No Pink Caddy (ACE Book 1) (18 page)

After making the decision at around three in the morning, I’d posted on my website and Twitter,
alis volat propriis.
Translated from Latin, it means she flies with her own wings. By noon, and four tries at a resignation letter later, I’m not feeling so brave.

I text Bella.

Me:
Lunch?

Bella:
Yes. Usual place?

Me:
Sure.

Bella:
Be there in 10.

Bella is a kept bride, as I lovingly refer to her. She got laid off from her job in oil and gas, and Nyall decided it was more important she focuses on planning their wedding than worrying herself with finding another job. If all goes well, he’ll have her knocked up on their wedding night.

She already has a table by the door and waves me over. We’ve been coming to this little hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop for years. It’s nothing more than a family-owned deli, but their homemade soup is to die for and they offer half a sandwich options. It’s table service, which I also appreciate. I hate waiting in line for food.

The restaurant is long and narrow with this odd divider in the middle. I’ve decided that at some point in this building’s history it was actually home to two businesses, but the family who owns it now decided to buy both locations and tear down the wall separating them. However, once they got started, they realized the wall was structural. That’s why it looks like windows have been cut out of the odd partisan. I’m sure my story is false, just like all of them are, but I’m sticking with it.

Bella has a mustard yellow scarf around her neck, and wears an off-white sweater and black pants. She’s more dressed up than usual for our lunch date.

“You look fabulous. Up to something fun?” I ask as I give her a hug.

A glowing smile lights up her face. “Signing the papers at two o’clock for the wedding venue.”

I squeal. “Give me the details.”

“The date is May seventh, and we’re holding the reception at The Columns Hotel and getting married at the nearby Catholic church. It will be a five o’clock wedding.” She twirls her beautiful engagement ring around her finger. “It’s coming up so quickly. I’m going to need my maid-of-honor’s help.”

“Absolutely.” This just confirms quitting my job and pursuing making my site awesome is the right move. “I have news of my own.”

“Aaron called,” she guesses excitedly.

I shake my head, and her guess does take a bit of wind out of my sails. Before I can tell her though, the waitress comes to our table.

Neither one of us bother to look at the menu. “I’ll take half a ham and Swiss on a baguette with a side of your chicken noodle.” I hand her the menu.

Bella orders the same.

“No bowl of lettuce today?” she teases when the waitress leaves.

“Learned my lesson last week.”

“Good, because you basically drank lunch.”

I ignore her.

“So,” I continue, shoving any thoughts of Aaron from my memory, “I’ve decided to turn in my letter of resignation and focus on NPC full-time. And I know you’re going to be super busy with the wedding, but I’d love any help you can lend.”

She claps her hands and reaches around the table to side-hug me. “You are going to be famous, MK. I’m going to be able to say ‘I knew her when.’” Then I can see the wheels in her brain turning. “You can feature the wedding.” Her hands flash above her head as if she’s putting her idea in lights. “Think Martha Stewart, but you can add your own MK flair. Your fans will love it.”

“Thanks! Great idea.” I smile. “I think what my all-too-brief relationship with Aaron showed me was that I’m tired of my life being stagnant. I want more. I feel like I’ve spent my twenties waiting for a prince to save me from my mundane job and life. Then I would have his babies and somehow that would bring me happiness.” I swallow a sip of my water. “I want more than that. It’s time to live my life the way it should be lived. I may never find Mister Right, and that’s okay. I’ve got a pretty kick-ass existence without a guy.” I lift my sweater up and show her the tank top I’m wearing.

We toast with our water glasses. “I’m so happy for you. You’re right. You should never settle in your career or love life.”
But you’re the one who said I should go for practical.

Bella quizzes me on my business plans and we discuss her wedding colors before the waitress sets our plates down in front of us. I reach for the pepper and realize we have two salt shakers instead.

I turn over my right shoulder to snag the pepper from the table near us and spot a familiar-looking fedora on the other side of the odd partisan. He takes a bite of sandwich and laughs at something funny the blonde, who has her back to me, must have said. I can’t tell much about her except her hair is long and golden. She has on a silver sweater, which is rather fitted. A designer bag, which probably cost more than I make in a month, rests haphazardly on the worn tile of the restaurant.

I think I might die.

My heart plummets to my stomach, and I feel as if I’ve been punched in the gut.

“What’s wrong?” Bella asks.

Leaning in, I whisper, “Aaron is with another woman.”

Using my head, I gesture in their direction. Bella is able to get more details since she can discreetly cut her eyes towards them. “They walked in right after I did. I just kinda glanced in their direction. He asked for a table in the back.” She holds up a napkin as if she’s wiping her mouth. “The girl is young. Like I thought
wow, that’s a bit of an age gap
.” Her eyebrow raises.

Staring at my plate, I feel sick as I wonder if Aaron’s ever had hot chicken noodle soup dumped in his lap. “We’re not exclusive or anything,” I attempt to justify the situation. “I guess after how caring and interested he seemed, I’m just surprised that he’s seeing someone else. He did donate all that money to Bethany’s charity hoping to meet me.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I guess I thought he really liked me, but I’m also out of his league.”

Bella corrects me. “You’re in a different league. Don’t sell yourself short.”

That makes me smile.

“You should go over and say hello,” she says.

My eyes roll back in my head.

“I’m serious,” she continues. “Make it uncomfortable for him. Act like you don’t give a damn. Be friendly and upbeat. Think high school cheerleader. ‘Hi Aaron. How are you?’ Then introduce yourself to the girl. Be the high-class chick you are, but let him know he’s been busted.”

I think about her advice as I pick the chicken out of my soup. The more I live with the idea, the better I like it. I want Aaron to know I’m nobody’s fool. He said he didn’t want me seeing anyone else and that he was going to prove to me I should only date him, but I never replied I wanted exclusivity also, so I really have no right to be angry. However, a polite hello to him and the girl will let Aaron know that I know he’s seeing other people.

Trying to be brave, I picture what advice I’d give to a fan of NPC who was in a similar situation. I’d tell her to roll her shoulders back and take ownership of the scene. Strong, confident women don’t cower in the corner.
So much easier said than done.

I rest my spoon against the side of the bowl. “How do I look?” My pulse races so fast that I feel flushed.

“You look gorgeous as usual, even though you refuse to wear makeup to work.”

“Damn. I forgot about that.” For like the first time ever, I wish that I had put some mascara and lipstick on. I pinch my cheeks so at least there’s some color, and borrow Bella’s chap stick.

“And for the love of God, do something with the bangs,” she says in mock frustration.

I attempt to tuck them behind my ear, but they are just a millimeter still too short so I fluff my hair over my shoulder and hope my bangs covering my eye makes me look mysterious.

I’m a fabulous, gorgeous woman who’s taking back her life. No more job I hate, and no more waiting around for a man to realize how great I am. I’ve got this.

Standing up, I walk toward the back of the restaurant. It’s obvious when Aaron sees me. He stops speaking in the middle of his sentence, and his mouth hangs open. When I’m about four steps from his table, he stands to meet me.

“Aaron,” I drawl, using my most southern voice. The girl turns toward us, and I’m able to see her face. She’s young, and absolutely stunning, and looks just as surprised to see me as I was to spot her.

“MK.” Aaron pulls me against him in a bit-more-than-friendly hug. I’m surprised and wonder if she noticed.

When he steps back, he turns to the girl and begins the introductions. “Jude, this is Mary Kay Landry, but she goes by MK. MK, this is Jude.”

She sticks out her hand, and we shake. Her smile is large and bright. It’s all so friendly. This is not how I thought this would go down. I thought Aaron would try to prevent the girl and I from meeting. I was going to introduce myself anyway. Instead, he looks surprised but happy to see me. She doesn’t look like she wants to shove her manicured fingernails in my eyes. It’s confirmed. I did fall down the rabbit hole.

“I’m sorry I haven’t called,” Aaron continues,
RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER
. “But Jude’s visit was a surprise. The plane leaves at four o’clock. Can I call you then?”

My head snaps in Jude’s direction. I’m expecting her face to be tomato red and for her to have smoke bellowing out of her ears. I mean, she flew down for a booty call, and he’s talking about calling me once she’s on a plane. He might be a rock star and all, but this nonsense goes over like a lead balloon with me.

Keeping my cool, I ignore him. “Nice meeting you, Jude. Have a safe trip home.”

Then I turn to Aaron. “Pleasure seeing you again.”

Biggest lie ever. I was over him, I’d thought. I had passed through the mourning phase and moved onto the what-doesn’t-kill-you-makes-you-stronger phase. But feeling his callused touch and seeing his gorgeous, sculpted face makes me realize the attraction is still there, and it’s magnetic. I’m going to have to stay strong to avoid winding up on his doorstep again.

Spinning on my heels, I walk away before Aaron can respond. As I slide back into my chair, I look at Bella feeling more confused than ever.

“What happened?” she asks.

“I have no freaking clue.”

Instead of taking my Coke break at three o’clock, I sit in my office with the door shut and nibble on the leftover sandwich, trying to make heads or tails of my run-in with Aaron and Jude.

Have I entered an alternate universe where girls are okay with their man stepping out on them with other women? If that’s how it is in Aaron’s world, then I’m not interested. I keep telling myself I never demanded exclusivity so I’m putting the cart before the horse, but damn. There’s not another guy on this planet that I’m interested in. How can he jump from one girl to the next?

I try to focus on the task at hand, writing a resignation letter. I’ll be emailing it to Michael so the news will spread quickly through our families’ social circles. The letter needs to be professional without giving too much away. I decide to go with “pursue other opportunities.” I thank Michael and his father for my time here and offer my services for another two weeks and even offer to hire and train my replacement.

Once I’ve read it at least a thousand times, I attach the letter to Michael’s work email address and hit send.

A weight lifts from my shoulders. I feel as if I might float to the ceiling. Now, the hard part is just beginning. NPC will be a huge success or I’ll die trying.

I finish my sandwich and dump the box in the garbage can. At five o’clock, I open my office door and ask all the ladies if I can have their attention. As I share with them my exciting news, my eyes sting with unshed tears. This has not been my dream job, but I love these women. They’ve been like a second family to me. After a round of hugs and congratulations, the day is over.

As I’m shutting off my computer and collecting my stuff, I realize I missed a text. It’s from Aaron.
Call me when you get this.

That’s it. There are no hearts emojis or flowers or anything. Just six simple words after not talking to me for three days and getting caught red-handed with another woman.

No. I don’t think I’ll be calling.

And, of course, rain starts hitting my office window.

“Wonderful.” I sigh and curse the universe. Rainy afternoons are the only times when I wish I had a car. I don’t mind the rain and I don’t generally get cold, but wet and shivering is a bad combination. Fortunately, I keep an umbrella at work. It will have to do its best.

I’m the last to leave, so I shut off the lights and lock the main door. The elevator down to the lobby is quiet. I remind myself that this is my new reality—working from my apartment, not having coworkers. I have no regrets, but I’m going to have to make sure I stay social.

“Good night, Mister Ralph,” I greet the building security guard.

He smiles and tips his hat, our evening ritual for seven years.

The blowing rain has slowed a bit, but it’s far from ideal walking-home weather. I open my umbrella under the covered area before stepping into the elements. Crossing through the landscaped grounds, I keep my head down, watching my steps and praying I don’t slip.
I would give anything for my rain boots instead of these dress shoes
.

I turn onto the sidewalk, and am formulating a plan on where I can wait this storm out when I run smack-dab into a person blocking my bath. My eyes make their way over the black pants, black belt, and black shirt to the pale, solemn face of Seamus.

“Please get into the car, Miss Landry,” he states.

I could argue, but I don’t because I’m getting soaked. The wind has picked up, making my umbrella more of a nuisance than a helpful tool.

As I turn toward the street, Seamus races ahead and opens a black SUV door. He takes my umbrella out of my hand as I slide onto the leather captain’s chair just inside.

The car is empty. The butterflies in my stomach tell me just how much I was hoping he would be waiting for me. But why? So I can sound like a crazy woman who got upset he was having lunch with another girl? My mind reasons this, but my heart hurts because I meant so little to him.