An Unlikely Love Story : A sweet, heartwarming & uplifting romantic comedy (Falling into Happily Ever After Rom Com)

by Ellie Hall

  “Ladies,” an ordinarily gentle voice booms in our direction.

  The three of us jitter and turn around. Minnie faces us with one hand on her hip. In the other, she holds a platter of cinnamon rolls slathered in gooey frosting and with a light dusting of red and purple Valentine’s sprinkles.

  “Ooh, they’re made into the shape of hearts,” Colette says, diffusing the tension.

  “And they smell delicious,” I add.

  “Girls, this is a Galentine’s Day party. No talking about guys.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s right. No boys allowed,” Lottie says disappointedly.

  “What about me?” a deep, male voice says.

  We all spin in the direction of the doorway.

  “What? I’m your honorary babe,” Tyler says. With his arms full, he gently kicks the door closed behind him. “You can’t turn me away because I come bearing gifts.” He has a pastry box in one arm. He passes an outrageous bouquet of flowers to Minnie and then produces some chocolate. “Direct from France.”

  Huh. We’re all best friends, but the slight blush of rose matching the flowers in Minnie’s arms suggests something. I’ll have to investigate later. Right now, I’m wondering who the traitor is. “Who invited the guy to our Galentine’s Day brunch?” I demand.

  Minnie goes a shade darker.

  “Our honorary babe?” Lottie harrumphs. “Who happens to be the most handsome male specimen any of us have ever laid eyes on. I still say it’s a shame you’re like Hazel and refuse to settle down.”

  “Oh, like any of you are looking to tie-the-knot soon,” Tyler says pointedly.

  “‘Ovaries before broveries,’” Collette and Lottie say in unison, quoting the television show Parks and Recreation.

  “I miss those days,” Minnie says.

  We all nod in agreement. If this were a TV show, the music and lighting would soften, the camera would pan to each of us looking reflective, and then transition to a montage during college when we’d all get together each week to watch a new episode. This is also the source of the Galentine’s Day festivities at present.

  Tyler lands a kiss on each of our cheeks, in quite the European way, having recently traveled there for one of his epic expeditions. I didn’t think it was possible, but Minnie’s cheeks go darker and now resemble the corny heart decorations we strung up.

  He juts his chin at the banner over the serving table at my back. “Happy Galentine’s Day,” he reads. “And here I thought it was a welcome home soiree.”

  “Welcome home,” I say. “How was Hossegor?”

  “The surf was firing. Then I went to Paris.” He sighs. “I’ll tell you all about it, but first, you have to try these strawberry éclairs and apple rose tartlets and lavender madeleines, and—”

  We all dip into the box before he even has a chance to set it down.

  “Any stories of amour from France?” Colette asks, coming from the kitchen with a fresh pitcher of the homemade pink lemonade.

  Tyler takes a generous bite of an éclair and waggles his eyebrows.

  “This is why it was supposed to be a no boys allowed function,” Minnie mutters.

  He bites his lip. “Since I only heard about this party now, please explain why you’re all wearing your pajamas—adorable by the way,” he says to Minnie, gesturing to the shorts with little hearts and Minnie Mouse heads.

  I’m wearing a set with heart-shaped cat paw prints.

  “Because comfort is our top priority and these are Mew approved,” I say when my cat slinks by. I give him a pet.

  “No exceptions to Galentine’s Day, huh?” Tyler asks, motioning to the banner. “I’ve never really understood what it is, but—”

  With impeccable timing, from the living room television, Leslie’s voice (of Parks and Recreation fame), explains. “Oh, it’s only the best day of the year. Every February thirteenth, my lady friends and I leave our husbands and our boyfriends at home, and we just come and kick it, breakfast-style. Ladies celebrating ladies. It’s like Lilith Fair, minus the angst. Plus frittatas.”

  The six of us ladies recite the lines from the show verbatim.

  “It’s become a tradition to play past episodes of the show, brunch, gab, and chill,” Colette says.

  “But no boys,” I say, my mind landing on one very specific boy...er, man.

  “And manis, pedis, chocolate...” Minnie adds, outlining our plans for the rest of the morning.

  “But someone is missing.” Tyler turns in a circle, then his eyes widen with alarm. “Where is Catherine?”

  “She abandoned us,” Minnie says with a sigh.

  “High tailed it out of here,” Colette adds.

  “Left on a jet plane,” Lottie says.

  “She fell in love,” I answer.

  “Traitor,” Tyler says.

  “Traditionally, we celebrate Galentine’s Day on February thirteen, but Minnie was out of town for work, so we had to postpone until a few days later,” I explain. “Then Catherine had to leave for romantic Rome. Plus, I’m all for celebrating my friendships anytime.”

  “So you were talking about frittatas?” Tyler says. “What can I help with?”

  Apparently, he’s staying.

  “Everything is ready. All you have to do is sit your sweet, imposter buns down,” Colette says in her slight southern accent.

  “So you’re not kicking me out?” he asks.

  I risk a glance at Minnie. She suddenly finds the wood floor fascinating.

  I lead everyone into the dining room. Yes, we’re in Manhattan and yes, there is a dining room. A proper one with a chandelier.

  Before you go thinking that my friends and me are beautiful and rich—well, we are—our respective wealth was earned, hard-won, or in Minnie’s case, inherited. Her parents tragically died in a freak accident off the coast of Australia where they were studying a rare—well, I can’t remember what, but it was some kind of prickly, deadly fish. She was just a kid and sent to live with her aunt. She’s since passed on, leaving Minnie without family, but with a very, very nice piece of prime real estate overlooking Central Park. Would she trade it to have more time with the people she loves? Absolutely. But since that’s not possible, she welcomes those of us she cares most about into her home as often as possible, which is a real treat because I feel like a Disney princess when in her not-so-humble abode.

  But I digress... We were supposed to be at Minnie’s today. However, as mentioned, she was away for work, so I raised my hand and offered to host brunch. Also, her neighbor is a grouch. Anyway, the apartment I share with Catherine isn’t too shabby, if I do say so myself.

  We gather around the table, festooned in red, purple, and gold: flowers, streamers, banners, pom-poms, confetti, balloons, and platters and trays and plates piled with food.

  “Food glorious food!” I sing.

  “It’s like the entire Valentine’s Day décor section at Target exploded in here!” Lottie exclaims.

  “Well, I love you girls. And you too, Tyler,” I say with a smile.

  “And we love your enthusiasm,” he says. His gaze lingers on Minnie for a long beat, then he adds, “Thanks for letting me stay.”

  Tyler’s mother is in France and I’ve never heard him discuss his father. Despite bi-annual visits to surf and visit his mom, we’re his stateside fam.

  We dig into waffles with strawberries, pancakes with blueberries, quiche, scones, and frittata, of course.

  “This is delicious,” Colette says.

  “Scrummy,” Lottie adds.

  “I’m so glad I happened by,” Tyler says around a mouthful.

  “I want to offer a toast,” I say, getting to my feet. “Roses are red, violets are blue, you girls—and Tyler—are my best friends, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  There’s a round of aws and the clinking of our glasses followed by variations on the last part of the rhyme, descending into silly jokes and a debate about whether violets are blue or purple. I just roll with the laughter—it
’s good for the heart and soul. Especially when that heart sometimes feels a little bit lonely despite being surrounded by so much love.

  Minnie pulls us from the hysterics and suggests we play a game. “It’s really easy.” She passes out pink cards printed with the beginnings of sentences. “It’s kind of like truth or dare, but just with the truth part. Going around the table, all we have to do is finish the sentences. However, there’s one catch.” She holds up a bowl filled with crumpled paper. “If you draw the letter G you have to answer it from a Galentine point of view so anything goes. If you draw a V, it’s all about the Valentine—true romance. Got it? I’ll go first so you can see how it works.”

  I glance down at the sentence on my card and fold it up, hoping I get G.

  Minnie reads from her card. “My heart beats for ____.” She draws the letter G.

  “The truth is my heart beats for Gilmore Girls reruns.”

  There’s a chorus of approval.

  Colette goes next. “The sweetest thing ____ has ever done for me is _____.” She pulls a folded paper from the bowl and says, “V. Easy. The sweetest thing my high school sweetheart ever did for me was win me a giant jar of chocolate kisses at the sweetheart dance.” She coos then smirks.

  I arch an eyebrow in question.

  “He guessed how many were in the jar. Then he gave me that many kisses.”

  “So romantic,” Minnie says.

  I glance at my card again and pray for the letter G. Galentine, Galentine, Galentine.

  “Hazel’s turn,” Minnie says, keeping the game moving while I serve seconds of the frittata. I take a painstakingly long time to chew. I hoped that a couple of conversations would strike up, taking attention off the game. No such luck.

  “Ok. My sentence is: When I think about ______ I get all mushy inside.” Since this is a game of truth and I’d never lie to you, I have to admit that my voice shakes a little bit.

  All eyes are on me. Every single one. Surrounded by all the red and purple, hearts and confetti, it’s intense. I draw from the bowl of crumpled paper. G, please.

  “Hazel got V for Valentine,” Tyler says, smirking as if he knows something I am certain he doesn’t. Whatever wacky thing is going on in my mind when it comes to the guy next door, it’s a secret. One I will take to the grave.

  Colette rolls her wrist, motioning for me to get on with it already.

  I clear my throat.

  They lean in.

  Then, someone knocks on the door.

  We all startle.

  I bounce from my seat. “I’ll get it.” My letter V for Valentine flies across the table.

  They give me variations on puzzled looks. Of course, I’ll get it. This is my house. But they didn’t miss my jittery display of nerves. Nope, you can’t get anything past a group of best friends.

  I have no doubt they’re wondering and whispering about why I hesitated.

  Taking a deep breath, I smooth my hair as I reach for the doorknob and pull it open.

  Remember when I described a guy with tousled dark hair and refined yet ruggedly handsome features? The one with a thin shadow of scruff along his jawline? He’s also impossibly fit, confident, tall, and standing in my doorway.

  My heart pirouettes. My stomach does a relevé.

  Maxwell smirks, looking me up and down. “Cute.”

  “Meow?” I say. Why did I think pajamas with cat paw hearts were a good idea?

  Chocolate Chip Super Hero

  Maxwell

  I’m not the kind of guy to gaze at the floor, my hands, or make someone suffer in awkward silence.

  What kind of guy am I? The one from an obnoxious—or enviable, depending on who you ask—luxury car, watch, or cologne commercial.

  Obnoxious because I don’t, in fact, have an inner monologue when I’m driving at high speeds down a rain-streaked street. Nor do I admire my watch, so it catches the light just so. Never have I ever walked through an empty European plaza while a random and beautiful woman walked toward me before falling into my embrace. Okay, there was that one time in Berlin.

  For better or worse, I have tall, dark, handsome, and powerful dialed in. I don’t say that to sound arrogant. Rather, it’s a business advantage. The same way I worked my way to closing multi-million dollar deals with everyone coming out of the boardroom feeling like they’ve won, I also had to learn how to command a room, ensure that people trust that I know what I’m doing, and look the part.

  Mission accomplished when I speak clearly, concisely, and confidently.

  Mission failed when I’m standing here in the hall, gobsmacked and holding a platter of chocolate chip cookies.

  Hazel is the first to crack. She bites her lip. Why does she have to draw attention to her lips?

  Why? Oh, right, because they’re perfect along with everything else about her. I’m ruined. Ruined forever by this gorgeous woman.

  “You, uh, have something—” She extends her hand and brushes my cheek gently.

  I force myself not to lean into her touch.

  What have I become?

  “A crumb?” she asks, gesturing to the cookies.

  The corner of my lip lifts effortlessly. “I had to taste test.”

  Laughter comes from behind me.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you had company.”

  “We, uh,” she stutters. She shifts from foot to foot.

  My eyes narrow and realization triggers a little burst of soft light inside of me. Are we having the same effect on each other?

  A tall guy emerges from down the hall.

  The light within goes dark. I was wrong. Very wrong. Hazel has a boyfriend. Strange though, the dude could be my doppelganger. Maybe she has a type?

  We size each other up for a long moment. He looks oddly familiar, but I am certain we’ve never met.

  He points at himself. “Token dude at the girlfest. I’d be way more comfortable if there were two of us. I’m Tyler by the way.”

  Confusion takes hold and my brow furrows, but I have the presence of mind to introduce myself. “Nice to meet you. I’m Maxwell Davis.”

  Hazel’s eyes widen.

  Female laughter echoes from down the hall. Relief sweeps through me. They’re not alone.

  “He crashed my Galentine’s Day party,” Hazel says in her British accent.

  Tyler pokes Hazel’s arm like an overgrown child. “Come on, say yes, Mom. He brought cookies.” He’s hardly taken his eye off the plate.

  “I thought you had a thing for pastries.”

  He shrugs. “French pastries. Despite my mother’s origins, I’m all American. Come on, Chocolate Chip,” he says to me. “You’re my new hero.”

  The guy hip checks Hazel, presses past her, and takes the cookies from my hands. “If I’m the honorary babe. That makes you, resident darling.” I catch Tyler toss a wink in Hazel’s direction.

  I follow them down the hall, catching her vanilla-citrus scent under an assortment of brunch foods. Regretfully, I’m unable to ignore the way she looks in those cute shorts with the heart-shaped paw prints.

  The room goes quiet when we enter. A small woman with dark hair squeaks.

  I eye Hazel and she seems to shrink.

  “Everyone, meet Maxwell. Maxwell, meet everyone.” She then goes on to introduce me to Lottie, Colette, and the dark-haired woman, Minnie.

  “You guys look so much alike,” she says, shaking her head slowly and looking from Tyler to me. “Odd.”

  Tyler and I look at each other. We’re both tall, have dark hair, and are fit.

  “His nose is different. Eyes too,” Hazel says softly. “Also, Tyler and I go way back.” She shakes her head as if dismissing a thought.

  I pull myself together, and say, “I see you have quite the spread already, but I brought cookies.”

  Tyler sets them on the table.

  “Those are Catherine’s grandmother’s recipe, aren’t they?” Hazel says, diving for one.

  As if shaking themselves out of a collective stupor
at the introduction of another guy at a gal’s party, everyone helps themselves and conversation resumes.

  I take a seat to Hazel’s right and she passes me a plate.

  “No one is allowed to leave until they join the clean plate club,” Colette says with a wink.

  “We were playing a game. It was Hazel’s turn.” Lottie holds up a slip of paper.

  They all go quiet and stare at Hazel.

  She stuffs the rest of the cookie in her mouth. After a long moment, she clears her throat, and says, “When I think about Catherine, I get all—”

  “We know you miss her, but that paper says V, honey,” Colette exclaims. Then to me she adds, “It’s like truth or dare, but the dare is you have to answer according to your romantic life or your gal-pal life depending on whether you draw a V for Valentine or a G for Galentine.”

  “When I think about, um, this guy I, get—” Hazel breaks off again.

  “What guy?” Lottie fires from across the table.

  “Who?” Minnie asks. “Don’t tell me it’s that guy we met last month.” She frowns.

  Lottie reads over Hazel’s shoulder, “When I think about, blank, I get all mushy inside. Who makes you mushy, Hazel? Huh? Huh?” She elbows her friend.

  Hazel shakes her head.

  Colette hops to her feet and swoops a cell phone out of a basket sitting on a table along the wall. They must have a no cellphones while eating rule.

  She clicks it on.

  Lightning fast, Hazel launches to her feet, grabbing for it.

  But it’s too late. The screen opens to a contact page with a number and photograph at the top. It’s far away, but I glimpse it before Hazel nabs her phone back.

  “Hazel Loves, what are you keeping from us?” Tyler asks, sparing me a glance.

  Minnie points at Hazel. “I know that look. I know it well. Our girl Hazel is smitten.”

  “Oh yeah, how do you know that look so well, Miss Minnie? Huh? Huh?” Hazel asks accusingly, catting her eyes between Minnie and Tyler.

  Minnie goes still.

  “She’s a smitten kitten,” Lottie says.

  Just then, something scampers across the table and a ball of fur streaks by.