Break Up with Him, for Me (You Belong With Me 1)

After lunch, he stopped by Tiffany & Co. and purchased a charm bracelet that featured a diamond-encrusted “P” and a “You’re so beautiful” necklace.

By mid-evening, when he was parking in front of Audemars Piguet, I was convinced that he pissed sunshine.

I was also convinced that day one of my mission was a complete and absolute failure.

Feeling defeated, I waited for him to leave before walking inside.

“Good afternoon, sir.” A grey-haired man smiled as I approached. “How can I help you today?”

“I need a new watch.” I couldn’t help but still feel a pinch of envy about Simon knowing the designer. “The same one my friend just came in here and bought actually.”

“Oh, you’re one of those guys.” He scoffed. “Follow me.”

“What the hell do you mean, one of those guys?”

He didn’t answer. He motioned for me to follow him into a side room.

“Please be sure to tell the others in your group that this arrangement will not renew at the end of the month,” he said. “This hasn’t been mutually beneficial in the slightest, and I can’t believe my boss ever fell for it.”

“I could follow this conversation a lot better if I knew what arrangement you were talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, sir.” He waved his hand. “You and your buddies lease our watches for days at a time because you can’t afford to buy them. Then you have the audacity to request models of the more refined and exclusive collections, just because someone on this company’s board went to business school with one of you.”

I raised my eyebrow. “What?”

“Come on, you know the drill.” He pointed to my wrist. “I don’t know why the hell I ever let you rent that one, but you won’t be able to borrow it again. That’s in a collection far above your rental grade.”

“I didn’t rent this at all.” I unclasped the band, flipping it onto its back. “My name is engraved onto it. And for the record, I don’t plan on ever renting a watch.”

“Hayden Hunter?” His eyes widened. “I didn’t—Oh, I didn’t recognize you, sir.” He put on a pair of glasses. “I’m so sorry I ever engaged you in that conversation. How can I really serve you today?”

“I want to know everything about that arrangement, and anything you know about the guy who was in here before me.”

“Well, I—” He stepped back, looking confused. “As one of our most esteemed customers, you know that I can’t share private information about another client.”

“Real clients don’t rent.”

He smiled, looking as if he was happy to oblige, but then it faded away.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I’m not allowed to do that.”

“I’ll buy ten watches from the signature collection at a minimum of one hundred thousand dollars each.”

“Have a seat, and I’ll be with you in two minutes.”

Twenty-Four

Present Day

Hayden

* * *

Later that evening

I caught up with Simon at Citi Field. While the Mets were fighting the Dodgers at the bottom of the ninth, he chatted with a security guard at the Will-Call window.

I’d intended to continue my stalking tomorrow, but the watch seller’s parting words wouldn’t stop running through my mind.

“He always pays with someone else’s credit card, sir. And I know he’s always flying in and out of Colorado, but I find it odd that he doesn’t purchase the additional weather insurance. Any man who knows watches wouldn’t dare wear these in the elements.”

It was his mention of Colorado that caught my attention. Penelope had consistently brought up the fact that he flew back and forth from Florida every week.

I questioned the seller, asked him if he’d misspoken about Colorado, but he showed me the “gift” Simon recently dropped off for him as a thank you: A ‘Come Back to Colorado’ keychain with a snowy cabin backdrop.

It made me wonder what else he could be lying about.

As he posed for selfies with the security guard, my phone buzzed with text messages. Penelope.

Penelope: Hey. I’m torn between two dresses for your gala. What do you think? [img.] [img.]

Penelope: Also, I told Simon about how you typically have a special place reserved for me and you to talk when you’re bombarded with guests. I hope we’ll get those same minutes this year. We need to talk.

Penelope: Unless now is a good time? Simon has a few partners flying into town tonight. Please text me back.

My finger hovered over the images, but I couldn’t bring myself to open them; I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Deleting her messages, I put the car in drive as Simon slid behind the wheel of his Ferrari.

I watched him buy another bouquet of white and red roses, and then I followed him to John F. Kennedy International Airport, into the arrivals lane.

This would be my last stop, I told myself. I’d call Penelope the moment he and his other watch-borrowing stiffs rode into the city.