A man with that much on his plate shouldn’t be laughing like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Then again, that’s one of the differences between the two of us. I’m the planner. It’s what makes me a good engineer. Constructing roads and bridges can’t be done on a whim. Apparently, starting a billion-dollar business can. Personally, I think his partner, Mike, is the true brains. Duncan is the charismatic one who keeps the investors and employees happy.
“Kimbra,” he says, “was going on this morning about Shana and her friend Stephen. It was something about them leaving the bar upset.”
“It was odd, I know. Kimbra and I spoke about it before she went home. I offered to call her a cab but being your wife, she was taken care of.”
“I’m all for her strong will. Hell, I love it,” he says. “But seriously, if she had her way, she would have come home alone via the subway.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “You know what, brother?”
“What?”
“You deserve her.”
“I’m hoping that’s a good thing.”
“It is,” I confirm. “You’ve always liked a challenge.”
“Oh, Kimbra is definitely a challenge. One I’m glad I have.”
Of course, my mind goes to Shana.
“So you don’t know what happened?” Duncan asks.
“I got the impression that my friend Max—Maximilian Cantel—and Shana’s friend Stephen have some history that isn’t good. All I know for sure is that Shana laid into Max and after they left, Max refused to talk about it. He said the weekend was about Eric, not him.”
“Hey, I’m glad you and Eric are still friends.”
I’m ready to end this conversation, but his comment has me curious. “Why wouldn’t we be? I’ve known him since college.”
“But weren’t you dating the woman he’s marrying? Isn’t she who you brought to my wedding?”
“What? No... oh, well... Um. We’re good. They’re better together. You know me...not much with the ladies.”
“That brings me to the other reason I called,” Duncan says. “Kimbra said something else about last night.”
It’s then that I look up and see Shana walking toward me. Immediately, I notice the flowing long skirt she’s wearing, and my thoughts go back to my fantasies about the hallway last night. Those damn sexy jeans would have been a problem. I’m suddenly a huge advocate for skirts and dresses.
Her smile lights up the room as she comes closer.
“Duncan,” I say, “I need to go. My date...umm, the person I’m meeting just arrived.”
“Trevor, wait. A date? Who is it? Kimbra said she was getting a feeling—”
“Bye, Duncan. Talk to you later.”
I hang up just as Shana makes it to the table, just in time to stand and pull out the chair for her.
Chapter Fourteen
Shana
It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date—one that I actually care about, one that I want to succeed—that I am second-guessing everything, from my choice of clothes to the way to wear my hair. I know it’s silly to act like a schoolgirl at twenty-seven years old, but I can’t seem to help it.
This morning after copious amounts of coffee, Stephen gave me a pep talk, which was sweet because I could tell he is still upset about seeing Max. He’s also not feeling too well. I think it’s because he fell asleep before eating many of the nachos. I, on the other hand, made sure the plate was clean before placing it out in the hall. I won’t tell my mother, but I think the nachos saved me. Even though I wasn’t one hundred percent behind ordering them, I admit that I was feeling a bit tipsy before they arrived.
The fact that they also arrived with a new bottle of wine is simply another element added to my total alcohol intake for last night. Despite what some may think, I’m really not that much of a drinker. It’s just that some situations call for alcohol. Celebrating a stranger’s engagement and supporting your best friend are two that come to mind. I can’t even relegate the fashion show to a cause for imbibing.
The sales were better than expected. Last night, after Stephen and I ordered the second bottle of wine, I checked my emails. There were two from Vicky. Neither was complimentary, yet they did have links to the sales spreadsheets. All of the chosen outfits had better-than-expected sales and according to sales in real time, the white negligee I wore had increased sales during and after the finale. Her last email said that all of the designers were content with the numbers.
If I were the one sending out the emails to my assistants in juniors, I would probably be over-the-top with adjectives describing my enthusiasm for both their hard work and the show.
This morning I sent one to Chantilly and the other assistants telling them how much I enjoyed working with them and thanking them for their time and energy in making the show a success.
It is my word: success.
I’ve decided to embrace it until I learn otherwise. After all, when my job is boiled down to the nuts and bolts, it’s about sales. The sales were up. That equals success. So my drinking last night wasn’t about the fashion show, but in support of Stephen.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Each martini, each glass of wine...
No matter the amount or substance, I was there for Stephen. And he was there for me, following my mother’s rule. Don’t drink more than you eat. Last night’s lesson, regardless of the alcohol source, was that there’s something about gooey cheese, corn chips, and shredded chicken that apparently is very absorbent.
All in all, I may have gained five pounds last night, but I didn’t wake with a hangover.
In my book, that’s a win.
Now, I’m on my way to Serendipity 3, an iconic restaurant on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. It’s where Trevor wanted to meet for lunch. I’m not only excited to see him, but to also see Serendipity 3. After years of living in the city, this will be my first visit. Maybe it is like Stephen and I said. Maybe I’m once again a tourist.
As the taxi approaches my destination, stopping and starting in city traffic, I reread my text messages from last night, thankful that I didn’t respond to the first one Trevor sent. After all, it’s not fair to be mad at him for being friends with Max. Last night, I was just too shocked and shaken for Stephen and his feelings to comprehend how we all ended up together.
I did send a text to Kimbra finally, apologizing for our abrupt exit and promising to get together, just the two of us, before I head back to London.
It was as I scrolled that I found one more text message that was more than a bit confusing. I’d like to say it wasn’t from me, but unfortunately, it was. I suspect it was sent between pizza and nachos, around bottle two of wine.
It was sent to Trevor, and this is what it said:
“YES, I STEAL WANT TO SEA U. 3ECAUSE OF YOUR @$$ AND FIVES. DO U THANK WE CAN CREDIT CARS?”
Trevor’s response was a simple smile emoji.
What does that mean?
What exactly does my text mean?
I suspect it has something to do with seeing him, liking his ass and thighs, and a question about credit cards—loosely translated to trust. While those are my thoughts, I hope not to have to discuss it.