Dammit!
Why do all my thoughts constantly go back to him? I know it’s just out of habit, but it’s one I’m really going to need to break—or more like lock up and throw away the key.
Shaking my head, I say, “No, I haven’t really thought about it. Actually, we were only stopping by for a quick minute. Wren and I have been traveling all day and are super jetlagged. I think we’re going to head back to the hotel and get some much-needed rest. Right, honey?”
I lean against my fiancé’s chest and he holds me in place. I’m not even lying right now; I am beyond exhausted, and all the excitement we’ve had since the moment our plane touched down has sucked up any bits of energy I had. I could probably sleep for a week at this point.
“Nonsense. You’ll come stay with your dad and me. We would love to have you back in the house. It’s been awfully quiet since you and Marek moved out all those years ago. It’ll be nice to entertain for once.”
All those years ago? Marek is going to be forty in a few years and I’m not far behind him. My mother acts like it was just yesterday and not almost twenty years ago.
I shake my head, just imagining the disaster this could be. “That’s so nice of you, Mom, but I wouldn’t want to put you out. It’s really not a big deal. We already got a hotel room before coming here. It’s only a few days and then the renter will be out of my apartment.”
“I insist. There are two perfectly fine open bedrooms back at the house. What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t let you stay in them? You can just go right back to that hotel and tell them you changed your mind.”
“Two?”
She lets out a small chuckle with the biggest smile on her face. “Don’t try to pull one over on me, Giselle Outlaw. Whatever you do with your fiancé outside your parents’ home is your business, but there won’t be any hanky-panky under our roof. Now come on, we need to get going—it’s almost time for Grey’s Anatomy. They just got a bunch of new interns, so you know somebody is going to have a major screw-up.”
Whenever I leave conversations with my mom, I always have the biggest headache from all the eye rolling I do. There’s no arguing with Kathleen Outlaw. Once she’s decided on something, that’s pretty much how it’s gonna be. She’s tough, always has been and always will be.
My mom walks out the front door dragging my dad behind her and he at least as the courtesy of giving me a sympathetic look. All my life she has always made the decisions and he’s gone along with them. I think it was just easier for him to let her take charge instead of arguing. Especially after his cancer scare my junior year of high school. That was a rough year and it all came to blows that following summer. The summer when I first met Anders.
Ugh, everything really does come back to him.
Turning to my fiancé, I kiss him on the cheek and say, “I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s just easier to let my mom get her way than arguing. I’ve learned to just choose my battles when it comes to her.”
Wren pulls me into a hug and rubs his nose on mine and says, “No complaints here. Besides the idea of sneaking into your childhood bedroom after your parents go to bed to fool around sounds kind of hot.”
“Really?”
His eyes light up and he nods, saying, “Really. Really.”
Well okay then. Maybe this won’t be such a disaster after all.
Chapter Seven
Anders
Going to Marek’s house yesterday after seeing Giselle at the airport wasn’t something I was interested in doing. Instead, I came to the bar, and I’ve been hiding out here today as well. It hasn’t been much of a distraction since we’re not even open yet, but I have gotten more work done today than I have in years, including but not limited to putting in an inventory order, reorganizing my office, deep cleaning the entire bar area, and throwing out any slightly chipped glasses then ordering new ones.
I will say throwing each glass into the trashcan with as much force as I possibly could, really helped release some rage.
Maybe that should be my next business venture. People will pay to come to a warehouse in a controlled environment where they can just break glass. I’ll even throw in some heavy metal playing over loudspeakers to add to the experience. If that doesn’t sound like a million-dollar idea, I don’t know what does.
As I line all the liquor bottles back up behind the bar, I can’t help it as my mind wanders to Giselle. I have been so focused on all my busy work today, but now that I’m starting to slow back down, she’s found a way to weasel herself back into my brain. I can’t avoid her forever, but I will do so for as long as I can, at least until I can wrap my head around everything.
Fox, the manager and my right-hand woman, steps up next to me to start cleaning some of the new glasses I found in a box in the back. “What is wrong with you? You’ve been working your ass off all day on projects you’ve been talking about doing for years. I thought this was the ‘fun’ part of your job.” She pauses as she continues cleaning and then adds, “Your word, not mine.”
I know I’m a miserable bastard these days and working at the bar is where I have the most fun. I love it here, but nothing about my current situation can make me happy.
“Giselle is back.”
“And? Shouldn’t you be back at your place with her locked in your bedroom, barely coming up for air? You should be fucking ecstatic, not a moping bastard.”
I should be. I should be the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. “She came back engaged.”
Fox rolls her eyes at me, and that only pisses me off more. “So? That seems a little sudden, which means they can easily be broken up. You have history with her. This new guy can’t compete with you. Unless…is she pregnant? Is that why they’re getting married? Because that’ll complicate things a bit more. It’s not the end of the world, just messier.”
Pregnant?
I shake my head wildly while crossing my arms back and forth out in front of me in a no way motion. “No! Why would you say something like that? She’s not pregnant. She can’t be.” Can she? I start thinking about it and, as much as I don’t want something like that to be true, it does have some merit to it. Why else would they be getting engaged and married so quickly? It doesn’t make any sense at all.
“Okay, so she isn’t pregnant as far as we know, and you still love her—so what’s stopping you? The Anders I know wouldn’t let something as minuscule as a piece of jewelry get in his way.”
What’s stopping me? I feel like such a pussy right now. It shouldn’t matter who she’s engaged to, but it does. The douchebag really isn’t one, and I’m beyond intimidated.
“She’s engaged to Wren Danzig.”
Fox whistles as her eyes go wide. “The Hollywood actor?”
I nod.
She chuckles to herself while drying some pint glasses with a towel. Nodding her head, she says, “Oh yeah, you’re screwed. Better luck next time, buddy. Makes sense about the quickie engagement and wedding, too.”
What part of this makes sense? All the bottles are back in place and my hands have nothing to do. I’ve been busy all day and now I’m finally stopping, which does nothing but add unease to the pit of my stomach. Now all I can do is face the reality of the situation. Giselle is engaged, and I just might lose her forever.
“Why does that make sense?”
The glasses clink together as she quickens her pace, wiping off all the glassware. Promoting Fox to manager was one of the smartest decisions I ever made and it’s the reason I rarely have to be here anymore. In fact, I come in more often than I really need to because I just enjoy being here. She was the very first employee I ever hired.
That day ended with too many interviews to count, and not a single one of them was qualified for the job. I was tired and ready to go home, unwind with a cold one, and try again the next day—but my plans had to wait. Fox noisily came through the door with a printout of my online ad and slapped it on the table in front of me. Her exact words were, “Take that posting down because I�
��m here for the job and I’m going to help you make this place a success.”
I almost turned her away right then and there, but my gut instincts told me she was the person I had been waiting for, and I am so glad I trusted my intuition and hired her. She did help me turn my business around and make it a success. Even though she never had any formal training or experience, she’s a marketing genius. I had no idea what I was doing, just knew I needed help. Right off the bat, she told me every single thing I was doing wrong and how she was going to help me to fix it.
She frowns at the glass in her hand and replies, “Because Wren has that movie he’s filming next month. It’s supposed to be another book-to-film adaptation, and based on the storyline alone, the critics are saying it could be another awards season contender. Being involved with Twin Flame really opened a lot of doors for him. He went from being a good actor with consistent work to superstar level. Think Leo after Titanic.”
Great, so not only is the guy making more money than me, he’s making a hell of a lot more money than me and probably will for the rest of his life. “Thanks, you’re being real helpful right now.”
“I’m sorry, but if it were any other guy, you might have a shot. Scratch that—you would definitely be the guy she’d be getting married to. But this is Wren Danzig we’re talking about here. He’s the whole fucking package. He’s gorgeous, he has an Oscar, and he does humanitarian work. I’m sorry, but that’s a lot to compete with, not to mention he’s fucking loaded.”
The bottle of scotch sitting on the top shelf catches my eye. Normally I would never cut into my own profit margin by drinking the really good booze, but this conversation calls for a drink. I pour myself a small tumbler and tilt the bottle toward Fox. She shakes her head and I shrug, bringing the earthy drink to my lips.
I relish the burn as I place the glass on the bar in front of me. “Way to rub more salt in the wound. You forgot to mention he used to be a musician before making it big as an actor, he bought his mom a house, and he feeds the homeless.” Great, now I sound like one of those internet stalkers who knows anything and everything about a celebrity. I may have done a quick Google search on the guy, and it didn’t really take long for me to find out he’s fucking perfect. I have no chance in hell with Giselle next to a guy like him.
She puts away another glass she’s dried and turns to me with a devilish look in her eyes. “Well, I didn’t want to make you feel like shit, but I can definitely keep going if you want me to. Just tell me when to stop.”
I can’t help but laugh at her. I know she’s just trying to cheer me up, and it is working somewhat, but I still realize how much of a shit situation I’m in. No matter what I do, my brain always drifts back to that last night together.
I thought everything was perfect. I was scared shitless, but I had a plan. I was going to suck up my pride and potentially ruin my friendship with my best friend, but I was going to tell him. I finally had Giselle in my arms and no one, not even Marek, was going to stand in my way. When I woke up the morning after and she was gone? It killed me. All my emails and texts over the past few months went unanswered, and now I know why.
What was the point? Why did she spend that night with me if she knew the entire time that she was still going to leave? I spent so much time trying to convince her that what we had was good and would be good. I must have seemed like such a desperate idiot that she couldn’t wait to run away from me. I can’t think of anything that went wrong.
“You’re not giving up though…right?” she asks in a tiny voice, almost as quiet as a whisper.
“What do you mean?”
“Things might be completely and utterly hopeless between you and Giselle at this point, but you’re still going to fight for her, right? You’re not just going to lie down and let her walk all over you, are you?”
What am I going to do?
From the minute I saw her at the airport with Wren by her side, all the plans I had disappeared completely. I was going to sweep her off her feet and convince her to never leave me again. I have a ring in the top drawer of my desk to prove how serious I was about that plan. The morning I woke up and she was no longer in my bed, I purchased that ring. I knew she would come back to me eventually and knew it would end up on her finger. I was willing to wait forever for her, but now, I don’t know what I’m going to do.
“I know about the ring, you know.”
“How could you know about the ring?”
She actually looks embarrassed as she ducks her head down and her cheeks redden. “I wasn’t snooping, if that’s what you think. When I was doing payroll, I needed a paperclip. When I opened the top drawer in your desk, it was sitting there, and I couldn’t not look. It’s gorgeous, Anders. It really is, and no matter what I said before, she’d be lucky to have you.”
The air between us shifts as I look at her, really look at her. Fox has never shown any indication that she sees me as someone other than her boss, but I’m getting those feelings very strongly right about now.
“You know I don’t feel that way about you, right?”
Her eyes go wide, and her cheeks redden to a deeper shade of red. I expect her to stammer out a response, but I’m shocked when she starts laughing and shakes her head. “Anders, you’re hot. I’m not too stupid to see that, but I’m not in love with you and don’t expect you to hand a ring over to me. I’m not sure what you saw in my face, but it wasn’t that. I. Don’t. Love. You.”
She drags that sentence out, and I’m not sure if she’s trying to convince me or herself. Either way, I ignore the vibes she’s giving off and laugh. “I figured as much, but I just wanted to make that clear. Fuck, I’m pretty screwed up right now. I’m sorry I said that. I don’t even know what I was thinking.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Draining the rest of my drink, I step away from the bar and wave to Fox. “I’m going to head home and clear my head. Maybe I can figure out a game plan. If not, I’ll at least be away from here so I won’t drink everything in the place.”
“Probably a good idea, and besides, you’ve earned it after everything you’ve done here today. See you later, Anders, and don’t worry about it too much. I know I joked and said you had no shot, but there’s something you have with Giselle that Wren doesn’t.”
“Oh yeah? And what is that?”
“History.”
Chapter Eight
Giselle
My hands shake as I slide my dress off the hanger. When I was in Europe, I was so incredibly happy, so sure of everything. I didn’t even think twice about saying yes when Wren got down on one knee and asked me for forever—but now that I’m back home? My head is all kinds of confused, and Anders McKay is not helping out with that confusion one bit.
I was so lost when I met Wren, though crashed into him is more like it. The memory comes slamming back to me as I sit down on the bed with the knit dress in my hands.
I internally squeal for the millionth time since I’ve been on this trip. I feel like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s as I take a large bite of the buttery, flaky croissant. A moan slips from my lips as the warm pastry melts away on my tongue. I’ve had a croissant every single morning since I arrived in Paris almost a week ago and when I go home, I don’t think I’m going to be the same. The cheap knockoffs I buy at the grocery store just aren’t going to cut it for me anymore, that’s for damn sure. I wonder if that’s something you can have shipped, or maybe I could learn how to make them. They can’t be that hard…right?
Shrugging, I continue inhaling the delectable treat. The people around me probably think I look like an overindulgent American, but I can’t even muster up a little bit of a fuck to give—or, like my t-shirt says: I don’t give a flock. I’m sitting outside, it’s a gorgeous sunny morning, and my breakfast is to die for. I wipe off my hands and finish the rest of my coffee. I have no idea what I ordered, but it’s just as good as my croissant, and that’s all that matters to me.
With a sigh, I pick up
my brand-new Boy Chanel handbag and spin around out of my seat. An instant feeling of whiplash takes over me as I slam right into a very hard, very solid body. My purse goes flying and hits the pavement as my ankle twists in a way it definitely should not have. I wince in pain, but that’s quickly forgotten when I spot my brand-new precious a few feet away from me. Half crawling, half sliding across the sidewalk, I move over toward the object of my desire. Of course, whoever ran me over is already there picking it up, and I want to cry at the giant scuff mark that’s slashed across the front. Not to mention the bits of debris covering the leather.
My ankle could be broken for all I care, but what’s really hurting is the thought of all the blood, sweat, and tears that went into every single video that got me to a place where I could afford that bag. I see red. I just bought it this morning before having my breakfast then this brute runs me over and totally demolishes it in one fell swoop.
I wince as I quickly stand up and hobble right over to the jerk. I’m ready to lay it all out for him. I stab my finger into his chest and look up, then my words slam into each other, falling to the sides, like a leader in a marching band suddenly stopping and not letting the others know what’s up. My mouth opens and slams shut over and over again. Where are my words? Say something, you idiot. But I can’t. I can’t say a damn word because standing directly in front of me is Wren Danzig—THE Wren Danzig. He just sailed through award season swooping up every single best actor award, for goodness’ sake, not to mention the fact that he’s drop-dead gorgeous. His dark brown hair is tousled and hangs low over his eyes, his striking bright blues peeking through. Swoon-fucking-worthy.
The Chanel bag flashes in front of my face as he starts to hand it back to me, and I suddenly remember how to use my brain. I rip the purse out of his hands and huff out my anger. My fists tighten over the leather and my knuckles turn white. Bringing it up to his face to show him the gash that cannot be fixed, I say, “You’re buying me a brand-new bag. I just—”
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