Chapter 5
Clarabella
The minute I shut the front door and hear Edward's car drive away, I walk over to the kitchen and take out the bottle of scotch that I have hidden in the back cupboard. A bottle that I said I would keep for company and never touch again. I unscrew the cap and don't even bother with a glass before taking a long pull from it. The burning hits all the way down, and when I close my eyes, the memories of that night come back.
"Working with you is so easy." He smiled from the other side of the counter as we both lingered. Until he asked me to have a drink with him at his house. I knew I shouldn't have gone. I knew it was a bad idea. I knew it, yet all I could do was say, “okay.” But instead, I left there with him and followed him to his house. There in his kitchen, with the lights on very low, he pulled out a bottle and poured us both a drink. Handing me my glass, he held up his. "To a great working relationship." I clinked the glass with his and stepped in a step. I took a sip of the scotch, and the next thing I knew, he was slipping his hand into mine and walking me to his bedroom. It was the best night of my life, and I literally had never felt so complete. It was everything that you see in romantic movies or read in romance novels. You have this connection with someone, and the minute you touch, it's electric. It all happened, or at least I thought it all happened until he woke up the next day and whispered four words that broke my heart.
I wipe the tear out of the corner of my eye, taking another sip of the scotch. The pain in my chest is just as much as it was that day. I ignore it all and push it far back in my head. In the little black box that I created for it. I walk over to the kitchen sink and pour the rest down the drain, tossing the bottle in the recycle bin.
The next day it's almost like I'm a zombie, or at least this is how I think a zombie would be. The black sunglasses covering my eyes which I had to spend extra time working on, to cover the fact that I tossed and turned all night long, pisses me off even more. I bet he didn't even lose a minute of sleep, the bastard, I think to myself as I walk up the steps to the office. I hold my coffee in one hand with my head down. I can feel a headache coming on and it's not even nine in the morning. Fine, the headache started last night after I left the restaurant, and I made it an excuse to stay at my place, knowing that he had to pack for an overnight trip he had to take for work. He's been going on those trips more and more, which, according to him, is a good sign.
I pull open the door and step in, looking around and smelling coffee in the air, so I know that someone is already here. I walk into my office, the sun streaming in and making it super bright. I am the only office with side-to-side windows in the corner, which is why I did a built-in bench all along the wall with huge pillows. A white table sits right in front of the bench with two plush light pink chairs on the other side. A big photo album is in front, with all the different styles of food we've done over the years. Even though I have a desk, I spend most of my time sitting at this table. I love looking outside during the day and seeing the sun.
I put my purse on the table and walk over to my desk, grabbing the files I need. "Jesus, do you own any other color but black?” I hear Shelby say when she walks into my office. She is wearing a light peach skirt with a white halter top. Her own coffee is in one hand as the other hand carries a couple of folders.
"What?" I look down at my outfit. The black leather skirt fits me like a glove and goes down to my knees. The tight black sleeveless body suit also molds onto me, paired with black patent stilettos.
"I swear, you got engaged, and boom, everything you own is now black. It's like you are in mourning." She laughs at her own joke and then stops walking as she looks at me.
"What are you guys talking about?" Presley says, coming into the room wearing cream-colored pants with a baby-blue silk top tied around her neck with a big bow.
"Do you think I wear too much black?" I turn now and ask her.
"I mean, you can definitely give Morticia a run for her money. I was thinking it was your gothic stage." She shrugs. "I'm just happy that you didn't choose a black wedding dress."
"Can you imagine Mom's face?” Shelby adds, laughing as she walks over to the white desk and puts her stuff on it as she pulls out one of the chairs.
"I haven't worn that much black,” I huff.
"Okay," Shelby says, sitting down. "When was the last time you wore something other than black?"
"My thirtieth birthday party," I remind her, crossing my arms over my chest.
"And then you got proposed to and started wearing black," Presley points out. "Maybe it's your way of saying goodbye to your single life."
"That's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard." I sit on the bench, knowing Presley likes to sit in the chair.
"Okay, fine,” Shelby says. "Tonight, I want you to go home and FaceTime me from your closet."
I glare at her. "Aren't you busy sucking your husband's dick until he chokes you?"
She throws her head back and laughs. "That was yesterday."
"Yeah, tonight it's her turn to ride his face,” Presley informs me, sitting down next to Shelby, who is just glaring at her. "Your voice carries. How is it my fault?"
"You could mind your own business." I point at Presley, who laughs.
"This from the woman who signed Shelby up on a dating site without telling her." Now it's my turn to glare at her.
"We did it together." My voice gets louder. "You think I came up with the name Shelby Wimbly by myself?" I shake my head.
"Okay, now that we got all this out of the way,” Presley says, changing the subject. "What did you want to have this meeting about?"
"A couple of things," I say, grabbing my files. "The first is that we have to go over the events we have scheduled while I'm gone," I tell them, and they open their own folders. "Also, I think it's time we switch up divisions." They both stop and look at me as if I’ve grown a second head. "I'm tired of doing just the food,” I lie to them, and I want to say they believe me, but they don't.
"You said just two weeks ago when I had to scramble for a new florist,” Shelby states, "that you never want to do what I do."
"Last month, I had to get a new vendor for our crystal," Presley says. "And you walked out of the room and said, ‘good luck with that.’"
"Yeah, well, I think that it's smart that we swap." I avoid their eyes, and I wait a minute, and when no one says anything, I look up at them. "What?" I ask, irritated.
"We are just waiting for the real reason.” Shelby picks up her coffee cup and brings it to her lips.
"Okay, fine." I take a deep breath. "Luke is back." I bring the cup of coffee to my lips, taking a sip and suddenly wishing it was scotch.
"What do you mean he's back?" Shelby asks, leaning back in her chair.
"I mean that I went to do my taste testing last night, and Luke is the one who cooked for us." I put my cup of coffee down and ignore the way my palms got sweaty from saying that. Or the fact that my stomach did a flip at the mention of his name, or the fact that my heart is beating so hard in my chest I’m having trouble controlling my breathing.
"Awkward,” Presley says. "This explains why you look like shit." I flip her the bird. "Did you tell Edward?"
I glare at her. "What was I supposed to tell him?" I grit out through clenched teeth. "Please tell me what I was supposed to say, exactly. This is Luke. We banged once, and he took off the day after. Oh, I think we should go with the salmon."
"I'm sorry.” Shelby holds up her hand. "Hold the phone. Did you just say you banged Luke?"
"Called it!” Presley leans back in her chair, and I just glare at her. "Obviously, that's beside the point. What did Luke say?"
"Nothing." I shake my head. "I mean, I think he was shocked I was the bride, and I felt him staring at me the whole time, but I didn't give him the time of day."
"Savage,” Shelby says. "But I'm just going to state the obvious. It's bothering you."
"It is not," I counter so fast it would give anyone whiplash. "I'm pissed. There is a difference."
"But if you felt nothing, you wouldn't even be pissed,” Presley points out, holding up her hands when I'm about to tell her to fuck off.
"I'm pissed because I was caught off guard,” I say, at the same time that my subconscious laughs at me. "Also, what kind of question is that?" The irritation in my voice is very apparent.
"I am not the enemy,” Presley reminds me. "I'm just stating that if you feel this way—"
I stop her before she finishes the sentence because she isn't the only one who was thinking about this, and I put a quick stop to that one. "I don't feel any way," I snap.
"Okay, let me rephrase it for her." Shelby tries to defuse the bomb about to go off inside me. "If you feel that strongly about not working with him, then why don't you just switch to another vendor?"
I groan, thinking about stomping my feet like a kid having a tantrum. "Because you all know he’s the best out there," I admit, and they share a look, neither of them sure what to say. "Ugh, fine, whatever. I'll just deal with it." I look at them. "I can make it work."
"What if you just ask to work with someone else?" Presley asks.
"So he can know that he gets to me?" I ask, and then I catch my words. "Even though he doesn't."
"He for sure doesn't get under your skin one little bit,” Shelby says, and she rolls her lips.
"I hate you both," I say, getting up. "Is the mock-up for my wedding day done?"
"It is,” Presley confirms, standing. "Do we want to see it?"
"Can we get in a better mood before?" Shelby suggests, climbing out of her chair. "The last time you were in this mood when choosing the invitation for your wedding, it did not bode well." I might have gone off on the graphic designer just a touch, and she might have left in tears.
I stop in my tracks. "She said I didn't make her cry." I throw up my hands in frustration.
"She lied,” Presley says. "Just like you are lying to yourself about—"
I hold up my hand to stop her from talking. "If you say his name, I'm going to throat punch you and make you wear a hat to my wedding."
She laughs at me. "Joke’s on you." She walks past me. "I look great in hats."
"You'll look even better with my foot up your ass," I mumble as she walks out of the room. I look over at Shelby. "Don't even start." I point at her. "Before I tell everyone you had sex in your office bathroom."
She gasps, "I did not."
I fold my arms over my chest. "Right there," I mimic her. "Yes, right there," I groan. "Don't stop," I moan.
"I can't get any privacy in this place," she huffs and walks past me. "Yeah, well, I bet you pictured Luke naked last night."
I roll my eyes. "Mature." I avoid looking at her eyes because I did indeed think of him naked last night, but I also thought about him naked this morning and again right this minute. "I'm so screwed,” I mumble to myself as I walk over to the venue space, ignoring the way my sister laughs at me.