I wanted her to break up with him, for me.

Pouring myself a shot of scotch, I contemplated how I should handle this. I pulled out one of my stationery sheets and clicked my pen.

Wait. What the hell am I doing?

I picked up my phone and scrolled down to her name. Then I finally opened the series of text messages I’d avoided for the past several days.

Penelope: Hey. Not sure if my images with the dresses came through or not? Which one should I wear? (Can you answer my other messages as well? I would appreciate your help.)

Penelope: I see you giving an interview on TV. You looked at your phone when I texted you. Why aren’t you answering me?!!

Penelope: Okay, let’s pretend like you’ve had a string of bad weeks, and you’ll tell me about it later. *Fresh slate?* *Okay, great* I’m thinking about sleeping with Simon after your gala since things have been heating up. Let me know what you think about my dirty texts/lingerie. [.img.] [.img]

Fuck this shit.

I clicked on her name hit call.

It rang once. It rang twice.

“Please leave your message at the sound of the beep.” Her voicemail sounded instead.

Beep!

“Penelope, I know that it’s three o’clock in the morning, but I need to get this off my chest.” I let out a breath. “I can’t give you any more advice on landing Simon, can’t tell you another sexy thing that you should do, or suggest a new set of filthy words that you should text him late at night.”

I paused. “As your best friend, I’ve reached my limit, and I can honestly say that he doesn’t deserve you. I’m not saying all of this because I’m fucking jealous, or because he had the audacity to say that he makes more money than me. By the way, I still can’t find his name on the Forbes 500 list, and I know damn well that he's renting that Ferrari, but that’s a story for a different day.”

“He’s not who you think he is,” I said. “And the better man has always been right in front of you ... ”

“You have every reason to never give me a chance since you know me better than anyone, and you agree with all the tabloids calling me The Cocky King of New York and the Untamed Playboy of Manhattan. But I honestly believe that you’re better off with someone else, and I need you to see.”

“I'm not asking for too much, I just want you to—”

“Hello?” Simon picked up the call before I could save it. “Hello?”

What the fuck? “I was calling to talk to Penelope.”

“I’m sure you were,” he said. “She’s sleeping with me right now, though.”

“In that case, I’m sure she’s disappointed,” I said. “Give her the phone.”

“She’s sleeping, Hayden.” He hissed. “She’s also my girlfriend—like I told you before, and three o’clock in the morning isn’t an appropriate time for you to call.”

“I’m not going to ask you to give her the phone again.”

“Your name in her phone is now ‘Currently Being an Asshole’ so I don’t think you two are on that good of terms. She said you haven’t called or texted her in weeks. Why’s that?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “Well, since you didn’t catch my drift when I stopped by your office, allow me to reiterate: You’re just her friend, not her boyfriend. Fall the fuck back.”

He hung up in my face, and I didn’t bother calling back.

I’d rather handle this in person anyway.

Twenty-Six

Present Day

Penelope

In years past, Hayden called me at six o’clock the night before his gala. He’d tell me that he was outside my place and ready to drive me away so I could have a sneak peek of the party’s theme before anyone else.

The first few themes were relatively simple—Old Hollywood, A Night Under the Stars, and A Fairytale Escape. But as the years progressed, he came up with more complex themes that never failed to leave me impressed.

Since it was one of the highlights of my year, I was holding out hope that he would set aside whatever was bothering him and still follow through.

I eyed the clock on Friday night, watching as the minute hand ticked past one, then two.

My heart dropped once it made it to fifteen.

I refreshed my phone’s screen to see if maybe—just maybe, he was running late.

Nothing.

No new messages or emails. No mysteriously missed calls.

He was still avoiding me.

Fuck him.

The following night, I stared at my reflection in the living room mirror. Since Hayden never bothered to help me pick a dress, I settled on a one-shouldered mauve gown that cinched at my waist and flowed to the floor. The thigh-high split on the right side of it revealed a pair of sparkling Cinderella-styled stilettos.

“Wow.” Tatiana stepped into the room wearing pajamas, a bowl of ice cream in hand. “I thought Simon was picking you up at eight-thirty.”

“Nine-thirty,” I said. “His flight from Florida is running late. Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Because it’s raining. I don’t want to get my gown wet.”

“The gala is inside, Tatiana.”

“Is it?” She smiled. “Well, hold on. Allow me to think of another excuse for why I don’t want to spend my night around a bunch of rich people who think they’re better than everyone.” She tapped the spoon against her bottom lip. “Oh, nooo. I’m suddenly feeling sick.”

“You’re so full of shit.” I laughed. “Thanks for the advance notice that you’re not going.”

“You’re more than welcome.” She picked up my purse and brought it over to me. “Let me know how the sex is afterwards. I want to know every explicit detail, down to how long each kiss is.”

“I’ll tell you if there’s sex.”

“There’d better be.” She scoffed. “You’ve been dating him for what feels like forever at this point.”

“I know.” I made sure that condoms were still tucked into my purse.

As if on cue, the doorbell sounded.

“Farewell, Cinderella.” Tatiana plopped down on the couch, and I walked over to the door.

When I opened it, I couldn’t help but smile at Simon. He was dressed in an immaculate black tuxedo and holding two long stem red roses.

“Whoa.” He looked me over for several seconds, struggling to say a word. Instead, he clasped my hand and held it up, motioning for me to twirl around.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he said. “I may have to watch my back tonight, since I think all attention will be on you and this dress.”

I blushed. “Thanks for the compliment. Are you seeing more than one woman or something?”

“What?” He furrowed his brow. “What makes you ask that?”

“There are two giant roses in your hand, but only one me.”

“Oh, never that.” He kissed my lips. “One is for your roommate. Isn’t she coming with us?”