Bryce: Ex-Business: An Ex-Club Romance

by Camilla Stevens

  “So, are you okay?”

  He laughs and turns to me. “It’s definitely a shock, one I certainly never suspected. But it’s not the worst thing that ran through my mind. I mean, a horse? A party? Drugs? Something scandalous? I didn’t want to go there but…”

  “Ugh, Bryce,” I protest, slapping him on the arm.

  “What?” He says, bringing out his arm to curl me into his side. “Don’t act like you weren’t thinking the same thing.”

  I laugh but don’t honor that one with a response, even though my mind had wandered down a similarly depraved road.

  “Changing subjects, how did it go with your brother?”

  Bryce works his jaw until a half-smile eventually forms. “He’s funding us…but for fifty percent of the corporation. But he at least promises to stay hands-off.”

  My mouth opens to respond and hangs there a bit. “That’s…still great. We’ll have the money, which we didn’t before. This way we can do it right, the way we want to.”

  “Yeah,” he says, still disgruntled.

  “Hey,” I say, gently taking his chin. “We gotta take the wins where we can. We’ve had enough losses.”

  His smile becomes a bit more accommodating. “I suppose so.”

  “Come on, let’s celebrate,” I say. “My guess is we have about eight months left to do this whenever the hell we feel like it. Might as well take advantage. After all, we have seven years to make up for.”

  “Oh, that sounds like a challenge.”

  I seductively raise one eyebrow. “The question is, do you accept?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Bryce

  Edie and I are at her Dad’s townhouse having our usual monthly dinner with them, this one a bit more special. Not only is it the last one before Christmas, but this is the dinner we plan on telling Sergio and her father the pregnancy news. It’s been almost three months now and, even though Edie was pragmatic as ever about waiting a bit longer, eventually even she agreed that this is the perfect time right before the holidays.

  As such, we’ve used the excuse of the season to ask them to invite both our mothers as well. My father has yet to get in touch with me since Mom revealed everything. He did, however, go ahead with the name change for Contempo Woman. It’s now called Impress, and doing terrifically terrible, which brings a tear of joy to my eye. Edie is too judicious to admit it, but I’m sure she’s secretly pleased as well.

  Dad also dissolved Ideal Gentlemen, but Ideal Media is moving along quickly enough that we may be able to recapture most of the talent that hasn’t yet found a job from both of our publications. At the rate we’re going, it’s going to be much bigger than we originally intended.

  My brother should be happy. Another profitable asset added to his ridiculous bottom line.

  Tonight, Edie is in a red sweater dress, black stockings, and black suede boots. I’m in a white dress shirt and black pants and dress shoes, my one nod to the holiday in the form of green socks with colorful ornaments patterned on them.

  Edie gets the doorbell since I’m holding the bag of Christmas presents.

  Sergio is the one to answer. He’s in a horrible sweater with a wild array of striped yarns in various textures and holiday colors.

  “Wow Sergio, you look…festive.”

  “This is your father’s doing. He want I look silly, I look silly,” he says waving one hand in the air and rolling his eyes.

  “Well, Merry Christmas,” she says with a laugh.

  “Mmm, Merry Christmas,” he responds leaning in to hug her and kiss each cheek.

  I get the same treatment or at least an attempt at it around the presents in my arms.

  Inside it looks like the Christmas Tree at Rockefeller Center exploded, splattering every surface. Every inch seems to be covered in evergreen sprigs or holiday decor.

  “You like?” Sergio says with a proud smile.

  “It’s much more…trimmed than usual, no?” Edie comments.

  “Your father did not want your new beau to think we don’t know how to do Christmas.”

  “No chance of that,” I say, still looking around and wondering where they found the energy to do all of this.

  “Come, let’s take these,” he says, grabbing the bag of presents and hauling them over to the tree I finally notice. In this setting, it might as well be camouflage.

  “Ho ho ho!” Alfred comes out wearing a Santa hat and a gaudy sweater with an oversized image of Rudolph’s face. Over it, he wears an apron that reads: Well Hung. There is a very large ornament hanging right at the appropriate level.

  My kind of humor.

  “Eggnog or spiced cider?” he asks. “Don’t worry, both have enough booze to get you two through the night.”

  Edie and I exchange a look.

  “I think I’ll pass,” Edie says.

  “I’ll try the nog,” I say.

  Alfred pouts a bit at Edie but springs into action getting me a glass. “I have to say I was surprised to hear that your mother agreed to come. I haven’t seen Alice since forever. How is she these days?” He gives me a speculative look as he hands me my eggnog.

  “She’s…doing okay. I think.” Honestly, I’m not sure. I too was surprised she agreed to this. I’m sure it was the knowledge that Edie would be officially announcing the pregnancy that got her to agree.

  The doorbell rings again and, since Alfred is now closer, he gets it.

  “Speak of the devil!” he sings out and I grin as I watch my mother recoil in response, her patrician sensibilities already offended. “Alice, darling. It’s been too long. Shame on you.”

  She recovers well enough and a wry smile appears on her lips. “Alfred.”

  “Now, now, you know better than that. All my friends call me Alfie, and you and I go back too far for you not to be among that set.”

  Her eyes narrow just a bit, no doubt reading the insinuation. Alfred just laughs.

  “Come in, come in! No need to freeze your patootie out there.”

  Mom is in a long, camel coat that she shrugs out of to reveal a cream cashmere sweater and matching slacks. Though her eyes briefly fall to Edie and me in acknowledgment when she sees us, they are quickly diverted by the decor, which she stares at in horror.

  This should be a fun night.

  A far cry from the subdued sophistication of the annual Wilmington Holiday Affair, which was indeed canceled as Mom predicted. The whispers and rumors about the couple that sponsors the event of the season have already started circulating Manhattan, though no one knows why there is trouble in paradise save for immediate family—and one soon-to-be daughter-in-law.

  At least if tonight goes according to plan.

  Mom takes Alfred up on the eggnog, realizing she’ll need it tonight, then she joins Edie and me.

  “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Wilmington,” Edie says.

  “Alice, please.” She says the last word so insistently, that Edie and I glance at each other.

  “How are you, Mom?” I ask.

  A rosy hue comes to her cheeks. I honestly can’t tell if it’s embarrassment or…something else.

  “I’m as fine as can be. But tonight is about you two.” She casts a fond smile at Edie. I take the hint and drop it.

  We all help Alfie bring the food out to the table, more than any of us can ever hope to eat. Either he must have been in the kitchen since before sunrise or some of this is professionally prepared and delivered. I suspect a mix of both. We have a large turkey, a honey baked ham, sweet potatoes with a pecan crust, orange cranberry sauce, two kinds of dressing, buttery rolls, green beans, and three different pies, pecan, pumpkin, and spiced apple.

  “My, what a feast,” Mom says, casting her eyes around the table with alarm. In the world of blue blood, gluttony is almost as much a sin as gaudy decor.

  “I for one could eat it all,” Edie says, even though there isn’t an olive in sight. Lately, she’s had an obsessive craving for them, which I guess is a quirk o
f pregnancy. We have probably single-handedly kept our local pizza place in the black with how many deliveries of white pizzas with olives we’ve ordered.

  Only when the table is fully set do we hear the doorbell ring, announcing the arrival of our final guest—a full twenty minutes after the scheduled start time.

  “That must be the ex-wife,” Sergio says pursing his lips at Alfred.

  I watch my mother take a deep breath as her eyes go wide.

  Edie is the one to answer the door. “Mom, nice of you to finally make it.”

  “I’m not too terribly late am I?” Cassandra responds, feigning apology.

  “We just set the table. You’re right on time.”

  “Oh, thank God,” she says dramatically as she enters. “I would hate to think you delayed on my account.”

  An instant grin appears on my face as I get a good look at Edie’s mother. She’s in a red sequined, floor-length, long-sleeved gown and a mink shawl. Both her flaming red hair and makeup are dramatic enough for the stage, but she carries everything off perfectly.

  “Cassie,” Alfred announces, coming over to air kiss her.

  “Alfie, darling,” she gushes. “So kind of you to invite me.”

  “Cassandra, you look divine,” Sergio says. “You could be the next Miss Universe…forty years ago.”

  “And you have aged as gracefully as can be expected, Sergio.”

  They air kiss each other, which somehow feels more like two cats protracting their claws. But the smiles they give each other seem almost amused. I guess affection comes in all forms.

  When Cassandra’s eyes scan the room and land on my mother, even I hold my breath in anticipation. Edie and I weren’t tactless enough to keep it a secret that both of them would be here tonight.

  “And Alice,” she practically croons, rushing over on heels that I’m impressed with, her hands reaching out as though encountering a long-lost friend. “It’s been too long.”

  My mother is like a deer in the headlights, frozen in place as Cassandra takes both her hands then releases them in favor of a suffocating hug. Obviously, whatever infatuation she once had with Cassandra has long been eradicated by her aristocratic sensibilities. Like most of us with a colorful past, she’s no doubt rethinking her problematic choices earlier in life.

  Cassandra obviously has no such regrets.

  “Oh, look at us!” she announces with a flourish. “It’s just like the eighties all over again!”

  I honestly think Mom might faint.

  “Dinner is set. Why don’t we all sit down to enjoy it?” Edie suggests, like Superwoman flying in to save the day.

  We all silently but very strategically manage to seat ourselves so that there is as much space and as little line of direct eye-contact between the two mothers as possible. I’m seated in between my mother and Alfred at one side of the table. Edie is in between her mother and Sergio on the other side of the table.

  “Before we begin, Bryce and I would like to make an announcement,” Edie says. She beams at me diagonally from across the table before turning first to her dad and then Sergio. Both our moms are tactful enough to give nothing away, smiling secretly to themselves.

  “Bryce and I are going to have a baby!”

  There’s a one-second pause as it sinks in for the only two people in attendance who don’t yet know.

  Sergio is the first to respond, squealing something in Spanish that I doubt even native speakers could understand. He’s right next to her so he reaches out to hug her.

  “Lola, honey!” Alfred cries out from the other end of the table. He rises and scurries over to join Sergio, sandwiching Edie between the two of them. The rest of us watch with smiles and grins on our faces.

  Alfred is the first to notice. “Why are we the only ones celebrating here? The rest of you need to get your booties out of your seats and join us.”

  “They inadvertently found out already, Dad,” Edie says apologetically.

  “Inadvertently?”

  “But you’re the first to know officially,” she quickly adds. “We wanted to wait to make sure it…that this was really happening.”

  “I was of course the first to suspect something,” Cassandra says, giving the trio a knowing look. “A mother knows these things.”

  “We’re almost three months along now,” Edie says, filling in the void left by that glaringly provocative announcement.

  “Ohh!” Alfred says, fanning his hands as though he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

  “We have to start planning the baby shower,” Sergio says, popping up with excitement in his eyes.

  “It’s a bit early—”

  “And clothes,” Alfred exclaims. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

  “Bryce and I decided not to—”

  “I think these are the perfect topics to discuss over dinner,” Mom says, diplomatically forcing everyone back to their seats to give Edie a break.

  “Yes, of course,” Alfred says. “My turkey is getting cold!”

  Edie shoots her a grateful smile as they both take their seats. Once they do, I decide to make my move.

  “Before we begin, I have another announcement to make.”

  This time, everyone at the table, including Edie, looks on with surprised curiosity. I stand up and walk over to stand by her.

  Then I drop to one knee.

  Before I even have the words out, everyone else at the table is in an uproar. Surprisingly, even my mother, who cries out with joy as I pull out the box and open it to reveal the ring.

  Edie is speechless.

  “Edie, for the past three months you’ve been my partner in everything. I think we should make this new thing we’re doing official. For good. Forever. I want you to be my wife.”

  She’s still struck mute, no doubt wondering how I planned all this without her knowing.

  “This is the part where you say yes?” I urge with a grin.

  She laughs and leans down toward me. “Oh yeah, you’re definitely the one Bryce.”

  Epilogue

  TEN YEARS LATER

  “I have it all worked out, so you can’t say no.”

  “Is that so?” I reply in a diplomatic tone.

  I stare at my daughter, Alexis. Her mass of curls is scraped up into a side ponytail, which I don’t think has been a fad since before I was born. She’s in the sequined purple dress she recently got for her birthday, as though she fully expects me to cave.

  “One, it’s not as though missing one weekend will be that big a deal. I’ll still be with you all in the Hamptons the rest of the summer…doing the same things we always do.” I note how she just barely constrains the eye roll. “But this is an opportunity of a lifetime, Mommy. Grandma said she could introduce me to Gabriel Fox.”

  My mind draws a blank at first, then a vague image of a conveniently racially ambiguous teen star fills the void. Admittedly a very cute teen star.

  “How the hell does your grandmother know Gabriel Fox?” I ask, not sure I want to know. Old age has done nothing to dim Cassandra LeFleur’s light.

  “Grandma knows everyone. That’s how she’s able to go to the awards show in the first place. And she invited me, but now you’re not even letting me go.”

  Of course she did. At seventy, my mother, if anything, is even more socially active than she was when I was Alexis’ age. I make a mental note to have yet another firm talk with Mom about boundaries, which I know will fall on deaf ears.

  Alexis uses my momentary lack of response as encouragement to power on.

  “Two, I can get to the Hamptons on my own after this weekend. Three, I can even use my own allowance money for the ride, so it isn’t as though you and Daddy have to use yours…even though you could afford it?” she suggests, giving me a hopeful look.

  She has a point about the money. Ideal Media turned into a juggernaut of an idea, an online magazine with different segments focusing on men, women, eventually couples, and most recently families. It’s enticed man
y a much larger corporation to offer obscene amounts of money to purchase. But Bryce and I continue to run it as we did from the very start, now with the help of old friends and colleagues like Nicole and Smith, who are still with us to this day.

  “Oh sure, I have no problem allowing my ten-year-old daughter to—what? Take the jitney up all on her own? Heck, maybe you can even hire a helicopter!”

  She glares, obviously not amused by my sarcasm.

  “Do you want to disappoint grandma and her friend? They have a special dinner planned this weekend just for us.”

  Alice and Pierce eventually divorced a few months before Alexis was born.

  Alice waited until the tabloid noise died down before she quietly left New York to move upstate to live with her “friend” Cynthia. She got the Hamptons house in the settlement, which still has the painting of Lickety Split in the bedroom.

  Pierce Wilmington III moved on easily enough, dating and eventually marrying a woman twenty years his junior. She perfectly fits his carefully managed image. The Wilmington Holiday Affair even came back grander than ever every Christmas.

  “Okay, I’ve heard your arguments and you’re still coming with us—today. Even if we weren’t going up, there’s no way I’d let you go to an awards show like that, never mind whatever craziness grandma has planned afterward. Maybe when you’re older.”

  “Moooom!” It’s never “Mommy” but “Mom,” exaggerated in just this way, when she’s upset.

  “I’m not negotiating with a ten-year-old, Alexis. If you want to wear what you have on during the drive up, that’s fine, but you’re coming with us.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  “Yes, your life is so terrible. Living in a townhouse in the Upper West Side. Spending summers in the Hamptons. Two loving parents who aren’t reckless enough to allow their ten-year-old daughter to travel on her own.”

  “Trivializing my legitimate angst only makes me more inclined to withdraw from rational dialogue.”

  I snap my head back and stare at her with incredulity. She must have been saving this one for just the right moment. Kids these days. “And just where did you pick that one up from?”