The Fortunate Ones

I’m now up to four unanswered phone calls, and as the number grows, it sounds more and more pathetic. Even Ellie agrees, but I can’t give up; I just need to change my tactic.

I come up with a diabolical plan while I’m shampooing my hair later that night, and I shout for Ellie to come in so I can relay it her.

“Did you get it?” I ask over the sound of the shower.

“Yeah, it isn’t that complicated,” she says, sounding less than impressed.

“Who cares?!” I say as I rinse my scalp. “Diabolical plans don’t have to be complicated, they just have to work.”

“Yeah, no shit. I’m just saying, why did I have to come in here and see your naked butt just to jot this down? You could have remembered it.”

No. It’s a universal truth that all good ideas generated in the shower are forgotten as soon as the water cuts off.

“Do you think it’ll work?” I ask hopefully.

“Sure thing,” she says, appeasing me. “But just in case, use some of that deep conditioner I have in there. That way, when this doesn’t work and he rejects you, at least your hair won’t lose volume like your heart will.”

She’s wrong. It will work, as long as Beth is willing to play her part. I call her first thing the following morning.

“Good morning, you’ve reached BioWear. This is Beth speaking.”

Her voice is chipper and upbeat. It fills me with hope for what I’m about to ask of her.

“Beth, hi! It’s Brooke.”

“Brooke Davenport?” She sounds surprised, and I guess she probably should be considering how awkward our last exchange was.

“Yes, that Brooke. How have you been?”

“I’m good, thanks for asking,” she answers tentatively. “James isn’t in the office yet, if that’s—”

“No, no. Actually, I called to talk to you.”

“Oh, okay.” Her voice sounds hesitant. “What can I do for you?”

I take a deep breath before laying out my plan to her. It doesn’t take long, and I try to speak quickly considering she probably has a busy schedule that doesn’t include scheming behind her boss’ back.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks after I finish. “Why don’t you just try calling him?”

“I have tried, but he won’t answer.”

She hums in sympathy. “Yeah, he can be pretty stubborn when he wants to be.”

“That’s why I need your help.”

“You know this could get me fired,” she points out.

I cringe, feeling terrible for putting her in this position in the first place. “I completely understand if you don’t want to be part of it.”

“I didn’t say that,” she says quickly, then after a long, strained pause, she sighs. “Fine. Tomorrow. I’ll put it on the schedule, but you’re taking the fall if this turns out badly.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I owe you, Beth, and if he gets mad, you can tell him I threatened your life!”

“I’m doing this for him,” she clarifies, ensuring I know where her loyalties lie. “Last year, when you begged me not to tell him you called, I felt terrible keeping that secret for you. For months after you left, he moped around this office. I thought he was never going to break out of that fog, and…well, he never really did, but things got a little better, manageable—but Brooke, if you’re here now to just stir the pot again, you need to spare him the trouble. He puts up a good front, but he’s one of the most sensitive men you’ll ever meet.”

I don’t take her warning lightly.

“I promise I won’t screw it up again.”

At least, that’s not part of my diabolical plan.

…

The following night, I pause outside the front entrance to Twin Oaks Country Club. The ornate front doors are made of solid wood and carved with incredible attention to detail. They’re designed to feel imposing, and it works. I know it’s a trick, and yet I can’t seem to make myself step past them. Inside, James sits in the main dining room, waiting for a business associate who will never come so he can have a meeting that was never real. It’s a trick, and a weak one at that, but it’s the only way I could ensure he would be here, alone, and hopefully ready to listen.

I take a deep breath and finally enter. It’s very strange to walk through a place you used to work as a civilian. Dinner service is in full swing, and I have the irrational fear that Brian is going to throw a polo at me and tell me to refill waters. Ellie’s manning the hostess stand, and when she sees me arrive, she nods her head toward the dining room and mouths, Good luck. I turn and my stomach flips when I see James sitting alone at a table for two near the fireplace. A part of me feared he wouldn’t show up, even under the guise of a pretend meeting, but there he is wearing an impeccable navy blue suit. He’s added all the required accouterments—pocket square, tie clip, watch—and he’s never looked more handsome or more unattainable. It’s enough to make me want to turn around and run back home. He’s going to be a formidable opponent, and maybe I’m not quite ready to face him yet. I glance down and reassess my outfit. Nothing in my suitcase was nice enough, so I raided Ellie’s closet. Her flirty blue dress and nude, strappy heels are sexy, but are they enough?