My first semester has been interesting. I wasn’t expecting it to be easy, but it’s definitely harder than I’d hoped for. I love every second of it though. I’m being challenged in ways I never was before.
I’m even making friends, something that never came easily to me. I assumed that since I’m living in an apartment with Carter off-campus, I wouldn’t get lucky. I made my friends in Connecticut by living with them. However, my classes are filled with like-minded people. Many are from different parts of the country, and the world. If I’d stayed at home, I never would have had these experiences. I’m grateful every day that I decided to follow Carter to California.
My phone buzzes with a call. It’s Sunday afternoon, so I know exactly who it is.
“Jamie!” I say. We switch on the video so we can see each other. “God, I miss you.”
Jamie laughs. “You saw my face a week ago, and I texted you like an hour ago.”
“I know, but it’s not the same. How’s Florida?”
“Hot, even in December.”
“San Francisco has the most beautiful weather year-round. You’ll see when you visit.”
“I wish Carter had ended up in Florida, but I am excited to see California.”
“I can’t wait to show you around. You’re going to love it here.”
“I can’t believe how much you love it there. My little girl, too afraid to go to New York, is now blossoming on the other side of the country. Times have changed.”
I smile. “For the better.”
“I agree.”
Jamie and I continue to talk and catch up even though, like she said, we just spoke with each other earlier today. We make it a point to talk every week.
The Florida team wanted Carter badly, but they traded with San Francisco to get a new running back. I guess they needed that guy more than they needed a new QB.
While I’m sad I’m not in the same state as Jamie, I am happy with where I ended up.
“Are you freaking out about tonight?” Jamie asks.
“I am beyond freaking out at this point.”
“It’s fitting that it’s a big Sunday night game.”
“I know. I can’t believe it. I also can’t believe my family and Carter’s agreed to dinner after the game. It’s going to be like midnight. Carter made reservations at some place that’s open super late.”
Jamie laughs. “Carter always thinks ahead. I’m sure it’ll be worth it. You’ll be celebrating. No matter the outcome, your man is playing in an NFL game tonight.”
I grin. The team’s starting QB got injured in the last game. He played to the end, but hurt himself worse by doing so. Something about a sprained ankle, I think. That means Carter has been practicing all week to be the QB in tonight’s game. I’m proud and terrified. I haven’t seen Carter out on the field yet. Tonight is my chance.
“You’ll be watching on TV, right?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I should let you go get ready. Call me tomorrow, okay? I want to hear all about the game, even though I’ll have seen it.”
“I will. Love you!”
“Love you.”
We hang up and I dig through my closet to find the jersey Carter got for me. It’s got his name and number on the back. I won’t be the only one with this jersey in the stands, but I’m the only one who got it from the actual player. I’m the only one he’s dating.
As soon as I’m ready, I head into the living room of my apartment. My parents, brothers, and Carter’s parents are all waiting there. They saw Carter off this morning and have been hanging out while I get ready and talk to Jamie.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask.
Everyone nods. We’re going to take the train to the stadium and then a few cabs to the restaurant for dinner afterwards. Carter planned everything. It’s just like him to do that. I love that he’s constantly thinking ahead. It’s why we work so well together.
The stadium is amazing. I come to every home game because there’s always a chance Carter will get put in. I’m glad we got advance notice this time so our families could come from the east coast.
My boyfriend does great in the game. I knew he would. Carter throws and runs and does all the things a good football player should do.
He pulls out a win for his team. That means he’ll get to play more often. There’s no telling when the starter will be back in.
After the game, we head to the restaurant. Carter has to meet us there, so my parents, brothers, Carter’s parents, and I take our seats in a private room.
A few minutes after we settle day, Carter walks in.
“Wow, handsome, you clean up nice,” I say. Carter is wearing nice pants and a button-down shirt. I’ve seen a lot of guys in this kind of outfit after games. They dress up for press conferences.
My boyfriend got to be in a press conference!
Carter kisses me on the cheek. “Love you. Did you enjoy the game?”
“I know you’re busting at the seams to talk about it.”
“Actually, I’m busting at the seams to do something else,” Carter says. He glances at our families behind me. I look around, too, feeling confused.
“What’s going on?”
“Trina, I love you more than I could possibly express. You are everything to me. This last year has been the best in my life. I can’t imagine living any more years without you by my side.”
Carter drops to one knee and I gasp.
“Oh my God.”
“Trina, will you marry me?”
He holds out the most beautiful ring I have ever seen. It’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. A single, round diamond on a gold band. The only person who knew about this ring is Jamie, which means she’s in on this. I’ll be giving her shit tomorrow.
Tonight, all I can do is nod.
Carter jumps up and pulls me in his arms. He slips the ring on my finger and kisses me.
“I love you, Trina. I can’t wait to be your husband.”
“I can’t wait to be your wife!”
Our families surround us with congratulations. This entire thing has been planned. I should have known. Carter is a planner.
We manage to eat dinner, but the entire time, I’m looking at my ring and then at Carter. None of this is what I would have thought just a year and a half ago.
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Prologue
Cassidy
I’m holding a beautiful pearlescent envelope in champagne gold, as I sit at my desk this morning. It might as well be a snake. The office assistant has just plopped my share of the mail on my desk, and as soon as I see this particular piece, I pick it up, even though I should set fire to it, or flush it down the toilet, or both.
You see, I’ve known this was coming, pretty much since college. It’s from my college BFF, Jill Carter. And it’s an invitation to her wedding. Which would be a marvelous thing, if she weren’t marrying Greg Prescott, the tall, bronze-skinned Adonis of a man I had been in love with since he’d sat behind me in Freshman Comp. It was completely the opposite of what you’d think, the hunky jock (tennis star to be exact) who’s completely into his academics, and the nerdy girl who is really helpless at every subject other than business and finger painting.
Greg was so into it, he’d talk literature and writing with anyone who would listen. One day when the teacher asked me to expound on a point in one of Chaucer’s poems, I waffled my way through a vague answer, and was basically shut down by a couple of classmates. But after class, Greg offered to help me.
So, gorgeous and nice—it was almost too much. At that time, he was dating some psychology major from San Francisco. But he didn’t let that stop him from helping me. We became friends—really good friends, almost as close as Jill and I were. For three tortuous years, Greg was my go-to for help in all things
English-related. We ran in the same group of friends. I actually thought I had a chance with him.
Then unthinkable happens. Greg was due to come help me with a research paper, the last I hoped to ever write for college, and I was late getting back to the room. I knew it was no big deal, he’d wait for me in the lobby or if Jill was there, they’d just shoot the breeze until I got there.
Except when I did get there, they weren’t just shooting the breeze—it was more like they were playing total tonsil hockey. Apparently, their attraction for each other had been simmering below the surface for weeks and had just erupted. I told them I couldn’t be happier for them, and intellectually, it was true. Of course I wanted two of the people I cared most about to be happy, Especially Jill. Just not with each other. And the kicker was Greg still helped me with that paper, and they both gave me a token invitation to go out for ice cream with them, which I refused as much as out of consideration for them as for my own sanity. No way was I going to spend the rest of the evening watching them make goo-goo eyes at each other.
I thought maybe it was just a spring fling, but it continued well into the summer after we graduated. Then Greg decided to go to law school at Stanford, so Jill up and moved to back to his home town of San Francisco with him. Out of sight, out of mind for me, although I still got an eyeful of them in my Facebook and Instagram feeds.
And now I sit here with the final confirmation that, just like with everything else, Jill always got what she wanted. Some of it she was born with, like the lush, silky hair like spun gold, and the supermodel figure. She was never without a date on weekends, and her family’s money certainly didn’t hurt. And now she’d snagged the only guy I’d ever loved.
And what the actual fuck? I think as I look at the date more closely. It’s actually less than two months . From today. Wow. Just, wow. I’d already felt like Jill was purposely rubbing her capture of Greg in my face extra hard by insisting I be her maid of honor, when she could just as easily have asked our friend Pamela. The three of us had shared a triple room in our sophomore year.
So I agreed out of some twisted sense of martyrdom, but after a few initial Zoom calls to bounce ideas around, I didn’t hear anything else from her. So of course, I leaped to the highly implausible conclusion that I’m off the hook as maid of honor, and if that’s the case, maybe I think maybe can suddenly develop a case of the plague and just not go to the wedding at all.
Clearly the wedding is still on, but maybe my contracting a deadly disease can still be an option.
I slap the thing down on my desk in frustration.
“Jesus, Cass, it’s not even nine yet. It’s too early for you to be having a rough day already.” Catrina Fox, my marketing and advertising director, strolls by my open office door with impeccable timing as usual.
“Well, Darling Cat,” I explain as she steps into my office, “when you live and work in the same location, you get your personal bad news right along with the business bad news.” I resist the temptation to hurl it all into the trash bin to my left and begin to rifle through the less angst-ridden office mail.
“I’ve told you a thousand times to just get a PO Box for Women Today, and uh, read your personal stuff later, when you can scream into a pillow?”
“And I’ve told you a thousand and one times, that if I had a P.O. Box then someone would have to go and collect the mail. It costs money. I don’t want to argue with Syd. And I want the ability to make everyone else around me miserable when I get my personal mail.” As I said each point, I ticked a finger up into the air. Sydney Sommers is our accountant and business operations manager, and it was like pulling teeth to get her to agree to anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary, even though my first business venture is doing quite well this quarter.
Women Today is the one thing that’s helped take my mind off of my personal woes, and something I’m very proud of. It’s this great online company that includes the fastest growing social and business network for women, a thriving e-zine and blog, and a resource bank that puts Angie’s list to shame. Cat and Syd make up my dream team, along with Hayley Downes, my editor-in-chief, my tech gal, Nikki Page, and our office assistant, Lucy Wells.
They’re also the investors who helped me get our current space, a wonderful two-story duplex. I had a few friends on the zoning board so I got a permit to renovate the lower unit into Woman Today’s office space, while I kept the upper unit as my apartment.
“Come on, I’ve got bagels. Help me set up for staff meeting,” she says. “You can tell me all about it.”
Of course it’s Monday, I wouldn’t get this dreaded invitation on any other day of the week. I abandon the rest of the mail and follow Cat to the kitchen.
“Trust me, it can only get worse from here,” I say.
In the kitchen, I pull out a tray for the napkins, plates, and plastic knives, and another large ceramic plate for the bagels. The two tubs of cream cheese can sit on the side board next to everything else, and everyone, all six of us that is, always brought their own beverage.
“I just got Jill’s invitation for her wedding,” I add flatly.
“Ah,” says Cat. “The infamous wedding is finally happening.”
“Yeah, along with all of the ‘fun’ that goes along with it. The only reason I’ve survived these past few years since college is because Jill and Greg have been up in San Francisco, and I haven’t had to see them together. Now, I’m supposed to be the maid of honor!”
“Oh, Cass, seriously,” says Nikki as she muscles her way between Cat and I to get to the Keurig. “I did not just hear Greg Prescott’s name come out of your mouth again.”
“Oh, but you did,” says Lucy, as she picks up the platter of bagels. I glare at her. “I’ll come back for the other stuff.”
“No need, I’ve got it,” I say in an annoyed tone.
“Actually, I’ve got it,” laughs Cat as she plunks her coffee on the tray with the napkins, and turns to Cat. “Maybe you can talk our girl down from the ledge.”
“You just don’t understand,” I mutter. And they don’t. Maybe it doesn’t bother them that we’re all at the top of our game professionally, or pretty damn close, and yet we’re all still single. Some would argue that being single is why we’re at the top of our game. And I know it’s not popular to want to get married and have a family anymore. But I still do. Only my so-called best friend has stolen the groom of my dreams for herself.
Five minutes later, almost all of us are in the conference room ready to start: me, Lucy, Cat, Nikki and Hayley Downes, our editor in-chief of the blog and the e-zine. They were chatting me up about anything other than Jill and Greg and their stupid wedding, when Syd stumbles in, late as usual. Sydney Sommers is Women Today’s accountant. As chaotic as she is on the outside, she has a beautiful mind, and there’s no one else I would trust to keep us in financial order. She’s not a morning person at all, and usually doesn’t speak to anyone until at least eleven a.m. But on Mondays, we force to her not only be present, but coherent by nine.
“Morning, bitches. Somebody pass me a bagel.” Before she’s got the request out of her mouth, Hayley hands her a paper plate with an everything bagel on it.
“Here you go, pet, all ready to go, with lots of cream cheese, just the way you like it.” Hayley is originally from England, Devonshire to be exact. She talks to everyone like she’s their grandmother, even at the ripe old age of twenty-six. That’s just her way.
“Mmm, fanx,” says Syd as she takes her first bite.
And it’s Lucy’s way to be everywhere at once, and somehow, she’d seen Syd coming, darted out to get a fresh cup of coffee, and was now replacing Syd’s travel mug with it on her way to sit down again.
“Okay, then, Cassidy love, what’s on for today?”
I spent the next twenty minutes going over the week’s editorial plan, which dovetails nicely with Cat’s update on not only our own advertising and marketing campaign, but where we are on soliciting ads for the e-zine.
&n
bsp; “Well, we’re doing well, for the main drop page. And,” she says with a flourish, “we’re also doing quite well with the new personal ads. Hayley, way to go with launching that.”
Somehow, I’d forgotten about it completely, and hadn’t mentioned it at all in my own update. I guess it was Hayley’s baby, and I just let her run with it. There’s a lot going on behind that innocent looking little facade of hers, and I always support innovation and forward thinking. Even though a resurgence in personal ads seems slightly backwards to me.
“Oh splendid!” Hayley smiles broadly, and a little bit like a cat with a canary. “I think it’s a refreshing throw-back to a fun time. It doesn’t surprise me women are keen to take out a personal ad in our zine, because it says something that men are looking here to see what women want, as it were. Aren’t you excited about that, Cass?”
“It’s super, Hayley,” I say. And I really mean it. I never would have dreamed Women Today would be almost as popular with the up and coming male audience as with its female counterpart demographic. I was also bitterly thinking that I wish we’d been running it last fall when I had the chance to place my own ad, then I might have gotten a bite from Greg before Jill took a bite out of him and plucked him right off the tree in front of me. “Keep us posted on the numbers, Cat, and Hayley, let me know what kinds of stuff we’re getting. I mean, are we, as a collective looking for dog sitters and handymen, or is it just sex, sex, sex these days?”
We all laugh, and the rest of the meeting rolls by.
The conversation devolves into our usual gossip session which veers dangerously toward cheering me up about Jill’s wedding, when Nikki looks at her watch and saves the day.
“Hey, Syd, it’s almost time for our meeting with Dane,” she says.
“Remind me who Dane is,” I ask.
“And why I have to be at this meeting,” adds Syd. The additional coffee has done nothing to improve her mood.
Jock Blocked: An Enemies to Lovers Sports Romance Page 15
