Lovestruck Forever (22 page)

“Well,
Miss Medina, I can call the driver now if you’d like to begin
your tour. Mr. Harper did want me to assure you that, if you’d
rather explore on your own, alternate transportation arrangements can
be easily made.”

A
small part of me might have preferred to go out on my own to explore
on the subway. One of my favorite things about my early months in
London was the sense of excitement I would get every time I emerged
from the Underground in a new place, and I had considered it a big
accomplishment when I finally figured out how to navigate the various
lines.

They’ll
be plenty of time to travel like an authentic New Yorker
,
I reminded myself. There was no way I was going to deny my parents
the chance to tour Manhattan in VIP comfort. “A tour sounds
lovely,” I told the concierge, who nodded.

“Very
good. I’ll call the driver now.” He gestured to the
lounge on the other side of the lobby. “Feel free to relax, and
I’ll come get you when he’s arrived.”

I
walked back to my parents and Sofie, still shaking my head. “We
have a car coming to take us to sight see.”

“That’s
handy,” Sofie smiled. Before I could respond, my phone rang.
Thomas. I made an apologetic face at my family and walked to a
deserted corner of the lobby before answering.

“You
have some explaining to do, mister,” I said sternly.

There
was a pause on the other end of the phone. “Too much?” he
asked, his voice sheepish.

“Are
you kidding? There was no champagne in our limo to the airport. What
kind of pathetic commoner do you take me for?”

He
was laughing before I even finished. “Sorry. I promise to do
better next time.”

I
leaned against a marble pillar, knowing my smile probably looked
ridiculous to anyone that passed. “You’re crazy, you know
that?”

“Crazy
for you, baby.”

I
snorted. “Uh huh.” I glanced over my shoulder, seeing my
parents relaxing in plush chairs, looking around the marbled lobby.
“You made my parents very happy, you know. Thank you.”

“Did
I make you happy?” he asked.

“You
make me happy every day. You don’t have to plan elaborate
surprises to make me happy.”

He
was quiet for a minute. “I know. I just…I wanted you to
have a special week with them. Things seem like they’re
changing so fast for you, with Sofie’s baby and the wedding and
the book stuff and planning for the move to London. I want this trip
to be meaningful for you. For all of you.”

I
closed my eyes, willing the tightness in my throat to relax. “I
love you. You’re way too good to me.”

“Yeah,
right. As if that was humanly possible.”

I
caught sight of Sofie waving at me from across the room—apparently
the driver had arrived. “Our ride is here,” I said,
wishing I didn’t have to go. “Will you call me before you
go to bed?”

“Of
course I will. Have fun, love.”

“I’m
sure we will. Thank you, Thomas.”

“You
don’t have to thank me.” He paused and I could hear the
laughter in his voice. “Oh, and Lizzie—there is champagne
in
this
car.”

He
hung up before I could respond. I could only laugh and go join my
family on our first tour of New York City.

I
woke up the next morning feeling sick to my stomach. Ciara had
assured me that there was nothing to worry about, that every editor
we were meeting with had shown interest in my book. “They’re
the ones who are trying to woo you, Lizzie,” she had said
firmly. “All you have to do is let them.”

Her
assurances did little to calm my nerves as I lay in bed, staring at
the ceiling and waiting for my alarm to go off. I’d woken up in
a panic an hour before, convinced that the entire thing was a sham, a
joke of some kind, and had been unable to go back to sleep. Which
meant I would now probably have dark shadows under my eyes to deal
with.

Finally,
unable to wait any longer, I slipped from my bed, careful not to wake
Sofie. She lay sprawled diagonally across her bed; her head buried
under three pillows, the blankets tangled up around her knees. I
smiled to myself as I made my way to the bathroom. She had always
slept like that, stealing all the covers every time we had a
sleepover and gradually pushing me closer and closer to the edge of
the bed.

The
shower seemed to help ease some of my worry. My head certainly felt
clearer by the time I wrapped one of the plush spa towels around my
body. It was illogical to imagine that Ciara had gone to all the
trouble to bring me out to New York if the editors we were meeting
weren’t actually interested.

Of
course, my newfound calm faltered as soon as I opened the closet. I’d
fully unpacked my bag last night, taking advantage of the room’s
ample closet and dresser space and not wanting things to be wrinkled
before the meetings. I’d planned to wear a jade green poplin
shirt dress with a full, knee-length skirt and a pair of basic black
pumps, but now it seemed hopelessly boring. Or was it too
unprofessional? Should I be wearing a suit instead? Or something more
boho chic to give the impression that I was creative?

“Lizzie?”
Sofie called groggily from her bed. “Did I miss the alarm?”

“Nah,
I got up early. Go back to sleep.”

“Yeah,
right,” she muttered, throwing her legs over the side of the
bed. “Now that it senses I’m awake, the jerky baby will
give me approximately thirty seconds before it demands that I pee.”

After
she finished in the bathroom, she joined me at the closet. “Let
me guess—you’re stressing about your outfit?”

I
admitted that I was and she listened while I outlined my doubts, her
arms crossed seriously. “I think your green dress is nice,”
she finally told me. “But if it doesn’t inspire your
confidence, it isn’t going to do you much good. How do you want
to feel today?”

I
thought about that. “Confident. Sophisticated.
Professional—less green and amateur than I really am.”

She
nodded. “We can do that.”

Sofie
spent the next ten minutes pulling clothes from the closet and mixing
and matching before she was finally satisfied. “Okay, this is
my skirt, but I think it will fit you.” She made a face at me.
“Though your hips are much smaller—you might need a
belt.”

I
rolled my eyes. “My hips are so not smaller than yours.”

“Whatever.”
Her expression turned sad. “They will be soon, that’s for
damn sure. I’m getting gigantic.”

I
slung an arm around her shoulder. “I think you look great. You
have that pregnant lady glow.”

She
made a big show of rolling her eyes as she ducked out from under my
arm. “Try that on. We still need to do your hair and makeup and
running late will only make you more nervous.”

The
outfit she had picked for me was a knee-length black pencil skirt and
the white linen button-up that I had brought in case I decided on my
suit. Unlike my somewhat shapeless suit, the shirt and skirt combo
hugged my curves. She insisted I unbutton the first two buttons, just
enough to show my collarbones. It was a simple look, so much that I
worried it was too boring. “What do you think?” Sofie
asked, appraising me. “I think you look great—really
sophisticated and clean. How do you feel though?”

I
looked at myself in the mirror. The skirt had a high waist, cutting
me off right at the narrowest part of my waist. “I feel
skinny,” I said, laughing a little. “And you know how
rare that is for any girl in our family.” I squinted at myself
a little. “Do you think it’s too simple?”

Sofie
shook her head. “We’ll add some boho jewelry to liven it
up. And maybe let your hair run a little wild.” She winked at
me. “That should add some personality.”

I
decided to trust her. “I put myself into your hands.”

As
the clock inched forward, I once again found myself grateful that
Thomas had rearranged my travel plans. Sofie, an expert at dealing
with curls like mine, carefully dried my hair with a defuser, somehow
making it look soft and frizz-free while maintaining the curls, a
trick I had never quite mastered. She was much better at applying
makeup, too. I usually stuck with a little concealer, mascara, and
lip gloss, not really liking the overly made-up look. But Sofie
carefully applied eye-makeup, bronzer, and lipstick. When she was
finished, I marveled that she had somehow managed to make it look
like I was barely wearing anything—yet I still looked a hundred
times better than normal.

“What
do you think?” she asked once she was finished. She had lent me
a long silver necklace of oddly shaped fragile chain links, deciding
the boho look would be too much, and had left my hair soft and free
around my face.

“Perfect,”
I told her. “This is just how I want to look today.” I
turned to wrap my arms around her. “Thank you, Sofie. God, I’m
so glad you’re here with me!”

She
squeezed me back. “It’s the least I can do, considering
how much you guys are helping me.”

Our
hug was interrupted by a knock on the door. “I bet that’s
your mom coming to check on you,” Sofie said. “You get
it. I still have my pajamas on.”

I
ran to the door, throwing it open with a smile, eager to see my mom.
Instead, I was smiling at a bellhop, whose face was almost completely
obscured by a giant bouquet of roses. “Miss Medina?” he
asked.

“Yes,
that’s me,” I squeaked, totally taken aback by the
massive arrangement.

The
man held the flowers out to me. “These are for you.”

I
took the cut-glass vase. It had to hold at least three-dozen roses.
Belatedly, I realized that I should tip the guy. “Hang on,”
I said, looking for a surface big enough to hold the flowers. “Let
me grab my purse—”

“It’s
taken care of, Miss Medina. You have a good day.”

Before
I could argue, he was turning to go, leaving me in the doorway
holding the flowers.

“Holy
crap,” Sofie said, coming out of the bathroom in her sundress.
“Where did those come from?”

I
set the vase down on the table between our beds. “I’m
guessing Thomas,” I told her, searching through the flowers for
the card. I found a small piece of card stock and pulled it free.
I
have every confidence that you’ll do amazingly well,
it
read
. I’ll be
thinking of you all day. Good luck, love. Thomas.

“Aw,”
Sofie said, reading over my shoulder. “That’s sweet.”

I
ran my fingers over the letters, feeling better than I had since I
woke up. If I was honest with myself, part of my nerves could be
attributed to the fact that Thomas wasn’t here with me. I
immediately realized that he would have anticipated that fact—that
he had gone to these great lengths to get my family here just to
lessen my nerves. These flowers, this reminder that he was thinking
about me, that he knew how important this day was for me, made me
feel so much better about things.

“Crap,
is that the time?” Sofie cried, looking at the alarm clock now
mostly hidden behind flowers. “We’re supposed to be
meeting your parents downstairs for breakfast.”

She
ran back to the bathroom to finish getting ready, and I sank onto the
bed, the smell of roses thick in the air. I pulled out my phone and
immediately started tapping out a text.

Thank
you so much for the flowers and for this entire trip,
I wrote.
I wish you
were here but now it feels almost as if you are.

I
waited for his response, but my phone remained silent.
He
must be shooting
, I
thought, slipping my phone into my purse. I ran my fingers over his
words one more time, trying to take strength and courage from them. I
could do this.

By
the time we got down to the restaurant, my nerves were coming back.
My parents were waiting for us at a table for four, and both stood to
hug me when we approached. “You look lovely, Lizzie,” my
mother said, squeezing me tight. “Oh, I’m so proud of
you.”

“Thanks,
Mama.” I hugged her back. “I’m so nervous my knees
are shaking!”

She
released me so that my dad could hug me as well. “You’ll
do just fine. Nothing to be nervous about.”

“You
should have seen the bouquet Thomas had sent,” Sofie said as we
all took our seats. “I think he bought the entire flower shop.”

“Our
whole room smells like roses,” I confirmed, trying to dredge up
the feeling of peace I had experienced while reading Thomas’s
note. I stared down at the menu, wondering how I was going to manage
to eat.

Sofie,
on the other hand, had no problem with her appetite. She had finally
left the morning sickness of the first few months behind and seemed
eager to eat everything she could get her hands on, ordering French
toast, eggs, and bacon. When I failed to do much more than pick at my
muffin, she ended up finishing that as well.

“You
should eat more,” my mom said, frowning at me. “You’ll
need your energy.”

“I’m
fine,” I assured her. There was just no way that I was going to
be able to take another bite with my stomach currently doing
backflips.

Seemingly
content to keep my mind off things, my family spent most of breakfast
discussing their plans for the day. Thomas had arranged a harbor tour
before lunch, and secured tickets to both Ellis Island and the World
Trade Center memorial. I wished I could join them—at that
moment, their plans seemed much more preferable than my scary
meetings.

When
it was finally time for me to leave to meet Ciara, I stood on shaking
legs. My dad paid the bill so they could all walk me out to the
lobby. “Good luck, chica!” Sofie said, hugging me.
“You’re going to be fine.” She held me by the
shoulders, giving me a stern look. “Don’t play with your
hair, you’ll make it frizz.”