by Gina Ardito
“Who?”
He strode inside, peeling off his coat and tossing it on the rack in the corner. Ravel and Debussy, wearing red bowties and candy cane sweaters, came running for their traditional pat on the head, but he ignored them. “Who else? Vivi!”
“How do you know?”
“I just spoke to her.”
With a look of censure, she removed his coat and tossed it back to him, her meaning clear. Hang this in the closet, mannerless buffoon. “You called her?”
“Yeah.” He opened the closet door, removed a hanger and took proper care of his coat. “To wish her Merry Christmas. That’s allowed, isn’t it?”
“You haven’t seen her, have you?”
He turned, slamming the door with his back. “With the press following me everywhere I go? Do I look like an idiot?”
“Just checking.”
“Don’t worry, Ava. Your secret’s still safe.” He sank onto the couch near the windows overlooking the Manhattan skyline. The view, while impressive, held no interest for him. All he could see was Vivi in the arms of some strange man, kissing some strange man, opening Christmas presents with some strange man. He should be there! Not some guy named Wulf. He scrubbed his hands over his face. Ava’s shadow fell across him, and he looked up. “I screwed up.”
She planted her hands on her bony, red velvet clad hips. “You did not. This is exactly what I expected to happen.”
“You did?”
“Of course.” Ava’s barracuda smile glittered in the dimly lit room. “She’s on the rebound. This is perfect.”
“Perfect for whom?”
“For you. Don’t you get it? She’s trying to make you jealous. She’s playing the game.”
He shook his head. “Not Vivi. She wouldn’t lie to me. She’s not like that.”
Ava’s mocking laughter abraded his spine. “No, of course not. Not your perfect Vivi. There’s just one problem. The woman’s entire business revolves around lies and deception. In particular, lies and deception for the lovelorn. Look at what she’s accomplished. She transformed the romance game into a profit machine. How do you think I wound up hiring you?”
True. But...false. He waved a dismissive hand. “That’s different. She’s never lied to me.”
“She’s never had competition for you before.”
His brain digested that statement. Competition? Did Ava mean herself? He snorted. As if Ava could ever be in the same league as Vivi.
And yet, wasn’t that what he wanted? For Vivi to miss him enough to realize how much he meant to her? As much as she meant to him? Hadn’t he lied to her about Ava for that very reason?
Could Ava be right? Was Wulf just a means to make him jealous? Did this personal trainer really exist? Or had Vivi made him up?
And if she had made him up, why?
Duh. For the same reason he’d acted as her date for that partners’ celebration nearly a decade ago. To save face. To shield her wounded pride. To pretend that nothing was wrong in her world. But...
He looked up at Ava’s smug expression. “What if you’re wrong?”
“Trust me. I’m not. Now, get up.” She turned and strode on wedge heels fatter than her ankles to the silver and gold Christmas tree in the corner. “Thank God I bought you a new tie for Christmas. You can wear it tonight. And smile, for pity’s sake. We have guests coming.”
Chapter 5
Vivi stared at the Wharton Gossipmonger website. A photo of Bass strolling out of Tiffany’s, the signature robin’s egg blue bag dangling from his fingertips, stole her breath. The accompanying caption punched her in the stomach.
Ice for Ava? Sebastian Lawrence, above, was spotted leaving a famous jeweler’s with a package and a smile. Although no one inside the store would reveal exactly what he purchased, another customer did mention his interest in ring sizing. Could wedding bells be in SebAva’s future? After, of course, Ava Featherstone finalizes her divorce from Cecil Bannerman. Sources close to the former couple have confirmed the paperwork was, indeed, filed this week.
Beowulf, at Vivi’s feet, yipped, and she turned her attention to the puppy with a heavy sigh. “So there ya go. Buying presents wasn’t part of the contract. And definitely not from Tiffany’s, no matter who Ava is and what kind of lifestyle she’s accustomed to. Bass knows I can’t afford that.” She sighed again and closed the laptop. “Which means it’s legit. Bass is in love with Ava.”
Scooping up the puppy, she nuzzled him close, then perched him on her lap. “Looks like I’m in the market for a new best friend. You interested?”
In reply, Beowulf, attracted by the sterling bangle cuff she wore, nipped her wrist.
“Ouch!” She yanked her hand away, but the pup showed no remorse. He actually seemed to smile at her, and his feather-like tail never stopped wagging. Despite the pain, she grinned and kissed his head before placing him back on the floor. “You and I are going to have to set up some ground rules, Beowulf. Best friends don’t hurt each other.” Tears stung her eyes, and she sniffed them back. “That’s why I’m looking for a new one.”
The clock on her microwave read ten p.m., so she rose from the chair, Beowulf watching her with canine curiosity shining in his chocolate eyes. She grabbed her coat and Beowulf’s leash from her closet. “C’mon, stud,” she told him. “One quick walk and then the night’s festivities can begin.”
The pup, well accustomed to their routine, jumped around her legs, yipping. She bundled up herself before she tried to grab his collar and clip the leash. At last, she managed to tether the squirming Maltese, scooped him onto her hip, and they left her apartment.
They descended together to the first floor where she put him down again. “Let’s do it, Beowulf.”
Mrs. Melendez, the sixty-something-year-old widow in 1B, opened her door just as she and Beowulf passed by. Not coincidence. Mrs. Melendez was alone so often, she spent a lot of time listening to the comings and goings of the other apartment residents just to have someone to talk to. “Feliz Navidad, Miss Cupid!”
Vivi offered an indulgent smile. “Feliz Navidad, Mrs. Melendez.”
“Is that boyfriend of yours coming over soon? I made paella for him.”
His favorite. And tonight, his loss. “Umm…no,” she replied. “I’m afraid not.”
With a deep frown etched in her round face, the heavyset woman folded her arms over her ample bosom. “Why not?”
Vivi fell back on her old standby excuse. “He has to work.”
“On Christmas Eve?”
“‘Fraid so.”
At that point, Beowulf grew antsy. The door to the great outdoors, so near yet so far, loomed, and the pup wanted his excursion. Now. His shrill barks echoed in the building’s lobby.
“I should get going before he has an accident here. Have a good holiday, Mrs. Melendez.”
“You, too, Miss Cupid. You tell your friend he missed out big time.”
“I will.”
Opening the entrance door, she escaped into the blissful night. Although the snow flurries had stopped, the air still tasted fresh and frigid, that sharp tang of frost lingering on her tongue.
“One quick walk around the block, boy,” she instructed Beowulf. “It’s freezing out here.”
Burrowing her face deeper into the collar of her coat, she coaxed the dog into a mini-jog. They made it to the corner when a snide voice stopped her, and she pulled Beowulf up short.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Cupid herself.”
Turning, she came face to face with her past. She blinked twice, hoping she was mistaken. But, no. The figure remained on the sidewalk behind her. “Julian?”
He’d grown older, of course. So had she. Silver tipped his sideburns, and crows’ feet etched his eyes. Years in a law firm—the long hours, the constant overthinking the smallest problem—prematurely aged employees in the legal profession. Which gave her another reason to thank her lucky stars she’d escaped that life.
Hands crammed in his jacket pockets, he nodded. “H
ow’s it going, Vivi? Or does everyone call you Cupid now?
An icy breeze rose up and slapped her cheeks. “Vivi’s fine,” she replied, dancing in her boots to stay warm.
“How’ve you been?”
“Good. You?”
“Same.” He jerked his head in the direction of her apartment building. “You still live in the same place you moved into after we broke up?”
She shrugged. “No reason to leave.”
“Cute dog.” He bent to touch Beowulf, but the pup’s interest remained on the foreign smells on the corner lamppost.
“Thanks.” The breeze intensified to slice her cheeks, and she decided she’d had enough nostalgia for one evening. “What are you doing in this neighborhood anyway?”
His focus veered from Beowulf to her, and he flashed a smile that, years ago, would have charmed her. Now, she knew better.
“Would you believe me if I said I was looking for you?”
Bitter laughter escaped her tight lips. She knew much better. “No.”
“It’s true. I saw you coming out of your apartment and followed you.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Why?”
“I was hoping you and I could talk.”
“On Christmas Eve?”
With a quick lift of his shoulders, he opened his arms wide near his hips. “I took a chance you were home tonight.”
“So...what? You were going to hang out near my apartment door in case I came outside sometime during the evening?”
“For a while, yeah. If I didn’t catch you tonight, I’d come back another night and try again.”
“Wow. Such dedication.” Her sarcasm sliced through the bitter cold. “A little stalkerish, doncha think? What’s so crucial that you’d linger on a wintry street on the off-chance I might appear?”
He looked around the empty street, askance. “Can we go somewhere and talk? Is there a coffee shop or diner or something around here?”
“No.” Was he on drugs? “It’s Christmas Eve, Julian. Everything’s closed for the holiday.”
“Right.”
Beowulf, having lost his fascination with the lamppost, barked at Vivi.
She sighed. She was going to regret this. She knew it, which made her decision doubly pathetic. “Come on,” she told Julian. “You can come to my place.”
His smile lit up the night. “Great.”
She held up a gloved hand, palm out, in his face. “Five minutes. I’ve got plans tonight, and entertaining scummy ex-boyfriends isn’t on the agenda.”
He had the grace to dip his head. Maybe there was hope for the parasite. “Right.”
On the way back to her apartment, silence reigned. At least, on the outside. Inside Vivi’s skull, though, questions buzzed. Why was he here? What did he want after all these years? How long had he been following her?
Naturally, when she reentered her building, Mrs. Melendez still stood sentry in the hall. Despite the low crime rate in their neighborhood, the old lady considered herself the closest thing the residents had to a house mother. She made sure anyone who left after ten at night returned safely. Last year, she’d called the cops because Paul Voluti in 3A didn’t come home for two days. She suspected his giant lizard had killed and eaten him. Instead, the police discovered Paul had gone to Minnesota for his mother’s funeral and neglected to tell Mrs. Melendez.
Now, the older lady’s eagle eyes pierced Vivi as she nodded at Julian behind her. “Who’s this, Miss Cupid?”
She had no intention of making introductions, since Julian would not be here longer than his prescribed five minutes. “Just an old acquaintance I ran into on the street,” she said as she hit the staircase with Beowulf riding her hip.
“He like paella?”
“No,” she replied and stomped up to her third floor sanctuary before Mrs. Melendez could continue the interrogation or extend an invitation. Unlocking her door, she pushed inside. After removing her gloves, she unclipped Beowulf’s leash and set him on the floor. The pup raced straight for his water bowl while she removed her coat and hung it, along with the leash, in her closet.
With her hands planted on her hips, she leaned against the counter that separated her mini-kitchen from the teeny foyer. She fixed a sharp glare at Julian, who loitered on the landing between the hall and her open door. Hospitality demanded she invite him inside. Common sense disagreed. “Your five minutes starts now.”
Shifting foot-to-foot, he stared at the linoleum and cleared his throat. “Well, see, umm…I was wondering if...it’s like this...I thought, maybe...”
Ticktickticktickticktick. She didn’t have time for this. “Oh, for God’s sake! You’re an attorney, Julian. Spit it out already.”
“I…umm…need a date. For this year’s partners’ dinner.”
Righteous laughter bubbled inside her, but she kept a tight lid on her mirth and screwed on a somber face. “What happened to Twiggy?”
“Tiffany,” he corrected and ducked his head. “We’re divorced. She said I was boring and I didn’t pay enough attention to her.”
“Fine.” She opened her door. “Call my office day after New Year’s, and I’ll see which agents are available.”
“Just one thing.” He leaned a hand on the door to prevent her from closing it on him.
“What?”
A predatory grin stretched his lips. “You’ll comp me on this, right? I mean, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be Cupid. That’s gotta be worth something.”
Her mouth gaped, and she glared at him. “Are you out of your mind? What makes you think you’re responsible for my business?”
“Oh, come on, Vivi. I’m not stupid. I’ve seen the commercials, and I remember that guy you brought to my partners’ dinner. Now, that same guy is sporting Ava Featherstone all around town. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to put the facts together.”
Vivi’s temper simmered.
Oh, how she wanted to tell Julian that Bass was only dating Ava as a favor to her, but confidentiality forbade her from giving away Ava’s secret. Instead, she’d have to play the jilted lover—to the lover who’d previously jilted her. Sweet. Every day brought a new low. Thanks again, Bass.
“Actually,” she said, “Bass and I broke up years ago. Whatever he’s got going with Ava Featherstone has nothing to do with me or Cupid To Go. I mean, look at her. Does she look like someone who’d need my help finding a guy?”
He looked her up and down, dismissing her the way he had on their last Christmas together. “No, I suppose not.”
Yanking the door out of his grasp, she repeated, “Call my office after New Year’s. But only if you’re willing to pay for our services. My agents don’t do pro bono work. If you’re looking for a freebie, find your own date, and have a nice life.”
He gave her one last visual scan, head to toe. “You’re looking good, Vivi.”
She shoved the door closed and tumbled the deadbolt. “Get. Out. Now.”
****
Against her better judgment, she took the train to Snowflake on Christmas Day. This time, instead of vanilla cake and a turkey sandwich in a plastic shopping bag, she brought Beowulf in a sturdy pet carrier and a bag full of gifts. She hadn’t told anyone she planned to bring her dog and wondered if her mother would have a conniption about the extra “guest,” but she shelved the idea of Mom’s horrified expression in the dark corners of her mind. If she left him home alone until God knew when, she’d come back to chewed up furniture, puppy poop and pee littering her floor, and other assorted disasters. Besides, Matthew and Russ, a big overgrown boy despite his twenty-seven years, would both love Beowulf. Her brother-in-law, George, probably would, too.
This time, Kate picked her up at the train station and was less than thrilled to see the pet carrier. “That little beast better not pee in my car.”
“Don’t worry. He’s good.”
“I’ll bet,” she grumbled as they settled in her silver Jaguar and headed for the Maxwell family compound. “I hope you
’re not going to become one of those people who expects the world to treat your dog like a child.”
Vivi’s temper flared, but she tamped down the flame on a deep inhale. “Of course not. He’s just not fully trained yet, and I didn’t want to leave him locked up in my apartment all day.”
“Well, at least you’re showing some sense of responsibility,” Kate sniffed. “I guess that’s a step in the right direction.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Her sister flitted a hand at her. “You know what I mean. You’re thirty-six years old and still acting like a child instead of a grown woman. When I think about all you could’ve been by now...” She shook her head. “I never did understand why you wouldn’t marry Julian.”
“He never asked me,” she reminded Kate.
“He would have, if you’d done what he wanted and dropped a few pounds.”
“No, he wouldn’t have.” She thought about his appearance in her neighborhood last night. He might have aged, but he hadn’t changed. He still valued appearances far too much. “It was never about my weight. It was about me, the whole package. I wasn’t good enough in his eyes. I would always be a little too chunky, a little too loud, a little too much.”
“And apparently, you were a little too much for Bass, too,” she added.
No amount of breathing would tamp her temper down this time. Her tone scorched the air between them when she warned, “Leave Bass out of this.”
“Why?” Kate retorted, heedless. “When are you going to learn that no man will ever marry you until you take charge of yourself and your life?”
“Maybe I don’t want to get married,” she snapped. “Maybe I’m happy with my life just the way it is.”
“Oh, please. I bet if Bass had found the nerve to actually ask, you would’ve run straight to City Hall for a license before he got off his knee.”
“‘Found the nerve?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re a bulldozer, Vivi. Always have been. Take a tip from your older, married sister. Men like their women softer, more feminine, more vulnerable. They don’t want to struggle for power with their wives.”
“Thank you, Dear Abby, but I’m quite comfortable in my own skin. And any man I consider marrying had better be ready to handle me just as I am. If I have to pretend to be something I’m not to make a guy love me, we’re lying to each other right from the start and our union is doomed. I’d rather stay single than wreck my life and someone else’s that way.”
