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It’s nearly ten when I get home. I change and grab a beer from the fridge before collapsing on the couch in the darkness.
Kate and Arthur are on their way to Italy. Marcy...fuck. She probably thinks I’m an asshole for ditching her at the reception. I would give anything to start the day over and not blow it.
The image of Marcy in her hot pink, sequined gown, standing beside Kate on the top of the Empire State Building is burned into my mind. I couldn’t stop staring at her. I wanted her more in that moment than I’ve wanted anything in my whole life.
I wanted her to speak those vows to me.
But I’ll settle for another dance. Another chance to prove I’m serious about her.
I only hope I haven’t fucked it up beyond repair.
Chapter Nine
Marcy
Rob never came back.
The wedding was two days ago, and Arthur and Kate are safe in Rome, enjoying their honeymoon, while I’m lying in bed on a Monday morning replaying Rob’s apology in my mind. I wrench myself out of bed and head for the shower.
Something changed between Rob and me on that dance floor. His apology. The way he held me as we moved to the music. It’s like the Earth shifted, the sun now rising in the west and setting in the east. My whole world feels off-center, but not in a bad way.
I waited for him to come back to the reception, even ordered him a drink. But after two hours, I drank it and plastered a fake smile on my lips. I was there to celebrate Arthur and Kate’s wedding, not to moon over Rob. I thought I had put that childish crush far behind me, but whatever spark ignited between us on the roof of the Empire State Building followed us to the reception.
Warmth floods me at the memory. I can’t imagine what would have happened had we not been interrupted. Would I have confessed my longstanding infatuation with him? Given into the heat building with every sway to the music?
He promised he’d come back, but he never did. I can’t help but wonder if it’s my fault.
I shouldn’t be thinking about him. Whatever feelings I have for him—whether they’re lust or something more—should sit firmly on the shelf. I don’t want to complicate our tenuous friendship...if I can even call it that.
The spray of hot water washes the need away, but the thoughts remain in the back of my mind. I need to work. It will keep me distracted...I mean focused on what’s important.
Last night, I got a call from Donna. Studio 35 has requested us to take care of their guests this week since their previously booked stylist had a family emergency. It’s a last-minute addition, and I’ll have to split my stylists between two locations. But I can’t say no to Studio 35. They host celebrity news interviews as well as MTV. I’d be insane to turn them down. I’ve worked with them in the past, and they’re top-notch. We’ll just have to make a few adjustments to fit it all in.
Somehow, I manage to get myself looking halfway decent, and I head to the station. The commute is minimal since both locations are close to my apartment. I make it in the door at five to eight.
“Hold the elevator!”
A massive hand grabs the doors before they snap closed. I breathe a sigh of relief when they open.
“Thanks.” I nearly trip when I reach the elevator.
Vic Simmons is holding the door. A smile curves his mouth when I step into the carriage. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Likewise.”
The door closes, and I realize we’re the only two people in the elevator. I fix my gaze on the mirrored surface before me.
“What floor?” he asks.
“Twelve.”
He drops his hand, and I see the button is already illuminated. My gaze shifts to his. “You’re going to twelve too?”
“Yup. I have an interview for an upcoming action film.” He shoves his hands into his pockets.
The man’s shoulders are so broad, I feel like he takes up half the elevator. But it could just be his presence.
“Oh, congrats on the new film.” I straighten the bag strap on my shoulder.
