by Peggy Bird
“Okay. If you’re sure.” Summer’s voice softened. “Bella, after all you found out about Taylor and the whole mess with Allison and Mrs. Pennington, you’re okay, aren’t you? You know you can always talk to me about anything, don’t you?”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I’ll survive.”
• • •
“Taylor? Summer Olsen. I just talked to Bella. She told me about Allison and Mrs. Pennington so now I’m officially in the loop. She’s okay, determined not to be sad about what she found out, but okay.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your checking in on her.”
“Which brings me to my next question—do you want to get her back?”
“Of course I do, but I have a snowball’s chance in hell of accomplishing that.”
“Maybe not. I got an idea when I was talking to her. It’ll require you stepping outside your comfort zone, but if you’re willing to do it ...”
“I’ll do anything. Tell me.”
“Okay, then, here’s my idea ...”
Chapter Twenty-One
The next few weeks went by more quickly than Bella would have imagined, given the empty place in her life where Taylor used to be. In a short time, he’d come to be so important to her, and now she missed him terribly. Thankfully, she had a packed schedule to fill up her days so she didn’t have to think about him every waking hour. Only the ones when she was alone in her apartment.
So she spent as much time as she could in the new BU/MU office. It wasn’t hard to do. The remodelers were finished, but the place had to be cleaned and polished, furnished, stocked, and set up for business. There were snags, of course, which she almost welcomed because they gave her purpose and took time to sort out. The wrong couch was delivered. One of the pieces of wall art was damaged in transit. The printer made a mistake on her business cards.
Then there was the fun part—arranging the open house. The invitations alone for the event officially kicking off their new office took her days to hand address, to give the personal touch Summer liked.
Summer came to town the week before the open house and helped, which was not only a relief but gave Bella welcome company. By two days before the party, they were completely organized and mostly handling press interviews and last-minute details with the caterer.
On the Thursday before the big event, Summer left Bella to hold down the fort while she had coffee with a reporter from a business publication who was interested in what BU/MU did. She was using the time alone to set up a filing system on the computer for the counselors, social workers, and lawyers they’d already lined up as consultants. As usual, her favorite radio advice guru, Dr. Sea-Tac, was on in the background as she worked.
Her concentration was broken by what she thought was a familiar voice. She listened more carefully. She was right. Taylor was talking on the radio. She turned up the volume and was horrified. He was talking about her.
“So,” Dr. Sea-Tac said in a sympathetic tone belying her harsh words, “from what you’ve described, ‘screwed up’ barely begins to cover what you’ve done with the woman you say you love.”
“I already know that part. What I don’t know is how I’m going to get her back.”
“You sure you shouldn’t move on to another relationship? From what you said at the top of the show, you met her after another relationship had ended. Maybe it’s time ...”
“No, it’s not time. She’s the one. You have to help me. Please. I’m desperate.”
“I can hear it in your voice. You really mean it, don’t you?”
“I absolutely do. I’ll do anything. I’m already doing something I never thought I’d do by calling into a radio advice program. I mean it when I say I’ll do whatever it takes.”
The show host snorted. “I guess you do mean it although I’m not sure I want to have my program described as a desperate last hope. Maybe my listeners have some ideas. Listeners, what do you think? This guy, Teej is his name, got thrown under the bus by his girlfriend because he seriously messed up a work project his lady was managing and kept a very big secret about his former relationship from her. But he wants her back. My lines are open to hear your opinions. We’ll hear them as soon as we get back from this commercial break.”
Taylor Jordan called into an advice show? If she hadn’t heard it with her own ears, she would never have believed it. She wasn’t sure if hearing that he loved her on the radio was the most romantic way to find out or the most insulting. She was sure saying those words on the air was something way out of Taylor’s comfort zone. How did he know I’d be listening? He must have paid attention to what she listened to when he’d been in her office.
Summer returned from her coffee with the reporter as Dr. Sea-Tac came back on the air. Normally, Bella would have turned the radio off as soon as her boss appeared, but she couldn’t this time. She wanted to hear what the audience had to say.
And so did Summer as soon as she heard the host explain what the problem was. “Teej? Is Taylor the caller?” Summer asked. “And he’s asking for ways to win you back?”
“Apparently. We are about to hear what the audience has to say.”
“I’m more interested in what you have to say but I’ll shut up until this segment is over.”
They both listened as audience members made suggestions ranging from the mundane—flowers and candy—to the over the top and potentially criminal—kidnapping her and taking her up on a hot air balloon ride and keeping her there until she agreed to take him back. Taylor responded to every suggestion, thanked everyone for their help, and pledged to keep working at getting the woman he loved back.
The unanimous opinion of everyone who called in was he deserved to get her back. The callers admired his forthrightness, his honesty, his willingness to take responsibility for his mistakes, and his desperate plea for help.
When the host switched to another caller with a problem, Summer said, “I have to agree with the audience. He sure sounded to me like he meant it.”
Some part of Bella agreed. She knew she was weakening, but she mentally shook it off and said, “Maybe. Maybe not. Sounding all honest and forthright now is fine. But if he’d shown how honest he was a few weeks ago, he’d have never found himself calling on strangers to discuss his problems.”
Summer didn’t argue with her.
But that evening, as she ate dinner alone in her apartment, Bella wished she had recorded the radio broadcast so she could hear his voice again. Especially the part where he said how much he loved her.
• • •
Bella and Summer both got to the BU/MU office hours before the open house was to begin. They fussed with the furniture one more time and rearranged the table with the brochures and fact sheets on their services. Fanned out the paper napkins on the table of treats first one way, then another. The stacks of cups got their close attention as did the playlist on Bella’s iPod, which would provide background music.
A birthday cake and plates and forks for the birthday celebration were on a table in the kitchen. A large red ribbon was tacked across the door to what had been the dining room of the house, where the snacks and treats were. Summer had invited a city councilor and a representative of the Neighborhood Business Association to do the honors with the ribbon cutting. The snacks and cake would be served afterward along with a surprise. Summer was being very mysterious about what the surprise was.
As soon as the doors opened at one, people streamed into the building. The living room, with its pale blue upholstered furniture and restful seascapes became so crowded Bella was concerned they were violating fire codes. Many of the consulting counselors and attorneys they would be working with were there, as were curious neighbors, some of the former clients she had been contacting, and a good representation of the business community she’d met through the Chamber of Commerce. Promptly at one thirty, Summer took her new program director by the hand and walked to the red ribbon.
When she had the crowd’s attention, she said, “As most of you know, I’m Summ
er Olsen, the founder of Break Up or Make Up. The woman on my right is Isabella Rodriquez who has been the project manager while we got this enterprise underway and who will now direct the operation here in Seattle. The ribbon we’re cutting today officially opens our new office. But before City Councilwoman Jones and George Foster representing the Neighborhood Business Association cut the ribbon, I’d like to recognize someone in the audience. Mrs. Pennington, will you raise your hand, please? We didn’t start out on cordial terms, but we’ve come to understand each other better and to share our concerns about the health of this neighborhood so we welcome your presence here today.”
She picked up a pair of scissors and handed them to the two dignitaries. “Now, let’s get this puppy open.” The duo efficiently cut the ribbon to the cheers of the crowd.
“Before we celebrate another event—the birthday of my new program director—I’d like to make this an official Break Up or Make Up opening by having the first BU/MU letter delivered to someone in the audience today. If you’ll please let my messenger get through so he can get the letter to me, we’ll conclude the official part of our ceremony.”
A young man wearing jeans and the distinctive BU/MU T-shirt appeared as people moved away to let him pass. When he reached Summer, he handed her a legal size envelope. She thanked him, and he disappeared back into the crowd.
“This letter was commissioned by our first official Seattle client and it’s for ...” She paused, looked around the room and then, as if surprised, said, “Isabella Rodriquez.”
Bella jumped when she heard her name. “For me? From whom?”
Summer grinned at her. “Why don’t you open it in the privacy of your new office and find out while I get the cake organized. When you’ve read it, we’ll cut your cake and sing ‘Happy Birthday.’” She turned to the people standing around in front of her and said, “How about a little help getting the cake out to the reception area?”
Curious about what was in the envelope, Bella closed herself off in her new office and opened it. As soon as she saw the first line of the letter, every sense came alive. She knew exactly who had written it.
Dearest Isabella,
I made a mistake. A huge one. I waited to tell you about the mess I’d made with Mrs. Pennington and how I was the guy who vowed revenge on Summer hoping, if you knew me better, you’d understand my actions, at least a little. If you knew I was, at heart, a good guy, then it wouldn’t sound so bad when I finally told you what I’d done.
I was wrong. My only explanation of why I thought it would work is I was falling for you so hard and so fast I couldn’t think straight. I never knew I could fall in love so quickly. It was outside any plan, any experience, I ever had. So I made the biggest mistake of my life and I hurt you. I’m more sorry than I can ever say.
I miss you. I miss your laugh and your warmth. I miss the way you light up a room, the way you light up my life, the way everything seems better when I’m with you.
I love you, Isabella. You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. If you’ll forgive me for being an idiot, if you’ll give us a second chance, I’ll do whatever it takes for however long it takes to make it up to you.
My Break Up or Make Up counselor said you might be willing to consider my apology if I showed how sincere I was by getting out of my comfort zone to tell you what I’m willing to do to get you back. So, I asked a radio audience for advice (in case you were listening, no, I’m not going to kidnap you for a hot air balloon ride). And I’ve sent you this letter. If the third time is the charm, maybe what’s next will finally convince you. Summer will tell you what it is.
Love,
Taylor
She couldn’t stop crying as she read the letter. She knew Summer’s fingerprints were all over it, but still she knew how the system worked. The sentence structure may have been Summer’s, but the sentiments were Taylor’s. He did love her. She was sure of it. And he was sorry. He’d gone so far out of his comfort zone to prove it, he’d hired the very company he swore once to hate.
There was a soft knock, and Summer opened the door.
“So, you ready to meet your letter writer and have him join us for birthday cake?”
“How long have you been plotting with him?”
“He called the day you confronted him in his office, worried about you. We went from there. Do you mind?”
She laughed. “I’d be a poor manager for you if I minded taking on a new client, wouldn’t I?”
“Yes, I’d say that was true.” Summer perched on the desk and took Bella’s hands. “I’m convinced he means every word in the letter.”
“Yeah, I am, too.” She stood. “So, what’s this third shot he talked about?”
“Go out on the front porch and see.”
What she found when she got there was Taylor, looking a bit embarrassed, holding a huge bouquet of balloons and drawing the attention of everyone who walked into or past the building.
She stopped outside the front door to appreciate the sight. It was hard not to laugh out loud at the picture of her perfectly serious Viking god looking like all he needed was a monkey and a barrel organ to become a cartoon character. An organ grinder dressed in an expensive-looking suit and silk tie, perhaps, but an organ grinder nonetheless.
“Happy birthday,” he said.
“Thank you. And thank you for the letter. It was lovely.”
He looked up at the balloon bouquet. “This is for you, too.”
“Yes, I can see all the ‘happy birthdays’ written on the balloons. You look cute holding it.”
“If holding a stupid balloon bouquet in public is what it takes to make you give me another chance, I was willing to do it.”
She took the remaining steps across the porch to reach him. Circling his waist with her arms, she said, “No one has ever gone this far to try to impress me.”
He held her with his unencumbered arm and kissed her hair. “Because no one has ever loved you the way I do.” He nudged her forehead with his chin so she would look up at him. “Can you forgive me?”
“How can I not with everything you’ve done to make up with me?” She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Not to mention, I love you. Of course I forgive you.”
“You don’t know how much I needed to hear you say those words. I love you, too.” He looked up at the balloons he was holding. “There’s one more thing I need from you.”
“What’s that?”
“Help. Please. I have no idea what to do with a balloon bouquet. Do you?”
“How about you let them float to the roof of the porch so you can put both your arms around me and kiss me?”
“Now, that I can do.” And he did.
More from This Author
(From Ringing in Love by Peggy Bird)
“Damn it, Melody,” Catherine Bennett said as she slammed into the dolly loaded with banker’s boxes her assistant was supposed to be pulling. “You can’t stop like that. This thing has no brake lights to warn me.” As she steadied the pile of teetering boxes, she followed Melody’s gaze to see what had distracted her. She should have known. A man. Dominic Russo, to be precise. And he was definitely a distraction. Mister Dark and Dangerous. Man candy. A professional bachelor with a reputation for notching his bedpost with a new name every few weeks. Name a cliché describing a sexy male, and he fit it. Hell, he owned it.
He also owned one of the most successful public relations firms in Philadelphia and was Catherine’s biggest competitor.
“Damn is right,” Melody said. “Hot damn.”
Catherine bent and rubbed the shin that had borne the brunt of the collision. “You might want to add an ‘ouch’ in there.”
Melody whipped around as quickly as she’d stopped. “Oops. Sorry, Catherine. Are you okay? Didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just admiring the scenery.” She returned her attention to the man who was now almost at the elevator bank. “Look at those shoulders! And the way he moves. I bet he’s a great dancer—and you kno
w what that means. He is definitely sex on legs. Wonder who he is?”
“Your encyclopedic knowledge of Philadelphia gossip is failing you. The ‘scenery,’ as you put it, is Dominic Russo. The Russo Group has offices on the fifteenth floor.”
“Of course! Shoulda looked at his face instead of his ass.” Melody started toward the elevator again. “If you’d told me my days in our new office building would be brightened by sightings of the sexiest man in the city, I’d have been happier about moving here.”
“I’d have used it, believe me, if I’d known it would have stopped you from complaining about all the work it took to move the office.”
“You know how much I hate change and loved the old building.” Melody looked across the lobby again. “Although the old building never offered us something like that to look at. On the other hand, now that we’re in the same building as our competition, we’ll always have to be careful what we say when we’re …”
The service elevator door began to close, and Catherine interrupted Melody’s latest reservations about the new office arrangements to yell, “Hold the elevator!” to her staffer Tom.
But before Tom could hit the “door open” button, Dominic Russo made a graceful move to his left and grabbed the door.
“Thanks,” Catherine said as she and Melody pushed the dolly into the elevator.
“Happy to help. Moving’s hard enough without having to wait endlessly for elevators.” He smiled and the temperature in the lobby spiked. “You’re Catherine Bennett, aren’t you? I’m Dominic Russo.”
“Of course. We’ve actually met …”
He nodded. “After you spoke at the business roundtable about your firm’s approach to socially responsible marketing and business practices. You had so many people trying to talk to you that day, I didn’t know if you’d remember me. I enjoyed your presentation. When you get settled, maybe you’d consider repeating it to my staff. I don’t imagine I did it justice when I tried to relay the information.”
Not remember meeting him? Was he kidding? He was impossible to forget.
