“Fuck you,” Tiffany retorts, kicking the invitation binder so it goes skittering across the floor. “You’ll pay for this,” she tells me just before she stomps her way through the store, passing by a petrified Cassie before she shoves the door open and exits the building.
“Holy crap,” Cassie says, her mouth hanging open. “That chick is crazy!”
No kidding.
Chapter 13
I arrive at Noteworthy almost every morning since “the incident” with apprehension gnawing at my insides. Lovely description, I know, but it’s accurate. For instance, this morning after having a horrific dream where Tiffany came at me with a hammer, I woke up feeling so awful, I couldn’t eat breakfast. I didn’t even bother ordering my usual vanilla latte, if you can believe it. My stomach was too upset at the mere thought of finding Tiffany lurking near the front door of the store, lying in wait so she could attack me.
Luckily enough, there was no one lying in wait. Just Iris waiting outside for me, a sympathetic smile on her face.
Cassie convinced me to call Iris after our run in with Tiffany that afternoon, and when I told her what happened, she came right back to the store, and somehow brought the police with her. She encouraged me to file a report—which I did—and then she consoled me back in her office, where I essentially had a breakdown. Much crying, shaking, and whining was involved.
Once I got that out of my system, I went back to my apartment, ordered a pizza, and stuffed my face while telling Stella every last detail of my confrontation with Tiffany.
“I gotta say, Caroline. Ever since this guy walked back into your life, it’s been nonstop crazy drama,” Stella said at the end of the evening, right before we went to bed.
Stella is correct. Which means my life is probably much better without Alex Wilder in it. I haven’t talked to him in days, and I’m okay with that. Mostly. I don’t want to spark any attention from Tiffany by making contact with Alex. It’s bad enough, how shaky and insecure she’s left me.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Iris asks once we’ve entered the hushed quiet of the store.
“Tired. A little wounded.” I offer her a weak smile. I hate that I’m not over it yet, but being harassed by Tiffany shook me up, and not in a good way. My light has been dimmed, so to speak. “But I’ll be all right.” Eventually.
“Don’t let her ugly behavior make you feel bad.” Iris wraps me up in a hug, and I return it, clinging to her. My mom and I aren’t that close, and I haven’t had the most affectionate upbringing. Carter and I saw our dad on weekends until we were both in high school, when he moved out of state. Now that we’re adults, my brother and I aren’t really that close either, and I’m not a hugger, unless I’ve had a couple glasses of wine and I’m lovin’ on my girlfriends.
But when Iris wraps me up in those gentle arms of hers, I feel…safe. She is truly like my second mom.
“Thank you,” I murmur once I pull away from her. “I needed that.”
“How’s your schedule today? Perhaps you should take a day off…” she starts, but I shake my head.
“I need to work. I need the distraction. Plus, I have an appointment this morning.” At eleven, with a bride-to-be I’ve met before, a real sweetheart who I know won’t threaten me or call me names.
Iris knows this has been hanging heavy over me, and she’s constantly offering me to take the day off, take it easy. I don’t want to, though. I’d rather be here at Noteworthy.
I feel safer here.
“If you only want to work half a day, that’s fine,” Iris tells me, and I nod, appreciative of her kindness.
Everyone’s acting like I’ve been diagnosed with a terrible illness or I’ve been involved in an awful accident, when really I just had some crazed woman yell at me. Though I guess it’s fairly serious that she threatened me. And became violent in the store.
A shiver moves through me, and I push any and all thoughts of Tiffany aside. I can’t let this deranged woman linger in my mind for too long. Soon she’ll take over and become all I think about, and I don’t need that.
Instead of moping over my predicament, I go on an organizing mission. I throw out a bunch of old invitation catalogs and sort through a stack of new ones. I clean out my desk drawers, which I should’ve done months ago, but we all know how that goes.
By the time my client shows up promptly at eleven, I’m feeling good about my progress, and we have a lovely meeting that takes less than thirty minutes to complete. I’d given her sample catalogs the first time we met, and she’d done her research, coming back to order what she wanted.
I love simple, thorough customers like that.
After she left, I continued to clean. And clean and clean and clean. To the point that every time I saw Iris, she was watching me with an amused expression on her face. By the time one o’clock rolled around and the entire invitation section was sparkling and organized, she came up to me and said, “Please know that I’m joking, but I’m starting to think lunatic customers who threaten you are some sort of incentive.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I just needed something to occupy my mind so I wouldn’t think about it.”
“I have plenty more tasks for you to do if you’re still looking for a distraction,” Iris suggests with a warm smile.
“I’d be happy to help.”
“Go take your lunch. I’ll have a list for you when you come back.” The concerned look on Iris’s face tempts me to give her another hug, but I hold back.
“Lunch with you again? How’d I get so lucky?” Sarah teases once we’re seated and ready to eat our sandwiches.
More like I’m the lucky one. Turns out Sarah was free for lunch, so I didn’t have to eat alone.
“I need to tell you what happened.” I launch into my story, secretly—satisfied? Justified?—by the increasing looks of horror on Sarah’s face as I describe everything Tiffany did and said. By the time I wrap up my tale, she’s shaking her head, a look of total disbelief on her pretty face.
Have I mentioned how pretty Sarah is? Because she so is. She’s also adorable, tiny and sweet natured. Plus she wears the cutest dresses all the time. She’s got long, dark hair and bright blue eyes and a feisty personality. As in, she doesn’t put up with any shit, which is a good trait to have considering she works at a high-scale lingerie shop and sometimes—a lot of the time—she has to deal with customers who are secret perverts and want her to try on the lingerie she sells.
And that is no joke.
“She sounds crazy. I’m so glad Iris got the police involved,” Sarah says once I’m done. I’ve been talking so much, I haven’t really eaten my sandwich while Sarah is more than halfway finished with hers. “You might need to get a restraining order.”
“The cops mentioned that could be the next step, but she needs to up her crazy game before I can file one.” I shudder. Take a sip of my Diet Coke. “And I really don’t want her to up her crazy game.”
“No, you definitely don’t,” Sarah agrees. She stirs her straw in her drink. “Have you talked to Alex since all of this happened?”
“I haven’t.” I tear into my chips and munch on one, then another, before I speak again. By the way, why are Doritos so delicious, yet so bad for us? I blame my chip indulgence on feeling low today. Thanks, Tiffany, for pushing me to eat Doritos. “Why? Do you think I should tell him?”
“Yes, you totally should. Maybe he could talk to her, tell her to leave you alone,” Sarah suggests.
“No.” I shake my head. “No way. I don’t want to get him involved. She’s already so pissed at me, at us. She probably thinks we’re conspiring against her.”
“This is a mess,” Sarah says with a sigh.
“Tell me all about it,” I agree. “I don’t want anything to do with her. I wish she’d just leave me alone. Did I tell you how scared I’ve been to show up at work every day? Iris meets me at the front every morning so I don’t have to walk in by myself. I’m that afraid Tiffany might be outside waiting for
me.”
“That’s terrible,” Sarah says, a sympathetic look on her face.
“What if she turns into a stalker? What am I going to do then?”
“I doubt she’ll turn into a stalker. Maybe she’ll stalk her ex, but not you.” Sarah takes a sip of her drink. “Maybe this could bring the two of you closer.”
“The two of who? Me and Tiffany? Yeah, just who I want to be close to.” I roll my eyes.
“No not Tiffany,” Sarah says with a little laugh. “You and Alex.”
Is she for real right now? I figure I’ll never see him again. “I doubt that. I’m not his type. He likes phony girls with big boobs.” I hold my hands out in front of my chest to demonstrate. “And he wouldn’t be interested in me. I’m the deliverer of bad news who ruined his engagement.”
Sarah nods, pursing her lips. “Yeah, true. I’m sure you’d just be a reminder of what he once had.”
“Yeah.” My voice is distant, and I stare off into space for a few seconds, remembering our moment right before I left his office. When he had his arms around me and I swear he was staring at my lips. As if he was considering kissing me.
I can admit that I wanted him to, despite knowing what a disastrous idea that is. I guess we were both just caught up in the moment, and thank God I came to my senses and pushed him away.
Alex seemed like a nice guy. A driven, determined guy, and I can’t deny that he’s absolutely gorgeous. But there is no way I can be interested in him. He just ended his engagement. He’s a man on the rebound who couldn’t possibly be interested in a woman like me. It doesn’t matter that we shared a kiss when we were kids. That was a lifetime ago. Things have changed, we have changed.
Our past connection is just that. In the past.
What’s sad is there’s not much happening right now in my romantic life. As in, it’s a vast, dry desert. I wish I could meet a guy, and not through some dating app either. A nice guy with a good job and decent manners. Someone who’s interesting, considerate and caring, and who makes me laugh. I bet ol’ Alex Wilder couldn’t make me laugh. He doesn’t seem to have much of a sense of humor.
Though when we were kids, I remember he was always cracking me up…
“Any good prospects lately?” Sarah asks, her voice snapping me out of my thoughts.
I think she’s trying to change the subject, so we can talk about something fun, like dating. Though right now, dating isn’t much fun for any of us. None of my friends have boyfriends, or even semi-steady dates. Hell, none of us even have a friends-with-benefits deal with a guy.
Not that we need a man in our lives, but…it’s nice to have someone in your life. We’re all searching for a companion, right?
“Not really,” I tell her. “I’ve been too busy working lately to even consider dating anyone.” Working and wasting my evening hours binge-watching shows on Netflix. Or fighting off crazy women at work.
Whoops.
“Same. I mean, there’s that one guy that keeps coming into Bliss who irritates me and I think he somehow gets off on it, but whatever. You know the one whose constantly buying lingerie for his many, many girlfriends.” Sarah laughs. “I don’t get him.”
“You told me he was hot,” I remind her.
“He’s extremely hot,” Sarah emphasizes. “But he’s too much of a manwhore. He also acts like he hates me half the time, which is infuriating. But it’s also like we’re angry, yet eye fucking each other? Does that make sense?” Sarah seems truly perplexed.
“Hmmm, sounds like you two need to hate fuck? As in, you need to do him and get him out of your system?” I suggest.
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Sarah shrugs. “Anyway, he’s a client. And my boss says the last thing we should do is mingle with our clients. And when she says mingle, she really means have sex.”
“Hmm, I like that. Using mingle as the code word for sex.” I smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve mingled.”
“Same,” Sarah says, her expression solemn just before we both burst out laughing.
Thank God for friends.
Chapter 14
Alex
“Are you really going to supervise me while I pack my things?” Tiffany’s hostile tone doesn’t faze me. Nor does her aggressive behavior, what with the haphazard way she’s tossing her clothing into her suitcase. Every item lands like an explosion.
“Yes.” It’s Wednesday night and we’re in my bedroom. I’m lucky she doesn’t have more than a large suitcase full of stuff at my house. She’s only lived here for the past month or so, and most of her belongings are still down in Southern California in storage.
She pauses mid-toss, a pile of lacy, frilly things clutched in one hand, her gaze wild as she glares at me. “What? Afraid I’m going to steal something?”
I shrug. Don’t bother answering her.
“You’re impossible.” She drops the lacy things in the middle of her suitcase, then strides across my bedroom, throwing open the closet door and going inside. “I don’t know why I bothered staying with you for so long,” she says as she rips her shirts from the hangers. If she keeps this up, she’s going to ruin something.
We weren’t even together that long, but I don’t bother pointing out that particular fact.
“I know why,” I tell her when she exits the closet, clutching her shirts to her chest as she makes her way to the bed where the open suitcase awaits.
Tiffany drops the shirts inside. Doesn’t even bother folding them. “Please. Do tell me.”
“My money.”
The hurt look she sends me makes me want to laugh. So phony. Why didn’t I see it before?
Maybe because you turned a blind eye.
“Do you really think the only reason I was with you is because of your money?” she asks, her voice soft, her gaze beguiling. Does she really think she can turn this around in her favor? “That’s not true, Alex. I fell in love with you. And you fell in love with me.”
I snort my disbelief, and her eyes narrow. “You fell in love with my bank account,” I remind her.
“And all you ever wanted was a doll who’d look good on your arm who did everything you told her to. That’s not how life works!” She’s screaming at me, her words like a punch, and deep down inside, damn it, I know she’s not wrong.
“At least Ed knows how to treat a woman,” she retorts, her chin set in a stubborn line as she closes her suitcase and starts zipping it. “He makes me feel wanted. You just make me feel like an afterthought.”
“I’m sure you and Ed will have a perfect life together then,” I say, following her as she exits the bedroom. “Please give him my regards.”
She practically flies down the stairs, even with the heavy suitcase, and I follow close after her, making sure she takes no detours as she makes her way to the front door. Just before she opens it, she turns to face me. “Tell your precious little Caroline I said hello.”
I blink at her. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, she hasn’t called you yet? Told you about our little chat?” Tiffany bats her eyelashes. Conniving and innocent, all at once. “I figured since she spilled all my secrets, she’d already be riding your stick.”
Riding my stick? “What chat are you talking about?”
Tiffany doesn’t answer. She opens the door, offering me an enthusiastic wave before saying with a giant smile, “I hope I never fucking see you ever again!”
“Right back at you,” I tell her, earning a thrusting middle finger in my direction for my efforts. I slam the door on her hostility. Twist the lock into place. Run a hand through my hair and breathe a deep sigh of relief.
Thank God she’s gone.
I glance around as I enter the living room. My house is huge. Simply furnished. My mother says it’s cold and impersonal, that it needs a woman’s touch. I thought Tiffany would be that woman to transform it. To turn it from a house to a home.
But the moment she walked through the front door and stood in the foyer with wide-eyed wonder, declaring it ab
solutely perfect, I knew deep down I had a problem. She was merely saying whatever she thought I wanted to hear to please me.
I didn’t want that. I need a woman who wants to challenge me.
Like a fool, I believed I was in too deep where Tiffany was concerned, and I went along with everything she planned when I shouldn’t have. I knew it was wrong, I just believed I didn’t know how to stop it. Funny, considering how aggressive I am at work, yet when it comes to personal relationships, I don’t have a fucking clue.
There were signs, though. The first clue was my reluctance to give her a ring. My mother pointed that out every chance she got, as did Tiffany herself.
The second was my lack of interest in planning the wedding. Though really, what groom actually enjoys that part of the process? I’m guessing very few.
Another clue? I never wanted to go home. I didn’t want to be spending all of my time with my fiancée; I’d rather work. My asking her to accompany me to Paris was only to make her happy and get her to quit nagging me, not that I wanted to spend time with her in one of the most romantic cities in the world. Hell, I knew while we were over there I’d be working most of the time and she’d be on her own, exploring the city while I was in negotiation meetings, trying to close the deal.
The final clue was the flickering attraction I felt toward Caroline Abbott. Before I even knew it was her, I’d been drawn to her. There was something about the way she glided into the café that morning and grabbed her drink, cradling it like a precious jewel, smiling at me in embarrassment when I caught her.
Adorable.
And the way she glared at me when I was constantly on my phone during our meeting. Tiffany never said a word. Caroline said about a hundred things, all with one look. She didn’t approve. She thought I was rude.
She was right.
I’m making myself a drink in celebration of Tiffany’s departure when I remember what she said. Something about a chat with Caroline? I hadn’t meant to reveal to her what Caroline told me, but during the hours long, pointless argument, a few things flew out of my mouth that I couldn’t take back. One of them being that Caroline saw Tiffany with her lover in my goddamned house.
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