Cinderella Screwed Me Over (30 page)

I wanted him to be mine.

Of course, there was only one way to make that happen…
Time to take a chance.

I knew he’d worked the early shift today, which meant he’d probably be home. The thought of having a serious talk of any kind made me nauseous, but I was going to do it anyway.

The entire drive home, my stomach churned. Knowing I’d chicken out if I didn’t go straight to his place, I rode the elevator to the top floor. My rapid pulse hammered in my ears as I raised my fist to knock.

When Jake opened the door, his hair was disheveled, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. A volatile mix of desire and anxiety shot through me. I wasn’t sure if I was going to jump him or throw up on him. Hopefully not both, because this conversation was going to be hard enough as it was.

“Um, am I interrupting something?” I asked.

“I’m just going through some reports for Blue, trying to figure out a few things. Would you like to come in?”

I stood there for a few seconds, trying to kick my pink, glittery pumps into motion—they seemed to be glued to the floor. “Sure,” I said, wishing this wasn’t so damn hard. I’d never been one to wish I was normal, but in this moment, I wanted to be at least functional. Not shaking like a leaf because I wanted to ask a guy to be my boyfriend.

Jake seemed slightly distracted and also looked like he’d had a long day—still hot, of course, but in a crumpled, tired way. “I was about to grab a drink. You want one?”

“I’ll just take water.”
What am I saying? I need something to calm my nerves.
“Or whatever you’re having. Anything’s fine.”

I sat down on the couch while he went to the kitchen, and I took a deep breath. Even when I was in relationships, I rarely did the big-talk thing. I usually waited until things were out of control before saying anything, and by then, it was too late anyway.

I can do this, I can do this.

“I’ll warn you that I might not be the best company tonight,” Jake said as he walked toward the couch, two glasses in his hands. “Rough day at work, and now I’m trying to figure out this new business deal. I’ve got a guy who’s supposed to call. You’ll probably be bored.”

“If I get too bored, I’ll just find a baseball game on TV and take a nap,” I teased.

At least that got a smile out of him. He handed me a glass—I took a large sip, disappointed when it was only water. Another sign that I was going crazy. I basically asked for water, he gave it to me, and here I was disappointed. When I went to set the glass on the coffee table, I noticed the papers spread across it. “What’s all this?”

“I’m trying to figure out if we should open a restaurant in Salt Lake. Vegas has been doing really well, and there’s this great space in downtown Salt Lake that has good potential.”

My heart dropped as I realized another deal meant he’d be gone again. “How long did the Vegas location take?”

“It was built from the ground up, so longer than normal. Supposed to take six months, but ended up taking eight to get it running well enough I could trust it to the management there.”

I did my best to sound calm and collected about this new information. “How long would the one in Salt Lake take?”

“The renovation wouldn’t be much. After that, there’s hiring the staff and all that. Hopefully four months. Maybe five.”

Five months?
A tight band formed around my chest, and each breath I took strained against it. Now what was I supposed to do? There was no point in pouring my heart out if he was going to be leaving.

Jake stacked the papers. “Brent and I just have to decide if it’s worth it. With me gone, he has to do more management and less cooking, which he doesn’t really like. I also need to keep tabs on Vegas. But will another opportunity like this come up? I don’t know.” He tucked the papers into a file. “Sorry, I’m sure this is all really boring to you.”

All I could concentrate on was how he was going to leave. Just like the last guy. Throbbing pain radiated out from my heart, old and new. “It’s kind of eye-opening, actually.”

“What do you mean?” His phone rang and he glanced at the display. “That’s my call.” He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and then answered.

Just when I’d accepted the fact I was in a relationship that might actually be going somewhere, he decided to go somewhere. By himself.

…

Having a breakdown in front of Jake wasn’t an option. That was why last night, while he was still on the phone, I’d gone back to my place and had a pity party involving brownies, Mountain Dew, and an overly violent action flick.

Jake had called me on his way into work this morning and insisted I let him make last night up to me. I told him there was no need—that I’d been the one who showed up unannounced. Not to mention I wasn’t sure how to deal with him anymore, knowing he was probably leaving for several months.

“Just let me take you out already,” he’d said. So I’d agreed—I did want to see him, even though things were turning out differently than I’d wanted them to. In theory, I could still keep things light, and that was the smartest move right now, with his plans up in the air.

Since he had to run documents to FedEx and I was going to be up north with Barbara, we’d decided to meet at Sparrow, this trendy, upscale restaurant Anthony and Stephanie had recommended.

I’d been sitting in the restaurant for thirty minutes by myself, getting more annoyed by the minute. The battery in my cell had died, so I couldn’t even call Jake and ask where he was. Or if he was still coming.

“It’s about time,” I said when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and saw not Jake, but my ex-boyfriend, Porter.

Not just my ex. But THE ex.

Also known as my relapse. All I could do for a moment was blink, blink, blink, sure he was a mirage.

“I thought that was you.” Porter grabbed my hand and glided me into a hug.

His signature Acqua Di Gio cologne surrounded me, his hand pressed into the small of my back, and I knew it wasn’t a mirage. I took a shaky breath, trying to recover from the shock of seeing him. “In town for a visit?”

“Actually, I just moved back. New York wasn’t for me.” He looked me up and down and then his pale green eyes lit up as he flashed me a smile. “You look amazing.”

It was impossible not to relive a dozen memories of back when we were together and he’d give me that exact same look, completely undoing me with such little effort. I swiped a piece of hair behind my ear. “Thanks. You look good, too.” As usual, his clothing was impeccable. Tonight he wore a fitted, striped button-down that probably cost more than I spent on groceries in a month.

“There you are,” Jake said, coming around the table. “Did you get my message?”

I lowered my eyebrows. “Message?”

“I called to tell you I was running late.”

“My phone’s dead.”

Jake’s eyes flicked from me, to Porter, to Porter’s hand on my waist. Porter dropped it, and there were a couple of awkward seconds before I realized it was my job to make introductions. “Oh. Um. This is Porter. Porter, Jake. Jake owns Blue.”

“The little place on Fifteenth you like to take all your clients to?” Porter asked.

“That’s the one.”

“It’s a great place,” he said to Jake, polite as ever. “I suppose I better get back to my party.” He gave me another quick hug. “It was good to see you again, Darby.”

“Don’t tell me that was another one of your ex-boyfriends,” Jake said as he pulled my chair out for me.

I was still a little irritated at him for being late, so I said, “Okay, I won’t tell you.”

Jake sat across from me. “Man, they seem to be everywhere.”

I looked at Jake, wondering how long it’d take before I was referring to him as an ex. Or if I even could refer to him as that, since we’d never used the boyfriend-girlfriend label. “You’re telling me.”

Sleeping Beauty
Case Study: Porter/Prince Phillip

My Age: 28

Prince Phillip, in my always right opinion, was the best prince. Sure, I’d be a little weirded out if a guy started singing about waiting to find his special someone in the woods, but that’s Disney for you. And at least he had good dance moves and a nice voice. Unlike several of the other princes, he had more than that as well. He was determined to marry a peasant girl instead of a princess, regardless of what his dad said, and the guy fought a dragon to get back to the girl he loved.

You’ve got to admire a guy willing to fight for what he wants.

After my almost engagement to Robert, I vowed never to fall again. I bought one of the condos that Robert had said would be too small to start a family in and dropped a large sum of money on a comfortable mattress. I came home exhausted, hit the soft bed, and slept until morning. On the weekends, I didn’t roll out of bed until noon. There was no point in getting up anyway. Steph and Anthony were in that can’t-stand-to-be-apart phase, leaving me to hang out with me, myself, and I.

At least I had my job to keep me busy.

Searching for the perfect pieces to go in Virginia Hammond’s newly remodeled living room, I popped into a furniture store in Greenwood Village. Opera music floated through the room, giving off an air of sophistication.

I stared at a mock living room with aspen tree wallpaper for a good five minutes, trying to decide if it was the fake trees or the tree-trunk side tables I hated more.

Why am I staring at this stuff? I need to find a couch to match Virginia’s room, not a woodland area.

As I turned to see what else the store had, I brushed against someone. “Sorry,” I said, looking up at the guy I’d run into. He had short, sandy-colored hair and a dimpled chin. His style was impeccable—dark suit that fit perfectly, black silk tie. His whole look screamed business and money, and he made it look good.

“What do you think about that couch?” he asked, pointing at a shiny black leather sectional.

“Looks slippery and will forever have a dead cowhide smell. If you want that whole bachelor pad look, then that’s the way to go. Why guys all love black leather, I’ll never quite know.”

“Not a fan of black leather, huh?” His deep, rich voice held a touch of humor.

“Not especially. I like a couch that I can cuddle up on without having to unstick myself every time the room gets above seventy degrees. There’s a couch over there…” I pointed to the next “room” over. “Black, still very masculine, and much more comfortable.”

He cocked his head and studied me. “You know, you look really familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

If you think that line’s going to work on me, you’re dreaming. Even if you are very attractive.
“I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure we haven’t met before?” His eyebrows lowered as he stared at me. “Where do you work?”

He sounded genuine enough that I started to think it wasn’t a line, but I would’ve remembered meeting a guy who looked like he did. “I work as an interior designer for Metamorphosis Interior Designs.”

“So you pick out furniture for other people?” One corner of his mouth twisted up. “Even if what they want smells like dead cow?”

“If that’s what they want. Then I just silently judge them while I decorate.”

He laughed, and his smile lit up his pale green eyes. “Well, I’m sick of trying to decorate my place. Maybe I should hire you.”

“Maybe you should.” I’d thrown it out there, but I hadn’t expected him to actually consider it. Something about the guy unsettled me in a hard-to-place way. It wasn’t a scary feeling, but a kind of magnetic pull that made me feel like I should run and move closer at the same time. I pulled a card out of my purse and handed it to him, more to have something to do than anything else. The way he was looking at me had my heart beating faster and faster and I couldn’t have that. I’d sworn off men.

“I better get back to work.” I shot him a quick smile, then continued my search through the store.

Two days later, Porter Montgomery called and hired me to redecorate his place.

“I figured out where I saw you,” Porter said when I showed up at his house to see what the job was going to entail. “The Building Hope dinner. At the time, you were with someone else.” He leaned against the door frame, his eyes locked on mine. “Are you still with him?”

I’d attended that dinner with Robert. The old scars from that relationship rose up, making my chest constrict. “I’m not with anyone right now.”

“So, how about you and me—”

“Let’s have a look around and get started on your place,” I said, stepping past him and into the expansive entry.

Over the course of the next few months, I redid every room in his giant four-bedroom house. He constantly flirted with me; I remained professional. After all, I didn’t believe in love or relationships anymore.

But occasionally I slipped with Porter, getting drawn into conversations with him that felt like only minutes but lasted an hour. Once it was about classic cars. Then an interesting art piece he’d gotten in Italy. He’d visited countries I’d always dreamed of going to, and he had all these pictures and stories—the way he told them made me feel like I was there. He always asked questions about my hobbies and opinions, and he really listened when I talked.

There was this crazy chemistry between us, like the air was charged every time we were in the same room. But whenever he brought up doing anything together outside of decorating, I brushed him off and got back to work.

Then he sent me flowers, with a note insisting I let him take me to dinner. I told him I didn’t date clients. He let it go after that, and I volleyed between relief and disappointment.

The job ended, we settled the account, and I went on my way.

A week later, he called and told me I had no excuse to not go out with him anymore. I caved—I couldn’t help it. I tried to keep things light, but Porter didn’t believe in light. He threw himself into whatever he did, whether it was his work, sports—he liked lacrosse—or being with me. We attended functions, dined at nice restaurants, and spent time strolling around downtown. We had a blast when we went out, and our time in was even better. If he was going to have late meetings, he’d join me for lunch at Blue so we wouldn’t have to go days without seeing each other.