Love Like the Movies
Page 5
“Yes. Perfectly,” I say, but I don’t. I don’t understand why we need his account so desperately in the first place. How is the company all of a sudden in financial distress? It doesn’t make sense. Clive’s acting so weird. In the pit of my stomach, I can feel something’s off.
AT MY DESK, I KNEAD my forehead, eyes locked on Bradley’s office. This has already been a long work day. I glance at the clock on my computer screen. He should be wrapping up with his sales team. The door opens. Here we go, people are starting to exit. I’m up, making a direct line for his door.
Besides the contract, I just want to talk with him, some reassurance. Then I’ll find Shane, swallow whatever pride I’m pretending to have, and tell him I’m on board if he’s serious about the movie list. I can already taste those words and they’re sour.
“Hi,” I say and pull the door shut before I sit down.
“Hi, hon.” Bradley looks up briefly from the papers he’s going through on his desk. He seems preoccupied.
I sit on the end of the club chair. I may have interrupted something. “What are you looking for?”
He looks at his watch, then opens his desk drawer and leafs through its contents. “Proposal I was working on with Clive. If I can upsell my client into a bigger buy, it might be enough to save your job, or at least prolong things.” He shoves it closed, and again starts shuffling through folders stacked in front of him.
“Wait, Bradley . . .” He’s still upset at me? “I just talked with Clive. I’m sure I can smooth things over. I just need the Carriage House contract.”
Bradley looks up. The blue in his shirt plays off the color in his eyes, making them almost translucent. He taps his fingers on his desk, his lips drawn tight. “Is there anything I need to know, Kenz? Besides that he’s your ex, I mean?”
Yeah, he’s still upset.
“No.” It’s a quick answer. Maybe too quick. Even though I haven’t done anything, little jabs of guilt are stabbing my insides. I stand and brush my dress free of imaginary dust. “I don’t have a clue what his problem is.” Technically not a lie. “And I told you, I didn’t know he was the client,” I add, to remind him.
He regards me for a moment then opens his bottom drawer. Within seconds I have the Carriage House contract and info.
Bradley looks at his watch. “Damn it, I’m really running late.” He stands and reaches for his coat. “I’ll just have Maggie e-mail another copy over, I guess.” He gives me a quick peck, pops open the door, but then spins back around. “Oh, your mom sent us an e-mail invite thing for Saturday after next. Did you see it? I guess they’re having—”
“Oh, right. An engagement party for us,” I say, feeling the tiniest glint of excitement.
He starts walking toward the front with me trailing behind. “Well, it’s also a mini-shower for Ren and Grayson. Guess they’ll do the official one closer to her due date.”
Stopping, my head jerks back as the words slice through me. No slow bleed. I’m gushing.
“Your mom mentioned Ren’s registered at Fosberg’s. We’ll need to pick up a gift. Can you do that?” When he turns back, he stops, noticing I haven’t followed. “Kenz?”
“We’re sharing our engagement dinner with Ren and she’s already registered at Fossie’s?” That came out a little loud.
“Really? This is what you’re worried about right now?” He’s stalled, half-turned, hand wrapped around the main entrance door’s handle. There’s a noticeable clench to his jaw. His eyebrows lift. “I, ah, I gotta go.” Pulling open the door, he calls over his shoulder, “I’ll meet you at the gym.”
Watching him, everything goes fuzzy through pooled tears. I clutch Shane’s client folder to my chest and stare blankly at the door as it closes. He’s right, but . . . damn it, I don’t want to co-star with the little scene-stealer. It’s my engagement dinner. My moment. Or, at least, it was.
MY HEAD’S CRACKLING WITH STATIC and no matter which way I turn, the picture’s not any clearer. Leaning on my desk, I pinch the bridge of my nose and clamp my eyes tight. I should be reviewing my team’s other projects, but I can’t seem to focus.
I’m appalled that Shane showed up out of nowhere, dredging up the past, screwing up my future, but if I’m being 100 percent honest with myself . . .
I’m a little flattered. More than a little confused.
Who else could pull off this concept, the whole thing was inspired by us, he said. His words are driving me crazy. The ones he said, and the ones he wouldn’t. Why did he cheat? When we were together, we had that thing everyone always talks about. It was young love and bittersweet angst, and for the first time I felt appreciated just for being me. It was liberating and wonderful.
Then he cheated. And I was cheated of believing it had ever been real. At least for him.
I respond to some team e-mails while racking my brain for the right way to approach Shane. I can’t tell him about the company’s financial struggles. That’s inside information. I signed a confidentiality agreement and they made a huge deal about it in a company meeting. I can’t even say my job’s at stake.
And it’s not a matter of I might lose my job. Clive said it’s gone unless. And Bradley is stressed about it.
I’ll just say I overreacted, didn’t mean to run off last night, and whatever, if doing a few movie-scene things helps his concept, then sure. See? It’s not so bad. I need to just do it.
I open a chat window first and find Ellie.
KENZI SHAW: You there?
ELLIE-BELL: Snoopy.
Whenever other people are around our computers, we type “snoopy.” It’s our code. So much for gathering reinforcements. I guess I’m on my own.
Finding my phone, I look up his number in the file, dial, and wait through the rings. Maybe I’ll get voicem—
“Hello?” It’s Shane.
Of course it’s Shane. I called him. My mouth opens to speak, but no sound comes out. Instead, I’m flooded with memories of his sleepy voice over the phone when we’d go home during breaks. We’d fall asleep together that way, me at my house and him up north with his grandparents.
“Hi.” My voice sounds small and distant. It’s a start.
“Kensington?”
“Yes.” I hesitate, not sure where to begin. “Um . . . Okay. The thing is . . .”
Swallowing hard, I just spill it. “You may as well stay on, since both our companies have invested so much time in this. I mean, it’d be a waste of everyone’s time and money if you didn’t. Clive would be disappointed, and I guess we can talk about this movie thing if it helps the concept because we’ve—”
“Very heartfelt.”
His dry tone stops me short. What does he expect? This is insane. Just do it. My job, my wedding. “Shane . . . I, um—”
“Yes. Thank you,” he says to someone else before returning to me. “Why don’t you meet me at Monument Circle in thirty minutes?” There’s a slight hesitation. “And Kensington, bring the contract.”
SKYSCRAPERS HUG THE ROAD’S ROUNDABOUT and create huge walls on all sides. That’s one nice thing about downtown Indianapolis, everything’s within walking distance. It has a big-city feel crammed into a few blocks.
“So, where we headed?” I ask Shane as we walk around the circle. It can’t be far, because we’re on foot.
“Right here.” Shane steps around a group of pedestrians and rejoins me on the other side, then takes a seat on the step of the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument. “I thought it would do us some good to be out of the office.”
Cautiously, I sit beside him and pull my jacket closed against the crisp air. “So . . . my family’s throwing me and Bradley an engagement party,” I say, bringing Bradley back into the picture to reestablish some boundaries. I pull on my sleeve cuffs and cross my arms. “Yup, my mom called about it last night. It’s going to be huge. Should be a really nice time.”
He doesn’t say anything. I’m rambling.
“It’s set up for Saturday after nex—”
“What? Go up there?” I’ve lived here my entire life. I work downtown. I now live downtown, and I have never once ventured up inside the monument’s tower. Though once . . .
“Come with me to the top. It counts. It’s on the list.” Shane’s already walking up the steps. “You brought the contract, right?”
I don’t move. “Yes, but . . .”
“But what?” He disappears around the corner.
Maybe he doesn’t remember about this place, but I do. I don’t move. Instead I pull out my phone and tap the Facebook app to wait him out. I should go back to the office. But we need this account. I need this account. What I don’t need is my past . . . our past, back in the present.
I suppress a laugh thinking of last night with all of us in the bar, then type a new status, “The Past, the Present, and the Future walked into a bar. It was tense.”
He’s really not coming back. I pocket my phone and head over, annoyed I’m even out here. He’s standing near the elevator. As I take the last few steps, he notices me and smiles warmly.
“After you, I already paid.” He holds an arm out, gesturing for me to step inside the elevator.
Is he kidding? “Um, no. If you want to have a meeting about the contract or talk about the movie list, fine. But this doesn’t make any sense. So . . .” I’m shaking my head, arms crossed. He doesn’t remember.
Shane moves beside me, leaning his shoulder against the wall. “Remember how you used to say you wanted to live all the moments?”
I lift my chin. Maybe he does. This makes things even more confusing. What is he doing?
His lips have the slightest upward turn as he talks. “You’d say you ‘didn’t want to just be in love, you wanted to be in love in a movie.’ Remember?”
Locked in his gaze, I’m frozen in his words, my words. “It’s a line from Sleepless in Seattle. I remember saying that and I remember believing it.” Hell, I remember thinking I had it.
With him.
But life isn’t a movie.
Shane steps closer. Too close, but I don’t move.
“Sleepless in Seattle. It’s the first one on the movie list. So come on . . .” He holds out his hand just like Tom Hanks did as his character, Sam. “Shall we?”
I reach for it without thinking, but as soon as my fingers graze his, my stomach jumps. Okay, there’s no doubt he remembers. This isn’t just Sleepless in Seattle. It’s our Sleepless in Seattle.
I pull my hand back, angry. He has no right.
We were going to meet at the top of the Indianapolis monument like Sam and Annie did at the Empire State Building on Valentine’s Day. Just like the movie. I thought maybe, just maybe, he was going to propose.
Instead, we broke up the week before. Right after I’d found out he cheated. I spent my Valentine’s here on the steps, alone, wondering what the hell happened. Tonya actually took me out that night to cheer me up. We made a girls’ night of it. And now?
There’s a sting of pride. He can’t just come back into my life and drag all this out again. I can feel the tears right on the cusp, ready to spill. I step back. “Do you seriously think that now we’re going to have our missed Valentine’s Day moment?” I’m shaking my head in disbelief. “This one’s off the list. I’ve already lived it, and it’s not the part I would’ve wanted.”
It was the trying to get out of bed every morning . . . remembering to breathe in and out all day long . . . forgetting how I had it great and perfect for a while. And I didn’t have a Dr. Marcia Fieldstone to help me through it, or my family . . . it was just me.
And it was awful.
He left for England right after graduation to work for his father. Even though we weren’t together anymore, the finality of him being gone, really gone, left my chest hollow. Like the Tin Man. Only, I no longer wanted a heart.
I level my stare. “Tell me what happened in college, and I want the truth.” I barely speak the words, but they’re deafening.
“I screwed up, but not how you think.” His voice is low. He steps closer. “I know I was a bit reckless back then—”
“Between the fights, missing class, the girls—”
“Rumors. The girls were rumors.” Shane looks at me determinedly. “I adored you. Loved you.” His shoulders drop and he takes another step to reclaim the distance I created.
I’m right back where I started, the back of my throat swollen with emotion.
“Kensington, between my parents’ nightmare of a divorce and being sent here to the States, you were my saving grace. They were all just rumors.”
“Then I don’t under—”
“Except one.”
Oh.
Oh.
Somehow having him admit it, changes it. Maybe I hoped . . .
Shane rakes a hand through his hair and leans his shoulder against the wall. “A girl kissed me at this party after you left. I kissed her back. Fooled around a little.” His eyes search mine. “But I didn’t sleep with her. We’d been drinking and . . .”
I’m more than a little confused.
That’s it?
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I’m shaking my head, baffled. “All this time and it’s about some stupid drunk make-out session?” I’m angry all over again, for a completely different reason.
Shane lowers his chin. His eyes close for a second, then open with a sharp breath.
“It was Tonya.”
My stomach drops. I’m pressing the band of my ring hard against my finger. It pinches, but gives me something else to feel. “Tonya? The same Tonya who told me you cheated and then took me out drinking when—”
“Kensington, it didn’t—”
My fingers held up. “No, no. Don’t say it didn’t mean anything. Because it did. It meant we broke up, didn’t it? Regardless if you slept with her then or last night.”
“What?”
“Bradley said she left right after you, and you guys may have . . .”
He shakes his head, but he’s not saying anything. There’s more. I can feel it. Oh God, there’s more.
I look at my feet, remembering how I expected him to fight harder. “Back then, I wouldn’t let you explain, but you didn’t really try, did you? It made it easy to leave. Was that it?” I said the words, but I don’t want to believe them. I’m holding an emotional breath, hoping . . . I glance up at him without raising my chin.
He’s looking at me. There’s truth in his eyes. “Yes.”
Yes.
“I didn’t plan it, but it did make leaving for home . . . leaving you easier, yes.”
Wow.
This is surprisingly worse somehow and . . . painful.
It really hurts.
Stupid tears are forming. The little voice I’ve worked so hard to silence throughout the years is marching around, chanting triumphantly through a megaphone. Not quite good enough. Not quite good enough.
My lips pull into a smile that hides my teeth, but keeps back tears. “Okay . . . well, mission accomplished. I’m glad it worked out for you th—”
“I was twenty-two, Kensington.” Shane steps in front of me. His eyes hold mine, intensely. “Dad was adamant I work with him. Mum was drinking again. She was a wreck from his constant affairs and neither could deal with me. It was a bloody nightmare. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
I can’t move. Everything in me wants to run, but I can’t move. Why does he still have this effect on me?
“Tonya said I was being selfish if I took you with me. In a lot of ways, she was right. All you talked about was starting your studio. But that still didn’t stop me. You went home for a long weekend and I called. Every day, I called.”
No. No, he didn’t. I’m shaking my head. My heart is racing. I lift my eyes to find his. “What are you talking about?”
“Kensington, your mum . . .”
There�
��s a dart to my chest. “My mom?” His words are fading in and out as I try to remember. Mom never liked him. She thought the relationship was too intense. That he wasn’t a good influence. Wasn’t on a solid path. And my studio? She never thought that was a good idea. Oh my God, it all makes sense.
“. . . she was very resolute that I let things be. That we were too young and I had nothing to really offer you, and really, she was right.”
My stomach rolls. How could she, she knew how I felt. Shane tries to take my hand, but I don’t let him.
“If I could go back, Kensington, I would’ve stayed. I thought . . . I don’t know.” His brows pull down, and he shakes his head. “But you never even started your studio, did you? I mean, now—”
“Now?” I slowly step back. “Now, I’m getting married.”
I start rummaging through my bag until I have the contract between my fingers, then reach in with the other hand for a pen. “You kept your end of the agreement . . .”
Shane takes both when I hold them out, and our hands touch. The sensation tangles my insides.
“Look, I wasn’t really going to blackmail you, I’m not that unscrupulous, but—”
“You think it will help in the concept development. I get it.” I nod. “As long as it’s kept between us and doesn’t cross any lines.”
“Of course.” He smiles softly. “You’re getting married.”
“Yeah.”
For now, my job’s safe. Clive’s going to be thrilled and Bradley should be relieved. And it’s agreed . . . no crossed lines. So why am I such a mess of twisted ironies? What I want, what I wanted, what I have . . .
What I have. What I don’t.
CHAPTER FIVE
27 Reasons
EVERY NOW AND THEN, when I’ve saved enough, I shop with Ren for a solid wardrobe investment. Something designer that will stand the test of trend. She loves lording her superior fashion know-how over me, which makes for a long afternoon, but I do end up with some great finds.