Save the Date, page 14
“Jesus, Meredith, can we please stop talking about her? It’s over. Let’s move on,” I tell my sister, sounding like the irritated older brother I am.
“Gladly. I just can’t help but throw in the ‘I told you so’. It’s the know-it-all sister inside of me,” Meredith says with a little smile.
I ignore her, checking my phone for any texts. None from Caroline today. Like at all. I sent her a good morning text earlier, but she didn’t reply. I sent her another one before I left for my parents’ house, and still no response.
Strange.
Our father suddenly strides into the room, stopping in front of the couch where we’re both seated. “Alex. It’s imperative that you go to Paris right away.”
I blink up at him, surprised by his belligerent tone. “I plan on going to Paris in less than three weeks.” We just discussed this trip only a few days ago. And now I don’t have to go with Tiffany, thank God. Her not accompanying me probably saved me thousands of dollars.
“You need to go over there now. This week. Another company is trying to make an offer on our building, and we can’t let it get away.” He already thinks the building belongs to us, which is typical for my father. Once he makes a decision, it’s done in his mind. And he’s a man who doesn’t like to lose.
Neither do I.
I’m weary, though, just thinking of rearranging my schedule so I can leave for Paris earlier than planned. Kelsey is going to have a fit when I tell her this, not that she’d ever let me know her true feelings. She’s the epitome of professionalism.
“Can’t this all be discussed over the phone? Or via video conference?” Modern technology is a beautiful thing, and we need to use it in situations like this.
“No, that won’t work. You need to be there, in person. We’re still only in negotiations, and the other corporation is trying to swoop in and steal our deal by offering them more money.” He runs his hand through his hair, appearing genuinely stressed out. And he’s not one to let stress get to him. His confidence is what’s gotten him—and the Wilder Corporation—so far. “We have to prove to them we’re the better company. I want that building. It’ll be the jewel in the Wilder Corporation’s crown, the beginning of our growth in Europe.”
We have no foothold in Europe. We’re in negotiations for this particular building and already scouting London to find a location there. Italy is next, then Spain. We have a five-year European plan. And he’ll be pissed if we screw it up with the first planned purchase.
Exhaling loudly, I realize there’s no point in me arguing. Looks like I’m going to Paris in a few days. “When do you want me to leave?”
“I’d say tomorrow, but I know that’s impossible, what with your busy schedule.” His expression is grim. “Wednesday at the latest.”
That is barely enough time for me to get my shit together. “Can we bump it to Thursday?”
“If you leave Thursday, you won’t even land in Paris until Friday, and by then it could be too late.” He shakes his head. “Wednesday has to work. Leaving Tuesday night would be even better.”
“I’ll have my assistant look into flights, and I’ll have her start working on pushing out my schedule.” I start texting Kelsey, promising I’ll pay her overtime for working on Sunday night.
“Take the private jet,” he offers. We use it sparingly—we try our best to be a green company—but we purchased the jet years ago, and when it’s needed, it comes in handy, I can’t deny it.
“No one else is using it?” I’m surprised.
“Your brother-in-law tried to use it yesterday to come home, but I told him no.”
“Daddy!” Meredith is clearly outraged. I wonder if Kevin even mentioned he tried to use it to come home. “You should’ve let him.”
“It’s too expensive for a less than an hour trip. Your husband can stay where he’s at.” His voice is firm.
I can practically feel the anger shimmering off Meredith as she sits beside me. But our father doesn’t even notice, which is typical. His focus is now redirected at me. “You know, it’s a damn shame you broke off that engagement of yours.”
I glance up at him, mouth open in surprise. “What are you saying? That you liked Tiffany?”
He grunts. “I didn’t like her at all.” Hey thanks, for the vote of confidence in my choices, Dad. “But you being engaged looks good to the Descheauxs. They have strong family values.”
“We do too, so I’m sure that won’t be a problem. We are, after all, a family-run business,” I remind him.
“So are they. And you appeared solid in their eyes, what with your recent engagement. They even mentioned it to me, during one of our discussions. Now that the engagement is off, you might appear…unstable.”
Meredith snorts, thankful his attention is off her, no doubt. At my father’s irritated glare, she presses her fingers against her mouth. “This isn’t funny, Meredith. We could be in serious trouble,” he tells her.
With a sigh Meredith rises to her feet. “I need to go check on the children.” With that, she’s gone. I’m glad. This is a discussion I don’t want to have in front of my sister.
“Remaining with that woman would’ve made me completely unstable, so it’s a good thing we split,” I explain. “She would’ve ruined me. She could’ve ruined the business’s image, at the very least. Having her out of my life isn’t a bad thing, I promise.”
“Oh, I understand, and I completely agree with your assessment. It’s just that…we need a quick fix to maintain your shining prince image. Perhaps you need a pretend fiancée to accompany you to Paris and meet the Descheaux family.”
“A pretend fiancée? Are you serious?” Has he been sitting in his office, plotting this idea to present to me? Most likely.
I seriously can’t believe he would suggest such a thing.
He doesn’t so much as blink when he says, “Yes. I’m serious.”
“What do you want me to do, hire out my assistant? Have her take on the role of loving fiancée?”
The hopeful expression on his face cannot be denied. “Do you think she’d do it for the right price?”
“What the hell? Are you insane?” I rise to my feet, throw my hands up in the air, then start pacing the room. “I’m not bringing Kelsey to Paris so we can pretend we’re engaged to impress these people. That’s—insane.” Something out of a movie. One of those ridiculous romantic comedies my sister always used to torture me with when we were kids and she’d get control of the TV remote.
Hell, I don’t even watch TV anymore. Or go to the movies. I don’t have time.
“It’s just a little white lie, only for a few days while you entertain the Descheauxs and convince them the Wilder Corporation is the right company to carry on their legacy.”
“You should go to Paris.” I pause in my pacing and jab my finger at him. “Take Mother. Show them what a family man you are.”
“I can’t go. Too much going on here. Plus, they want to meet the future of the Wilder Corporation, and that’s you.” He exhales loudly, and I know this is bothering him, the possible loss of this deal. He wouldn’t make such an outrageous suggestion if he weren’t worried. He will do whatever it takes to win something, even if that means forcing me to find a fake fiancée?
Apparently so.
“Think about asking your assistant to accompany you. We’d pay her top dollar. She’d be the perfect candidate. Discreet. Professional. And she’s an attractive woman, Alex. You would make an excellent looking couple.”
I say nothing. It’s like I lost my capability to speak, and my father has lost his damn mind. There is no way I’m asking Kelsey to come with me to Paris and pretend to be my fiancée. There’s absolutely no way—
An idea flashes in my brain, too crazy to contemplate.
Or is it?
I could ask…
Caroline.
Would she be interested? A free trip to Paris would be alluring to anyone, but she’s also a working woman. She’d have to ask for days off in little more than forty-eight hours’ time. Could she do it?
The real question is, does she want to do it?
There’s only one way for me to find out.
Twenty-One
Caroline
I’ve successfully avoided Alex all day long. Every text he sends me, I don’t respond. Toward the late afternoon, though, his texts suddenly became more frequent.
And somehow more frantic.
PLEASE, Caroline, I need to talk to you. Call me as soon as you receive this text.
I don’t.
So he calls me, but I don’t answer. He leaves voicemails—two of them!—but I don’t listen. I’m too scared. He’ll convince me everything’s all right, I have nothing to worry about it, and I’ll end up seeing him again.
Which means I’m bound to see Tiffany again soon. Something I don’t want to risk.
“Why does your phone keep blowing up?” Stella asks.
We’re hanging out in our tiny living room, watching Game of Thrones. At least, I’m trying my best to watch GoT, but a certain someone keeps distracting me.
“It’s nothing,” I tell Stella.
She pauses the show, mid Jon Snow monologue. “Tell me.”
“Stella, I swear it’s nothing. Now let’s finish this.” I have to be able to talk all things Game of Thrones tomorrow morning at work. Iris and I spend at least ten to fifteen minutes on the topic first thing Monday morning.
My phone dings again, and Stella raises a brow. “Just tell me who it is.”
“Fine.” I sigh, wishing I could throw my phone across the room, but it’s worth way too much money, so I don’t. “It’s Alex. But I’m not answering him.”
“And you’re not answering him because…?”
“Because freaking Tiffany the psycho followed me out of the restaurant this morning, remember?” How could she even forget?
“Are you really going to let that bitch ruin your chance at a potential relationship with Alexander Wilder?” She sounds incredulous.
But guess what, I’m incredulous too. “She threatened me the last time she came into Noteworthy, Stel. She’s chasing after me this morning when all I’m trying to do is have a nice brunch with my friends. I had to hide out in a store so she wouldn’t see me.” I pause, hoping those words sink in. “That’s crazy.”
The look on Stella’s face is nothing short of disgusted. “You should’ve called the cops on her.”
“What, so I can make her even more furious and then she’s really coming for me? I don’t want to risk it.” My life is mostly no drama. I’m pretty laidback, and I’ve been told more than once by good friends that I put up with a lot of shit.
Tiffany Ratcliffe has me running scared. The wrath of a scorned woman is no joke.
“You’d rather shut Alex out of our life forever and miss the chance you two could’ve had?” Stella shakes her head. “Pitiful.”
“I really hate it when you say things like that,” I tell her grumpily, staring at Jon Snow’s perfectly handsome, perfectly distraught face. The poor man. I am so going to miss this show when it’s gone.
“I say things like that to make you really think about what you’re doing,” Stella explains. “Like I told you earlier, don’t let this woman control your decisions. Don’t let her take over your life.”
“She’s not taking over my life, she’s reminding me that she’s still angry. Why would I want to provoke her by seeing Alex?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you like him?” Stella rolls her eyes. “There’s a concept to consider.”
“You’re being rude,” I say, my voice small.
“And you’re being ridiculous. I’m going to say it yet again—don’t let this woman drive you away from Alex. He sounds like a good guy. He might not have made the best choice in a fiancée, but at least he didn’t marry her, and that’s all thanks to you. Look, everyone makes mistakes, he’s not perfect and neither are you. Maybe you could be the one to fix him.”
“I don’t want to fix anybody,” I tell her.
Stella waves a hand. “You know what I mean.”
I think of me calling myself the fixer, and maybe…maybe that’s a legit thing. Since I had such a crappy home life when I was a kid, I’m constantly trying to fix things and make them prettier. Better. Perfect. I fix people’s weddings. Fix my friends’ relationship problems. Fix Alex after he was deceived by the woman he was going to marry…
“Is that what I am to everyone?” I ask Stella, who’s giving me an odd look. I know I’m bringing this out of nowhere, but I can’t help it. “Am I really the fixer?”
She sets the DVR remote on the arm of the couch and focuses all of her attention on me. “You’re attracted to men who have minor—and every once in a while, major—problems, and I think you look at them as projects.”
I mentally go over the men I’ve dated. Mostly the ones who I became serious with, and oh my God…she’s right. I wanted to fix all of them. There was the one who could never keep a job. I offered to rewrite his resume. I tried to find him actual jobs, always believing in him, always loyal.
Too loyal.
There was that other guy a long time ago who was the lead singer in a band and desperately wanted a record deal. I campaigned hard for him. I wrote fan letters to record companies trying to get them noticed. The problem was, the band sucked. Bad. And I knew it. He could barely carry a tune. He was also extremely lazy. Like, he didn’t want to work. Ever.
Dude, I was such an idiot. A nineteen-year-old idiot, meaning I can blame it on youth, but still.
“I don’t think I look at Alex as a project,” I admit softly.
“You want to fix him after he just got dumped by his fiancée. Right? At least, that’s what it looks like to me.”
Ugh, I hate this about myself. “This is a terrible trait to have.”
“No, it’s actually a good trait, if you pick the right men—” Stella starts to say, but I cut her off.
“It’s awful. I shouldn’t let myself get carried away with wanting to fix them. I should accept them as who they are, and that’s it.”
“Is that what you’re going to do with Alex? Accept him for who he is?”
“Absolutely not. I’m not going to attempt anything with him. I’d rather not be scared every time I go outside, thank you very much.” A shudder moves through me at the thought of Tiffany figuring out where we live.
“You want me to be honest? I think she’s going to seek you out wherever she can, whether you continue to see Alex or not. Right now, she doesn’t even know about you and Alex going to dinner,” Stella says.
“You can’t be too sure.”
“I’m fairly sure. She would’ve totally lost her shit on you earlier if she did know.” Stella scoots closer to me on the couch, so our knees bump. “What I’m trying to say is, you can either be miserable and alone, with Tiffany still following you around town, or you can start seeing Alex. Tiffany can try to harass you, but with Alex on your side, eventually she’ll back down. It’s your choice.”
I say nothing, and Stella doesn’t push, thank goodness.
Her explanation sort of makes sense. Seeing Tiffany this morning at the restaurant freaked me out, and when she followed after me? I panicked. Can anyone blame me for wanting to cut ties with Alex, considering his ex-fiancée believes I’m the cause for their breakup? At least, that’s how she acts. It’s as if she can’t even see how she’s the one who destroyed their relationship, not me.
Stella hits play and we resume watching GoT, but my mind is elsewhere. I can’t stop thinking about Alex, and how urgent his texts seem. I’m guessing his voicemails are the same, but I don’t want to listen to them now, with Game of Thrones on and Stella still in the room. I’d rather listen to them somewhere private. I’ll check them when the show is over.
We’ve got a few minutes left of GoT, when I swear I hear my named called.
Then I hear it again.
And again.
Stella hits pause. “Is someone yelling for you outside?”
I nod, gathering up the blanket I have draped over me and holding it close to my chest, like it’s going to protect me. “What if it’s Tiffany? Do you think she knows where we live?”
“Unless she sounds like a dude, I’m gonna guess it’s not Tiffany.” Stella gets up and goes to the open window that faces the street. With the weather being so nice and our apartment on the second floor, we feel safe leaving the window open, even when we sleep. She peers out the window for a moment, then turns to face me with a faint smile. “You’re never going to believe this.”
“It’s Tiffany, huh. She brought her stupid new boy toy to yell for me.” I refuse to move from the couch. No way do I want her to see me.
“It’s not Tiffany, silly. It’s freaking Alex Wilder.”
“What?” I climb off the couch and rush to the window, where I see Alex standing on the sidewalk, staring up at us. When his gaze lands on me, the relief on his face is obvious.
“Caroline! Did you get my messages?” he yells.
“Stop yelling,” I tell him, but he doesn’t listen to me. Thank God there aren’t very many people around.
“I need to talk to you,” he yells. “Please?”
Stella and I face each other. “Let him come up here,” she says, and I frantically shake my head.
“That goes against our usual rules,” I remind her. The fact that Alex even knows where I live is major. We don’t usually give that information out on the first date.
But I thought of him as an exception, since I knew him when we were kids…
“Rules, schmules. The poor man actually came out here and repeatedly shouted your name, desperate to talk to you. Give the guy a chance,” Stella says.
Pulling my phone out of my yoga pants’ pocket, I call Alex. He answers the phone quickly, and before he can say a word, I tell him, “Go into the alley to the left of the building as you’re facing it. There’s a stairway, so head up it and you’ll be at our door.”
