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“I knew that bastard was no good,” she uttered.
“Well perhaps you could have used your award-winning journalism degree to report on my husband’s misdeeds before I married him,” I retorted.
Tessa works for Vanity Fair. We went to college together, lived together in our first apartment following graduation, and remained close even when I traitorously moved to the suburbs after I got married.
“You weren’t there, T. He hates me.” I filled her in on my not-so-innocent weekend with Cash before I found out he was my client. She was thrilled. She’s already titled my return to the city as our women on the prowl series. She thinks she can write a weekly column on us. She’s ridiculous. Fortunately, for her, I no longer have someone that I was looking forward to dating, so I would probably be available to drink martinis with her nightly once I got through this contract.
“That’s it, I’m coming over,” Tessa says into the phone, and I almost jump. It’s eleven p.m. and I need to get to bed. If she comes over, we will be up all night with me whining about Cash and her filling me with liquid courage. I need to get my rest tonight so I am in peak shape tomorrow. I need a second skin to handle all of Cash’s glares and barbs.
“I appreciate the offer, T, but I’m going to bed. I’ll call you after dinner tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll be done rather early, and you can meet me out for a drink.”
She hums over the phone. “Fine, but make sure you wear sexy panties.”
I laugh sarcastically. “Right, because the man that wants nothing to do with me really cares what my underwear looks like.”
“It’s not for him, it’s for you. New panties, especially a matching sexy set, gives you confidence. Which is what you need. Remember, Grace, you are not a cheater, you are not a liar, and you did nothing wrong. You are a woman who has been treated badly, and you are making the best out of a bad situation. If you were a man no one would bat an eye, but because you’re a woman, putting your career first is taboo. Well fuck that.”
I love Tessa Sanderson more than I can say. Her anthem fills me with emotion, and I can’t help but agree. I’d been apologizing to Steven for putting my career first for years, but it was my career that allowed us to afford the house in the suburbs, the upgrades to the kitchen, and his fancy BMW. At least now all of that money will be mine and I won’t be splitting it with a man who doesn’t even appreciate my hard work. “Thanks, T, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Don’t forget the hot panties!” she sings as she hangs up the phone. I find myself laughing as I fall into bed.
The next morning I take my time getting dressed. More tired than I’d like to be—probably due to the lack of sleep, tossing and turning over a certain man’s scowl—I blot under my eyes excessively with cream. The bottle promises to get rid of bags and circles, to turn back time so to speak. If only it could actually take me back in time to the moment before I met Cash. Although what I would do differently, I’m not really sure.
I can’t imagine a world in which I don’t know him. Or where I am only his dating coach. And yet that is the world I’m in now. We are nothing. He’s not mine and soon enough he’ll be someone else’s. He’ll belong to them.
Her.
Whoever she is, she will be the one to feel his warm gaze, to kiss those incredible lips, and feel his hard body against her while they sleep at night.
Is he always a cuddler? I never was in my marriage. I hated when Steven spooned me— not that he ever did—but that was because we both didn’t like it. Or so I thought. It seems there’s nothing I don’t like when it comes to Cash.
I walk into my office feeling the tension with every step I take. Rachel, our receptionist, smiles at me. She has blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes that honestly take me by surprise every time I see her. I can’t quite figure out why she’s still single at twenty-eight. She’s kind, beautiful, and outgoing. “Morning, Rachel. How are you today?”
She stands up and follows me to my office. “Oh, just great. I have the research on Cassius James for you.” She pauses as she waits for me to put my purse down and then slips the folder across my desk. “Grace, he’s gorgeous. Like, insanely good-looking.”
I meet her eyes and hope that my cheeks don’t give away how much I agree with her. But even without his looks, Cash is droolworthy. Soon I will have to sit across the desk from potential partners and listen to them gush over him. I honestly don’t know if I can do it.
“He is very dreamy,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady and my hands from shaking.
“Any chance I can get on his list?” She smiles at me so genuinely that I feel sick. What if Cash ends up falling in love with Rachel and I have to listen to her go on and on about how wonderful he is? Besides, Cash would definitely feel that he had to disclose what happened between us to her, and then Marion would find out. Even though I feel terrible lying, I have no choice. Not only can I not imagine watching Cash sail off into the sunset with Rachel, I also can’t take the chance that it would hurt my career.
“He’s into older women. Going to be a bit of a different search.” I don’t know why I said it, or how I came up with it so quickly, but I immediately know I’m right.
Cash needs an older woman. Someone mature, in her thirties, who can help guide Cash in his new career.
It doesn’t hurt that we don’t have anyone in that age group in our backlist of matches which means it will take me longer to vet each new person, thus resulting in a longer time of Cash being single. Which is good, I think. On the one hand, it delays the inevitable. On the other hand, it delays my divorce and my promotion.
Rachel’s face falls but she recovers quickly. “Okay, I will start putting together a list of eligible women then. How old are we thinking?”
I look away from her as I think. “I’m meeting him tonight for dinner. I’ll have a better understanding after that. But I’m thinking thirty and up. Probably no older than thirty-eight but I’ll run that by him. I also think a professional woman. No Instagram models or influencers. He needs someone serious and someone who is on his level. A true partner.”
Rachel nods as she takes notes. “Got it. Can I get you a coffee?”
“Yes, please. And thank you, Rachel. Sorry he’s not the one for you, but I will definitely find you someone if you are serious.”
She blushes. “Oh, I was just joking.”
I reach my hand across my desk and place it on hers. “You deserve someone wonderful. Let me put out some feelers, okay? It would make me happy to see you with a good guy.”
