Sweetened With a Kiss (2 page)

“Oh, please. You’d have to care first.”

“Hey, I do care. I just don’t understand what the problem is. You’ve been in love with him since you were what? Twelve?”

She shrugged. She didn’t know exactly when. She’d just never not been in love with Stefan. She took a deep breath and said the words out loud, more to remind herself than anything else. “He’s not in love with me, Jared.”

Jared laughed then. “You wear that black dress for him, then get back to me on that.”

“I wish you were right. I really do. But I gave up on that a long time ago. He thinks I’m still a kid he needs to protect.”

“Screw Madlyn Robicheaux,” Jared exploded suddenly. “You can’t believe a word that bitch says.”

“You don’t even know her.”

“I know who she is. My brother clerked for her grandfather and that old man is a real piece of work. I know you think she was trying to help you that night, Jen. But she has never helped anyone but herself.”

“That’s not true,” Jen said, wondering why she was defending Stefan’s ex. But then, all Madlyn had done six months ago with her careful and oh so gentle remarks was confirm what Jen already knew. But hearing the words out loud was a lot more humiliating than just thinking them. If she had not had pastry school as an excuse to leave, she would have just found something else. Maybe it still wasn’t too late to go backpacking in Tibet.

“Three words,” Jared had said, interrupting her crazy thoughts. “Wear the dress. I promise you, he’ll notice that you’re all grown up.”

“Right,” Jen had said, shaking her head in disgust. She could see Stefan’s face as he tried to choke back laughter if she showed up in that skimpy black dress and too high heels. There was no way she was setting herself up for that kind of humiliation. Been there, done that, screw the T-shirt.

“It’s that or Vegas with me, babe. Take your pick.”

Jen turned the screen off again, unable to concentrate on the business plan any longer. She catnapped until the captain announced their flight was going to be late. Jen groaned. If this flight was late, she would miss the connection in Atlanta. She really didn’t want to have to stay in Atlanta any longer than necessary. She really dreaded seeing Stefan again, but she also really wanted to get home.

Not only was the flight late, customs was jammed. She thought she would never get out of the crush of people. By the time she made it to a ticket counter, her head was killing her and she wanted a shower. She got lucky and there was a later flight to New Orleans, which gave her time to text Martin all her new flight information, and then find pain killers and a double-shot caramel latte.

Her new seat was not in first class. Even worse, it was next to a young couple with three small children. None of the kids were impressed with their car seats and by their red faces and snotty noses, Jen could tell they had been crying for a while. She slid into her seat which gave her a perfect view of the exhausted couple as they tried to calm the furious toddlers. The mother caught Jen’s eye and gave her an apologetic smile.

Jen smiled back. “I don’t blame them. I feel the same way.”

The mom laughed gratefully and Jen spent the rest of the flight trying to ignore the ache building inside her. Such a sweet family. She watched the young mother drop her forehead to her husband’s shoulder and he kissed the top of her head.  The ache turned into something hot and jagged deep in Jen’s chest.  She wanted that, complete with screaming kids. Until six months ago, she’d believed it was all about to start for her. A family. A family with the man she’d loved all her life. She’d been a silly little fool. She wouldn’t be again.

Stefan’s second limo ride of the day was almost as bad as the first. The only answer he could get out of Alex Volikov was that his legal team was reviewing the contracts. Stefan was searching his contacts for Senator Warren’s number when Trent let down the privacy screen between the front and back seat.

“She missed her flight,” Trent said.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Martin says she caught a later flight but it will be another two hours before she lands.”

Stefan just shook his head. Just when he thought the day couldn’t get any worse.

“We can wait for her in short-term parking.”

“Fine,” he snapped, then sighed. Trent had worked for his family for nearly twenty-five years. There was no need to take it out on him. “Sorry, Trent. Stop somewhere and get yourself some coffee first.”

“You want anything?”

Oh, yeah, he wanted something. He had a list of things he wanted. One of them was the last six months back. He hadn’t been thinking straight since Jen left. He’d had no idea not having her around would affect him so much. Completely unprepared to actually miss her, he’d found himself thinking about her in the middle of the day, wondering what she was doing in the most romantic city in the world with the tattooed freak. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d let her go with Jared Marshall to Paris.

Not that he’d had a lot of choice. They’d been sitting in the middle of the Lizard Room in Bayona, one of the most romantic restaurants in New Orleans when she’d dropped her little bomb shell on him.

“Pastry school?” he’d repeated, sure he hadn’t heard her correctly.

She’d nodded, her smile bright but not quite meeting her eyes - warm caramel eyes that looked everywhere but at him. She’d been so lovely that night. She’d had on a wispy little sundress that clasped at her neck leaving her long, slim arms bare. Her skin had glowed in the candlelight. She’d pulled her hair up and twisted it in an elaborate knot, but tendrils had escaped and brushed against all that tan skin, and he’d been so focused on keeping his hands from brushing one stray hair behind her ear that he’d almost missed what she said.

“Paris?”

“Yes, it’s in Paris. But it’s only for six months and Elliot says...”

“Six months?” He’d started to feel like a parrot. “You’re going to Paris for six months?”

She’d brushed the hair behind her ear and reached for her water glass. “We’ve already found an apartment and everything.”

“We?” he’d asked, sitting back in his seat, his gut clenching because he already knew who the ‘we’ was.

“Jared’s been accepted too. We applied last year, Stefan. And I really want to go.”

And she did. He could see this was important to her. More important than marrying him apparently. He’d brought her here tonight so they could set a date for the wedding. He’d thought Christmas would be perfect, but now she wouldn’t be home for Christmas. Jen loved Christmas. He couldn’t believe she wanted to spend it on the other side of the world.

Then she’d completely blindsided him when she’d carefully held out her engagement ring.

“I need time to think,” she’d said, setting the ring on the table in front of him when he wouldn’t take it from her.

“Put your ring back on,” he’d said quietly, or at least he thought that was what he’d said. He wasn’t honestly sure since the rational part of his brain had shut down.

“Six months will fly by. You’ll see. And we can email and, well, I don’t want anything to happen to the ring. Please, Stefan, I’m afraid I’ll lose it.”

He’d reached out, taken the ring, and dropped it in his pocket, his eyes never leaving her face. She was looking down on her plate, pushing the fish around. She hadn’t eaten any of it.

“Six months,” he’d said.

She’d nodded and, before he knew it, she was on a plane to Paris with that tattooed freak. She’d sent emails, of course, telling him all about the school, the classes, and how amazing Paris was. Nothing personal. Nothing about wedding plans. Nothing that gave any indication what she was really thinking. Nothing to indicate that her world was as upside as his. He’d known Jen her whole life and for the first time, he had no idea what she was thinking. He hadn’t liked that at all. So his responses to the emails were probably not as nice as they should have been and eventually, she’d stopped sending them. He hadn’t heard from her in nearly four weeks.

Not even at Christmas. It was the first Christmas she hadn’t spent with his family in over ten years. Lizzie had gotten home from school and spent her whole vacation sulking.

“How can it be Christmas without Christmas cookies?”

He’d just shrugged. He didn’t like cookies. So what did he know.

“This is all your fault, and you can forget about a tree.”

For years he’d ragged his little sister and Jen when they made ornaments every year. With Lizzie boycotting Christmas, his mother had hired a professional to decorate the lake house. Stefan had taken one look at that elegant, glittering tree and known deep down in his gut that in a shabby little apartment in Paris there was a shabby little tree covered in popcorn, gingerbread, and construction paper. It had gutted him.

His cell phone rang as Trent pulled into short-term parking.  Six phone calls later and Volikov’s legal team was still reviewing the paperwork. Frustrated, he canceled the dinner reservations on his way into the airport, because there was no way they would make it in time.

“I can hold your table,” Elliot assured him.

“No, we’ll see you tomorrow night,” Stefan said, side-stepping a woman pushing a buggy loaded with suitcases.

He sent Lizzie a text and told her to hold off on the party. He got a text right back telling him he was no fun. He checked his watch then sent Jen a text to tell her where he was. His phone rang and he tried to put out another fire.

I’ll meet you in baggage claim.

Jen sagged back in her seat
,
watching the exhausted family leave before standing up to grab her bag out of the overhead. Why couldn’t Martin have sent Trent to pick her up?

There was no way she could meet Stefan looking like a hot, sweaty mess, so she ducked into the first ladies room she saw. She splashed water on her face and refused to admit her pulse rate had increased. She dug through her purse until she found her make-up bag. After a little lipstick, eyeliner, and mascara, she was satisfied that she didn’t look like a love sick zombie. She brushed out her hair until it fell in its usual straight curtain of nondescript brown, then pulled it high on the back of her head, clipping it with a barrette. She smoothed down the black knit dress she wore with black leggings and a battered pair of black Converse. She frowned at her favorite shoes. They’d been great for the last six months but now they were kind of disgusting.

She unzipped the overnight bag she’d packed and shifted the contents around until she found the only shoes in her bag. She groaned. She had not packed her four inch black Manolos, but here they were. Thanks, Jared! He’d apparently wanted to make sure she had them for the dress and black stockings she also found carefully wadded up in her bag. He was going to die for this. Slowly.

“I’d switch them,” a lady said, stepping up beside her to check her hair and fix her lipstick. “The shoes. I’d definitely wear the heels.”

Jen smiled. Whatever. She quickly leaned against the sink and switched shoes, telling herself it had nothing to do with Stefan. She didn’t care what Stefan thought, she reminded herself. Not anymore. He wouldn’t notice the shoes.

She took a very deep breath, closed her eyes and held it. She exhaled, then faced herself in the mirror. The extra height the shoes gave her shored up her confidence. She’d almost be able to meet him eye to eye. Almost. If she didn’t pass out and fall at his feet because her heart exploded out of her chest.

Okay, she was ready.

Absolutely ready.

She forced herself out of the ladies room and into the concourse. The shoes weren’t too bad. The last time she’d worn them, she’d been more than a little tipsy on champagne. Now sober, she found she could walk in them just fine. No big deal.

Just like seeing Stefan after six months. Because she was over him. She’d decided. O.V.E.R.

She was not marrying him. The engagement was over. She had her own life and things she wanted to do that did not include being Mrs. Stefan Sellers.

She faltered a little. Mrs. Stefan Sellers. She’d written that on so many notebooks over the years that it was second nature. Everyone had always just assumed it was a foregone conclusion and, well, up until six months ago, she’d just never ever considered being anything else.