First Time: Penny's Story (First Time (Penny) Book 1)

by Abigail Barnette

  “You want me to bring you back anything?” She asked as she pulled on her coat.

  I shook my head. “Nah, I won’t be up. I think I’m going to call it an early night.”

  Work had been brutal lately as we rushed to finish up the New Year special edition. I hadn’t even gotten home until seven. It was nine now, and I was already yawning.

  After Rosa left, I tucked into bed and turned on the television. I didn’t know why, but I’d had this weird, lonely feeling all day long. Hearing some voices would help, I hoped. I was yawning through a rerun of Archer when my phone rang. Even though it wasn’t Ian’s ringtone, I scrambled for it, thinking he could have been calling from work.

  I saw the name on the screen and groaned. It was Amanda.

  “Hello, Amanda,” I said, trying to sound polite, but I was already pretty annoyed at her. This had been a pattern when she and Rosa had been dating before; if Amanda couldn’t get an answer from Rosa, she started calling me, demanding to know where she was. She had this totally weird jealousy vibe about me, even though I’d assured her time and again that I wasn’t into women, and even if I were, I wouldn’t make a play for someone else’s girlfriend.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she said, and I rolled my eyes. She was only that syrupy and nice if she wanted something. “How are you?”

  “Really tired. About to go to bed. So, can I call you back another—”

  “Oh, poo. Rosa said you might be able to do me a favor,” she said, slightly wheedling.

  There was a reason Rosa couldn’t say no to Amanda. She had the perfect wheedle in her voice when she needed it.

  “Okay, it really depends on the favor,” I warned her.

  “I forgot my carpal tunnel brace at your apartment. I put it on the floor next to the coffee table—”

  I got out of bed and shuffled into the living room. There was the brace.

  “—when we were eating, and now I’m at work, and I really, desperately need it. Do you think you could bring it to me?” she begged.

  Amanda worked at a sushi place in midtown. “I don’t know. That’s kind of far away. What’s in it for me?”

  “A dragon roll?”

  I considered.

  “Come on, please, please, please. You’re my favorite one of Rosa’s friends,” she added to butter me up.

  Buttering was unnecessary; my mouth was already watering for a taste of eel.

  “I’m the only one of Rosa’s friends who’ll talk to you,” I reminded her. “Throw in a cup of miso, and I’m there.”

  “Deal. Thank you so much. You’re a life saver.”

  I got dressed in the nearest available dirty clothes, grabbed the brace, and headed out. I didn’t even know why I was helping her out. Amanda had cheated on Rosa, and after what had happened with Brad, I was starting to really rethink my stance on whether or not cheaters could be good people. But Rosa trusted her enough to start things up again romantically. It wasn’t my business.

  What was my business was that I missed Ian like crazy. Which was so stupid, because we spent so much time together. It wasn’t like not seeing him or hearing from him for a day should be that unbearable. I was starting to get on my own nerves. I had to tone it down in a big way.

  I reached the restaurant and asked for Amanda at the hostess station. In just a few minutes, I saw her bright red hair bopping across the floor. She kind of commanded all of the attention in a room.

  “Thank you to Jupiter and back!” she gasped as soon as she was within hearing distance.

  I held up the brace, and when she reached for it, I snatched it back. “Ah-ah. I believe we have a hostage trade situation going on here?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Come on back.”

  I followed her through the crowded restaurant, to the bar, where she typed in an order for the dragon roll and miso soup. I handed her the brace, and she slipped it on.

  “So, how’s your night going?” I asked.

  “Running off my feet. Had a lovely white woman suggest I try acupuncture.” She rolled her eyes “I’m Vietnamese, not Chinese. And if I’m going to stick a needle anywhere in me to fix this, it better be attached to a syringe of morphine.”

  She buzzed off to grab another table, and I waited, drumming my fingers on the bar top. I took out my phone and checked to see if Ian had called. Nothing.

  Then I heard him laugh. Okay, I had to be losing my mind, now, if I was hearing things.

  I heard it again. And I spotted him across the restaurant.

  With a gorgeous blond woman. And they were laughing.

  My heart was going to puke.

  They both stood, still chatting. Any second, they were going to start walking my way. The bar stool nearly toppled in the wake of my hasty exit. There was no way I was going to be humiliated in front of The Other Woman. I’d already done that once this year.

  Oh god, what if I was the other woman? My tears burned my eyes as I stepped out into the blustery November night. Maybe that was why his sister didn’t want to meet me, because I was his mistress. Maybe he wasn’t divorced. He could have been feeding me a line this whole time.

  Maybe I could ignore all this. I could go home, cry, and eat myself sick.

  Dammit! Eating myself sick would be a lot easier to do with some actual food. I stood on the sidewalk, torn between wanting to run away before he saw me and wanting something to eat after the inevitable confrontation.

  Sushi won out over heartache, especially since postponing the confrontation we were going to have would only make it worse. Might as well get it over with, like ripping off a Band-Aid. Then I could deal with the shock of the fact that, once again, a man who I’d thought was the love of my life was cheating on me.

  It’s you, a nasty little voice in my head sneered. It sounded a lot like my mother. It had nothing to do with being a virgin. It was just you. You’re not enough.

  I lifted my chin and strode confidently through the restaurant doors.

  Ian was nearly to the door with his…whatever she was to him. God, she was even more perfect-looking up close. Her highlights were flawless. Her skin was the kind you had to buy from a dermatologist who had lasers and grinding tools. I was pretty sure her nails were her actual nails and not gels.

  I was in a crumpled T-shirt, with unwashed hair.

  And Ian didn’t say, “Hi, Penny,” or look happy to see me. Instead, the first words out of his mouth when he saw me were, “What are you doing here?”

  What are you doing here? I silently screamed back at him. I forced myself to smile, as if nothing was amiss. “I dropped off a wrist brace. Rosa’s girlfriend works here, and she left at the apartment. In return, I got dinner.”

  “Oh, the carpal tunnel waitress,” the woman said with a laugh. “What a coincidence. Penny, was it? I’m Carrie Glynn.”

  Carrie… The name rang a bell. An alarm bell. “Glynn? As in Glynn resorts?” I was so stunned I actually shook her hand. Carrie Glynn was a hotelier with an empire that spanned continents. She was routinely listed among the worlds’ richest women. I made thirty thousand dollars a year. There was no way I could outclass her.

  “Guilty,” she said with a smile, and her perfect teeth almost blinded me.

  “This is my girlfriend, Penny,” Ian said quickly, “whom I was telling you about. Penny, Carrie is an old friend I worked with in the 80’s.”

  “Ah.” I nodded. I didn’t say anything else, because I was perilously close to screaming, “I thought you were going out to do business, not old friends.” And I didn’t want to lose my cool in front of the woman I was increasingly suspicious of.

  If the pause in our conversation was awkward, I didn’t care one bit, though.

  “Well,” Carrie said. “I was just leaving. Ian, it was wonderful to see you again. Please, do give consideration to my offer. The sooner I have an answer, the better.”

  What the fuck did you offer my boyfriend? I seethed as he shook her hand. Then she was out the door, and he turned to me.

 
; I took a deep breath and started counting to ten. And when I hit ten, I was absolutely going to let him have it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ian stared at me as the storm front rolled in between us. Before he could ask, I ground out, “I’m counting to ten.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I’m counting to ten,” I explained, patient with fury, “before I run out of here. So, your ‘old friend’ doesn’t see.”

  “Or, you could come home with me. I can give you a ride home, and you can tell me why you’re so angry.” The tone, the awful, patronizing tone… Ugh! I wasn’t the one who’d just been caught lying. I wasn’t the one who’d been on a date with another woman.

  “You want me to tell you why I’m angry?” I titled my head, my lips pursing. “What if I canceled my plans with you for a ‘work dinner’, and it turned out to be with some hot billionaire I happened to be acquainted with?”

  “I think Sophie would rip your hair out at the roots,” he said.

  Okay, he had me there. But why the fuck was Ian joking at a time like this?

  “But there was no romancing going on tonight,” he continued, still with that tone that suggested I was being needlessly worried.

  That only made me more suspicious. “Oh please. You’re an architect, Ian. You do office buildings. What, are you going to build Glynn world headquarters or something?”

  I didn’t need to make that sound as snarky as I had. But my heart felt mean, and at the very same time, it felt broken and reluctant to make Ian feel bad. It was an awful combination.

  I saw his calm slipping a little at the implied insult. “No, I was planning on designing a hotel. Like I told you before. Can we either discuss this in my car, or at another time? Because I don’t feel like having our first argument in the lobby of a restaurant.”

  “Well, I didn’t feel like running into my boyfriend with a hotter, more age appropriate billionaire in the lobby of a restaurant, so maybe we don’t all get what we want,” I snapped and turned for the door.

  “Aren’t you supposed to drop off a brace?” he asked.

  “I already did!” But he probably thought that was a lie. He’d seen me walk in and right back out. I bet he thought I’d stalked him to the restaurant or something.

  You’re so pathetic, I sniped at myself as I walked, head down, to Ian’s car. He didn’t say anything, but tension radiated from him. He was really mad. Why did he get to be mad, when he was the one who’d done something awful?

  I shouldn’t have agreed to the ride home. It would just give him time to lie to me. The smart thing would have been for me to walk away, and then just…

  Then just what? Ride it out until he dumped you? It would have hurt worse, then, because I would live in constant fear of it. It was better to bring it up, now, and get this all over with, even though the thought of it made my chest hurt.

  We got into the car, and he turned on the engine but didn’t pull away from the curb.

  “Are we going?” I asked.

  “I don’t want to fight and drive. Do I get a chance to explain here, or have you just decided that I’m stepping out on you?” he asked, and I felt a stab of shame.

  “You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a child, just because I’m angry,” I managed through gritted teeth. “How do you think it looks, you calling me and leaving a voicemail saying we can’t get together tonight because of work—which, by the way, I totally understand—and then, you’re out with a woman, an ‘old friend’ who doesn’t even work in your field, let alone at your firm?”

  “I should have been more specific. It wasn’t business within the firm. Carrie is looking for a team to design her next resort. And because she knows me—”

  “How does she know you?” I demanded. Because I couldn’t imagine a scenario in which my boyfriend would know a hotelier who was frequently called the world’s richest MILF by the tabloids.

  “She started in architecture. We worked together thirty years ago, and we’ve kept in touch on and off. It’s nothing sinister, I assure you.” He groaned in frustration and dragged a hand down his face. “And I really don’t appreciate your condescension.”

  “When did I condescend?”

  “‘What, are you going to build Glynn world headquarters or something?’” Even without altering his accent, he repeated my inflection accurately.

  I sucked so much sometimes. My anger deflated into exactly what I didn’t want to feel, foolish and immature. “I’m sorry. That was really uncalled for. I just… I was intimidated. And shocked. When you said you had a work thing, I was envisioning you and several other people, not you and one stunning blond.”

  “I would have much rather been with one particular stunning blond this evening, but I had to meet a potential client, instead.” He shook his head. “Have I ever done anything to indicate that you shouldn’t trust me?”

  He had me there. I slouched down, staring at my hands in my lap so I wouldn’t have to look at him.

  “I know that your last boyfriend did something horrible to you,” Ian began, his voice softer. “And it’s perfectly natural that you’re suspicious. But I promise, there is no other woman on this planet that I want to be with more than you. I wouldn’t risk what we have for something as stupid as a one-night stand with Carrie Glynn, or anyone else.”

  Tears threatened, and though I could hold those back by blinking, I had to sniff to keep watery snot from falling. I looked up, hoping to distract myself by looking out the windshield, but it was fogging fast. “Cheating is never about a one-night stand. It’s a symptom of a bigger problem.”

  “That’s a bit trite, isn’t it? What have you been reading?”

  He was too eager to joke about this, and that sent my distrust levels sky high once more. I glared at him. “I’m not a child, Ian. Don’t treat me like one.”

  “I’m sorry. Now I’m on the one who’s condescending,” he apologized. “Go on. You said you were intimidated. Why?”

  I couldn’t keep up my anger. My despondency was too strong. “I just turned twenty-three a few weeks ago, Ian. I’m working at a job I got with a degree I didn’t want in the first place, I have practically no money, no idea of what’s going to happen in my future… I am the definition of not-having-your-shit-together. And you’re so… I mean, you have your own firm, you’ve accomplished things, you’re actually doing what you want to do—”

  “No, I’m not,” he interrupted. “I’m not doing what I wanted to do. I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to go ‘round Paris sleeping under bridges and sketching beautiful, tragic women in cafes. I never wanted to be an architect. It was just something I happened to be good at.”

  “I forgot about that.” How could I have forgotten about that?

  “Well, sometimes, I do, as well. And believe me, that’s almost worse than knowing that I’ll never have that life. Forgetting your dream, that’s a hell of a thing.” His words hit me like a battering ram of truth. Forgetting your dream was a terrible thing. But not allowing yourself to have it in the first place…

  “You’re worried that I would want to be with Carrie Glynn? Why? Because she has money?” he went on.

  “No.” Yes. “I mean, the money does figure in. But it’s more about the overall picture. The reason she has that money is because she’s confident and accomplished and successful. Literally everything I’m not.” I shrugged. There was no way I could articulate why seeing him with Carrie Glynn had disturbed me so much. They had just…looked right.

  “Exactly. She’s everything you’re not,” he agreed. “Which is why I don’t want her. I want you, Penny. Not the opposite of you.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that.

  “You mentioned her age. Is that another thing…”

  “Yeah.” I nodded in vehement agreement. “Yeah, your age is intimidating, and it’s something that I haven’t brought up before because… I don’t know. I’m afraid that I make you feel bad about being older than me. But you make me feel bad about bei
ng younger than you.”

  “Oh?” He sounded incredulous, which only made me more defensive.

  “Yeah. You make these little comments all the time about how old you are in comparison to me. ‘My knees used to be able to do that,’ or ‘humor an old man.’ If I complain about something, you just brush it off with, ‘imagine how you’ll feel in thirty years.’ Why would you want to be with me, if I make you so self-conscious and self-critical?” I stopped myself, because my voice became shrill. “It just made sense to me, when I saw you with her. Wouldn’t you rather be with someone who doesn’t make you feel like Methuselah?”

  “I never said I felt like Methuselah, did I?” he asked. Then, he waved it away. “No, I know that’s not the point. I— Penny, when I say those things, they’re because I’m intimidated. You’re so beautiful, and you have so much energy and optimism… I say those things because I feel dishonest if I don’t remind you that you can do better.”

  And that was the problem. My boyfriend, for all that his age should have brought him wisdom, was a fucking idiot. “I don’t want better. I want you.”

  He gazed at me expectantly.

  Ah. Just like I wanted him exactly as he was, he was happy with me the way I was, too.

  He laughed softly. “You’re not out there looking for someone better. I’m not, either.”

  I hadn’t trusted him.

  I should have trusted him.

  I was the worst girlfriend in the world.

  Wiping my tears, I insisted, “Just so you know, I didn’t follow you here. I really did have to drop off Amanda’s arm brace.”

  “I believe you. She was our waitress,” he said evenly.

  “I was just coming back in because I forgot the food she was bribing me with—” My brain made an instant connection. “Wait, was Carrie Glynn the woman who told her she should get acupuncture?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  That was going to make this whole thing a lot more bearable. I knew my jealousy and anger toward Carrie Glynn was unreasonable, but it made me feel better to know that she was embarrassing. I shook my head and smiled. “Nothing.”