Afternoon Delight Scrivener Read online

  Hannah and Victoria don’t know everything that happened with Dean. I may have hinted at a few things here or there, but I’ve never told them the entire story. It’s embarrassing, and my family looks down on me enough for my whirlwind romance that led to my marriage to a douchebag. I don’t want Hannah and Victoria to look at me any differently than they do now.

  “Dean Bennett, attorney at law, is my ex-husband.”

  She places her coffee on the edge of my desk and stares at me for a second, not even blinking. “But you said he was a bum. That he was probably in jail.”

  “I assumed he would be. When we parted, if someone would have said he’d be a tax attorney in five years I would have bet a million dollars they were lying. Tax evasion seemed like a more likely scenario.”

  She sits in the chair across from my desk and crosses her legs in the elegant way only Hannah does. Her red wine silk jumpsuit is both elegant and professional all at once. Strappy black heels pull it all together. Hannah is the kind of woman who matches her purse with her outfit every day.

  “Tell me about him,” she says.

  I blow out a breath trying to figure out where to start.

  “He’s gotten under your skin, Chels.” She dips her head to meet my eyes. “Do you still have feelings for him?”

  “No!” My head shoots up. “Not at all. It’s just, it’s been five years and I wasn’t expecting to see him, but there are no feelings there.”

  “Good because I’m a firm believer that people don’t change. Whoever he was before is who he still is under this new facade of a tax attorney.”

  “Really? You don’t think people can realize something and change the way they are?” I would have agreed to that statement three days ago, but now it unnerves me. I hate to admit how upset that makes me. Maybe there was a glimmer of hope inside me I didn’t realize that thought maybe things would have worked between us if he’d changed.

  “I think it’s a rare occurrence.” She shrugs.

  “Oh.”

  “Please Chelsea, remember these are my beliefs. Not some rule book that you have to live your life by. If there’s something there and you want to explore whether he’s changed, then give it a try. Just keep your hands in front of your face so he can’t left hook you.” She stands and takes her coffee off the edge of the desk. “We’ll discuss this at lunch. I have a call in five minutes.” She stops at the doorway of my office. “It’s your call, Chelsea. I’ll gladly thank him for his services thus far and find another tax attorney for RISE. Let me know.”

  “No.” I stand up, my hands pressed to the hardwood top of my desk. “I’m a professional. He’s doing it for free. I told him his contact is Victoria from this point forward. I can handle this.”

  Her face turns into a giant question mark. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I’ve handled Dean Bennett at his worst. Surely, I can handle him now.”

  She nods. “Okay, but if you change your mind—”

  “I won’t.”

  She smiles, and I wait to hear her heels click all the way down the hallway to her office.

  Let’s hope this isn’t added to the long list of things I’ve come to regret in my life.

  * * *

  By mid-afternoon, I’m drowning in the details of the gala RISE is having at the end of summer. Between all the marketing and finding an auctioneer, convincing my cousin, Skylar, a Winter Classics ski medalist to speak, my day has been full.

  “Delivery,” Victoria sing-songs as she walks into my office and places a bouquet of tall, full, and vibrant purple flowers on the corner of my desk.

  She stands there smiling.

  “I don’t even want to know what kind of flowers these are?” I pluck the card, not that I need to. Unless Glen somehow found out where I work and regrets being a nasty bastard the other night, this is Dean’s doing. He was always good at the making up part.

  Yeah, he was.

  Ugh, get out of my head, dirty thoughts.

  “I do.” Victoria places her hands on her hips.

  “Okay, brown-noser, what type of flower is it?”

  “Well before I brought them in here I google image searched.” A huge grin erupts out of her like she’s so proud of herself.

  “And?”

  “They are purple hyacinth flowers. There’s a Greek myth about them being named after a youth when Apollo and Zephyr caused a strong wind—”

  “Okay, teacher’s pet, I don’t need a lesson on Greek Mythology. What does the flower mean?”

  I ask even though I have an idea.

  “It’s an apology. Whoever sends them is asking for your forgiveness.” Victoria’s eyes turn all dreamy like she’s witnessing a wedding where the couple writes their own vows and the groom cries.

  This is just an asshole sending flowers five years too late.

  I pick the bunch of them up out of the glass vase and drop them in the trash can.

  “Chels!” Vic says about to bend down and pull them out. “Don’t let the jerk ruin receiving some gorgeous flowers.”

  “Leave them.” I open the card and read Dean’s message.

  * * *

  The reality is people mess up. Don’t let one mistake ruin a beautiful thing.

  Love, Dean

  * * *

  I dispose of the note with the flowers and Victoria gasps. She’s all happy and lovey now, but I bet back in her Pete days she was the same as I am now.

  She grabs the note from the trash can and reads it over.

  “Don’t get sappy, he didn’t write that.” I sit back down at my desk, going through my emails before I have to leave for the dress fitting for my cousin’s wedding.

  “How do you know?” She honestly looks disappointed. Jeez, Reed’s really done a number on her. He must have a unicorn cock.

  “Because that’s not Dean. Not to mention, he made more than one mistake and what we had wasn’t beautiful. So he’s wrong on both counts.”

  She holds the small card in her hand. “You know what I think? Talk it out and move on with your life. It’s not good for you to harbor these feelings inside.”

  “Gee, thanks, Mom.”

  “Chels,” she sighs.

  “What’s going on in here?” Hannah looks from Victoria to me and then sees the flowers in the trash. “What a beautiful flower. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen an entire bouquet of them before.”

  “They’re purple hyacinth flowers,” Victoria says like the keener in the first row at school.

  I roll my eyes.

  Hannah pulls one out of the trash.

  “Miss Horticulture over there has a whole story to go with the flower.” I mindlessly scroll down my emails to double check that I haven’t missed any for today. I just want to appear busy so these two will leave my office. It’s bad enough I’ll have to put on a brave face when I see my mother today.

  “I google image searched,” Vic deadpans, her disappointed eyes on me the entire time. She’s really got that mother guilt thing down pat. Watch out, Jade.

  “From our tax attorney, I suppose?” Hannah asks, her eyes practically sparkling.

  “Why do you two keep romanticizing this?” I leave my computer and stand, retrieving my stuff off the table on the opposite wall.

  “Because everyone loves the wooing of a woman,” Victoria says.

  “Am I the only one who remembers how I told you he’d be out all night partying, drinking too much, pretending I didn’t exist, and just how bad the end our relationship was?”

  Victoria shrugs because she’s still in the wooing phase right now. The man bought a house right next to her mother’s so she could remain close to her. Yeah, he’s in that love bubble right now.

  “Well, forty percent of American’s make it,” Hannah says matter-of-factly.

  “Forty percent of American’s don’t want to divorce, and I bet only ten percent are actually happy. I mean people stay in miserable marriages for all kinds of reasons—kids, money and pure laziness.” I slide my
bag up on my shoulder.

  “That’s pretty cynical,” Victoria says.

  “Says someone heading toward the ten percent.”

  Hannah giggles. “Believe me, Chels, I’m with you. The marriage thing isn’t for me either, but I don’t think we should knock it entirely.” She flips her head in Victoria’s direction who currently has a look on her face like she just found out Santa Claus isn’t real.

  “I want to believe, I really do, but between the shit dates I’ve been on and now my ex who thinks he can woo me into giving him a second chance? Hell will have to freeze over. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment to go and be criticized by my mother for the next several hours.” I pump my fist up in the air. “Keep the good times coming.”

  I walk out, sliding between them. Neither of them says anything to stop me. It’s not until I’m on the elevator that my phone dings in my purse.

  Unknown: No thank you?

  Me: Who is this?

  Unknown: Am I in competition? How many men do you have sending you flowers these days?

  “AHHHHHH!” I scream inside the elevator then quickly change his name in my phone. The name I choose might not be true, but I’m going to try to retrain my brain.

  Me: How did you get my number?

  Minute Man: I have magical ways. You must remember that. ;)

  I ignore the zing between my legs.

  Me: Delete it now.

  Minute Man: Tell me, would you delete Harry Styles number if you had it?

  Oh, this man and his knowledge of my younger self. What can I say…it was a phase.

  Me: Don’t send me anything again.

  Minute Man: Was it the quote?

  Me: You don’t send your ex-wife flowers.

  Minute Man: I’ve never heard that. I think it’s a myth. I’m sure plenty of guys send their ex’s flowers.

  Me: Dean, this is my final warning.

  Minute Man: What are you going to do if I don’t stop? ;)

  Me: You don’t want to know.

  Minute Man: Ah, Chels, you’ve always been all bark.

  Okay, he’s baiting me and I’m not going to take it.

  Me: Fine. Whatever. I don’t have to answer your text messages.

  Minute Man: Funny. Seems you can’t stop yourself now.

  I press the button on my phone and drop it into my purse, noticing that I’m now outside the office building at the corner waiting to cross.

  How did I even get here?

  My phone continues to ding inside my purse, but I ignore it as I walk the four blocks to the dress shop. This afternoon fucking sucks and as of right now I don’t see a rainbow at the end given that I’m about to meet the most critical woman on the planet who also happens to be my mother.

  Chapter Five

  If texting with your ex-husband who you haven’t seen in five years and who just sent you flowers after you masturbated to memories of him for an entire weekend doesn’t put you in the mood to be in a room full of wedding dresses, I don’t know what will.

  And yes, that wasn’t just sarcastic, but sarcaustic. You did detect an extra dose of bitterness.

  I follow the loud voices of my family through the sea of white and ivory to the three-way mirror where my cousin, Skylar, stands on a pedestal, the seamstress pinning away.

  She looks stunning as always—her long brown hair pinned into a bun, her girl next door vibe disappearing into the beauty of a bride.

  Another damn happily ever after couple.

  “Chels!” she exclaims being the first to see me in the mirror.

  The row of women from my family swivels in my direction. My cousin Zoe grins, while my aunt from her seat. My mom doesn’t smile and doesn’t move an inch except to swivel back toward Skylar.

  “Come in. Come in.” My aunt waves me to come closer when really, I’d rather be practicing self-acupuncture than be here.

  “Hi, Aunt Liz.” I kiss her cheek and she places her hand on my upper back nudging me closer.

  Zoe sits on the chair, glancing through a magazine.

  “Hi, Mom.” I bend down and kiss her cheek.

  Her matching-my-own blonde hair is sleek and cut to her chin. Her makeup impeccable, her outfit fresh off the racks of Neiman’s even if her and my dad can’t really afford it. Image is everything and apparently worth going into debt for.

  “Chelsea,” she says. “You’re late.”

  “I ran over from work.”

  My phone dings in my purse, but I ignore it.

  “You look beautiful, Sky,” I say, taking a seat next to Zoe, far enough away that my mother can’t whisper to me.

  “Thanks.” Sky’s voice is full of happiness and excitement all rolled up inside a confetti bomb ready to explode.

  “What’s up, cuz?” I ask.

  Zoe drops the magazine to her lap. “Where do you want me to start? The fact that I haven’t lost my baby weight yet and Caiden, he’s what?”

  “He’s almost three, sweetie,” my aunt Liz answers.

  “It’s called dramatic effect, Ma. I know how old my son is.”

  Liz laughs. “Well, you seem frazzled a lot lately.”

  Zoe sits up in her chair. “I have two kids and a husband who can’t clean up after himself.”

  “Been there,” Aunt Liz says, sharing a look with my mom.

  “Still picking up the socks,” my mom finishes, and the two women laugh.

  “Beckett picks up his socks,” Sky says.

  “Now he does. Vin used to bring home flowers on a whim. He made me CDs, wrote me letters. Now I get a text saying he needs me to go buy him more underwear.”

  “No way,” I say.

  Although I’ve been married, my life never progressed to where Zoe’s at.

  “I bought him briefs…the ones with smiley faces and a pink pair with bananas on them.”

  I smack the arm of the chair, laughing uncontrollably. “What did he say?”

  “Oh, he wore them. It’s Vin after all, but I told him I am not his personal shopper. He argued that he buys me panties and bras, but he does that because it benefits him. I have no problem with cotton.”

  She drops the magazine on the table in front of us with an agitated flourish.

  “Next time get him a set where they have a sleeve to put their…” I eye both our moms who are enthralled in our conversation. “Thingy.”

  Zoe quirks an eyebrow at me and then points. “Done.” She grabs her phone. “Hello, Amazon.”

  “Chelsea, stop being so vulgar.” My mom leans forward, shooting me her ‘you know better’ expression.

  My phone dings again from inside my purse.

  Zoe’s thumbs stop moving. “Aren’t you going to get that?”

  “Nope.”

  She shrugs and dramatically presses her finger to the screen. “All ordered. I’d show you, but I don’t want you envisioning Vin in all his hot glory,” she says, thick with sarcasm.

  “Thank you for sparing me the agony.” I wink at her.

  “Well?” Skylar turns and stands in front of us.

  “Oh, Sky.” Aunt Liz stands and looks to her daughter, tears in her eyes.

  My mom gets up and hands a tissue to her.

  She looks breathtaking in a strapless beaded bodice that shows off her amazing figure. Tight through the middle and flows down into multiple layers of satin and sheer fabric. The perfect dress for the perfect bride.

  Thinking back to our earlier conversation at RISE about weddings, I say a small wish that Sky and Beckett are in that ten percent. She deserves it.

  “Great choice,” Zoe adds, her fingers feeling the fabric of the skirt. “It’ll be perfect for summer.”

  “Definitely.” My mom chimes in. “You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.” She shoots me a fleeting glance. In five years, she’s never let me forget the fact she didn’t get to plan an elaborate and costly wedding that would have surely bankrupted them.

  “Thanks.” Sky tears up slightly. “I hope Beck loves it
as much as you guys.”

  “He’d love you walking down in an eighties dress complete with puffy shoulders and rhinestones galore,” Aunt Liz assures her daughter.

  We all know she’s right. Beckett might have needed a push in the right direction, but now that he’s there, I’ve never seen a man more willing to declare his love.

  “Now it’s your turn.” She points to me and Zoe.

  “What about Demi and Mia?” I ask.

  “They’re getting fitted and sending their measurements.”

  Why didn’t I do that? Because dress shopping is a rite of passage and I love my cousin and don’t live out of state.

  “Plus, I didn’t want too many people here to make the decision on which dress you’ll wear,” Sky says.

  I tilt my head. “You haven’t chosen yet?”

  “No, it’s up to you girls.” She smiles like she’s granting a wish to us when in reality I don’t have time, nor do I want to try on twenty dresses for my mother’s critique.

  “Great.” I smack on my fake smile and head to the dressing room.

  The associate brings us an array of dresses explaining the color doesn’t matter because they can order our color of choice in for all of us.

  I head into one of the dressing rooms, Zoe in the other. Plopping my purse on the bench, I disrobe from my work outfit and put on a mermaid style dress that’s anything but flattering. My ass looks like each cheek is fighting for dominance and my tits aren’t nearly big enough to fill the bodice. The only good thing is that my white Chicago winter legs are covered.

  “Let’s see, ladies,” Sky calls out from the waiting area.

  I open my door and Sky’s now back in her jeans and blouse with a cute pair of flats. She smiles.

  Zoe steps out of her dressing room in another mermaid dress that has capped sleeves. The dress I’m wearing is peach, while hers is pink. She looks better.

  “You both look wonderful. Let’s show our moms.” Skylar turns and heads down the hall.