Perplexed, I said, “Yes, I am, why?”
She sat up in her chair, finger tapping her chin. “Macy is one of the reasons why I requested this meeting with you.” She exhaled. “See, Mr. Stone—”
“Lucas. Please, call me Lucas,” I interjected, feeling the need to stop her because anytime I heard a woman say, Mr. Stone, my mind conjured up thoughts about Macy. She’d always call me that during her sassiest moments.
I wouldn’t call my birthday suit nothing, Mr. Stone…My lips curved up at the memory.
“Okay, Lucas, then,” Kat went on. “Anyway, I ran into her in London last week and, well…” She paused, lifting up a printed sheet of paper. “I should probably first ask if you’ve read her lastConfessions of a Bookaholicblog entry she posted about two months ago?”
My brows drew together. “No, I must have missed that post.” Macy had deactivated the app not too long after what she always called bloggergate.
She reached over, handed me the sheet of paper. “Here you go. Read this, then we’ll finish our talk.”
I took the paper, my eyes giving perusal over words Macy must have written the day she left for London.
Love burns holes in the hearts of the innocent; the holes in mine are now permanent scars, reminders to always guard your heart…
My stomach burned, scorched by the pain she evidently felt, my throat suddenly closing.
Kat stood up, walked over to her window. “Now, I don’t know what you did to make her feel so obviously heartbroken, but my question to you is, do you want her back?”
I coughed, trying to get my emotions in check. “Of course, I want her back. I’m leaving for London in three days, though I have no idea what I’m going to do.”
Kat spun around, walked back to her desk, and claimed her chair. “Let me help you.” She rocked back, confidence etched into her face. “Women like Macy, who’ve read novel after novel of pages filled with romance, won’t be easily wooed by a guy who just shows up.”
“Okay, you’ve got my attention.”
“For her, a simple grand gesture won’t suffice. Macy is going to need something unexpected, the perfect ending, or beginning, depending on how you look at it, to her love story.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “What’s in it for you?”
“I had offered Macy a job here last year, a pretty high-end position. My offer still stands, but somehow she ended up atCosmo,and since they’re one of our sister magazines, Legal won’t let me recruit her.”
“Okay, what does that have to do with me?”
Kat picked up a mock-up of her magazine. “Two birds. One stone. Win. Win.”
She went on to explain thatHot Shotwas prepared to publish an exclusive public love letter of apology from me to Macy in response to her last blog post.
“A love letter? From me? A jock?”
“Yes.” Her eyes glittered with excitement. “The headline will say something like,Romancing The Playbook.One of the NFL’s Sexiest Players Proves Romance Isn’t Dead.”
I felt intrigued, but not convinced. “How will I know my public letter will land on Macy’s eyes?”
“Simple. The gentleman who Macy works closely with atCosmopolitanis a close friend. He’ll see that she gets a copy.”
41
September thirteenth.
One month before my birthday. One month before my planned nuptials.
I was in a pisspot mood.
HatingCosmopolitan.
Hating London.
