A Convenient Arrangement (21 page)

Aubrey pursed her lips and looked at Gwen.

“What? What is it?”

“The launch party, tomorrow night—?”

Gwen’s heart pitter-pattered fast. She knew the question Aubrey couldn’t quite ask. Was she going to be able to handle seeing Leo? Everything had been finalized, she didn’t need to meet with Leo, all they had to get through was the actual event. “I’m doing it.” She looked at Aubrey directly, her gaze steady. “I have to.”

Aubrey nodded. “You’re a professional. This is your business, your career.”

Those things were true.
And I need to appear unfazed. Strong
. “And I’ll have Nina and Shelly and you, if that baby doesn’t arrive in the next twenty-four hours.”

“I wish she would arrive. I feel like a hippo out of water. Take a look at my cankles.” Aubrey lifted her leg. Gwen appraised it skeptically. Her ankles were swollen, but they weren’t
that
swollen.

“Just hold off until after the party,” Gwen teased. “Okay?”

“No. Way. She wants to head out, then let her,” Aubrey smiled. “Pun intended.” She pushed herself to her feet and pulled Gwen to her side in a pregnant lady hug. “You’ll let me know if you need anything? For tomorrow night or—” Her tone lowered to a warm murmur as she met Gwen’s eyes. “Or just to talk.”

Gwen nodded and wiped under her nose. Aubrey waddled beside Gwen toward the elevator.

“Thank you,” Gwen whispered, the waterworks threatening again. “I can’t…”

“You don’t have to,” Aubrey said. “You’re my very best friend, and nothing is going to change that.”

*

“Launch is looking good.” Todd pushed his glasses up his nose. “The app is available, we’ve got the online push as well as the promo and marketing going, plus the party. Man, this thing is going to shred the competition. And now we’ve got our poster boy back, right, Leo?”

“What?” Leo turned away from the window, where he’d been staring into space. Gwen. He was thinking about Gwen for what might be the millionth time today. “I never went anywhere.”

Todd flashed Ilko a look. “Right, I know. But come on, it was only a matter of time before you and the girl took things public and right now? Not such a good time for A Convenient Arrangement if our guy, our Mr. Bachelor, set in the bachelor lifestyle, decided to settle down with one woman, Right? I mean, you get what I’m saying.”

Leo did, even if he didn’t like Todd’s perspective on what had happened between him and Gwen. A Convenient Arrangement was a business investment, a pretty hefty one for Travati Financial, and really their first foray into digital space. If the app launched well, they already had a dozen more ideas from Todd and Ilko that might work for TF.

Leo nodded, but didn’t answer. He’d feel like a fraud if he said anything. He wasn’t about to minimize his feelings for Gwen, because he did have feelings, very strong and unrelenting feelings, but he couldn’t give her what she wanted. In fact, he could nearly guarantee that he would never want what she did.

He had brothers who seemed to be pumping out kids at a pretty good rate. Hadn’t Anthony just said that he and Shelly wanted to start a family soon? So with all the new women in the Travati family and all the babies planned, he definitely didn’t feel any pressure to marry and breed and carry on the Travati name. So why was he even thinking about this? Because of Gwen. Gwen was different.

After a moment of silence, Ilko cleared her throat. “Okay. So you’ve got all you need. I guess the next time we see each other is tomorrow night at the event. Gwen is still handling all the details, right?”

Leo nodded. “She’s got everything set. You could touch base with our PR team. With our guest list, we’re guaranteed some good press from the event.”

“It’s good to know the right people,” Todd said and stood. He pulled his fingers through his beard. “Okay, man, see you tomorrow night. Official launch tomorrow. We’ll let you know the numbers as they come in.”

Leo nodded again. Todd and Ilko walked out his office. He sat behind his desk and turned to his computer. He had ton of work emails to answer and calls to make, and yet his thoughts were scattered. His focus had deserted him. These melancholy feelings wouldn’t go away. He and Gwen had made their mutual decision what? Only a couple weeks ago, and yet the intensity of the loss was like it had happened yesterday.

Of course he was scattered and unfocused. He’d been practically living with Gwen. Spending all his time with her for just over two months. The end of their relationship and her exit from his life left a huge gap. This was the exact reason why A Convenient Arrangement suited a busy executive. Why put up with this emotional detritus that wreaked havoc with work?

Because he loved her.

Love? Whether he loved Gwen or not didn’t matter. They wanted entirely different things from life. She wanted a passel of kids and a picket fence and he wanted…what the hell did he want? He wanted Gwen.

Enough. All he needed was time to readjust and get acclimated to being single again. The guy who lived for the convenient arrangement. In fact, maybe that very thing, a convenient arrangement, would help him get past the emptiness, even though the thought held no appeal. He clicked on an email from Mischa Galakanos, an heiress he’d met at Mesquale before the holidays. They’d both been there with other people, but Ishy’s thing was over and his thing was over and she was visiting New York for a couple weeks… Maybe if he acted like the guy he’d been, with a beautiful woman on his arm and a convenient arrangement, he’d get his mojo back. After all, he had an image to uphold.

*

“She
stole
my floral arrangements.” Milan stood in the middle of the living room at her parents’ Upper East Side condo, her stick-like arms crossed. The way she leaned forward reminded Gwen of a praying mantis. “My best friend, that bitch, stole my floral arrangements! What are
you
going to do about it?”

The housekeeper had scampered off like a rabbit chased by a hound as soon as she had shown Gwen in. Who could blame her, really? Milan was impossibly spoiled, with a mile-wide mean streak. When Milan was angry she might say anything, and usually that anything was most unkind.

“Milan, darling.” Mrs. Vanderpelk’s right eyelid twitched as though ticking off the seconds before her daughter exploded, blasting bits of perfect girl and silicone all over the Vanderpelks’ impeccably decorated home. “This is not the end of the world. Honestly, I never liked those floral arrangements. And I didn’t much like Lisbon, either.”

“What do you know, Mother? Pink peonies are the rage this season! They would have been imported,
imported
from a special grower in Argentina.” Milan pointed a bony, talon-like finger at her mother. “
You
let Lisbon come to that special meeting with Gwen, the one about the flowers.”

“Darling, if memory serves, you and Lisbon were running a bit late from your massage at—”

Milan tossed her mother a furious look. “Memory does not serve, Mother.” She darted her angry glare from Mrs. Vanderpelk to Gwen and back again. “Can you believe this? What a whore.” Milan put her hands on her boyishly slim hips and shook her head. “How did she even find the name of the grower? That’s what I want to know. We talked about the type of flower that day but not—” Milan’s eyes slitted, and she slowly turned as if a snake ready to strike. “Unless someone
gave
her the contact information for the South American grower?” Her accusing stare locked onto Gwen.

“One Google search and she could find the grower’s name.” Gwen walked toward the couch. She had zero patience for Milan’s antics today. Here was a woman handed everything,
everything
. A doting fiancé (which Gwen really couldn’t understand—Andrew seemed so normal and nice, and he was marrying this wackadoo?), parents who loved her, and a wedding that was a fairytale on acid. I mean really? Doves and white dancing horses? Gwen placed her computer on the coffee table in front of the couch and reached out for one of the butter cookies arranged in a perfect circle on a crystal dish, taking a bite. Certainly in this room, occupied by one gaunt waif and her nipped and tucked mother, Gwen would be the only person shoveling butter cookies into her mouth.

Gwen tucked her skirt to sit, but just before her behind hit the embroidered pillowtop sofa, Milan snapped, “Did
you
give Lisbon the grower’s name?”

“Me?” Gwen froze, her hand flying to her chest. Butter cookie crumbs dropped from her lips.

“Did she hire you to do her wedding?” Milan’s sharp, shrill tone felt like a slap against Gwen’s cheek.

“You know that I no longer do weddings. I’m doing yours as a favor to your godmother.”

“Some favor.” Milan rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “This is going to be the worst wedding ever.”

Gwen stiffened. Instead of lowering her butt to sit, she stood. Mrs. Vanderpelk’s lips thinned, and she looked at the giant diamond adorning her ring finger. Gwen felt a growing sense of calm sweep over her as she looked from mother to daughter. She didn’t need this abuse, she absolutely did not. Her patience for finding Argentinian peony growers, Russian horse dancers, Turkish dove trainers, British monkey peddlers—was this a wedding or an international zoo?—was exhausted. Yes, she had taken on planning Milan’s wedding as a favor, a favor to one of her first and favorite clients. But truly, really, she’d done her very best, gone above and beyond, but between the flood of texts, the miles-long emails, the middle-of-the-night interruptions and now this… Milan accusing her of wedding espionage? Well, Gwen was d-o-n-e, done.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Gwen straightened her spine and lifted her purse from the couch. “You have plenty of time before the wedding. I’ll send you a list of planners I know will do an amazing job for you.”

Milan whipped her head up. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “What?”

Of course, the Vanderpelk cherub had never been cut loose before. Who would ever do such a thing? Certainly not any party planner that Gwen knew…oh, right…Gwen was doing just that right now.

“You’re leaving?” Milan spat. “You’re quitting?”

Gwen picked up her computer from the table. “I think resigning is the appropriate term. I know you’ll be much happier with someone who specializes in weddings. It’s obvious you need a planner who can give you all their focus.”
And probably their first-born.

“Mother,” Milan screeched, “stop her.” Her brows knit in a furious furrow. “You can’t do this, you can’t
leave
. What will people say? What will they think?”

“I suppose nothing if you don’t mention it.” And frankly, Gwen couldn’t care less about what anybody had to say. She was done being worried or concerned about everyone else’s opinion of her and her life.

“If you leave, you won’t have any more business once I tell people you abandoned us.” Her smirk sickened Gwen. Once upon a time a threat like that might have made her stop, turn, and suffer through working for this harpy for the next fourteen months, but not now, no way. Just no. Her business, her life, her mental well-being meant too much to her to waste one more minute of her precious life on this thankless she-devil.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Gwen glanced at Mrs. Vanderpelk.The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly, as if to say,
you go, girl
. Gwen returned her attention to Milan. “I wish you every success, and I’m certain you and Andrew will have many blessed years together.” She nodded to Mrs. Vanderpelk and turned toward the door. “Best wishes and again, I’ll send you some names.”

With that, Gwen scurried down the hall toward the front door, making a break for freedom while she could. The shrieking began just as the housekeeper met Gwen at the door.

“Good job,” she whispered, opening the door. “Smart girl to leave this behind.”

Yes, Gwen felt like she was getting smarter and quicker at leaving things that didn’t suit her. Too bad there was one person who didn’t suit her that she still couldn’t quite leave behind.

“Where should I stick the glow tubes?”

Gwen turned from speaking to one of the bartenders. They had been over the “Hard Core Exec” (bourbon neat with a slice of ginger), the “One-Nighter” (a concoction of Jameson and apple juice), and finally the “Mr. Convenient” (champagne over raspberries). Ben, her new assistant, stood behind her with a dozen long plastic tubes sticking out of one hand, all glowing different shades of neon. He held an entire case of the same tubes in his arms. Gwen knew exactly where she’d like to stick those tubes, but Leo wasn’t here yet. In less than twenty-four hours—okay, twenty-four hours plus two weeks—her emotions had ricocheted from weepy about their breakup to irritated with both Leo and herself, but a glow tube anal exam? Leo didn’t really deserve that…

“They go in the center of the tables, next to the neon wigs.”

Todd and Ilko had been very specific with their decoration requests for the launch party and Leo had been clear: whatever Todd and Ilko wanted for decor, Gwen should get. That included the Romanian aerial silk artist who hung ten feet above the crowd with a leg draped around a piece of fabric doing acrobatic tricks in a sequined thong bikini.

Ben looked up at the silk apparatus. “I hope she doesn’t fall.”

“If she does, the whole party will go splat.”

Ben cocked an eyebrow.

“Sorry, unintended pun. Don’t forget the neon ice cubes. Bar number two needs green and blue. There are more in the kitchen.”

“What is this anyway, an eighties retro-fest?” Ben mumbled. He walked from table to table dropping off bundles of the long slender glow sticks.

A voice sounded in Gwen’s ear. “Eagle one? Come in, eagle one.” It was Amanda, the newly hired PR exec for Travati Financial.

Gwen pressed her fingers to her earpiece, sighing. “Please do not refer to me as a bird. What is it?”

“The Lion has landed.”

“Lion?”

“You know, like Leo the lion? He’s in the building.”