Cinderella Screwed Me Over (18 page)

Don’t do it. Hope only leads to depression.

But it was already giving me that warm, light feeling. Steph was right. I didn’t want to miss the puppy-love phase.

I wanted to dive in and enjoy it.

Patricia charged into my office, dousing all the happy vibes with her stern expression. “Did you and Nadine land that account yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Then where’s the contract? I don’t have it yet.”

I was pretty sure Nadine had it, but not 100 percent sure, so this was one of those lose-lose moments, where no matter what I said, it made me look like I didn’t know what was going on. “I’ll get right on it.”

She stared at me for long enough that it became uncomfortable, then sighed in that I-work-with-idiots way. I had a feeling that this was going to be a long day.

…

I shifted my bag of groceries to the other hand and dug through my purse to get my ringing phone. I glanced at the display.
Jake.

“You just wanted to tell me what?” Jake said when I answered.

“Huh?” I asked.

“Your message. It cut out.”

I readjusted my groceries and my cell phone slipped from my shoulder and clattered to the floor. Instead of dropping everything, I set my groceries in front of my door and picked my phone back up, relieved to see my case and screen were still intact. “Jake?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry, I dropped my phone. Anyway, I guess I owe you a story. What are you doing tonight?” Work was extra crappy today, and I wanted nothing more than to kick back with Jake and forget about everything else for a while.

“Things are crazy here at Blue, so I’ll be working even later than usual.”

I wasn’t sure if he was brushing me off. “Okay. Well, good luck with that.”

A loud banging noise came across the line, accompanied by yelling. Someone next to Jake wasn’t happy with whatever was going on. “Another problem just came up. I’ve gotta go.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later, then.” I hung up and frowned at my groceries. It seemed like I’d made a big deal about a relationship that wasn’t even happening. My heart sank. Had I read him wrong? He did sound busy, and maybe that was all it was. I was just taking it harder because of the stress at work—that had to be it.

Stupid hope. I knew it’d bite me in the butt if I let it slip in.

I unlocked my door and picked up my bag. I wouldn’t let myself start analyzing or stare at the phone, waiting for him to call. I’d invited him to hang out, and he’d declined.

Ball’s in his court now.

…

First thing Wednesday morning, Nadine and I headed to Barbara Covington’s house to start our new project. Nadine pulled her car up in front of the wrought-iron gate and glanced at the house. “Whoa.”

“Whoa is right,” I said. “So that’s what fifteen thousand square feet looks like. I think living all by yourself in a house that big would just accentuate the lonely.”

“No kidding.” Nadine rolled down her window and announced that we were here to see Ms. Covington. A moment later, the gate swung open and Nadine drove through. “I’ve been chatting with a nice guy online, and I think we might meet up this weekend. I’m telling you, the Help From Cupid site is really good. You’d be surprised by how many good-looking eligible men you find.”

She’d wanted me to join this online dating site with her a few months ago. The last guy she had met had been close to a perfect match, but after a couple of months things fizzled, so she was trying again. Which always led to her wanting me to try again, too. “Come on,” she said, pulling her car up to the house. “When’s the last time you went on a date that wasn’t awful?”

“Sunday, actually.”

Nadine whipped her head toward me. “You’re dating someone? Dish.”

“I’m not really dating him. It’s Jake.”

“I knew it! I knew there was something going on between you two.”

I leaned back in my seat and sighed. “I’m not sure if anything’s going on between us anymore. I’m…I’m not sure what we’re doing.” He hadn’t called, and I was starting to think our whatever was already over. Which sucked, not only because I now felt the need to avoid Blue, but also because I really had enjoyed spending time with him.

Moving on.
“Let’s go see what we’ve got to work with.”

Ms. Covington ushered Nadine and me inside. The place looked like no one lived there, the walls and floors completely bare. Still, the bare bones were beautiful: vaulted ceilings, a staircase that twisted up to the top floor, and giant windows facing the mountains.

“I just told them to get rid of all of it,” Barbara said as she gave us the tour. “Let him deal with that stuffy old furniture. I know this little place we should go for lunch, and then I’ll swing you by my friend’s house and show you some of the things she’s done that I love.”

We followed Barbara to her three-car garage and got into her BMW 7-series. The entire drive, Barbara talked. About redecorating; about starting over; about how her husband was already looking for a new, younger model. “You see, in my first marriage, I was a fool for the man. He had no money, but I thought our love would be enough. When our daughter was two, I found out he’d been unfaithful. After that, I knew I needed a way to support myself and my daughter…”

And on she went about her other husbands all through lunch, and all while we toured her friend’s place. She hadn’t loved husband number two, but he was wealthy; three she’d had lukewarm feelings for—he was even wealthier; and number four was a fairy-tale beginning, including being flown to other countries.

By the time I’d heard all about her many men, I felt like I never wanted to deal with one again. If I was pessimistic, Barbara was the eternal pessimist. Yet she managed to find optimism in her pessimism. Her philosophy seemed to be: “If life hands you husbands who don’t work out, make millionaire-ade.”

At the end of the day, as Nadine and I drove away from Barbara’s, I said, “Take it back.”

Nadine furrowed her brow. “Take what back?”

“That I’m anything like Barbara. That’s not my philosophy on love. It’s so depressing.”

“Your philosophy is pretty depressing, too. At least she makes money off it.”

“You’re jumping on the gold-digger idea now?”

Nadine laughed. “No. I don’t really think she’s as happy and chipper as she claims. She just talks like that to make it seem like she’s in control. No one wants to feel like they don’t have power.” She pulled onto the freeway. “It’s like those people who claim they’re anti-marriage because they really want to get married, but no one’s asked them.”

I groaned. “This is getting worse and worse.”

“I’m not talking about you,” Nadine said. “You had your chance to get married and you turned it down. Twice.”

“Not twice.”

“I bet he would’ve asked if you would’ve—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I let out a long breath. “All those stories Barbara told, that’s why I don’t want to get married. I’m wondering if she had them all fooled. They all thought she loved them, but she just loved their money.”

“Now we get to love their money, too. This project’s going to be hard, but we’ll be getting fat commissions.”

My phone rang. I dug it out and looked at the display. It was Jake
.

I’d wanted to talk to him so badly for three days, but after spending the afternoon with Barbara, I was grouchy and back to feeling like relationships were all crap.
If I talk to him right now, there’s a good chance I’ll screw up everything.

Not willing to risk it, I sent the call to voice mail. Nadine’s comment about my missed chances at marriage dug at me, my heart squeezing as I thought about how I’d let hope seep in, only to be crushed again.

No hope was sad, but having it was dangerous. I suppose the real question was would I be better or worse off in the end?

Chapter Sixteen

As I drove back to Barbara’s house on Thursday morning, I stuck in my earpiece and called Jake. All he’d said in his message last night was, “Give me a call,” so I decided to follow his instructions and see what happened.

“What time should I pick you up for dinner?”

I glanced at my phone to make sure I’d called Jake—yep. “I think you’re confused. This is Darby.”

“I know who it is. So what time works for you?”

“You just sounded like you’d already made plans, and I thought you must not realize it was me.”

“I did already make plans,” Jake said. “All you have to do is say yes.”

I found myself smiling, the stirrings of butterflies low in my stomach. “I’m free anytime after six.”

“Six thirty it is.”

Several hours later, I was thinking I’d never survive the day, much less make it to six thirty.
Of all the days I could’ve chosen to break in my new gray heels, why’d it have to be today?

We were already on our sixth furniture store, and Nadine and I could hardly keep up with Barbara. The woman could win a gold medal in shopping. When she’d temporarily run out of things to say about her husbands, she’d asked Nadine and me about our love lives. When neither of us had much to say on the subject, she pursed her lips and studied us. “Hmm. Two pretty, smart girls who have never been married? I was on my second marriage by your age. I’ll tell you what’s wrong—you’re too intimidating to men. Do you rent or own?”

“Own,” Nadine said.

“I own, too,” I said.

Barbara frowned. For some reason it felt like we were getting scolded for being independent and good at our jobs. “Guys want a girl they can take care of. I read this book about it between numbers two and three…” Barbara went on to talk about what guys wanted in a domestic partner. Apparently, just because I wore a dress and heels sometimes didn’t make me feminine enough. I needed to act more desperate. To show a guy how much I needed him.

If I had to act needy and helpless to keep a guy, then I’d rather not have one. Nadine, on the other hand, was soaking it all in. In fact, while Barbara asked the salesman a question, Nadine got out her phone and made notes on all the books Barbara had suggested.

I peeked over her shoulder as she put the information into her phone. “You’re not seriously going to read those, are you?”

Nadine shrugged. “What’s the harm in seeing what they say? I don’t want to settle for anyone, and I’m not into marrying only for money, but I would like to get married. I’ve only got so long before my opportune time for having babies runs out. I’ve always wanted kids.”

After seeing what having kids could do to a relationship, I didn’t know why anyone had more than one.

“Did you two see this sofa?” Barbara said. “It’s simply hideous!”

My aching feet protested at the thought of walking around again. Money does talk, though—louder than feet—so I forced myself to shake it off and go see the hideous couch.

And it
was
hideous. The diamond-and-square, brown-and-orange print made me feel like I was having a seizure.

“Suddenly antique is taking on a horrible meaning.” Barbara looped her elbow through mine. “I know a place just up the street. Let’s go check it out.”

Some clients looked at a few samples and told you to do whatever; others wanted to be involved. Barbara wanted to oversee
everything
. Already, she was getting involved not only with the decorating, but also our personal lives.

“I’m having this function next weekend and you two must come,” Barbara said as we charged up the sidewalk. “You might have to settle for an older gentleman, but they have money and they will spoil you rotten. Of course if you want younger, some of my exes have handsome sons…”

As she rattled on and on, I felt myself growing more and more cynical.

…

Jake hadn’t specified a location, so I’d thrown on a black-sequined top and a pair of dark dressy jeans. Four- to five-inch heels were what I wore most days and I’d never had a problem before. But after all day shopping with Barbara, the thought of having to walk again—in heels of any kind—exhausted me. So I went with my black ballet flats.

I dropped onto my couch and watched TV until there was a knock on the door.

After checking it was Jake, I opened the door and leaned against the frame. “Hey, you’re not planning on going dancing or anything crazy like that, are you?”

“I’m open,” Jake said. “Why? Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere we won’t have to walk much. I wore new shoes today and my client could outshop anyone. I’m exhausted.”

“I just got groceries. I’ll whip us up something to eat and we’ll stay in.”

“I don’t want you to have to go to all that trouble,” I said. “It’s not like I can’t walk. I just don’t want to be on my feet all night.”

“It’s no trouble. In fact, it’ll be nice. I’ve been going all day.” Jake extended his hand. “You ready?”

Jake and I made the short journey up to his place. Admittedly, his living in my same building was a perk tonight.

He opened the fridge and stared inside. “How does lemon-pepper chicken sound?”

“Sounds amazing.” I leaned back against the island counter as he pulled out the ingredients. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just keep me company.” Within a few minutes, the lemony scent of the grilling chicken filled the air, making my mouth water. Jake washed his hands then turned to me. “So, about the guy in the elevator the other night…?”

“I practically forgot about that.” I wondered how Karl’s eye was shaping up. Probably more yellow than purple. “It seems like ages ago.”

“I was worried that’s why you were avoiding me.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you, I swear. Everything’s been crazy lately.” I put more of my weight on the counter and crossed my ankles. I told him about ending up in the wrong bar, and as I gave the recap of the pool game gone wrong, the muscles along Jake’s jaw tensed.

“What happened to the other guy?” he asked. “At least tell me they threw him out.”

“I think they were regulars, because the bouncer picked them over us.”

Jake shook his head. “I would’ve taken his head off for something like that.” The protective way he said it made my heart skip a couple of beats.