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Glancing at my watch, I curse at myself when I see it’s already past five-thirty. The party starts in less than an hour, and I still need to run home and change into my tux and black shoes, then book it across town to the venue. I gather my things in a rush, noting that my phone has a little over five percent battery life. Just enough to make a call to Clementine.
She doesn’t answer, so I try again as I hit the button for the elevator ten times in a row. I know it won’t make the damn thing go any faster, but it makes me feel like I’m doing something. As I step into the elevator, I start typing a text, hoping that if she’s too busy or upset to answer my call, she may read a text.
Of course, this is the moment my phone dies for the second time. Jesus, I can’t get to that venue fast enough.
As soon as I get home, I tear off my suit and change into my matte black tux with silk details on the cuffs and collar. I slick my hair back enough to look like I tried and slip on my dress shoes that always make my pinky toes numb by the end of the night. I don’t know how women wear heels. These things are torture enough.
I’m ready in record time, and my driver is already outside waiting for me.I’m coming, Clementine. Please forgive me.
I’m bombarded with employees the second I step out of the car, everyone wanting to get a word in with the big boss. Usually, I’d mumble some half-hearted pleasantry and keep my head down until I find a dark corner to sulk in. I don’t want to be that guy anymore. Clementine deserves to be with someone who values people as much as she does, not a grumpy, growly dick who can’t have meaningful relationships.
“Hi, there,” I greet one employee.
“Mr. Bowman, sir, it’s great to see you. We weren’t sure if you’d show up.”
I stare at him, expressionless, watching him squirm a bit at his admission.Then I laugh and shake his hand. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. My woman coordinated all this. She did an incredible job, don’t you think?”
Some employees around me raise their eyebrows while others whisper to each other. Several women and a few men drop their shoulders as if they had any sort of chance with me. Clementine is the only one for me. Now I need to find her and ensure she knows that.
Making my way inside, I’m stopped a few more times, but manage to find a clearing by the hot chocolate bar. I grin when I see not one, not two, but three tables lined up to accommodate all eight flavors of hot chocolate. Perfect.
“Mr. Bowman,” Anders Jorgenson says from behind me, the now-familiar Norwegian accent letting me know who it is before I turn around.
Dammit. I need to find Clementine, but I can’t exactly brush him off now.
“Mr. Jorgenson,” I reply, turning to face him. But he’s not alone. His sons, whom I’ve already met, and presumably his wife and two daughters-in-law, are with him. A few kids are underfoot, and I assume they belong to this brood as well. Double dammit. I’m meeting the whole family.
He starts the introductions, only to be interrupted by the last person I hoped to see tonight.
“There he is!” my mother exclaims.
She’s dragging someone with her, someone vaguely familiar with platinum blonde hair, unnaturally plump lips, and nearly orange skin from tanning too much. She’s rail thin and wearing a tight dress paired with five-inch heels. It dawns on me that I’ve met her before at an insufferable dinner party with my parents last year. I have no idea why she’s here, however.
“I was worried you got held up, but I’m glad you’re here,” my mother continues, shouldering her way into the circle of people. She practically shoves the other woman toward me, making her stumble in her ridiculous high heels.
I automatically reach out for her to keep her from falling on her face, and she leans into me, pressing her body against mine. The woman wraps an arm around my back, and I realize all too late this is a setup. I try stepping away from her grasp, but then my mother drops the biggest bombshell of all.
“What a perfect time to officially announce your engagement!”
“My wh–”
“Show them that ring, honey,” my mom directs.
The woman clinging to me—I think her name is Tammy? Tiffany? Brittany?—sticks out her left hand, where a giant diamond glitters under the warm Christmas lights hung around the room. I’m too stunned to say anything at first. I blink at the ring, instantly recognizing it as a costume jewelry piece my mother sometimes wears. This is all her doing.
“How could I not say yes when he offered this?” the woman says, flaunting her ring and wiggling her fingers to catch the light.
“I didn’t–”
Before I can finish my protests, I hear a soft gasp. My heart sinks to my stomach as I look over my mother’s shoulder to see Clementine standing close by. Tears well up in her gorgeous green eyes, and fuck, ithurtsknowing I’m causing her pain.
“Wait, Clem–”
She holds up one hand, palm out, stopping me mid-sentence. With a slight shake of her head, I understand that she needs to get through the night before dealing with this. I suppose crying and yelling at her client isn’t very professional. I hate it, but I respect her dedication to her job. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to start planning my apology this fucking second.
I have a lot to make up for. Not only for my phone dying and seemingly ignoring her all day but for this awful, shitty plan my mother hatched without my permission. What the hell was she thinking?
“Mother,” I say in a curt, clipped voice. “Will you and this woman I hardly recognize join me in the back so I can tell you both what a colossal mistake you’ve made?”
