Your One True Love

by Layla Hagen

Caroline: Pippa and Summer will be here soon. I suspect in a few hours we’ll be needing a sitter too. Have fun!

  By the time my doorbell rings, I’ve managed to push some of my worries to the back of my mind. A little quiche and a lot of wine should help push them out of my mind.

  “Oooh, you didn’t have to bring anything,” I say, welcoming them inside. The Bennett sisters each carry a bag.

  “This is the first proper girls’ evening in a long time,” Pippa says. “I’m not cutting corners. When you said quiche, I thought, you know what goes with so much fat? More fat. So I bought ice cream.”

  Summer nods, holds up her bag. “I was in the mood for chips. But I also brought avocado and tomatoes to make guacamole. That should balance it out, right?”

  I laugh. “Not really, but girls’ night isn’t for balance. It’s for fun.”

  “That’s our girl.” Pippa shoves the ice cream in my freezer as I take the quiche out of the oven. The crème fraiche is the perfect shade of cream, and the crust is dark brown.

  “Besides, isn’t it officially the cold season? The body needs more fat,” Pippa muses. Well, mid-November doesn’t quite qualify as the cold season, but I can see her point.

  Both girls are wearing jeans and casual shirts. Pippa’s blonde hair is braided, while Summer wears hers in a messy bun at the base of her head. Neither wears makeup. One thing I love about girls’ nights in? How casual we all are.

  Summer finishes preparing the guacamole at the same time the quiche is cool enough to eat. Let the feast begin.

  We carry the food and the wine to the living room, and the girls make themselves comfortable on the couch. I sit on the ottoman so I can look at them. An hour later and three glasses of wine down each, we sit on the floor, scooping guacamole with the chips, reminiscing about that one time six years ago when we wanted to have an extended girls’ weekend in LA where their cousin, Valentina Connor, lives, but the car’s navigation system wasn’t working, and we ended up getting lost.

  “Lesson learned: we never let Pippa drive again,” Summer exclaims.

  Her sister elbows her playfully.

  “Oy! You could’ve pointed out I was heading to the Pampas before I drove a hundred miles in the wrong direction.”

  Summer grins. “True, but I was too busy gossiping with Caroline.”

  We’re soul sisters, Summer and I. Gossiping with the girls is one of my favorite activities to relax, along with discovering a great TV show and binge-watching it, lying in a hot bath, and spoiling Daniel. Not necessarily in that order. The three of us burst into giggles, and I laugh until every limb in my body feels lighter.

  Once we’ve calmed down somewhat, we all talk about our jobs. I always had a secret crush on Pippa’s job as designer at Bennett Enterprises. The jewelry she makes is just breathtaking. I might lead a low-key lifestyle, but a girl can feast her eyes.

  Summer works at an art gallery and paints as well. I have one of her paintings hanging in my bedroom—sunlight reflecting on a tranquil sea. It’s a brilliant sight to wake up to.

  As we down the last of the chips and the quiche—which goes amazingly with guacamole, as it turns out—Summer says, “Caroline, we haven’t officially talked about you and Daniel at Halloween, but this means you’ve got two more weeks of information to share. We’re all ears.”

  Pippa holds up a finger. “I’ll bring the ice cream first.”

  “And teaspoons. They’re in the drawer to the left of the oven,” I instruct.

  Once we’re armed with teaspoons, we eat the ice cream directly out of the carton, and I launch into a detailed account.

  “Damn girl,” Pippa exclaims when I stop to catch my breath. “You’re on a roll.”

  I’m basking in this moment. Ah, how I have wished for this day—when Dan and I would be together again, and his sisters would poke their noses into our business, dissecting every little thing.

  “Well, how can you overanalyze everything with me if you don’t know all the details? So, I demand honest honesty—”

  “Honest honesty? This wine is strong,” Summer interjects, inspecting the label on the empty bottle.

  “Shh, don’t interrupt or I’ll lose my nerve. Do you think Linda’s right and I’m too trusting? I keep saying that I’m taking this one day at a time, but I’m doing the opposite. I’m jumping in with both feet. But I’ve wanted Daniel to be mine again so badly for so long that I’m not even sure how to do things differently.”

  Ugh, now I’ve done it. I hadn’t meant to say the last part out loud.

  “Wow. This is the first time you admit you’ve wanted to be back with him all along,” Summer says, absently moving her teaspoon around in the ice cream carton.

  I could try to downplay it, but they’d see right through me. “I didn’t want to admit it even to myself. I knew how pathetic I’d sound.”

  “Wanting to be back with someone you love doesn’t make you pathetic. It makes you human.” Pippa straightens up, crossing her legs in a yoga pose. “And back to your question, no, you’re not too trusting. You know better than anyone what you have with Daniel. Linda is your friend, but I don’t like how she talks about men. I bet even if she had a perfect partner, she’d still find something to complain about. Daniel’s not an asshole. And I’m not saying this just because he’s my brother.”

  Summer snickers. “Yeah, you are. Admit it, you’re biased.”

  “Of course, I’m biased. But my bias comes from thirty years of studying my brother. It’s rooted in observation.”

  “Because poking your nose in someone else’s business is foolproof scientific evidence,” Summer says.

  Pippa clumsily climbs back on the couch, rubbing her hip. “Floor’s too hard. I can’t feel my ass anymore.”

  “That might be the wine’s doing,” I inform her solemnly.

  Pippa tilts her head, as if considering this. “You’re such a great friend. And you make my brother happy. You should be a Bennett already.”

  Oh man, oh man, that sounds so good. So, so good.

  “I dreamed about this the first time around,” I admit. “Caroline Bennett has such a nice ring to it.”

  “Speaking of rings, I already have the one for you in my mind.” She wiggles her eyebrows, rubbing her hands excitedly. “Just need the word.”

  This escalated quickly.

  “No more talk of rings. I said I dreamed about this the last time. Now—”

  “You’re taking it one step at a time.” Summer winks, taking the carton of ice cream in her lap, monopolizing it.

  “I’m usually a happy drunk. What’s wrong with me?” I’m disgusted with my own negativity.

  “Nothing wrong. Doubts and fears are normal. You’re in love with a man you lost once, and you’re afraid of losing him again,” Pippa says.

  I pull my knees to my chest, suddenly feeling exposed. “I didn’t say anything about love.”

  The girls smile, exchanging glances.

  “We can read between the lines,” Summer informs me.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Daniel

  “Come on, sleepyhead. One kiss. I know you’re awake. You peeked when I was getting dressed.”

  In response, Caroline hugs the pillow tighter under her head, blinks open an eye, closes it again. “I like you better naked.”

  “I aim to please, but I have an early Monday today.”

  “Mmm... bad words.”

  “If you’re not giving me that kiss, I’m going to take it.”

  She wiggles her sexy bare ass, eyes still closed. “What’s stopping you, Bennett? Take what’s yours.”

  Cheeky woman.

  Putting one knee on the bed, I lounge over her, kissing up her spine, giving her ass a little smack. She moans softly, reaching back with her hand when I’m kissing the side of her neck, tugging at my hair.

  She’s usually an early bird, but I kept her up late last night. The weekend was a shit-show of epic proportions. It’s the last bachelor or bachelorette even
t I’m organizing, no matter how high profile the customer requiring one is. Drove right here yesterday afternoon, needing to see Caroline, to get my fill of her—which I still haven’t. I hover over her, just feeling her warmth and sweetness, all the good things she brings in my life. As if sensing how much I need her, she takes out a hand from under her pillow, caressing my neck, pulling me closer.

  Staying here with her sounds like the best use of the day, but duty calls. And if there’s one thing I can’t persuade Caroline to do, it’s to call in sick. Her work ethic is killing me.

  She falls back to sleep just like that in my arms, and I move away, careful not to wake her. She’s taking her group to the circus today, so she starts later.

  The day goes downhill the second I climb into my car. My phone rings, a familiar name appearing on the screen: Jake Wensworth, owner of the San Francisco Business Report, the most successful local business magazine.

  “Hi, Jake!”

  “Daniel. Not too early, I hope?”

  “Not at all. You’ve got news for me?”

  “Yeah. You were right. Someone from your team is out to get you. We got a call from a guy named Hamel—”

  My body goes cold. “Justin Hamel?”

  “Yes. He went into some detail about liquidity-to-asset ratio and so on.”

  “And you’re sure it was Hamel? Not Colbert?”

  “One hundred percent. He didn’t give us his name, but we searched his number online, found an old CV with his name and number listed.”

  After a long pause, I finally say, “This isn’t what I expected.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll deal with this today. At least this circus is ending. Thanks, Jake.”

  “No problem.”

  After we hang up, I grip the wheel tighter, pressing the gas pedal and speeding through the city, my mind stuck somewhere between numbness and anger. Why would my mentor turn against me?

  I summon Justin in my office the second I arrive and cut to the chase as soon as he sits in front of me.

  “I received a phone call from Jake Wensworth today. The name ring a bell?”

  Justin nods, his expression betraying nothing, setting me even more on edge.

  “He had some rather disturbing news for me. It appears you called him to report the company is in trouble.”

  A vein twitches in his temple. “That’s not true.”

  “I only told this to a few people.”

  “One of the others must have—”

  “Cut the crap. Your phone number is listed online. It was you. Just like the leaked photos to the tabloids. Why?”

  Tired of doing this the polite way, I rise to my feet, pace the space behind the desk, stopping in front of the window. Justin’s narrowed eyes follow my every move. I can practically hear him calculating the chances of convincing me that someone else is to blame.

  “I trusted you. You’ve been with me since I started this company—”

  “Yes, all that trust and the hard work didn’t keep you from promoting others over me, did it?” he sputters between gritted teeth.

  “What?”

  “You built this company with my help. I hired Marcel, and you promoted him over me. You even promoted that bitch, Honor—”

  “Don’t call her—“

  “I don’t give two shits about what you want.”

  He rises to his feet, and I cross the room until I’m right in front of him. “This is exactly why I didn’t promote you. Your leadership skills are nonexistent. You can’t lead or give feedback. You make at least one person uncomfortable during our weekly meetings.”

  “I know how to do my job. I don’t need pretty rich boys talking about leadership skills, feedback loops, and all those fancy words you learn in business school.”

  I stare at him. He was my first employee. Sometimes high-maintenance, sometimes even rude, but I learned a lot from him, except for said leadership skills.

  “So, this is all out of spite?”

  He juts his chin forward, jamming a hand on the desk. “The extra money wasn’t bad either.”

  “I could’ve given you more money. All you had to do was ask.”

  “Someone had to take you down a notch or two from your high horse. I figured a few lawsuits would do the trick. But people like you always come out on top, right? All that Ivy League education and money shooting out your ass, all those connections.”

  “Right. Wensworth is one of those connections. You have one hour to clean out your desk and hand in your resignation.”

  “No, no. I won’t make this easy for you. You want me out, you do the work.”

  “Don’t think I won’t.”

  Words I never thought I’d tell someone I considered my mentor. I looked up to him despite his faults. How did I let this get here?

  “Your star will fade eventually, boy. Mark my words. Yours and your family’s.”

  “Leave my family out of this,” I warn, curling my palms to fists.

  “I kept hoping to have something on them. Almost had my chance when your little sister was all over that drummer at the beginning of the year. Summer Bennett flashing—”

  “You talk like that about my family, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, forget coming to the office. Out. Now.”

  I curl my fists tighter, fighting to keep my anger under control. He’s deliberately provoking me. If I hit him, I’ll have a lawsuit on my hands. I only unclench my fists when he leaves my sight.

  I remember the drummer he’s talking about. We planned a New Year’s event for a local rock band, and my sister joined us. She and their drummer hit it off right away. I kept an eye on them the entire night, ready to play the big brother card if it came to it—read: if he’d tried to rope her into a one-night stand. Would’ve pissed off my sister, but the guy was an asshole. Nothing came out of that night, but the thought of Summer’s life splashed in the tabloids because of this idiot—and because of me—is enough to make my blood boil.

  ***

  Caroline

  By the time five o’clock in the afternoon rolls around, I’m so ready to call this a day. Most days I love my job, but today isn’t one of those. Taking the kids to the circus turned into a circus all on its own.

  “Thank God that was the last one,” Karla says, sounding as exhausted as I feel. We’re in the park facing the circus, and the last kid was just picked up.

  “My feelings exactly.”

  “I’m out of here too.”

  “Have a nice evening, Karla. Any plans?”

  “Does collapsing on my couch with a glass of wine count as a plan?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “There’s my plan, then. How about you? Are you dating Daniel Bennett? When he picked you up last week, you looked cozy.”

  I will kill Daniel. Yes, I will. By cozy, she probably means she saw Daniel pulling me behind his car and kissing the living daylights out of me.

  “No one will see,” he said.

  “We’re well hidden here,” he said.

  “We’re dating, yes.”

  She beams as she motions to a cabbie to stop. “Well, if he picks you up again, by all means, tell him to come inside. He’s a sight for sore eyes.”

  I decide on the spot that shall not happen. Daniel’s six feet of deliciousness are for me and me alone. Yeah, I’m possessive.

  “See you tomorrow, Karla.”

  After she slides into the cab, I head to my car, already excited about my trip to the thrift store near my building. The owner emailed the pic of a gorgeous scarf she received today and said she’s putting it aside for me until this evening. I can’t wait to put my hands on the pretty thing.

  While driving, I thumb off a message to Daniel. We made no plans to meet, but lately we’ve been playing a game I love. He asks me to come over to his place, and I pretend I don’t want to, just so he can make full use of his extensive—and delicious—persuasion skills. As if I really need to be persuaded. I love being in his home and walking around N
ob Hill. Between the vintage barbershops, the cable cars, and the old-luxury vibes coming from buildings such as the famous Fairmont Hotel, it’s a pleasure to be there.

  Caroline: Everything okay?

  My phone buzzes with an incoming call the next second. I immediately answer.

  “Hey, how was your day?” I ask.

  “I’ve had better.”

  “What happened?”

  “Long story.” The defeat in his tone startles me. “I’d really like to hold you tonight.”

  Instantly I sense this isn’t the time to play our little game.

  “How’s a bubble bath in your Jacuzzi sound? No girly bath bomb, I promise.”

  He laughs, but it doesn’t sound wholehearted. Not like he means it.

  “Sounds great. I’ll be at my place in about an hour, but the doorman can let you in if you arrive earlier.”

  “I’ll be there in forty minutes, and I’ll prepare everything.”

  I’ll have to forego the trip to the thrift shop, but it doesn’t matter. Someone else can have the pretty scarf. Daniel comes first. Whatever he needs, I’m there.

  To my utter shock, I realize ninety-nine percent of the bath bomb offerings are targeting women. The best I can find is a marine-scented one, but I’ll double-check with Daniel before dropping it in the water.

  When he arrives, he’s giving off every single vibe of broody Daniel.

  “I have the bath ready. Well, the Jacuzzi’s full. The verdict’s still out there on whether the bath bomb is masculine enough. ‘Marine scent,’ it says, but that’s open to interpretation. Don’t want you smelling like a mermaid.”

  This earns me a small smile. Hmm... we can do better. Taking his hand, I lead him to the bathroom.

  “I’m taking care of you tonight,” I announce when we arrive at the Jacuzzi. I turn around, raising my hands to undo his shirt buttons, but Daniel catches both my wrists, cuffing them in one big hand. Then he pulls me into a long, deep kiss, bringing his other hand to the back of my head.

  Oh boy.

  This is his manly way of saying, “Yes, yes I need you to take care of me.”

  One day, I’ll write a book aimed at men, explaining in great detail how admitting out loud that they have their vulnerable moments won’t kill them. Right now, I have more important things to do—namely, taking care of this particular man.