Just as she was about to let loose on her sister, she saw Josh’s picture hanging on the wall.
She owed Sue so much.
And even thought Deborah was unmarried, she had so much in her life because of her son. He had been the blessing in disguise that filled her life. A child that her sister would never have.
Deborah took a deep breath and then counted off on her fingers. “My pay is twice that of other assistants. My end of the year bonus check is fantastic. I get eight weeks off a year when Mr. Ellington vacations—and that doesn't include the holidays. And, Josh was awarded the Ellington–Weston scholarship—which is only granted to employees and their families. Since it’s a four–year scholarship, I know I'm not going anywhere for at least that long.”
Sue let out a deep breath. “How is my favorite nephew doing?”
A beam of pride crossed Deborah's face. Finally, a topic she could dive into. “He loved his first semester. He received all As on his report card.”
“I miss him, Didi. Do you think he'll be around for spring break?”
Deborah relaxed more into the plush couch, thankful for the top change. “Maybe. This summer he'll work at Ellington–Weston again, which is nice. I think having interned there the last two summers helped him get into Texas Tech. Big universities like hard work and student diversity.”
Sue sipped her wine. “Now that you're an empty–nester, and don't have to worry about raising a kid on your own, you should start dating again. Hell, maybe try marriage for once. You might like it.”
Deborah shuddered as the discussion once again focused on what was wrong with her life. Her job was always the first target, and then her lack of a man. Why did her sister always want her to be dating someone? She should have realized dinner came with a side order of a life lecture. This was exactly why she only saw her sister every two months or so.
“My friend Caroline wants to set me up with someone. Since Josh is out of the house… perhaps I'll consider it,” Deborah said, lying to appease Sue.
“You should.” Sue waved her hand through the air. “You're beautiful, just like your sister. You work out every day and have a fantastic body that most twenty–year–olds would be jealous of. Your hairstyle is outdated, but…”
Deborah gently touched her long hair, which was collected in a ponytail. “I might take Caroline up on the offer. I don't know.”
Sue grabbed the wine bottle and filled up her glass again.
How many drinks did that make it?
Too many.
Sue held the wine up and gestured for her sister to take it, but Deborah shook her head. She needed to drive home tonight, and let’s face it, not everybody could be the family lush.
“Your friend won't find anyone more suited to you than your boss,” Sue said. “You're with the man every day anyway. You take care of his office, you take care of his home… you should totally take care of him in his bedroom.”
Wine made her sister bold, and forgetful. “You know exactly why I can never date Mr. Ellington.”
Sue made a dismissive sound from the back of her throat. “You should have been dating the last twenty years. You let your twenties and thirties slip away.”
“My twenties and thirties were spent raising my son.” She leaned in, ready to count all the non-children that filled her sister’s home.
Sue's finger shot up. “One mistake. You have punished yourself for years over one tiny mistake. To make things worse, you've surrounded yourself with reminders of it.”
Deborah's jaw tightened as the shame of that fateful night once again flooded her thoughts. “Josh was not a mistake.”
“No. The mistake would be his father.”
7
The evening wasn't going well, and the other couples in the semi–private Mas Rafs’s dining room stared at Daniel's table.
He hated this type of attention.
One too many questions, had been asked. He had not realizing that, “Where do you see us in five years?” would lead to such a heated argument—especially when he had said he didn't see them getting married.
He squirmed in his seat once more. He wasn’t sure why he had stirred the conversation down this route on Valentine’s Day, of all days, but he couldn’t take back what he had said. “Brandelynn, please keep your voice down.”
The look she gave him could have been a death ray pointed to his head.
“Here’s another reason…” she said, her voice prattling off the fourth reason why the two of them should get hitched.
Should. Not want to. Not need to. Not wish to. But should. He wondered if she could hear what she was saying and if it sounded as crazy to her as it did to him.
Daniel stole a glance at the two other couples in the room. The man from table one had proposed to his girlfriend a good twenty minutes ago. The screams of delight, the resilient ‘yes’ that had come immediately afterward…it killed the moods at the other two tables.
As the newly engaged couple remained ecstatic and cooed with delight, the man at the second table seemed nervous. Since Brandelynn currently rattled off the fifth reason why they should also be getting married, Daniel could understand the way the man at table two felt.
Clink, clink
The man at the second table tapped his wine glass with his knife.
All eyes darted toward him. It got Brandelynn to be quiet for a minute. That was until the man held up a ring, knelt, and proposed.
Fuck.
The air in the room felt stifling.
Everyone cheered again for the second time. The wait staff held plastered smiles on their faces as they whispered and glanced toward Daniel as if three was the magic number tonight.
Double fuck.
There wasn’t going to be a hat-trick, especially since, not even five minutes ago for the whole room to hear, Brandelynn had called Daniel a selfish bastard. The crowd needed to read the room.
Daniel once again held up his wine glass, nodded to the second happy couple and said, “Congratulations.” The two men now had happy fiancées, but Daniel wasn't going to cave.
“Everyone is getting married, except us. Brandelynn’s body stiffened and she eyed him like prey.
“You’re a shallow miser.” Brandelynn launched into the sixth reason the two of them should be married, her piercing voice cold and calculating, her face pinching into an evil witch-like appearance.
Daniel jaw tightened. He had always treated her well, treated her with respect, and treated her to many high-priced demands. As for being a miser, he had set up a college scholarship program for Ellington-Weston employees and their families. It was at his mother's request, but he had still done it. At this point, Brandelynn either really didn't know him, or she was just making shit up.
That's when he noticed that something was missing from her little tirade. How could she get to reason number six and not mention the word love?
He stared into her cold eyes and his body shuddered like it had been hit by a blow from Jack Frost himself.
No ‘I love you’, ‘I can’t live without you’, or even ‘I need you in my life’. Nothing from the heart, only cold statistics of how long they’ve been dating and how most men propose by this time to their girlfriends.
Daniel knew in his heart that Brandelynn didn't love him. He was a meal ticket.
The beautiful green dress she wore, he had bought it. The diamond necklace around her neck, he had bought it. Even her breasts…. Well, you could argue that they were a gift to him. But, still. He had paid the bill.
In the candlelit room, he could make out the shine of the new highlights in her hair. Just like the way the dim light reflected off her new tennis bracelet.
She now pointed her finger at him to yell about reason number seven, and he held up his hand to stop her. He hadn’t gotten to this point in life because he feared peer pressure. This was, or should be, a simple business transaction with two opposing parties.
“I'm not going to ask you to marry me because you're yelling at
me to do so.”
It was like he’d ignited a fuse.
He took a deep breath and sweat began beading on his forehead. Everyone stared in their direction. One held up a camera phone, but wasn't aiming it their way—not yet.
“Please lower your voice and listen.” He leaned and half way covered his face to keep their conversation private. “We're not even dating exclusively, and you want to get married? We've only been together six months.”
“Seven months.”
Like that was a world of difference.
Had it really been seven months?
“And what do you mean, ‘we’re not even dating exclusively’?” Her crazy eyes zeroed in on him. “Are you dating someone else?”
He barely had time to date her, let alone another demanding woman. “We never discussed moving our relationship forward like that.”
Her jaw locked and she crossed her arms in front of her. “I'm not going to wait around for you to decide if you want to marry me. Other men keep asking me out, and even if you weren't exclusive in this relationship, I always have been.”
“I’m not dating anyone else.” What was the point in trying to prove that to her when she was angry like this?
Her gaze softened, and she reached across the table to stroke his arm. His fingertips danced along the sleeve of his suit, and she played coy. “Things are going so well between us. I think that if we got married, we could spend more time together.”
Her emotional roller coaster was a bit too bi-polar for him. And still, no mention of love.
Emptiness engulfed him—not because he wanted her, not because he needed her, not because he loved her—but because what he had suspected all along was true. She didn't love him past his wallet.
Even though it was Valentine's Day, it was time to let her go.
“I can't marry you, Brandelynn.” The words slipped out, but they conveyed exactly the way he felt.
Her sweet, angelic, plastic face turned wild. Her body stiffened even more.
“Why can't you marry me?”
He thought for a second what to say that would somehow magically end this horrid evening. The idea of saying, “Because I don't love you,” came to mind. Knowing Brandelynn, she would argue her way out of that one and say that he didn't recognize he was in love with her. As if a man wouldn't know they were in love with someone.
“Because I'm already engaged," he blurted out.
Where the hell had that come from? The conversation with Scott and Ravi this morning must have really gotten under his skin.
Based on the look she gave him, he was thankful it was time for dessert, and the heavier knives had already been collected from the table.
“Who is she?”
He shook his head. “No one you know.”
“Liar.”
A flash of light caught his attention. He glared in the direction of the camera only to see that the waiter took a picture of the couple at table number two. Daniel took a deep breath, but his neck prickled, and the hairs on his nape stood on end. He didn't want to make a public display and have a front–page story featuring this breakup.
No crisis. No drama. No hassles.
“I'm not lying.”
Brandelynn stared at him, her reddened face twisting her mouth into a scowl. “What's her name?”
“D…Didi… Didi Offutt.” Where the hell had Didi come from? It was the first thing that’d popped into his mind.
“Didi? What is she? Twelve?” Her eyes narrowed at him as if she could tell the tale was a lie.
“For the last seven months, you've only ever been seen out with me. All those dinners at fancy restaurants, all those boring nights at the fucking opera, all those nights with you in bed… There hasn't been anyone else.” She leaned in. “We fuck four nights a week, and always at your place. When do you even have time to see someone else, old man?”
Daniel twisted his napkin into a mess under the table. How dare she call him an “old man?”
“She's an heiress from Austria and has only recently come to town.” He bit his lip once the words had escaped. Why an heiress? Why from frickin’ Austria? This wasn’t the Sound of Music.
“And you decided to marry her the second her plane landed?”
Why couldn't he just be a jerk and have Ms. Baxter break off his relationship with Brandelynn? His past women always got a parting gift, and it spared Daniel from seeing the women's tears when Ms. Baxter took care of the dirty work.
He was so bad at break ups.
But this engagement lie was a ticket out of another problem, and he was done cowing to Brandelynn and her ridiculous demands.
“My car will take you home. I'll take a cab.” He stood and walked out of the semi–private dining room, feeling accomplished at his well thought out lie. What could possibly go wrong with it?
8
Deborah weaved her way through the crowded atrium in the Ellington–Weston building and got past security. More people wandered around the lobby today, which prickled the hairs on the back of her neck.
She heard reporters talking with their camera crew and could make out the names of local newstations on their huge cameras. Something was up this early in the morning.
Some anger bubbled up within her. The merger wouldn't be complete for another week, so that couldn't be it. It had to be that list. Are people that eager to disrupt the lives of others that they need something as frivolous as a top 10 man hunt list to preoccupy them?
Then, a glimmer of anxiety struck her. Maybe there had been an accident? There were certainly enough reporters here to cover anything. She scanned the lobby, trying to make out anything of interest but found nothing amiss. Figuring there would be police tape blocking her way if any danger existed, she pressed the elevator button and waited for the lift.
“Ma'am? Do you work for Ellington–Weston?”
Deborah caught a glimpse of a woman standing at the security section, trying to get her attention.
The reporter leaned on the gate and held up a microphone to get it as close to Deborah as possible. “I only need a moment of your time. I’d like to talk to you about Chicago’s most elegible bachelor…”
Deborah couldn't put up with this for too much longer. She shook her head and turned away from the woman, not wanting to hear any more. Her phone had rung off the hook yesterday and all the reporters had wanted was a minute of her time.
One minute here, one minute there. Didn't people understand that she was busy? She had a job. She was a mother. If she gave everyone a moment of her time, she wouldn't have a minute in the day to use the bathroom.
She didn't even have time to drop off a package for Josh at the post office this morning.
“Do you work for Ellington–Weston?” The reporter held the mic higher and asked again as Deborah waited for the elevator. “We want to ask you questions about Daniel Ellington.”
Deborah stared at the woman.
“How is Daniel Ellington feeling about this new development?” the reporter asked.
Daniel?
Deborah's heart raced as she dug her phone from her purse and turned her back to the reporter once again. Could something bad have happened?
No messages. She had listed herself as “Emergency Contact” in his address book. If something dire had happened, she surely would have been told.
Her gaze darted to the displays above each of the elevators. Why was it taking so long for one of them to come down?
The short elevator ride felt endless, letting off passengers one-by-one until Deborah finally stood alone. She took a deep breath once the bell dinged and the doors opened on her floor.
She was expecting to see a chaotic mess, but several people slowly milled about the area doing their regular routine, suggesting that nothing was wrong. Deborah took a deep breath, feeling a little relieved. Her security card swayed on a cord around her neck as she dashed past her co–workers and approached her office.
Once in, she tossed her coat on the chair next to
her desk and took a seat. She logged in, and her computer came to life.
She first checked her email account. Nothing alarming jumped out at her so she scanned the company's SLACK and Skype feeds. She quickly studied the information, but the chatter appeared to be all business–related.
“Okay,” she said to herself. “Just calm down. Everything seems in order.”
The lack of anything out of the ordinary was a puzzle considering the zoo downstairs.
She opened her Tweet Dock account, which monitored the company's social profile and also any mention of Daniel Ellington.
The screen showed a column of notifications, messages, and activity, with the latter refreshing every few seconds. Messages streamed past, faster than she had ever seen them move before.
A weight plummeted in her stomach, nearly taking her to the floor as well. The trending hashtags of #offthemarket and #engaged were plastered on her computer screen next to the column monitoring Daniel's name.
She clicked a link and an online magazine called Buzz News popped up filled with ads, videos, and a barrage of color. Finally, she noticed Daniel’s name. It was announcing his engagement.
Her heart felt heavy, and she could hardly breathe.
Deborah scanned the article, desperate for any signs that this was a joke. There was no picture of the betrothed, but the article held fast to its announcement.
Had Daniel asked his latest young girl–of–a–date to be his wife?
She glared at the calendar and counted back the time. Her eyes widened when she realized the two had been dating for seven months. Had they really been together that long?
Shit.
Deborah’s stomach twisted, and a wave of nausea hit her. She’d known this day may come, especially since he was turning fifty soon. Daniel was one of the most eligible bachelors around. There really was no reason to feel queasy.
But she did. She felt very odd.
Deborah took some deep breaths. His fiancée, the woman Deborah had figured would be a flash in the pan, must be extraordinary to have landed such a fine man as Daniel.
Bachelor Heart Page 5
