal with this? The anxiety is beginning to build up. I have never, ever had a problem when it comes to other people before. I get that everyone has a history, bloody hell just look at mine. Now I’ve gone and made a whole situation out of nothing.

  Oh shit. Maybe this isn’t the time to
start getting all deep and personal. For the first time ever, I’ve clearly said something that has offended him.

  “Does this make me kind of special, then?” I laugh, trying my best to make light of this little situation I’ve suddenly found myself in. I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he’s still brooding or the fact that he’s so blatantly avoiding my questions.

  After a few more minutes of deadly silence, Matt offers me a weak grin and then continues to eat his food. “Eat up before it gets cold.”

  The ferocious hangry beast in my stomach is no longer growling for food. All my appetite has gone and shit’s just gotten super awkward. So much so that I feel slightly uncomfortable in my own kitchen. Without thinking, my hands instinctively reach out for my wine glass and I take a long, deep glug; completely sinking the glassful in one mouthful. Oh well, at least something seems to get a reaction out of him.

  “Everything okay?” he asks and the concern in his voice sounds genuine, but he’s already got my back up so right now I couldn’t give two flying hoots about his concern.

  “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?” I snap back at him. This lovely meal of ours has sure taken an unexpected turn and gone downhill and fast. So much for a lovely night.

  “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve said something that’s offended you, Matthew.” I say after a while. Do I really want to spend the rest of the evening in silence, or worse, us both arguing? No, I don’t so I decide to be the bigger person here, but it’s me and I don’t know how long that will last for.

  “Emily, you’ve not offended me…”

  “I haven’t?” I ask and I know full well that he’s lying to me. “If that’s true then why have you suddenly just switched on your Diva mode?”

  “My Diva what?” He splutters, almost choking on his spaghetti. He’s not about to get any sympathy from me, that’s for sure.