Page 4 of Reluctantly Yours
“You bet.” I smile, knowing I’ve made some kind of crack in Fred’s impenetrable exterior. And because I’m on a roll, and want to assure him I have no interest in his girlfriend, I continue, “She’s the love of my life.”
“Ahh.” Frankie sighs, clutching a hand to her chest. Her nails press into her breasts, indenting the skin there.
“Good,” Fred affirms, his animosity gone. “I’m glad you’re not just tolling away in your ivory tower. That you’ve found something,someonethat is more important than business.”
“Of course not. What is life without love? I wouldn’t be the successful man I am today without it.Her, I mean. She’s great. It’s a shame that she wasn’t able to make it tonight. I would have loved for you to meet her. Both of you.” I nod to Frankie. “I think you two would get along great.”
At this point, I don’t know what is coming out of my mouth, but Fred’s newfound willingness to talk with me makes it impossible to stop.
“We totally would.” Frankie nods, even though I have given zero information about my supposed girlfriend.
Fred stares at me a moment longer than feels comfortable. His blank stare makes me think that maybe I went too far, that he knows I’m full of shit and he’s going to call me out on it. But Frankie shrieks with excitement.
“Oh my God, you guys. We should totally do a double date.” Frankie bounces next to Fred, stroking his chest with her Wolverine-like nails.
The universe must be on my side because Fred breaks into a huge grin.
“Let’s do that.” Fred nods. “A week from Saturday.”
“Sounds great,” I say with all the confidence of a man who has a girlfriend.
Apparently, I’ve found an in with Fred Hinkle. The only problem now is I have a week to find this so called ‘love of my life.’
CHAPTER2
Chloe
“You fell asleep with a book on your face again, didn’t you?” Jules, my friend and co-worker at St. Clair Press, points at the crease lines that must still be prominent on my face.
While she places her coffee order, I scrub at my cheek. I’d hoped they’d have softened by now.
We’re at the coffee shop down the street from our office building.
“Please tell me you didn’t ditch me this weekend to read manuscripts,” she says.
I smile sheepishly.
“Would you feel better if that wasn’t the only reason?” I ask.
Yes, I was reading, but most of my Saturday afternoon was spent gathering supplies for my childhood best friend’s bachelorette party. Lauren, her mom and aunt, along with her friends and co-workers will be descending on New York City Friday afternoon. The thought makes the mocha latte I just consumed swirl in my belly.
“All right, you get a pass.” Jules grabs her coffee off the counter. “How’s everything going for Lauren’s party?”
“I think I’m all set.” I shrug, following her out the door. “I’ve never thrown a bachelorette party before.”
“That’s because who gets married at twenty-five anymore? At our age, how can you commit to one dick and know you’re making the right decision?” She waves to the bustling streets around us. “I mean this city alone has a sea of dicks just waiting to be explored.”
A man walking by gives Jules a concerned look, but she walks on, oblivious.
Two years ago, Jules and I started on the same day at St. Clair Press, one of the top publishing companies in the country. She’s a marketing assistant and I’m the editorial assistant for JoAnna St. Clair, the founder and publisher of St. Clair Press. We’re completely different, but I think that’s what makes our friendship work.
“I don’t know. Love, I guess?” I wouldn’t know much about either, love or committing to one dick. In this city of apparent endless dicks—according to Jules—I’ve yet to explore even one. The last dick I encountered was in college three years ago. It seems like a lifetime. Would I even know what to do? Is it like riding a bicycle, you just remember how?
Maybe that’s why I’m nervous about this weekend. I want everything to go smoothly, as anyone throwing a party for a major milestone in their childhood best friend’s life would want, but after being in New York for two years, it feels like I should have more glamour and excitement in my life. Lauren thinks I do. That was her reason for wanting to celebrate her impending nuptials in the city that never sleeps. Little does she know, I’m usually passed out by ten o’clock. The only reason I’m up past midnight is if I can’t put down the book I’m reading.
I’ll give myself some credit. I did move to New York City on my own, without knowing anyone. I found my apartment in East Harlem. It’s a shoebox, but it’s all mine. No roommates or pesky younger siblings rummaging through my stuff and stealing my dad’s hand-me-down vintage concert t-shirts. As the oldest of five kids, I earned those.
And, out of a large and highly-qualified pool of candidates, JoAnna St. Clair selected me as her editorial assistant. So maybe the pressure of living up to her expectations has put my love life, aka dick exploration, on pause. Like Jules said, we’re only twenty-five, there’s plenty of time for that.