“Dating Grant. You were so hesitant; I should have known it wouldn’t work.”
“Why did you want us together so badly?” I ask, curious.
There’s a pause. “I knew you and Harrison had a thing for each other, and I wanted him.”
I don’t know what to say to that.
“I’m so sorry,” she says in a rush. “It was wrong, and he didn’t end up liking me anyway.”
Part of me wants to be upset with her, but I didn’t have to start dating Grant. That was my choice. I shouldn’t have gone out with him when I was so hung up on someone else.
“Are you mad?” Riley asks.
“Of course not. It doesn’t matter now.”
“There’s still time for you to get here. You’ll only be a little late.”
I glance out the darkening windows. The dance only started thirty minutes ago, and I haven’t changed out of my dress yet. I could go…
“No, not tonight. I’m going to watch lame television shows and cry into a tub of ice cream.”
“Lauren—”
“Go dance. Stop ignoring your date.”
“Are you still coming over tonight?”
“No. I’m going to sit on the couch and wallow.”
She makes a disgusted noise, but she finally lets me go. When she hangs up, I’m left with a dull ache in my chest.
I’m just about to settle in for the night when my phone rings. I expect to see Riley’s number again, her trying one more time to convince me to join her, but it’s Mom.
“Hey,” I answer. “Did you guys get to your hotel?”
“I didn’t expect you to answer,” she says, concern lacing her voice. “I thought I’d have to leave a message. You haven’t been carrying your phone around the dance, waiting for my call, have you?”
Ugh. I have to tell her.
“I’m so sorry, Laur,” she says after I finish. “But are you sure you don’t want to stay with Riley tonight? I’d feel better if you weren’t there all alone.”
“Mom—”
“Yes, I know.” She laughs, but she still sounds concerned. “You’re fine by yourself for one weekend. I’d just feel better if Harrison were home.”
My stomach flip-flops at his name, but I keep my thoughts silent.
“The Millers are right next door,” I remind her. “And I have a car in case of emergencies. I’ll be fine—really.”
“Just be careful.”
“I will be.”
She promises to call tomorrow, and then she hangs up.
I glance around the quiet living room. The only sound is the steady thrum of the clock ticking. Slightly unnerved, I go up to my bedroom to change.
Before I take the dress off, I stop in front of the vanity to admire it. When will I have a chance to wear it again? It’s now or never. Even if there is no one here to see it, it’s better than not wearing it at all.
I leave the dress on but take out my earrings. The pink-stone studded chandelier earrings match the dress, but they’re heavy, and now that my hair is down, strands keep twining in them. My hand slides over Harrison’s jewelry box. When I lift the lid, I find the necklace that Grant gave me. It’s carefully coiled into one of the earring compartments, but it’s always felt out of place there.
Just like it’s always felt out of place around my neck.
Exchanging the necklace for the earrings, I take the chain out and drape it over my hand. Should I give it back? Is it wrong to keep it?
No, I decide. It’s mine, and the memory is a sweet one.
Still, it doesn’t belong in here.
It takes me about an hour, but I’ve sorted through my original jewelry box. All of the necklaces are untangled, and I’ve even uncovered a few more pairs of earrings that were lying buried under the knotted mess of precious metal.
I carefully hang each necklace, and then I slip Grant’s necklace over a hook. The citrine catches the light, sparkling subtly against the black velvet backing. Slowly, I shut the door.
It feels as if a weight has been lifted. This chapter of my life is closed, and now another is about to begin. I don’t necessarily know what it holds, but I know that moving forward feels good.
Three hours later, I’m sprawled out on the couch, still in my gown. One foot is up on the armrest, the other is hanging off the edge. Penelope is curled next to my head, and every once in a while, she flicks her fluffy tail in my face.
I splutter as she does it again—this time, she aimed right for my mouth. I move my head to the side, and she stretches, thankfully moving her tail. I realize the hand I’ve flung over my head is starting to fall asleep. I’m just debating shifting when I hear tires crunching in the gravel in the drive.
I stiffen, nervous.
Headlights shine behind the blinds in the side window, and the vehicle travels toward the guest house. Adrenaline pumps through my body, and I pull myself off the couch. Staying away from the windows, I slink into the kitchen, trying to covertly look out the back window.
A door shuts, and I peek out.
The figure is tall with a handsome silhouette. A familiar silhouette.
Harrison looks tired, almost dejected. He fights with his keys, trying to find the one that will open the guest house.
Rushing across the room, I toss the French doors open.
He turns, startled.
He’s dressed in a tux, but the tie hangs loose at his throat. His hair is softly mussed, looking as if he’s been running a hand through it.
His eyes drift over me, taking in my dress and bare feet. I brush my hair behind my shoulder, self-conscious.
“I thought you’d be at the dance.” His voice is soft in the night.
The patio stones are cool under my feet as I take a step forward. “I thought you were at a wedding.”
Almost hesitant, he strides to me, his tuxedo jacket carelessly tossed over his arm. “I was.”
“You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.”
“I decided to come home early.”
The moon shines above us, almost full, lighting the patio with its soft glow. The smell of spring is in the air, and it envelopes us.
“Why?” I ask.
A quick smile flashes across his face, and then he looks down. When he looks back up again, his expression is slightly guarded. “Brandon called me.”
I cross my arms. “Oh?”
He takes a step closer. “He said you and Grant broke up. He wanted me to check on you, make sure you were all right.”
A soft, warm feeling flutters in my stomach. “You took a three-hour flight to make sure I was all right?”
“No.”
Startled, I swallow.
He moves closer still. “I took a three-hour flight to take you to prom.”
My knees go weak, and I place a hand on a patio chair to keep my balance.
“But the flight was delayed,” he continues, sounding weary. “And it took forever to get through security.”
I nod, too overwhelmed to answer. My thoughts are chaotic, jumping from one place to another. My emotions are a jumbled mess.
“I knew how much the night meant to you,” he says. “I didn’t want you to have to go alone.” He gently tugs on a strand of my hair. “You did go, didn’t you?”
Looking away, I shrug.
“Not even for a little bit?”
“I finished setting up, but I left before anyone got there.” I meet his eyes and sigh. “It looked amazing.”
Harrison lets my hair drop. “I’m sure it did.”
Unable to bear the weight of his gaze, I look at the moon.
“If you didn’t go, what’s with the dress?” he asks.
Ah, yes. The dress.
“I just wanted to wear it. It’s not like I’ll get another chance.”
He nods, looks into the night, and then asks, “Where are your parents?”
“Dad’s seeing the shoulder specialist in Missoula.”
“Right…right. I knew that.” A pause
. “You’re here by yourself?”
I give him a wry look. “I’m eighteen, you know. Not exactly a baby.”
He studies me, but his expression is schooled, and his eyes aren’t giving anything away.
I cringe at the smallest twinge of disappointment. He may have come back to take me to prom, but he still sees a high school girl when he looks at me.
“You want to come in?” I ask, turning. “I haven’t eaten all the ice cream yet.”
“That’s a little cliche, isn’t? Drowning your sorrows in Rocky Road?”
“Mint chip,” I correct as I pull the tub from the freezer. “Rocky Road is reserved for major heartbreaks.”
Harrison lays his tux jacket on the back of a barstool and raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And how would you class this one?”
I plop the ice cream between us and dig a spoon into the green and brown-flecked ice cream. “Class two. Maybe a two-point-five.”
“Oh yeah?” He takes the spoon from me.
I shrug. “It sucks, but I’m glad I wasn’t the one who had to initiate it.”
Harrison pauses mid-bite. “Grant broke up…with you?”
Stealing the suspended spoonful of ice cream from him, I say, “It was sort of mutual, but it was his idea.”
Penelope jumps on the counter, and I nudge her down. She hops to the barstool next to Harrison, her tail twitching in irritation until Harrison scratches behind her ear.
She settles on her haunches and begins to purr as he continues to stroke her back.
Oh, to be that cat.
“How was the wedding?” I ask, changing the subject.
He grimaces. “Fine.”
I laugh at the expression on his face. “Fine?”
“My cousin isn’t too happy with me.”
It’s getting late, and I hide a yawn behind my hand. “Did you trip on the stairs and take out the bridesmaids? Give a really awful speech at the reception?”
“Actually…” He looks away, carefully avoiding my eyes. “I skipped the reception.”
“You skipped the—” I stop suddenly, the truth of it sinking in. “You skipped the reception so you could get on the plane.”
He gives me a small smile. “What are friends for, right?”
Friends…
For the first time ever, I hate that word. Friends? I don’t want to be friends with Harrison. I’m friends with Riley. I would even say I’m friends with Grant. But Harrison? I want to be so much more than friends. Even if it means waiting until I graduate.
Which I’m pretty sure is what it means.
He narrows his eyes, tilts his head to the side. “What’s that look?”
Taking another bite of ice cream, I only smile.
I can wait. We can be friends for two weeks.
And then he better watch out, because, after that, he’s mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
May 22nd
“So tell me the truth, are you devastated about missing prom?” Harrison says.
I give him a withering look and cross my ankles behind the barstool footrest. “Let’s scrub lemon juice and salt in the wound, shall we?”
Harrison laughs and flips a grilled cheese sandwich on the griddle. The first time he set the temperature too high, and the bread cooked to a charcoaled crisp. He swears he won’t burn this one, and even though it looks a little blackened on the edges, I don’t comment on it.
“I’m just saying, you put all that time into it,” he says. “You have to be disappointed.”
Disappointed? Now that I’m over the shock of the breakup, I’m sick over prom. More than I’m upset about Grant.
And that just shows you how warped my priorities are.
“I’m fine.”
He raises an eyebrow, obviously disagreeing with me.
Actually, I’m proud of myself for doing so well. After Harrison and I finished off the entire tub of ice cream last night, I went to bed. I only looked at my dress longingly for a few seconds before I hung it in the back of my closet.
I even slept fine, which I feel a little guilty about, to tell you the truth.
This breakup is going far better than it should. Poor Grant.
I slept in and then got up and ready for the day. I even did a short video for my blog before I heard Harrison rummaging around in the kitchen.
Now Harrison is making me an early lunch, working under the assumption that I’m too brokenhearted to feed myself.
“I’m only asking because I might have a job opportunity for you.”
What does a job have to do with prom?
I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.
“We’re having this thing for work…” He trails off, scrutinizing the sandwich, probably wondering why the bread is done but the cheese is cold.
“A ‘thing?’”
Obviously deciding the sandwich is fine, he slides it onto a plate and hands it to me. “It’s a party of sorts. The Harbinger Hotel is having a soiree to celebrate its imminent opening, and all the big wigs are flying in. They’ve invited the entire firm. There’s going to be speeches and slide shows, and the whole thing will be rather boring, to tell you the truth.”
“Okay?”
Realizing he hasn’t gotten to his point yet, he says, “The event coordinator met with a group of us last week to discuss the length of the speeches and so on. She mentioned her assistant went on maternity leave, and she’s shorthanded.”
Now my interest is peaked. “Oh, yeah?”
“I might have made a call for you this morning.”
Suddenly terrified, I exclaim, “Harrison! I have absolutely no experience in event planning.”
He cocks his head to the side.
“Well,” I say, “not professional event planning.”
“You’d be fine. It’s not like you’re putting together the entire thing. You’d just be helping out.”
I take a bite of the sandwich and chew carefully. The buttery bread melts in my mouth, but the cheese is still solid. “I guess I could think about it…”
Harrison grins and starts another sandwich. “That’s good. Because you have a meeting with her Monday afternoon.”
I give him an incredulous look.
He only laughs. “You’ll love it. The event is black tie and everything…you’ll be able to wear your dress.”
“The help doesn’t usually attend these things,” I say.
“Sure they do.” He sounds completely confident.
I finish off another bite. “Even if I do get to go, I’ll probably have to wear black slacks and hide in the corners of the room, earpiece in my ear, waiting for party emergencies.”
“I think you have event coordinator’s assistant confused with a secret agent.” Harrison grins to himself. “Secret agent Laura-Lou.”
He starts to hum a popular spy movie theme.
“You are a pain.”
He looks up, a smile on his lips, and his green-blue eyes lock with mine. “I’m a pain who cooked you lunch and got you a job.
“You don’t know I’ll get the job.”
Harrison shakes his head. “Yes, I do. I went through your phone this morning, found Janna’s number, and had her text me pictures from the dance last night. I ended up sending them to Carla, and she was very impressed.”
“You did what?”
He only grins. “You’re welcome.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
May 23rd
I’ve never been so nervous in my life. What was Harrison doing, thinking he could get me a job? I don’t remember saying I wanted a job. I certainly wasn’t looking for one.
Get an associate’s degree, marry someone fabulous, adopt two springer spaniel puppies, and hopefully continue my craft blog—that’s the plan.
The plan.
A secretary steps into the foyer of a small but immaculately decorated office. It has a modern but comfortable feel, prestigious but welcoming, and it’s all done in various shades of cream and white. The only splashe
s of color come from the various bouquets of fresh flowers.
If I were here to book an event, I would be enchanted.
But right now, I’m just slightly nauseous.
“Carla’s ready to see you now.”
I stand and smooth down my knee-length brown skirt. I’ve paired a white sleeveless blouse and a pair of sensible, non-sparkly heels with it. Trying to look professional, I toned down the accessories.
A tall, voluptuous woman with short blond hair steps forward to greet me as soon as I’m through the door. She’s wearing cropped navy slacks, a well-cut polka-dot blouse, and bright yellow, sky-high heels. She looks like she walked out of a fashion magazine.
I don’t think I had to tone down my outfit.
“I’m Carla.” She gives me a firm handshake. “You must be Lauren.”
“That’s right.” I try to pretend I’m not nervous.
Carla tells me to take a seat, and then she sits at her desk. She folds her hands, her expression friendly. “As I’m sure Harrison has already told you, my assistant is out for a couple months. I’m looking for someone to fill in for her only temporarily, until early July, I believe. Normally I would be looking for someone with prior experience, but since you’ve worked on events at your school, I think you just might fit the bill. Tell me a little about your experience on the prom committee and any other events you’ve helped with.”
Self-conscious at first, I go on to tell her. I grow more confident as I realize there have been several things I’ve been involved in, not just dances but theater events and fundraisers as well.
When I mention my blog, her eyes light with interest, and she pulls it up on her screen. “You’ve done all this?”
I nod, again nervous now that she’s browsing my site.
“This is lovely. You’re obviously very crafty.” She closes her laptop. “I have to warn you, though. I mostly need someone to run errands—get me coffee. Is that all right?”
“Yes, of course.”
She smiles brightly. “All right then, consider yourself hired. When do you graduate?”
“Next Tuesday.”
“Good.” She stands. “Perhaps you can help me in the afternoons and weekends until then, and then after that, we’ll set a more solid schedule.”
I thank her and walk through the office in a daze.
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