"I'm just sad that I failed," I said.
Ginny slapped ground beef into a skillet. "You were an angel. Seriously. He was just trying to get some, and you were trying to comfort him through his mother's sickness. A sickness, I have to say, you had every right to never go near again. All the memories were no good for you, yet you were kind to him. I don't call that failing."
"No," I said, sipping my margarita. "I failed at spontaneity."
Ginny laughed and left the ground beef to brown. She leaned on the pass-through counter across from me.
"Getting whisked away in a helicopter to Monterey and then heading off into Pinnacles to go camping, of all things, isn't spontaneous? And, I mean, you're you! I'd say you passed your spontaneity course with flying colors."
"But I'm still me," I whined. "Except now I don't have a job or any idea where next month's rent is going to come from. What was I thinking?"
"Please," Ginny said, clinking our glasses together, "we both know you have a way healthier savings account than any other recent college grad in the history of the world. I'm still glad you gave up that interview. It's like you escaped and now you have the chance to do what you really love."
"Too bad I can't love singing and not be poor," I said. "And now, I can't even bear to think about all the ideas I had for a glamorous camping business on the side. God. I actually thought Penn and I could do that together."
Ginny shoved the tortilla shells in the oven. "That sounds like a great idea. And, you know someone who has an in around Pinnacles."
"I can't talk to Penn's mother anymore." My eyes blurred, but I swiped the tears away. "I should have just stuck to my plan. Maybe it's not too late. I should talk to Joshua."
"Oh, God, please don't-" Ginny was cut off by the sound of our doorbell. "No. It can't be him."
Penn? I shot to my feet as if I had been electrified. My hand was already on the door handle when Ginny called out. "I forgot to tell you I ran into Joshua today."
He was there, holding out a bunch of hothouse flowers as soon as I opened the door. My stomach sank so fast that I wanted to bend over double. Instead, I gripped the door and forced my face into a smile.
"Joshua. You shouldn't have." I knew he was waiting for an apology, but I couldn't clear my throat. My whole body cried out that he was the wrong man and I was afraid of what I would say.
"I heard you were back, and I thought you might be scrambling for job ideas. Want some help?" He stepped inside our tiny apartment, though I knew he loathed the place. "Do I smell, ah, what do I smell?"
"Oh, God, the tacos!" Ginny rushed back to the kitchen and left us standing there awkwardly.
"I'm… I'm… I just don't know what I'm going to do yet," I said.
Joshua smiled as if I were a nervous little kid. "Don't worry. I have a few ideas that can get you back on track. It might not be the Ritz-Carlton–you'll have to work and wait to get back there–but I have a few other contacts in the hospitality world."
I knew Joshua thought he was the white knight, but I felt like he was the one locking the dungeon door. I couldn't go back to my comfortable, practical rut. Just the thought of it made me want to bolt past him out the door and keep running.
"Thanks for the flowers," I said.
"Corsica, please, I don't care what silly detour you took this summer. I'm offering to help you get your life back."
"That's just it, Joshua." I opened the front door. "It's my life. This is something I need to figure out on my own."
Ginny appeared the second I shut the door behind a highly insulted Joshua. "That's it. We're going out to celebrate."
"You burned the tacos, didn't you?"
"Yes. But there's a great taco truck next to your favorite karaoke bar." Ginny grabbed our purses and looped her arm through mine.
The singing helped, and we stayed out much later than we intended. I think Ginny knew what would happen to me once we got back and our tiny apartment settled into silence. She went to bed with a worried look over her shoulder at me.
"I'm sure there's a ridiculously outdated movie on some channel," she offered.
"Goodnight. Thanks for the tacos." I shut my bedroom door and paced around before I forced myself to get ready for bed.
It was worse when the lights were off. I tried a hundred times to picture the karaoke club and the fun that we had. For every twenty attempts, memories of Penn popped in and ruined everything. How could I have been so stupid? How did I not realize that he was a well-known billionaire? The berating thought had me jumping out of bed. I turned the light back on with an angry flick.
More than that, one thought had haunted me since I left Penn's beach house still in my sodden ball gown: Why had he chased me down the beach?
Penn had been so quick to assume that I was going to run away after being exposed. I had to stay as much for my pride as for the wild hope that he would say he was sorry. In fact, I had worked my way up to believing he would and all I needed to do was give him the opportunity.
That's when I caught him with Alicia. Had he planned the whole thing just to land her? Was I supposed to be the grand joke that finally brought them together?
The way Alicia had looked at me, like I was some simple creature slithering all over the floor. How could I have not realized that Penn was the CEO of a company so explosive it had just broken onto the Forbes list?
Her haughty expression and the way her arm snaked around Penn burned away any last thoughts I had for a good night's sleep. I cracked open my laptop and typed Penn's name into the search engine.
I scrolled past the numerous website and articles about his meteoric rise to the top. Far down, the articles morphed into news of the uber-famous Xavier Templeton.
"So famous, even I knew who he was," I muttered.
Then, I was caught by one reporter's coverage of the Templeton estate. That Xavier was the benefactor of a mind-boggling family fortune was no joke. It was the stuff of legends.
So, naturally, it was big news when a journalist dug up his will and discovered that Penn was not named his heir. When pressed, Xavier had admitted to the press that his son wanted to get out from under his shadow and make his own way.
I felt a stir of pride in Penn that turned to a cringe. So, there was at least one thing he hadn't lied about.
The rest of the headlines extolled Penn as an amazing entrepreneur. He was called innovative and adventurous. He was the new breed of business and well on his way to making billions. And there were way too many hits that speculated at the extent of his worth.
No wonder Penn thought I was just a subtle gold-digger. How could I have missed all of that press?
"Because he's not my type," I admitted bitterly to my quiet room.
Penn looked nothing like the kind of billionaires I had wanted to meet. His hair was shaggy, his beard overgrown, and his tattoos almost as famous as his outdoor equipment company. I had judged him right away and on looks alone. After that, nothing swayed me until the truth was ripped open at the charity ball.
The charity ball. My stomach fizzled as I remembered all the photographers at the event. Was there a picture of me with Penn? I knew it was silly, the kind of sentimental thing that would torture me for days to come, but I wanted to see what we had looked like as a couple.