My monthly pedicure outing with my girlfriends is one of my favorite days. This is my happy place. Perched on our thrones, we transition to safer topics like baby names and bucket list items, and who’s banging whom at the office.
I watch as my toes are painted cherry red, my earlier discomfort slipping away.
“Noah and I are wanting to try that fancy Italian place, La Brasso, before the baby comes, but there’s a three-month waiting list for reservations.”
Anna smirks, and if my feet weren’t otherwise occupied, I would kick her. But deciding I don’t want to conceal something from Olivia, I speak up.
“Sterling and I went there last weekend,” I manage to say.
“No kidding?” she asks. “Wow. Wonder how he got you guys in.” She rubs her chin, seemingly more concerned about how to score a reservation than the fact that I was there with her husband’s best friend.
I breathe a sigh of relief as we finish up. Maybe Anna’s wrong. Maybe this isn’t the worst thing in the world.
Once we’re done, we head to the front of the spa to pay. Anna’s busy swiping her credit card and making small talk with the cashier when Olivia turns to face me.
“Promise me one thing,” she says, her face solemn.
My best guess is that she’s going to make me swear not to let anyone take any of those horrible hospital-bed pictures after you’ve just had a baby and your vagina is still hanging out.
“Of course. Anything.”
She grips my shoulders, looking deep into my eyes. “Promise me you won’t fall for Sterling.”
My mouth goes dry, and I find myself nodding. “Of course,” I mutter, but it already feels like a lie.
Chapter Eighteen
Camryn
I’m not normally one to succumb to peer pressure, but in this instance, I crumbled faster than a cookie at snack time. When Anna and Olivia asked me last night about lining up a date for Sterling, at first I scoffed at the idea, but the stack of printouts on my desk have been calling my name.
I leaf through the pile again. Smiling faces of hopeful women stare back at me, each with the secret desire to become Mrs. Sterling Quinn. I want to shove these into the back of a drawer, or better yet, the recycle bin, but instead I select one at random from the pile.
Meredith Aimes.
She’s got long dark hair that hangs in a sleek curtain down her back, and a regal, classy look. She’s beauty-queen pretty. Glancing over her profile, I discover she’s a former competitive swimmer, currently a teacher at a special-education school, and volunteers in her free time at an animal shelter.
Nope. That’s a hard pass. I set her profile aside. I might be willing to set him up, but not with someone who’s freaking perfect.
I grab another three sheets from the stack and reject all three. A sweet nanny who loves watching football. A chef with a passion for public service. A gymnast who visits her sick grandma every Sunday after church.
Lifting another, I swallow a curse. A brown-eyed temptress with tits out to there. Fuck! Those things are magnificent. They put my B-cups to shame. Sterling doesn’t need to see these. Fat chance of that happening when I shove her photo straight into the garbage.
Shit. What is up with all these Miss Perfects?
Annoyed, I grab one more.
Bianca Tetherdine. Blond. Perky. A college student, barely twenty-one.
I roll my eyes. Fine.
This will work. She’s cute, so he won’t suspect anything. It’s not like I can send him off with someone fugly. But I also doubt they’ll have anything in common.
I text Sterling to ask if he’s free this weekend, and once he confirms he is, I get everything all set up. Bianca’s free to meet for a drink tomorrow night. I confirm the time and place with her, then text Sterling again.
Camryn: I’ve set you up on a date tomorrow. You’re meeting Bianca at eight at Lucky’s Tavern.
I expect a text back. Part of me wants to hear him complain about the idea, so I can pat myself on the back for this little experiment, feeling content that he’d prefer to spend his time with me.
But when a text doesn’t arrive, I fear perhaps this is what he’s been waiting for all along. This is my job, what I’m supposed to be doing.
Sterling obviously realizes that, and it’s time I did too. Anna was right all along.
With a heavy heart, I get back to work, intent on pushing all this Sterling business from my brain.
Hours later, I’m lost in work when a shriek from the office next door steals my attention.
“What was that?” I ask Anna.
“Not a clue. Come on.”
I push out of my chair and follow her. Normally, I’m not one for office gossip, but I could use a little distraction from my lackluster day.
Next door to our shared office is an open space containing six desks for a team of graphic designers. While they lack individual offices, the space is bright and open, and is often used as a communal gathering space for those hoping to catch the latest office gossip.
“What’s going on?” Anna asks as we stroll up.
Stopping near the workstation where they’re all gathered, I see a picture of Sterling on the computer screen. It appears to be a tabloid article. My stomach turns uneasy.
“Just the latest on the gossip site’s latest obsession—Sterling Quinn. He’s rumored to be involved in a secret affair, which could jeopardize the whole marriage/inheritance thing.”
“W-what do you mean?” Anna asks on my behalf, since I’ve suddenly found myself speechless.