Can I See You Again?

by Allison Morgan

  Twenty minutes later, after loads of questions and laughs, Randi pats her watch, signaling me it’s time to wrap it up. “Well, that’s gonna do it for today. Thanks for joining me. Hope to see you all next time.” I step off the stage to a standing ovation.

  The crowd funnels out the doors and I overhear them saying things like “Totally fun” and “Lots of good information.” One girl even said to her friend, “I really liked Bree’s outfit.”

  “You crushed it.” Andrew meets me at the base of the stairs.

  Randi joins us a second later. “Hell of a job.”

  “Thank you. I hope I didn’t sound too unsettled at first. Once I found my groove, I rolled with it.”

  Lucy Hanover steps close. “I enjoyed the presentation, Bree.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad.”

  “You captivated the audience. That’s hard to do. I’ve been enjoying your book. Randi says it’s coming out soon?”

  “Yes, in a few weeks.”

  “I’d like to have you on my show. You free next Friday?”

  “She’s free,” Randi answers.

  “Great. Give me a call. We’ll discuss particulars. Looking forward,” Lucy says, waving good-bye.

  Once out of earshot, Randi spins toward me and smacks my arm. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  I glance at the doors, still crowded with a long stream of my fans.

  “Bree, Bree.” Gwen waves, salmoning herself toward me through the mass. She clutches both of my hands. “That was a great presentation. Can you believe this turnout?”

  “I know. Our little weekly group is little no more.”

  “No kidding. Even that cute man popped in.”

  “What cute man?”

  “You know, the handsome guy you chatted with outside our conference room the other day, remember? The one with the little boy.”

  Nixon. “He’s here? Where?”

  She looks toward the back of the room. “Ah . . . I don’t see him anymore. He must’ve just left. Anyway, great job. See you next week.”

  thirty-one

  “C’mon, baby,” Sean says, having just returned from Denver. He nibbles on my neck. “No one is here.”

  He’s right. The office is empty. Jo’s come and gone after sharing a tuna sandwich and chocolate-chunk cookie with me for lunch. UPS already made today’s deliveries. Andrew left for a doctor’s appointment. Or so he says. But he isn’t sick, no raspy cough or unsightly rash. And who brushes their teeth and changes into a pressed oxford before a checkup, anyway? He left for an interview. I’m sure of it.

  But the thing I still don’t understand is why he hasn’t come clean. Why won’t he talk to me? And the little bugger slipped out before I had the chance to corner him and demand answers.

  Sean murmurs in my ear.

  “Sean, honey, wait. I don’t want our first time back together to be on the edge of my desk.”

  “You didn’t mind before.” He slides his hand up my shirt and fingers underneath my bra strap.

  “Let’s wait for tomorrow night at La Valencia.”

  “You’re killing me. Do you know that? I might be dead by tomorrow night.”

  “I’m sure you’ll make it.” I Eskimo-kiss his nose with my own.

  “At least put this on. Give me this pleasure.” He slides my engagement ring onto my finger. “I hate that you haven’t shown it off to the world. I can’t wait for this interview thing to be over.”

  “I know. Just a little while longer.”

  “Well, tomorrow night, you’re all mine. I’ve reserved the best suite and instructed the staff not to disturb us our entire stay.”

  “It sounds perfect.”

  “And you don’t have to bring a thing. I plan to keep you naked the whole time.” He kisses my palm, then angles my hand, allowing the diamonds to catch the sunlight. “What the . . . ?” Sean slips the ring off my finger.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Is that residue or a scratch?” He squints, examining the stone. “Do you still have some cleaner underneath the sink?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay.” I busy myself filing a few paid invoices when Sara walks in.

  “Hey, Bree.”

  Oh, Christ. What is she doing here?

  “Sara? Hello. I’m surprised to see you,” I say loud enough that I hope Sean will hear.

  “I came to chat for a moment. May I sit down?”

  Please, don’t. “Sure, of course.” I move close to the window so she’ll face me, her back toward the break room.

  She rests her sleek black purse in her lap and exhales.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Well, yes and no. I thought you should know, Nixon and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

  “No?” I glance in Sean’s direction again. “What happened? I thought you really liked Nixon.”

  “I did. I do.” A wide grin illuminates her face. “But I called him and told him it wasn’t working out. You see, something else happened. Something I didn’t expect. Something extraordinary.”

  “Really? What is it? I’m all ears.”

  “Well, you’re not going to believe this, but I fell in love with someone else.”

  “You did? That’s wonderful. Who?”

  “Sean.”

  I stare in at her in shock, as if she said her art gallery is now a strip club. “You what?”

  “I know, I know.” She waves her hand in the air. “I sound like one of those ditzy reality show girls.”

  Calm down, Bree. Breathe in. Breathe out.

  “Quick, isn’t it?” she says.

  “Very quick,” I say with total disbelief. “You don’t really mean, love? Or Sean, right?”

  “I can hardly believe it myself. But I’m tingly all over, can’t eat a thing.”

  “Maybe it’s the flu.”

  “I daydream about him for hours on end. I’ve no concentration at work, haven’t gotten a darn project done all week.”

  “Maybe you’re anemic.”

  She shakes her head and says with a playful voice, “I’m so distracted I mismarked an abstract oil painting, labeling it as a charcoal drawing. Don’t I sound crazy?”

  More like insane. I don’t know what to say except . . . what the hell?

  “And I have you to thank. If you hadn’t introduced me to Nixon and given me the confidence that someone as charming and handsome as him could be interested in me, then I likely wouldn’t have given Sean a second glance. I always thought men like Nixon and Sean were out of my league. I can’t thank you enough.”

  Yeah, I’m a big hero. With an even bigger problem on my hands.

  “Sara, let’s not rule Nixon out completely. I mean, he’s such a great guy. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, he—”

  “And, he’s got that cute little knot in his throat that wiggles when he laughs. Have you seen it?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Everyone says he’s the silent-but-deadly type. You know, guarded just enough to be sexy but not conceited. Come to think of it, you mentioned that yourself.”

  “Sure, all of that’s true. And, Nixon and I had a great first date, but since then, we met only a couple times. And only to get coffee.”

  Coffee, eh?

  “Nixon’s wonderful,” she says, “but I haven’t felt this way about a man in a very long time. Sean’s smart and funny and sexy as hell.”

  And my fiancé.

  She leans close. “We haven’t done anything intimate yet, but I’m ready. I bought all new underwear.”

  I rub my face with my hands. How did this happen? “Okay, Sara, let’s talk about this. Remember what I said about taking things slow.”

  “I don’t want to take thi
ngs slow. I’m a thirty-year-old divorcee. Time is not on my side.

  “I don’t want to see you disappointed.”

  “You’re sweet to worry, but there’s no need. Something tells me he feels the same.”

  He does? I gaze in Sean’s direction.

  “That’s all I came to say.” She slides her purse strap onto her shoulder. “Wish me luck with Sean.”

  Sean steps our way, pinching the ring between his thumb and index finger and holding it high in the air. “Got it. Cleaned off a smudge of something. Look at it shine now.”

  “Sean?” Sara stands. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, hi, Sara.”

  She opens her arms to greet him, jutting out her chin, hoping for a kiss.

  Sean stiffens and moves toward Sara’s cheek, giving her a quick peck.

  Gag.

  “I’m surprised to see you here.” Her eyes dart between Sean and me. “I didn’t realize you two were so chummy.”

  “Us?” I back away from Sean. “No, we aren’t chummy. Not at all. Not in the least.”

  “Are you okay, Bree? Your neck is really red.”

  Where is my cream? Where?

  “So, Sean, why are you here?”

  “I . . . uh . . . well, I’ve just come by—”

  “Sean?” Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open like a nine-year-old watching a magician saw his assistant in half. “Is that an engagement ring?”

  thirty-two

  “Sounds like you’re walking through a tunnel.”

  “No,” I tell Andrew. “I’m holding the phone away from my face. I don’t want to mess up my makeup.” I hop onto the curb after crossing the street. The tip of my pink-polished toenail catches my eye. “Damn. I should’ve stopped for a pedicure.”

  “It’s radio.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You aren’t making sense. Good thing your astrology reading is clear. The stars are on your side today. You’re plotted for success.”

  His reasoning is fishy, but still, I’ll take all the luck I can get. “Sounds good.”

  “What’s today’s topic?” he asks.

  “Must-haves.”

  “I love that one.”

  “Jo does, too.”

  “She listening in?”

  “Yeah, and you have to call in if no one else does.”

  “I will, but you’ll get lots of calls. Don’t worry.”

  “Thanks, Andrew. So much rides on my interview with Lucy. This could push me over the edge and into the pool of bestsellers.” I wipe a bit of sweat from behind my neck. “I just hope I don’t screw up or say something stupid.”

  “Relax. You’ll be fine.”

  “Okay, I’m here. I’ll see you later.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Who needs luck? The stars are aligned.”

  “Ha. Take care of you.”

  “Take care of you.”

  We hang up and I walk inside the glass-walled two-story foyer of the KMRQ radio station, clenching my stomach tightly, hoping to still the trembling in my thighs.

  Randi stands between the coffee table and an L-shaped leather couch, wiggling her stiletto heel into the rug. Her cell phone is pressed against her ear.

  I smile at the receptionist on the other side of the room and gesture that I’m waiting for Randi.

  I’m glad my publicist is on the phone. It gives me a few more minutes to settle my nerves. Take in the moment. Remind myself of the importance of the interview, think of Jo’s house and ignore the nagging thoughts rattling around in my brain about lying to Sara. And everyone in America, for that matter.

  Thank God for Sean’s quick thinking. He made up a story about it being his mother’s ring and he had a loose diamond secured at the jeweler’s nearby, then stopped in my office afterward to say hello.

  Sara seemed disappointed, but honestly how could she think Sean bought her a ring so soon? Sean tucked the ring in his pocket before she could ask any more questions and, as luck would have it, his office called and he zipped off to San Francisco for a deposition with a client who had just arrived back in the country.

  Once again, he’s gone for a few days.

  We canceled our rendezvous at La Valencia.

  She clicks off her phone and walks toward me. “Nervous?”

  “Yes.”

  “You should be. We’re walking.” She signals toward the doors at the far end of the hall. “I cannot stress enough the importance of this interview. Lucy Hanover is syndicated in all the major markets. You think Candace’s reach is big, ha! Candace is the middle child in hand-me-down underwear compared to Lucy. We should have a good number of listener layovers, as you’re slotted after the Gossip Guru.”

  We reach the end of a long hallway and are greeted by the man standing at the threshold of a control room. “Hey, I’m Trevor. Come in,” He plops in a chair at the helm of a digital audio workstation with several monitors and a dizzying number of switches and buttons under his command. “They’re just about done.”

  Lucy swivels her chair back and forth inside a glass-walled studio behind several laptops decorating her desk along with a fax machine, a printer, a framed photo of her shaking hands with Barbara Walters, several half-filled Fiji water bottles, and a microphone, suspended from a robotic arm, resting a millimeter from her lips. The earphones covering her ears look like English muffins. An ON AIR sign is illuminated above the glass partition.

  We watch for a few minutes until they remove their earphones and the ON AIR sign switches off.

  “Good, you made it,” Lucy says, joining us in the control room.

  “Sixty seconds,” Trevor says.

  “That’s our cue,” says Lucy. “Let’s get started.”

  “Mention the book,” Randi says. “A lot.”

  Lucy settles in her chair.

  I sit across from her in the still-warm seat.

  “Ready?” She slides on her earphones.

  “Yes.” I clamp mine on my head.

  “Ten seconds.” Trevor’s voice echoes through my earphones.

  Lucy nods in his direction and casts her gaze at a matching ON AIR sign on our side of the glass wall.

  It lights up.

  So do my nerves.

  “Welcome back, everyone. Hope you enjoyed that rousing hour with the Gossip Guru. This hour we’re joined by Bree Caxton, a Love Guru, and author of the highly anticipated debut, Can I See You Again? Welcome, Bree. Thanks for joining us.”

  “Thank you,” my voice squeaks. “Thank you.” I say again, with more confidence. “I’m happy to be here.”

  “So, as I mentioned, you’re the author of the soon-to-be-released self-help book Can I See You Again? Owner and operator of Bree Caxton and Associates, the successful matchmaking service in San Diego County. And more adorable than a baby chick on Easter morning.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And you’re here to assist the single men and women listening with their love life. So, what’s the deal? What are you going to enlighten us with today?”

  “Well, lots of my colleagues and fellow authors have discussed what to look for in a mate, where to meet people, what to wear on a date, when and when not to have sex, how to break down a wall. But that stuff is boring.”

  “Okay, then what new information are you bringing to the table today?”

  “You.”

  “Me?” Lucy asks, pointing at herself.

  “Well, no, not you exactly. Today I want to discuss what ‘you’ must have in a relationship.”

  “Must have?”

  “Yes, traits that matter most to us, inherently. Habits or characteristics that a man or woman must possess for a mutually satisfying long-term relationship. These particular attributes, or lack thereof, are deal breakers.”

  �
�All right, listeners, let’s talk about you. Call in and rattle off a must-have. Well, look at this, the phone lines are on fire. We’ve got twelve calls already. You’re quite popular, Miss Bree. Keep calling, people. Bree is here to help.” She presses the first blinking light on the workstation. “You’re our first caller, give me something that in your heart and mind truly matters, a must-have.”

  “Nonsmoker,” says a woman with a dog barking in the background. “I could never find myself close to someone who smells like an ashtray.”

  “Oh please, no one smokes anymore. Next.” She pushes line two. “You’re on the air.”

  “Christian values,” says another woman.

  “Gotta love cats and clowns,” says a soft-spoken man on line three.

  “You’re gonna be single awhile.” Lucy pushes line four.

  “Wants kids,” says a young woman with a bitter tone.

  “Doesn’t want kids,” a young man hollers in the background.

  “Uh-oh.” Lucy clicks off the line.

  “Yes, good. Well, not so good for the last guy. But these are all great examples of what I mean. Dig deep and discover what truly matters in your life. What you must have.”

  “Caller, you’re on the air.”

  “Must like to act out the Star Wars movies. Not just the prequels,” says a man with an unfortunate nasal tone.

  “Ever had a girlfriend?” Lucy says, hanging up before the poor guy has a chance to respond. “Thanks for your calls, folks. Keep them coming. We’ll be back in a few with more from Bree Caxton, the Love Guru.”

  She slides her earphones onto her shoulders. “Good stuff, Bree.”

  Trevor’s voice echoes in the studio. “Randi wants Bree to mention the book.”

  After a minute, Trevor points in her direction and counts down from five on his fingers.

  “And, we’re back,” Lucy says. “We’re joined today by the lovely Bree Caxton, author of Can I See You Again? We’ve uploaded links to Amazon and Barnes and Noble on my website. Click it and buy it. This girl knows her beeswax. Okay, we’re discussing what Bree calls the must-haves of a relationship. So, tell me, Miss Love Guru, from what I’ve gathered, without these must-haves, the relationship is doomed.”