Bryce: Ex-Business: An Ex-Club Romance

by Camilla Stevens

  Mom just laughs. “Oh darling, my mother drank at least two martinis a day with me, probably up to and including the day of my birth. And I turned out just fine.”

  “Right,” I say in a neutral voice. Heaven help me if I have a daughter who turns out like Cassandra LeFleur.

  “Oh this is so exciting!” she says, clapping her hands. She suddenly pops up. “I think maybe a drink is in order, either way. Strictly for me of course.”

  My eyes follow her to the bar, where she pours herself some gin into a martini class. At least it gives me something to focus on as the minutes tick by.

  As opposed to the idea that I might be pregnant.

  Because I most definitely remember being unusually tired the last time.

  I also remember being overly emotional—the fights Reggie and I had early on were especially memorable (and quite telling, in retrospect).

  And I’d really rather not believe that on top of everything else, I may be having a baby.

  I bring my hand up and rest my forehead into it. Just as I do, my phone inside my purse begins to buzz, causing me to start in surprise. I reach in and see that it’s a call from Nicole.

  Shit.

  I look at the time on the phone and note that, by now, Veronica must have had her meeting to make the announcement. I’m not sure who was in attendance but obviously most of the senior editors. Hence the phone call.

  Which is the very last thing I need right now.

  I’ve been so worked up over this pregnancy nonsense—ironically brought about by the one woman on earth who would probably know the least about it—that I’ve forgotten about Veronica and Contempo Woman.

  I let the phone go to voicemail and turn it completely off before dumping it back into my purse. I love Nicole, and frankly, a sympathetic ally is something I could very much use right now, but listening to her panicked outrage is only going to have my already taut nerves snapping into pieces.

  Marija finally returns with the test in hand. I stare at her in the same way I imagine people on their deathbed stare at the Grim Reaper.

  Which is stupid.

  Having a baby is hardly comparable to death. In fact, the timing is almost perfect in my case.

  It isn’t as though I have a magazine to work at anymore.

  And Bryce is…perfect.

  I reach out and take the test with rejuvenated energy. Let’s get this over with so I can get on with my life.

  “Good luck, darling,” Mom says as I rise from my seat.

  “I’m peeing on a stick, not taking my SATs, Mom.”

  My voice reflects the indifference I meant to impart, but by the time I make it to the bathroom, I might as well be taking my SATs considering how nervous I am. I certainly felt a lot more confident about the outcome back then.

  I stare at myself in the mirror and see the wear that the past several weeks with Conniver, Cheval Blanc, Contempo Woman, Pierce, and now Veronica have had on me.

  “Or maybe I’m just pregnant,” I say.

  I think of Bryce, wondering how he’ll take it, and find an instant smile come to my lips. Out of all of this, he’s the one thing I know I can rely on no matter what.

  He’d be thrilled.

  I don’t know how I know this, considering we’ve only been together a few weeks if you discount that night seven years ago.

  But I just know.

  That’s enough to get me to the toilet where I sit and read the instructions before doing what I need to do.

  I wait another full minute beyond the three-minute maximum wait time just because I’m me. After four full minutes, I check. Despite having practically worked myself into a frenzy, I’m still blown away by what I see.

  I’m officially pregnant.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Bryce

  This morning, I got as much done as I could, because I knew how quickly burnout would hit me. By noon, I have basically turned my office into a Do Not Disturb zone so I could finally switch myself off to think.

  I’ve texted Edie several times today, just to make sure she’s okay. Each has been met with a definitive: Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. We’ll talk tonight.

  Of course, the last thing I’m thinking about doing with her tonight is talking, but I can understand if she isn’t in the mood when I get home. Still, a man can fantasize. A smile comes to my face as I think about her there waiting for me, maybe still naked in bed.

  I dismiss it to continue thinking. I’m using the afternoon to brainstorm, figuring a way out of this mess we’re in.

  I’ve been staring at my own damn business card all afternoon for some reason. The heading for Ideal Gentlemen practically taunts me with the fact that, for all intents and purposes, it is no longer mine.

  Even when I “sold out” to Conniver, I still felt like I had control over the magazine.

  And then they sold me out.

  With Dad controlling the corporate strings, I might as well be a damn puppet.

  Which I’m sure is his goal.

  The bitterness begins to bubble in my stomach once again and I spin around in my chair to stare out the window.

  At least that fact made it easy to come to the decision that I am going to let the magazine go. I’ve already chosen Edie. Not having to work under Dad’s thumb is the icing on the shit cake.

  Let Dad flush his money down the toilet for the sake of pride. Or whatever this damn secret of his is.

  I flick the business card away and it spins through the air. I’m struck with awe when it lands perfectly upright leaning against the window frame.

  “I’ll take that as a good sign,” I say with a short laugh.

  Whatever I have to do to hold onto my optimism. Or sanity. Whichever is the most on the brink of slipping away.

  I lean back in my chair, interlacing my hands behind my head as I stare out at Madison Avenue. I’m going to miss this view.

  But who knows? Maybe my next endeavor will have something more picturesque than a view of the building across the street or the soundtrack of traffic and people that is nothing more than a low hum at this height.

  Which, of course, begs the question. What will be my next endeavor?

  I think of all the things I considered when I was younger, entertaining even the most absurd.

  I think of Ideal Gentleman, the site that basically turned me into a laughing stock. Today, I’m able to laugh about it.

  “Hell, I could become a male escort. That’d really piss the old man off.”

  I laugh even harder now.

  My eyes land on my business card in the corner of the window and, like a tidal wave something hits me. My laugher comes to an abrupt stop and I sit up in my seat.

  “Son of a bitch,” I say to myself as the idea that’s just come to me surges through my veins.

  I spin around in my seat so fast I almost miss stopping at the desk and continue into another rotation before catching myself.

  My fingers fly across the keyboard as I perform various searches, my smile growing larger and larger.

  By the time I’m done, I’ve spent a small fortune but it’s worth it.

  Something even Dad couldn’t have predicted, either because he underestimates me or because he’s just so damn self-satisfied it never would have occurred to him.

  That makes me think of one final purchase. The perfect cherry on top.

  “Oh, this is too good to be true,” I say to myself, still laughing.

  When I’m done, I feel that same swell of excitement that hit me when I started Ideal Gentlemen, and when Edie and I were formulating our idea about a media corporation. In some ways, this is even better.

  Something new.

  Something even bigger.

  I can’t wait to tell Edie the good news.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Edie

  I should have predicted Bryce would text and call at least a few times today. Under any other circumstance, I would have been a little more responsive, at least enough to answer the phon
e when he called around lunchtime.

  But I didn’t trust myself not to give anything away.

  It’s definitely not something I want to tell him over the phone.

  When I came out of the bathroom this morning and gave Mom the news, the air in the entire apartment shifted. I felt like I was in the middle of a three-person celebration. Even Marija not only smiled but hugged me in congratulations.

  Because this is a good thing.

  Definitely.

  I hope.

  It has most definitely had the effect of taking my mind off of Contempo Woman. I didn’t think anything could overshadow what happened last night, but here I am.

  Of course, I’ve been getting phone calls and texts all day from my former editors and other people in the business. The outpouring of love certainly has my emotions on a rollercoaster and I’ve had more than a few breakdowns today after that first with Mom.

  But it’s almost three, and the only thing on my mind right now is meeting with Veronica. I’m sitting at the outdoor seating area where she suggested we meet—well away from Madison Avenue. It’s also the perfect mix of public and private, nicely sectioned off with widely spaced tables, but with plenty of foot traffic passing by on the sidewalk.

  Just in case I decide to make a scene.

  All the anger, resentment, and betrayal I felt last night has come raging back, filled with renewed venom.

  I see her arrive. As soon as she notices me, she comes to a brief halt, probably second-guessing meeting with me. I stare her down hard enough that she knows better than to tuck tail and turn around. At least she has the tact not to smile as she approaches.

  “So, how long have you been planning this knife in my back?” I ask as she takes a seat. No need for pleasantries or beating around the bush.

  “It isn’t like that, Edie. This wasn’t about you.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Like I said, it isn’t personal.”

  “The hell it isn’t,” I spit. “This is my career, my livelihood you fucked with, Veronica.”

  “You’ll bounce back,” she says in a curt voice. “You have options and resources. You have Cassandra LeFleur.” She says Mom’s name in a lofty, sarcastic voice as though she’s a prized golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.

  “I suggest you keep her name out of your mouth, especially after what you’ve done to her magazine.”

  “Changing the name of the magazine was his idea, not mine.”

  “No, you just went along with it.”

  “Of course I did, I’m not stupid. He can call it whatever he wants, so long as I’m editor-in-chief.”

  “Which gets us back to how long you’ve been plotting this.”

  I can already see her trying to deflect or outright lie. My eyes make it damn clear I’m having none of it.

  “I simply took advantage of an opportunity, Edie. When I heard about Conniver, I panicked. I knew they’d be dropping the magazine and, despite all your optimistic promises, I figured that my future was at best fifty-fifty secure. So…when you told me about what you were planning, I made my move. I knew you weren’t operating alone. I also knew that you obviously had a new man in your life, despite how secretive you were about it. I figured there was a chance the two were connected, and much to my surprise, I was right.”

  A cynical smile comes to her face. “You two weren’t very subtle. All it took was a little reconnaissance outside of your apartment, watching the two of you kissing and laughing and holding hands like a couple of idiotic teenagers. Bryce Wilmington? Ideal Gentlemen magazine? I have to say, you sure knew how to pick them.”

  “Don’t take your lack of a love life out on me.”

  “That’s a good one coming from you. Once upon a time, you were headed down the same path I was.”

  “Then I realized I didn’t want to end up a bitter, two-faced fake.”

  She exhales a dark laugh. “One who is now editor-in-chief of your magazine…or what was once your magazine.”

  “Well, I hope it keeps you warm at night. Maybe you can get off to the idea that you betrayed one of the few allies you had in this business. Because I guarantee you any friends you currently have are now rethinking how much they trust you. And any new friends you make are going to be just as ruthlessly, unapologetically cutthroat with you as you were with me.”

  “Something I’m willing to gamble on. Especially with Pierce Wilmington backing me.”

  “Good luck with that one. I hear he’s a bitch to work for. Did you go running straight to him as soon as you found out about Bryce and me?”

  “Fortunately, I had more than enough fodder. It wasn’t just you and Bryce, which, by the way, was plenty.” She sits back and gives me a cool look. “One thing about your mother is, she adores drama. When I first started out, I was ambitious and eager, following her around like a puppy dog. She ate it up, telling me everything about how she first started, including one of her most generous investors. Color me surprised to learn that Pierce Wilmington was one of them, the biggest in fact. I just had to figure out why.”

  “She told you?” I ask, surprised and angry that Mom would spill the beans to Veronica and not her own daughter.

  “Not in any great detail,” she confesses, pursing her lips in annoyance. “But I knew that something had happened at a party, one where she’d ridden around naked on a white horse.” Veronica rolls her eyes. “She made such a show about it being confidential and hush-hush that I knew it had to be good. All I had to do was hint about it to Pierce and he was putty in my hands.”

  I cough out a laugh, realizing what she’s done to herself. I know first hand that Pierce is no one’s putty, and he definitely doesn’t like to be blackmailed.

  Veronica glares at me. “Laugh all you want. I suppose you need something to make up for what I’ve done. But I was owed this, Edie. I’ve been working for this magazine since its inception. And then when Cassandra decided to leave, she handed the reins over to her daughter instead? That position should have been mine.”

  This time the laugh that I cough out is filled with incredulity.

  “Are you serious? So, because you’ve never taken the initiative to move onward and upward—something in which you would have had my full support and help—you think you’re owed? I’ve worked in almost every lowly position of that magazine, learning everything from the ground up. I know what it’s like to be the intern, the assistant to the stylist, the person who handles the mundane details for contracts with advertisers. I know what they go through, which is what makes me such a good boss. You started at the very position you’re in now, thanks to Cassandra LeFluer.”

  “Well,” she says, sniffing and sitting up straighter. “It seems there’s nothing more to say if we’re just going to resort to insults.”

  “Facts, not insults,” I correct.

  “And I’m the last woman left standing.”

  A slow smile creeps to my face. “For as long as that lasts.”

  Despite herself, I see a flicker of doubt touch her eyes, which fills me with satisfaction.

  “You see, one thing I’ve learned first-hand is how much Pierce Wilmington hates being backed into a corner. As soon as you’re no longer a threat, or he decides he no longer has use for you, he’ll make it his mission to not only dump you but burn the bridge that you came to him on.” I smile through a grimace. “In which case, that tiny speck of sympathy I have on reserve does actually wish you good luck. Because you’re going to need it.”

  I stand up before she can respond, the fear in her eyes now palpable, as though she knows, deep down inside, what I’m saying is true.

  “On that note, I think I’ll get on with my life. I would congratulate you but…” I pause and seem to consider it. “I think the occasion warrants more of a ‘fuck you.’”

  I give her one last tight smile before turning to leave.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Bryce

  Edie opens the door to greet me in my apartment
before I can even turn the key to unlock it. She’s standing there in nothing more than one of my dress shirts and holds a glass of bourbon out for me.

  “Welcome home,” she says with a beaming smile that I find odd, considering her current circumstances.

  Not that I’m complaining.

  “A man could certainly get used to this,” I say with a grin as I enter, I take the glass and follow her in to the couch.

  “None for you?” I comment when I see there’s no similar glass in front of her. “I hope that doesn’t mean that you’ve been hitting the bottle all day.”

  “No,” she sasses, giving me a cynical look.

  “In which case, allow me,” I say, popping up and heading to her small bar area.

  “Bryce—”

  “No, tonight definitely warrants it,” I say as I pour her some Hennessy. “I had the most amazing idea today. It’s still not entirely worked out in my head, but I’m sure you will be the one to help me work it out. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. But, funnily enough, it came to me all because of that damn website, Ideal Gentleman.” I turn to face her on the couch and grin. Edie stares back with a crooked smile on her face. “In retrospect, I can’t help but think it was providence or fate or whatever frou-frou shit the universe throws at us for a good laugh.”

  I walk back and hand the glass to Edie. She stares at it a moment, then her eyes flash to mine which are dancing with excitement. She smiles and takes it.

  “So—” I stop, realizing what a cad I’m being. “Wait a second. I didn’t even ask you how your day was? It trickled down to me that they made the announcement over at Contempo Woman this morning. I tried calling you but I guess you were sleeping? You never got back to me. Anyway, how was it for you today?”

  “You know what?” She says with a broad smile. “It was fine. Really.”

  “I know. That’s literally all you would tell me whenever I texted. But I’m here now, so tell me the truth, Edie. I’m your punching bag for the night.”