While Andrew had no idea what would happen with the Milan brand manager position, one thing was certain, he and Gwen were going to be together , one way or another. He’d fallen hopelessly in love with her. There was only one thing to do when that happened.
When Andrew got off the plane in New York, he checked his messages and breathed a sigh of relief when Marcello confirmed he’d seen the marked-up draft of his year-end report on his desk.
Andrew only hoped the red ink wouldn’t frighten him: Change this. Research this better. Spell this correctly. It would come down to a razor-thin wire, whether or not Andrew had gotten through to him enough to make the proper projections for the coming year.
What would Marcello have done if Andrew hadn’t been there to help him? That thought stopped Andrew from running to JFK’s baggage claim.
“What if I weren’t here? What if there was no brand manager in New York?” he asked himself fumbling with his zipper in the men’s room.
Enrico had tipped his hand: I need you in New York. If Andrew quit, his boss would have to keep Gwen in New York. Being unemployed wasn’t the best Christmas present he could offer Gwen, but he hoped his grandmother’s engagement ring would make up for it.
His mother’s support mattered so much this time around. In Sarah Morgan’s usual style, she’d planned the whole thing for him. She’d told him to bring Gwen to their apartment and on the Christmas tree there would be a little mini stocking with her name on it. Inside, his mother had hidden the ring.
“You’ll have to change the setting,” his mother had suggested. “Today’s woman needs something more sophisticated.”
If he didn’t get home in time, his mother would have that all picked out, too. That made him smile, being caught in between two strong women.
The airport buzzed about a blizzard coming to New York. As usual, the weather models varied.
Some said it would hit tonight, some said tomorrow. Others said not an inch would fall. Still, if all went according to plan, he’d get to Prada just when the holiday party was winding down. After a brief chat with Enrico, he’d take Gwen to meet his parents.
He chose not to tell her anything about his plan and kept it a surprise.
Oh, he couldn’t wait to see the look on her face.
GWEN FROWNED AT THE snow while the Prada holiday festivities went on behind her. Her face hurt thanks to all the European style kisses, especially from Italian men with thick, overgrown five
o’clock shadows. The virgin eggnog in her hand tasted too sweet and left a fuzzy feeling in her mouth.
She’d poured it right from the container since the bowl reeked of alcohol.
The party showed no signs of winding down. By seven p.m., most people were hammered because they’d started drinking after lunch.
Big fluffy chunks of snow swirled outside the window of Prada’s second-floor lobby. A white Christmas had always excited Gwen. Before. Now it just meant she’d have to endure a dreadful commute all the way back to the North Fork. The two feet predicted for tomorrow on Christmas Day would bring the suburban line to its knees. Unlike New York City, which didn’t shut down. Mostly. It took a terrorist attack, a blackout, and a hurricane so bad-ass it was called a superstorm, to bring this city to a halt.
Andrew’s plane had landed according to Alitalia’s website. He’d been tight-lipped the past couple of days about his plans for the holiday. Gwen couldn’t find any real intimacy with him over the phone, either.
Perhaps if she’d told him about the baby. He’d been so preoccupied with Marcello’s report, sometimes it’d been hard to get a word in.
She came up empty in the planning department for how to tell him she was pregnant. She considered putting the pee-sticks in a box, but that seemed cold. And gross. Every other idea of how and when to tell him ended up as crumpled pieces of paper in a wastebasket.
His plan included getting to the office, meet with Enrico...and nothing else. He hadn’t even asked her what her Christmas plans were, so she assumed he’d be spending it with his parents. As far as Gwen could tell, he had no intention of being with her for the holiday.
And why should he? Who was she? No one, except the mother of his child. But he didn’t know that. She left Milan with a promise they’d be something, some day. No rush. And she’d been okay with that. Heck, she didn’t even know if she’d still be living in New York.
A thought violently shot through her like pain. What if Enrico already planned to fire Marcello and Andrew knew that? That meant her boss would offer her the position in Milan. Andrew had been in this business and worked for Prada long enough to know she would be insane to turn it down.
Perhaps not mentioning plans for the holiday suggested he chose to distance himself from her. Maybe he had a change of heart after thinking things through. And in his mind, he probably thought he was doing what was best for her. Plus, the last two weeks of separation may have convinced him the distance was just too hard.
Or perhaps...Gwen wasn’t worth it. Not worth the trouble. Or the money to travel, even though he had so proudly offered to bear the brunt of the expenses.
Fear, doubt, and anxiety circled her like the drifts of snow outside, creating a vortex of panic so strong that before she could stop it, Gwen began to sob.
How could she face Andrew like this? A dab under her eyes confirmed her mascara had smeared.
No. She couldn’t handle seeing him. She needed to leave. Right now.
She turned from the window, but the elevator flashing monitor stopped her in her tracks. The arrival bell sounded louder than she would have expected with a lobby full of voices and laughter. It rung out with an extra metallic shrill. Daunting and foreboding. A sensation crawled down her spine, leaving her extremities cold. The doors opened, and Andrew stepped out of the car.
Gwen’s heart splash-landed into the milky eggnog sitting at the bottom of her sour stomach. She stood on the other side of the lobby with at least a dozen people in between. Yet she saw him as if everyone else had dissolved away.
He hadn’t noticed her, though. His head stayed pitched downward as if were trying to wander in unnoticed. As if a gorgeous man of six-foot-four could ever pull that off. Even at Prada. Perhaps he didn’t even want to see her...at all.
Feeling frantic, she slid behind a rack of coats, peeking through a dark gray trench and a fuzzy fur coat that looked like it’d been made from a litter of Cavalier King Charles Spaniels. A line had formed for Andrew, mostly female. The way they all smoothed their hair and checked their teeth made Gwen sick.
Andrew’s chin rose when Enrico waved to him from the other side of the room. His tall body moved with grace and elegance. Even after a nine-goddamn-hour plane ride.
He and Enrico chatted briefly. Andrew mostly listened, his head bobbing at whatever Enrico said to him. A moment later they marched down the corridor and toward Enrico’s office.
In a flash, she raced to her own office and gathered her things. She slipped back into the corridor and raced to the west staircase, not wanting to wait for an elevator.
Steps away from the stairwell door, she heard a voice call out to her, making her spin around.
ANDREW SAT IN ENRICO’S office, antsy and full of concern. Where was Gwen?
He’d played it out in his mind. He would step off the elevator, and she would be there. He would rush to her, pull her into his arms, and kiss her senseless in front of everyone.