by G. , Whitney
The variations of his last name—Gines, Gains, Giannis, were adjusted sufficiently enough to maintain his ruse and keep his lies protected.
If he were any other boyfriend, I would immediately call Penelope and tell her what I’d found. I would say, “We need to talk about your boyfriend. You’ll need to break up with him tonight.”
But in this case, I needed to take a different approach because I wanted her to do more than break up with him.
I wanted her to break up with him, for me.
Pouring myself a shot of scotch, I contemplated how I should handle this. I pulled out one of my stationery sheets and clicked my pen.
Wait. What the hell am I doing?
I picked up my phone and scrolled down to her name. Then I finally opened the series of text messages I’d avoided for the past several days.
Penelope: Hey. Not sure if my images with the dresses came through or not? Which one should I wear? (Can you answer my other messages as well? I would appreciate your help.)
Penelope: I see you giving an interview on TV. You looked at your phone when I texted you. Why aren’t you answering me?!!
Penelope: Okay, let’s pretend like you’ve had a string of bad weeks, and you’ll tell me about it later. *Fresh slate?* *Okay, great* I’m thinking about sleeping with Simon after your gala since things have been heating up. Let me know what you think about my dirty texts/lingerie. [.img.] [.img]
Fuck this shit.
I clicked on her name hit call.
It rang once. It rang twice.
“Please leave your message at the sound of the beep.” Her voicemail sounded instead.
Beep!
“Penelope, I know that it’s three o’clock in the morning, but I need to get this off my chest.” I let out a breath. “I can’t give you any more advice on landing Simon, can’t tell you another sexy thing that you should do, or suggest a new set of filthy words that you should text him late at night.”
I paused. “As your best friend, I’ve reached my limit, and I can honestly say that he doesn’t deserve you. I’m not saying all of this because I’m fucking jealous, or because he had the audacity to say that he makes more money than me. By the way, I still can’t find his name on the Forbes 500 list, and I know damn well that he's renting that Ferrari, but that’s a story for a different day.”
“He’s not who you think he is,” I said. “And the better man has always been right in front of you ... ”
“You have every reason to never give me a chance since you know me better than anyone, and you agree with all the tabloids calling me The Cocky King of New York and the Untamed Playboy of Manhattan. But I honestly believe that you’re better off with someone else, and I need you to see.”
“I'm not asking for too much, I just want you to—”
“Hello?” Simon picked up the call before I could save it. “Hello?”
What the fuck? “I was calling to talk to Penelope.”
“I’m sure you were,” he said. “She’s sleeping with me right now, though.”
“In that case, I’m sure she’s disappointed,” I said. “Give her the phone.”
“She’s sleeping, Hayden.” He hissed. “She’s also my girlfriend—like I told you before, and three o’clock in the morning isn’t an appropriate time for you to call.”
“I’m not going to ask you to give her the phone again.”
“Your name in her phone is now ‘Currently Being an Asshole’ so I don’t think you two are on that good of terms. She said you haven’t called or texted her in weeks. Why’s that?”
“That’s none of your fucking business.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Well, since you didn’t catch my drift when I stopped by your office, allow me to reiterate: You’re just her friend, not her boyfriend. Fall the fuck back.”
He hung up in my face, and I didn’t bother calling back.
I’d rather handle this in person anyway.
Twenty-Six
Present Day
Penelope
In years past, Hayden called me at six o’clock the night before his gala. He’d tell me that he was outside my place and ready to drive me away so I could have a sneak peek of the party’s theme before anyone else.
The first few themes were relatively simple—Old Hollywood, A Night Under the Stars, and A Fairytale Escape. But as the years progressed, he came up with more complex themes that never failed to leave me impressed.
Since it was one of the highlights of my year, I was holding out hope that he would set aside whatever was bothering him and still follow through.
I eyed the clock on Friday night, watching as the minute hand ticked past one, then two.
My heart dropped once it made it to fifteen.
I refreshed my phone’s screen to see if maybe—just maybe, he was running late.
Nothing.
No new messages or emails. No mysteriously missed calls.
He was still avoiding me.
Fuck him.
The following night, I stared at my reflection in the living room mirror. Since Hayden never bothered to help me pick a dress, I settled on a one-shouldered mauve gown that cinched at my waist and flowed to the floor. The thigh-high split on the right side of it revealed a pair of sparkling Cinderella-styled stilettos.
“Wow.” Tatiana stepped into the room wearing pajamas, a bowl of ice cream in hand. “I thought Simon was picking you up at eight-thirty.”
“Nine-thirty,” I said. “His flight from Florida is running late. Why aren’t you dressed?”
“Because it’s raining. I don’t want to get my gown wet.”
“The gala is inside, Tatiana.”
“Is it?” She smiled. “Well, hold on. Allow me to think of another excuse for why I don’t want to spend my night around a bunch of rich people who think they’re better than everyone.” She tapped the spoon against her bottom lip. “Oh, nooo. I’m suddenly feeling sick.”
“You’re so full of shit.” I laughed. “Thanks for the advance notice that you’re not going.”
“You’re more than welcome.” She picked up my purse and brought it over to me. “Let me know how the sex is afterwards. I want to know every explicit detail, down to how long each kiss is.”
“I’ll tell you if there’s sex.”
“There’d better be.” She scoffed. “You’ve been dating him for what feels like forever at this point.”
“I know.” I made sure that condoms were still tucked into my purse.
As if on cue, the doorbell sounded.
“Farewell, Cinderella.” Tatiana plopped down on the couch, and I walked over to the door.
When I opened it, I couldn’t help but smile at Simon. He was dressed in an immaculate black tuxedo and holding two long stem red roses.
“Whoa.” He looked me over for several seconds, struggling to say a word. Instead, he clasped my hand and held it up, motioning for me to twirl around.
“You look absolutely stunning,” he said. “I may have to watch my back tonight, since I think all attention will be on you and this dress.”
I blushed. “Thanks for the compliment. Are you seeing more than one woman or something?”
“What?” He furrowed his brow. “What makes you ask that?”
“There are two giant roses in your hand, but only one me.”
“Oh, never that.” He kissed my lips. “One is for your roommate. Isn’t she coming with us?”
“No, she just caught the instant ‘I don’t feel like it’ flu and she’s a terrible person.”
“I heard that!” Tatiana shouted from inside.
“You can have both then.” He laughed and let up an umbrella. “Ready?”
“More than ever.”
He pressed his hand against the small of my back, walking me down to his Ferrari.
For some reason, the interior looked a bit different from yesterday. Gone were the customizations, and there was a strange bar code stamped onto the dashboard.
“Th
e dealer gave me a loaner car since mine wasn’t detailed as well as I wanted it to be,” Simon must’ve noticed my expression. “Hope you won’t mind riding around in this one for a while.”
“Not at all.” I buckled my seat belt, and he shut the door.
As he walked around to the driver’s side, my phone sounded with a ringtone I hadn’t heard in forever.
A text message from Hayden.
Currently Being an Asshole: Call me before you leave my gala. We need to talk.
That was it.
No, “I’m sorry for being an ass and ignoring you.” No, “I’ve been a bad best friend lately,” not even a “Please forgive me.”
I turned off my notifications and looked over at Simon as he cranked the engine. I didn’t want to think about Hayden for the rest of the night, and I wasn’t calling him for shit.
“Tell me about your latest trip to Florida, Simon …”
Twenty-Seven
PRESENT DAY
Penelope
The flashing lights from the cameras nearly blinded us as we stepped out of the car.
As always, a lush red carpet lay underneath a covered awning that stretched from the valet lane to the gala’s tree-lined entrance.
“Welcome to Hayden Hunter’s Annual Children’s Charity Gala,” a tuxedoed host greeted us at the door. “Name and affiliation, please.”
“Simon Gaines.” Simon squeezed my hand. “I’m one of the multimillion dollar donors.”
“’Are you sure?” He shook his head. “You’re not on the list, sir. Could it be listed under your company’s name, instead?”
“The Simon G. Fund, perhaps.” Simon shot me a confused look.
“It’s not under that one either, I’m afraid.”
“Try Penelope Carter,” I said, and the host’s eyes met mine.
“You already know that you’re on all of Mr. Hunter’s lists, Miss Carter,” He smiled and lifted the velvet rope. “You and your date can follow the silver signs to the V.I.P. section.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s weird,” Simon whispered. “I personally delivered my donation check to Hayden.”
When was this? “He probably forgot to tell Sarah to add you,” I said. “That, or she wrote it down too fast and couldn’t read her own handwriting. That happens a lot with her.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
We made our way through the mirrored hallways, and my jaw dropped to the floor once we set foot in the ballroom.
Thousands of twinkling white lights hung from the glass ceiling, perfectly arranged to frame the ice skating rink design on the floor.
The words for tonight’s theme—Dreams are Forever, were etched onto the champagne glasses that sat atop passing waiters’ trays.
“This is phenomenal,” Simon looked as in awe as I did. “Did you give any input on this?”
“No.” I noticed a walkway of ice sculptures in the form of skaters’ poses. “Hayden didn’t tell me anything.”
“There are snowflakes falling over the dance floor.” He pointed out. “Well, glitter maybe.”
“Allow me to grab us something stronger from one of the bars.” He kissed my cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
I barely noticed him leaving.
I stepped onto the “rink,” pressing the front of my heel on top of a snowflake that was trapped under the glass.
I squinted at the tiny words that were frozen onto the ridges, but I couldn’t quite read the whole phrase.
Still unmatched at twenty-seven?
“There he is!” “That’s him over there!” “Get his picture, would you?” A chorus of voices from behind made me look up.
At the center of the floor, Hayden posed for a picture with Lawrence.
Dressed in a custom black suit and diamond cufflinks that put every other man in this room to shame, he instantly became the center of attention.
Flashing his perfect smile, he performed his staged laugh for the press as Lawrence gave him the usual signal.
He made brief eye contact with the photogs while they snapped thousands of pictures, and then he looked over at me.
Blinking a few times, his lips parted as he slowly looked over my dress. His gaze roamed my body up and down, and my body betrayed me with a reaction.
With every second that passed, my heart raced a brand-new rhythm—picking up speed each time his eyes returned to mine.
I tried my best to turn away from him—to focus on something else in this stunning room, but he was the best thing in it.
Looking me over one more time, he posed for a final picture before walking my way.
“Good evening, Penelope,” he said. “It’s good to see you here.”
“Is it?” I snapped out of my haze, refusing to forgive or forget his past few weeks of assholery. “Given how you’ve treated me lately, I’m shocked you even want me here.”
“Of course, I want you.” He lowered his voice. “I think I’ve made that somewhat clear. Did you get my text?”
“Yes, I got it.” I shrugged. “I’m planning to text you back a few weeks from now since that seems to be the timeline we’re going with these days. Right?”
“You tell me.” He narrowed his eyes. “You started it when you got a boyfriend.”
“If you had a girlfriend, I’m sure it’d be the same.”
“I guarantee that it wouldn’t.”
We stood still glaring at each other, ignoring the sounds of clicking cameras around us.
“Hey there, Hayden.” Simon stepped between us with drinks, deflating some of the tension. “This is the most beautiful gala theme that I’ve ever seen. I can tell that you’re a true artist and planner.”
“Yes,” Hayden said. “I think it’s some of my best work since it’s personal. Thank you very much for the compliment, Simeon.”
I didn’t bother correcting his name this time. I took the drinks from Simon’s hands and downed them both.
“Well, okay, then.” Simon looped his arm in mine. “Allow me to help you dance that off, shall we?”
“Yeah.” I glared at Hayden. “I think getting away from here is a great idea.”
Hayden clenched his jaw, but he didn’t say a word. His gaze lingered on me long after we walked away, and I felt his eyes following me across the room.
Simon held me close for several songs on the dance floor, whispering words into my ear that I could only halfway hear. I was too busy thinking about Hayden to pay attention, too busy wishing that he wasn’t so fucking sexy.
Focus on Simon, Penelope. Focus on Simon.
“You’re being awfully quiet tonight.” He kissed the shell of my ear. “Are you having a good time?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to come over my place after we leave?”
“Absolutely.” I looked up as I said those words, catching Hayden staring at us from afar.
His eyes were focused on my hands, so I threaded my fingers through Simon’s hair. Then I trailed them down to his neck.
Hayden’s face reddened, and I finally looked away from him.
“You want to try a few things from the inspiration bar?” I said to Simon. “That’s always the best part of this event.”
“I’d love to.” He let go of my waist and clasped my hand, leading me over to the side of the room that was partitioned by the twenty-foot ice sculptures.
He took his time making us a plate of appetizers, but before we could taste them, the CEO of Tinder—Tim Lassing, stepped in front of us.
“Well, look who it is.” He smiled. “Hayden Hunter’s partner in crime. You look stunning as always, Penelope.”
I didn’t bother saying, “Thank you.”
“Are you ever going to admit what he did to me, or are you going to forever cling to his bullshit lies?” he asked.
“Could you like, not?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m shocked Hayden even put you on the guest list.”
“Me too.” He smiled. “But he knows how to throw a damn
good party and you’re always around, so I’ll never turn down the chance to get to you. Is this suited guy next to you your date?”
“Simon Gaines.” Simon extended his hand to him. “Nice to meet you.”
Tim didn’t shake it. Instead, he patted Simon’s shoulder.
“You’re wasting your time on this one,” he said. “Get out while you can before the coincidences start piling up.” He snatched one of the strawberries off our plate and walked away.
“I don’t even want to know what the hell he was talking about.” Simon laughed.
“He does that all the time.” I shook my head, suddenly needing a breather more than ever. “Can you give me a few minutes? I need to run to the restroom.”
“Take your time.”
I walked away and headed upstairs to the bathroom that few guests knew existed.
I needed to be alone.
“Mints, spritz, or napkins, Miss?” The attendant smiled at me once I pushed the door open.
“Water, please.”
“As you wish, Miss. What type of—”
“We need to talk.” Hayden was suddenly behind me. “Now.”
“I’m not in the mood to talk to you.”
“I didn’t ask if you were.” He stepped around me. “Can you leave us alone for a few minutes, Martha?”
The attendant nodded and left the room.
Hayden walked over to the sink, but I remained still against the wall that was closest to the door.
I waited for him to come clean, to throw himself at my mercy, and apologize for being an utter jerk these past few weeks, but he didn’t look remorseful in the slightest.
“For the record,” he said, his eyes meeting mine, “you’re fucking beautiful.”
“Thanks. You’re fucking avoiding me.”
“I vividly remember speaking to you a little over an hour ago.”
“You know what I mean.” My chest ached. “Call me before you leave the gala? That’s the only text you’ve sent me for the past couple of weeks, Hayden.”
