“Does this new plan include finally growing a pair and talking to Julian? I’m not sure how many more bouquets of roses we can fit into the apartment before the city zoning committee tries to evict us for running a floral shop out of a residence. Or are you planning on ignoring him forever?”
“I’m not ignoring him,” I answer calmly. “I just have absolutely nothing to say to him. Eventually, he’ll move on. He’ll go back to being August Laurent, screwing whatever rich socialite calls him that month, and forget I even exist.”
She considers my words for a moment, then sits on the spare chair. “But will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Move on? Forget about him?”
“Yes. I have a plan.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course you do. And what does that entail?”
Flipping my new and improved planner open to the correct page, I push it toward her, keeping a protective stare on her the entire time to ensure she doesn’t do something crazy.
“What is this?”
“New requirements for a potential partner.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“No. Goals are important. Of course, I set the bar a little lower than I did when I first did this in high school. I’m thirty. Most women are twenty-seven when they marry, and the men are twenty-nine. So I can’t be as selective as I was twelve years ago. Ideally attractive, a decent job—”
“I can read,” she shoots back. “It’s all here on your list.”
“And not a secret escort.”
“Well…” She closes my planner and pushes it toward me. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. I didn’t take that into consideration last time and look where it got me.”
Chloe glares, her lips pinched together as she leans toward me. “Did you ever stop to put yourself in his shoes? Try to figure out why he did what he did?”
I open my mouth, shaking my head. “What are you—”
“Julian!” She slams her hands on the desk, her eyes fierce. “Have you considered what he’s gone through during this pity party you’ve thrown for yourself these past few weeks?”
“I know why he did it. So he could have his cake and eat it, too.” I look away from her heated stare, crossing my arms over my chest.
“You know that’s not the case. You said yourself he claimed to have stopped taking clients the beginning of June. When you met. The first time. Before you ever agreed to be his fake girlfriend.”
“Who knows how true that is?” I mutter under my breath.
She brushes off my comment. “If he told you who he was back then, would you have given him a shot?”
“No.” I chew on my fingernails when I notice a word spelled wrong on my itinerary for January second. My hands itch to reach out and grab my planner to fix it, but I have a feeling Chloe would toss it into the incinerator if I did that.
“Then maybe that’s why he did what he did. Because he knew lying to you was the only chance he had to get to know you. Trust me, as much as I was initially skeptical of the whole arrangement, that man has always had eyes for only you. I saw it that first weekend when the photos of Julian Gage’s mystery woman started appearing online. The way he looked at you… Well, it’s a way all women yearn to be admired, revered, worshiped. There’s no question in my mind he worships the ground you walk on. That he would do anything for you.” A smile lights up her face. “I’ve never seen you as happy as I have when you were with Julian. Trevor certainly never made you that happy.”
“At least Trevor never lied to me. He didn’t have a secret escort business he never told me about. Remember this…”
I open one of my desk drawers, shifting through the contents until I find the list I’d scratched out after Julian called to take me to dinner all those months ago. On one side are Trevor’s pros and cons. On the other are Julian’s. I haven’t updated this list since that day. I could probably add many more cons to Trevor’s side and dozens of pros in Julian’s. But there’s one con that outweighs everything else. The con he played on me.
I shove the list at Chloe. “Trevor’s a much better choice than some man I’m not sure I ever knew.”
“On paper, maybe, but I recently read this dating advice column where the author said that love is fickle and makes no sense. That just because someone has all the traits you deem important, it doesn’t mean you love them. That only the heart decides that. Sound familiar?”
I lower my eyes, pulling my lips between my teeth. “Maybe.”
“So tell me…” Chloe places her hand on my arm. I lift my head. “What does your heart say about Julian?”
“That none of it was real,” I answer in a quiet voice, my throat pained.
“I think it was as real for him as it was for you.”
I shake my head, refusing to believe it. “This entire thing taught me that life is better when you stick to your plan. Trevor was my plan. I should never have let a pair of beautiful blue eyes and a smooth-talking mouth stray me from that. Not only do I have to live with the knowledge I messed up, but I also destroyed any chance I had at making Trevor realize he made a mistake.”
Chloe glares at me before sighing and standing. “He came to see me.”
“Who? Trevor?”
“No. Julian.” She pulls on her jacket, securing it with a belt. “When you refused to talk to him, he reached out to me. You know what he told me?”
I remain silent.
“That even if you never speak to him again, he doesn’t regret what he did, not when you gave him the greatest gift imaginable.”
“Guaranteed sex?” I quip back sarcastically, but it’s missing my usual bite.
“No. He said you taught him how to love.” She pauses, allowing her words to linger. “But I think he gave you an even greater gift.”
“And what’s that?” I ask hesitantly.
“He taught you how to live. If he had to lie to get you to stray from this picture-perfect life you imagined for yourself, from constantly making lists of pros and cons of every decision, from micromanaging everything, I’m grateful he did so. And I think if you looked hard enough, you’ll realize you feel the same way.”
Chapter Forty
I lounge on the couch in Chloe’s living room, glaring at the envelope Viv gave me earlier while It’s a Wonderful Life plays on the television in the background. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best movie choice, considering I’m currently going through my own internal crisis. I wish I had a guardian angel who could come down and show me what my life would look like had I never met Julian Gage. Would it help matters any?
Always a glutton for punishment, I grab the envelope off the coffee table and lift the flap. I’m most likely going to regret looking at this. Then again, I did just wish for a guardian angel. Maybe that’s Viv. Unexpected and impractical, but so was Buster Poindexter as the Ghost of Christmas Past in Scrooged.
My stomach tenses as I pull out the magazine and flip it over. When I stare into a pair of familiar blue eyes, my throat tightens. I haven’t seen Julian since Sonia’s funeral, and even then, I kept my distance, disappearing before the end of the service so he couldn’t approach me. At one point, whenever I peered into these eyes, I saw a man willing to take a risk and love me. Now all I see are his lies.
As Jimmy Stewart begs Clarence to take him back to the life he’d wanted to end, I thumb to the page Viv marked with a sticky note, landing on the featured article — August Laurent: Unrobed. The initial two-page spread is a combination of photos of him along with the text of the article I’d poured everything into the past several months.
I peel the note off and read it.
E,
I made a few adjustments to the final draft you submitted. Mr. Laurent requested additional information be included to give the reader greater insight into why he does what he does. This piece will still run, regardless of what decision you make, but I hope I won’t have to change the byline. The ball’s in your court.
- Viv
I shift my eyes to the caption beneath the title, running my fingers over the glossy page.
By: Guinevere Fitzgerald, Assistant Editor
Contributor: Chloe Davenport, Columnist