by Lauren Layne
“Hi?” she said when he didn’t move or speak.
“Can I come in?” he said roughly.
“Of course,” she said, sounding slightly affronted that he’d thought he had to ask. He felt his hopes lift as she stepped aside without hesitation.
Clarke couldn’t ever remember feeling nervous around Audrey, so he was more than a little appalled to realize he had sweaty palms and something akin to… butterflies?
“Here.” He shoved the flowers at her, and she glanced down at the bouquet he’d thrust against her chest, a little smile playing around her lips that went a long way to ease the butterflies.
Her brown eyes lifted to his. “You brought me Valentine’s Day flowers?”
Clarke shrugged. “Valentine’s Day. Apology. Clarke’s an ass flowers. Take your pick.”
“The first one,” she said, rubbing a finger over one of the rose petals. “I’m going to pretend they’re the first one. Nobody’s ever brought me Valentine’s Day flowers before.”
A strange feeling tugged in his chest. “Nobody?”
“Well, my dad always used to buy my mom two dozen red roses, and he’d bring a single long-stem rose home for me and my sister. But flowers from my dad don’t really count.”
“What about these? Do these count?” he asked, remembering all the times she’d described him as a brother.
“Well, depends,” she said, looking up at him once more. “Did you buy them for me as a sister?”
She was smiling, but Clarke couldn’t quite manage a smile back, at least not the carefree, teasing kind to match hers.
“No.” Clarke’s voice was a little gruff. “I did not.”
They were not brother-sister flowers. And for all his intentions of this being about salvaging their friendship, they weren’t friend flowers, either. Friends bought friends cheerful, casual flowers. He knew, because he’d bought her flowers countless times, though apparently not on Valentine’s Day, which he was currently regretting.
Even as a guy, Clarke recognized that these flowers were different. Indulgent, lavish, expensive, and… sensual?
Pull it together, man. They’re just flowers.
Clarke followed Audrey into the kitchen, watching as she set the flowers on the counter and walked over to flick open the high cupboard door above the fridge. She teetered on her toes for a moment, waving her hand futilely.
She rocked back to her heels and pointed a commanding finger at the shelf. “Hey, six-one. Make yourself useful.”
Clarke easily grabbed the vase, setting it on the counter beside the sink as Audrey began clipping the ends off the flowers.
“These are beautiful,” she said with a little sigh, lifting one of the blooms to her nose.
“Brayden didn’t get you anything for Valentine’s Day?” he asked, then flinched, realizing it probably wasn’t a happy memory.
She merely shrugged and dropped the rose into the vase. “We were only dating for one Valentine’s Day, and he said he was traveling for work, that we’d celebrate later. We never did, and I guess I didn’t think much of it.” She spun a tulip around, studying it. “Though, I suppose, thinking about it now in hindsight, he was spending it with Claire. Tuesday-night trysts are for mistresses, but Valentine’s Days are for the wives.”
“And the fiancées.”
She let out a mirthless laugh. “Of course. Is that why you’re here?”
Clarke had been leaning backward against the counter, watching her trim the flowers, and he reached out and gently took her left hand, realizing how often he’d been doing that lately. Realizing how much he liked the feel of her small hand in his.
He ran his thumb over her bare fourth finger. “Apparently, I no longer have a fiancée.”
She tugged her hand away and didn’t meet his eyes. “Come on. I thought we agreed that night after Naomi and Oliver’s dinner party to call it.”
“We talked about it. But you were still wearing the ring the day of the ski trip.” He knew, because it was the first thing he’d looked for when she’d entered the car that morning.
“Yeah, well, that was before.”
“Before Jarod Lanham?” he asked, hating that he had to ask, hating how much he dreaded the answer.
“What?” She gave him a baffled look. “Oh. No.”
“Really? You two seemed to be hitting it off.”
“Well, as far as he knew, I was engaged, and he didn’t make a move on someone else’s woman.”
“But you knew you weren’t engaged.”
“True. But I also knew there wasn’t any spark. And even if there was, I’m not looking for a fling with a billionaire.”
“What are you looking for?”
She looked puzzled by the question. “Nothing. You know that better than anyone.”
“You used to want it all. The spark. The prince on the white horse. Happily ever after.”
She shrugged, and instead of pushing her, he reached for the gift bag he’d set on the counter and handed it to her as she finished arranging the flowers.
Audrey looked surprised. “For me?”
He rolled his eyes. “Who else would it be for?”
She didn’t reply, but he’d gotten damn good at reading Audrey Tate over the years and knew who she’d been thinking it was for: Elizabeth.
She’d thought the gift was for Elizabeth. As though he were the type of man to bring flowers to one woman and a gift to another, all in the same night.
But wasn’t he? Hadn’t he always been exactly that type of guy? The one that went out of his way to make sure women knew he wasn’t playing for keeps?
Why, then, did it feel so important to prove to her that he could be a one-girl kind of guy, that he might have a solution that would make both of them happy, even if it was entirely crazy?
Don’t be an idiot, he chided himself, as he did every time the insane idea popped into his head.
“It’s for you,” he said simply, handing the gift to her.
Clarke had given Audrey plenty of presents over the years, but this was the first time he’d felt nervous about it. He’d gone with his gut, but as he watched her shove away the tissue paper, he had doubts. He should have gone with jewelry or something fun and frivolous. Something she’d never have bought herself. Wasn’t that the general rule on buying gifts for women? Something indulgent and pampering?
Audrey’s gift had three parts, and she laid them down on the counter one by one, as a faint line formed between her eyebrows. Clarke resisted the urge to grab the items, stuff them back in the bag, drag her to Tiffany’s or Chanel, and tell her to pick out a new pair of earrings.
“What is it?” she asked, looking up at him.
Clarke cleared his throat. “It’s ah… it’s for your iPhone. The middle one is a lens that allows you to take better quality photos on your phone since you don’t carry around a separate camera. The other is the case that you clip the lens onto, and the third is a filter to give you more options. You mentioned a few months ago that you wish you had more photography options, without always having to switch to using a camera, and I researched—”
Audrey threw her arms around his neck.
“Thank you,” she murmured, burying her face into the nook beneath his jaw.
Clarke’s eyes closed as he wrapped his arms around her, returning the hug. “I am really sorry. You know that, right?”
He felt her smile. “I know. It’s okay.”
He gave a quick shake of his head. “You shouldn’t make it that easy for a man, Dree. You deserve the groveling.”
“I don’t need the groveling. I got flowers, a heartfelt apology, and the most thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me.”
He smiled in indulgent disbelief. “It’s a camera lens. Not even the expensive kind, but a clip-on.”
“That fits into a clutch and that won’t require me to change my workflow,” she said, pulling back and looking up at him with a smile. “It’s perfect.”
He smiled back, but it was fle
eting. He knew he was getting off too easily. “About Elizabeth…”
Her grin slipped. “We don’t have to talk about it. You’re right, you don’t have to tell me everything about your life, and I’m sorry I badgered you, making you feel like you had to.”
“It wasn’t that. That’s not why I held back from telling you.”
She frowned. “Then why?”
“It was just…” He frowned, realizing he didn’t know how to explain, or even what he was trying to explain.
He wanted to tell her that he hadn’t mentioned Elizabeth stopping by because when he was in the same room with her, Elizabeth was the last person he was thinking about. He wanted to tell her that the day of the ski trip, he’d let Elizabeth stay glued to his side because, like an idiot, he needed a buffer. From her.
But he couldn’t tell her that in a strange, twilight zone twist of fate, his ex-girlfriend felt bland and safe, whereas the mere thought of Audrey was conjuring up dangerous, intense emotions.
Looking down at her face now, trusting and understanding, he realized how wrong he’d been. There was nothing dangerous here. Intense, yes. But even amid their recent complications, one thing was simple: This woman was the best part of his life. The rock he could always count on.
Without thinking, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Can I take you to dinner?”
She smiled. “On Valentine’s Day? Our options will be limited without a reservation.”
“I’ve made three. You’ve got your choice between Italian, French, or a pretentious little place in the West Village deemed the ‘most Instagram-able place in the city.’ I figure we’re due for a preemptive strike against Scandal Boy and his minions.”
“Yes, he has been suspiciously quiet. I thought for sure someone would have caught a picture of you and Elizabeth swooping down the slopes together,” Audrey said.
“Swooping?” he asked, eyebrows arching even as his guilt gnawed at him. “For the record, I have never swooped in my life, and it wasn’t like it was just the two of us holding hands down the mountain while singing our love. We were with the group the whole time.”
“Well, it was going to be either that or a shot of me and the hot billionaire. But maybe that’s the benefit of getting out of the city. I guess Scandal Boy’s army of sycophants don’t hang out in the Poconos.”
“Bet they’d love to get a shot of us on Valentine’s Day, though.” Clarke kept his voice casual. Don’t beg, man.
She hesitated. “I’m sure. But what’s the point if we’re no longer engaged?” She held up her bare left hand. “Might as well let people know sooner rather than later.’
“I realize I’m not the most romantic of guys, but maybe Valentine’s Day isn’t the ideal day to announce to your followers that love is dead?”
She laughed. “Good point. I guess I could suffer through wearing the gorgeous diamond on my finger for one more night. Or…”
“I’m listening,” he prompted.
“We could stay in?” she asked hopefully. “Order sushi or pizza, no false eyelashes for me, you could ditch the tie,” she said, flicking a playful finger over the knot of his suit tie.
“A photo op in. Solid strategy,” he said. “Behind-the-scenes always gets big likes, right?”
“Actually, I could use a break from being @TheAudreyTate,” she said. “What if it was just us? Like it was before Instagram, before Elizabeth, before the fake engagement and Scandal Boy, back before things got…”
“Got what?” he asked, pulling her closer and registering that neither of them had stepped out of their embrace for the entire conversation.
“Complicated,” she said slowly, choosing the word carefully. “Things got complicated, and I want to go back to simple. I want to go back to us.”
“I want that, too,” Clarke said without hesitation.
It was true. He did want that. He was just afraid he was starting to want other things, too.
Later, as they sprawled on her couch, sipping red wine and picking at leftover lo mein, her calves draped casually over his thighs and his hand resting easily on her shin, Clarke had the fleeting thought that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this content.
And then he glanced over at Audrey and realized he could remember.
It was every time he was with her.
Chapter Seventeen
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 20
Audrey figured if there was any place to have to confess to the city’s most exclusive wedding planner that there wasn’t going to be a wedding, it might as well be at the Plaza.
Alexis Morgan had called her that morning, her usually cool voice more animated than usual as she’d asked if Audrey could meet her at the Plaza at three today, assuring her that it would be well worth her while.
Truthfully, Audrey was a little surprised at the wedding planner’s insistence. It wasn’t as if Audrey had never been inside the Plaza or wasn’t aware of its reputation as the elite wedding venue in Manhattan.
It was just that Audrey didn’t really understand the point. Anyone who had seen Bride Wars knew that the place was booked up years in advance. Even if Audrey and Clarke were getting married for real, they wouldn’t be doing it at the Plaza unless they wanted to get married two years from now or on a Tuesday.
Ultimately, though, Audrey had agreed to meet Alexis, mainly because her confession was past due and she needed to free up the wedding planner’s time for someone who would actually be getting married, and she wanted to do it in person.
And, selfishly, she’d never seen the Plaza through the lens of a potential bride. She might as well have her final performance as the future Mrs. Clarke West at the reception site of her childhood bridal fantasies.
Dressed in an emerald-green dress and L.K. Bennett wedges, with her hair extra bouncy thanks to the pricey Bergdorf blowout and with her makeup professionally applied by the skilled hands at the Charlotte Tilbury counter, she sauntered up the familiar steps and smiled in thanks as the doorman opened the door for her.
She’d taken extra care with her appearance today, wanting to look her best when she posted on Instagram that she and her fiancé had opted to go their separate ways. If she was going to open herself up to Scandal Boy’s claws again, at least her hair would be on point when he took a swipe at her.
Stepping into the Plaza lobby, Audrey was so busy looking for the petite Alexis that she didn’t register that someone else was coming her way until he was right in front of her.
“Hey! What are you doing here?”
Clarke shrugged. “Alexis called me. Said I had to be here.”
“Oh. Did she tell you why?”
“I think we’re about to find out,” Clarke said, nodding toward the approaching wedding planner.
Alexis smiled at them. “Good. I’m so glad you were both able to make it.”
She gestured at someone behind Audrey and Clarke, and a hotel employee approached with a tray holding two champagne flutes. “Our congratulations on your upcoming nuptials,” the woman said with a polite smile.
Audrey smiled back, even as her stomach sank at the reminder of why they were really here. To end it, once and for all. Still, the crowded lobby wasn’t the place to do it, so she and Clarke both took a flute. This was one of the things she’d miss most when they called it off—the champagne.
She glanced at Clarke, and her stomach flipped just at the sight of him. Maybe champagne wouldn’t be the thing she’d miss most, and that was utterly terrifying. And to be dealt with later. Alone.
Alexis motioned for Clarke and Audrey to follow her, and they headed toward the private event spaces.
“So, I know you’ve probably attended events here over the years,” Alexis was saying. “But I wanted you to come today specifically, for two reasons. The first…”
She motioned to an open door, and Audrey let out a delighted gasp. Alexis smiled knowingly. “So you could see it set up for a Friday reception that I think is very much in line with the vi
sion you two have described to me.”
“Oh, it’s perfect,” Audrey breathed, stepping into the space and spinning slowly in a full circle. It was more than perfect. It was everything she’d ever envisioned for her wedding. The ceiling had been festooned with soft waves of tulle and twinkle lights that gave the room a fairy-tale look. The centerpieces on the table were nearly three feet high, the assorted white flowers arranged to look like they were fountains overflowing with blooms instead of water. The sashes on the backs of the chairs were a delicate pink, and the name cards were handwritten in what looked like gold ink.
She smiled at Alexis. “You’re so right. It’s a princess wedding.”
It’s my wedding.
Alexis smiled back. “I thought you’d love it.”
“What’s the second reason you wanted to see us today?” Clarke asked, with a touch of male impatience. “To see Audrey’s perfect wedding and…”
“Well,” Alexis said, tapping her nails against her iPad, looking thoughtfully between the two of them. “I’m sure you both know that the Plaza books out very far in advance, unless you want to get married on a Wednesday morning off-season.”
Audrey nodded knowingly. “Is it really true it gets booked by women who aren’t even dating anyone yet, or is that Manhattan urban legend?”
“It’s been known to happen,” Alexis said. “But the Belles are on very good terms with the event coordinator here, always on the first-to-call list when there’s been a cancellation.”
Audrey couldn’t help it. Caught up in the moment, she gasped. A cancellation.
Alexis smiled in confirmation. “One of their scheduled Saturday events fell through, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that a last-minute Saturday opening at the Plaza is rare.”
“I was just thinking about Bride Wars,” Audrey said.
“I’m not following,” Clarke said.
“It’s a movie where—never mind, it’s not important,” Audrey said as reality crashed down on her. Excited as she’d been, she remembered just as quickly that it wouldn’t matter that there’d been a cancellation at the Plaza now or ever.
Audrey took a deep breath. Now was as good a time as any. “So, Alexis, Clarke and I really appreciate that you thought of us, but—”
