"Damn you, Eli," I muttered when my fiancé's voice mail picked up for the gazillionth time. "Are you planning to never talk to me again?"
Cursing softly under my breath, I f lipped my cell phone shut. No point leaving another message. It was obvious—painfully so—that Eli was avoiding me.
Great. It wasn't even nine-thirty in the morning yet, and it was clear that the day was going to be full of drama.
I'd been calling Eli since shortly after he stormed out of our apartment the night before, and so far, I hadn't heard a word from him. Did he expect me to grovel? Perhaps take out a billboard ad announcing to all of South Florida that I had overreacted? We'd had a fight. So what? It certainly didn't warrant him acting like I no longer existed.
Enough was enough. If Eli didn't have the decency to get back to me, why should I spend the day moping over him?
Balancing my Starbucks latte in one hand, I shoved my cell phone into my purse with the other, then strode purposefully into the office building on NE Fifth Street, where I worked in downtown Miami. I showed my ID card to security before heading for the bank of elevators. Only one other person was waiting there, a tall and striking brunette. She barely glanced my way, but when she did, I saw that her eyes were red-rimmed. Clearly, she had been crying. I wondered if she, like me, had dealt with some early-morning man drama.
Probably. At least I wasn't the only one arriving late to the office because of a man.
I got off first, on the eleventh f loor. My plan was to head through the glass doors housing the Believe the Dream, Change Your Life Agency and go straight to my office. But as I approached the doors, I found myself reaching into my purse and wrapping my fingers around my cell phone.
Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it….
I did. I pulled the phone out of my purse and once again punched in Eli's mobile number. What can I say—as frustrated as I was with him, there was no way I would stop trying to reach him. He was my fiancé—the Mr. Right I'd finally found at the ripe old age of twenty-eight—and I was determined to marry him.
"Eli, baby," I said when his voice mail picked up. "It's me again. I'll bet you're still sleeping, which is why I haven't heard from you yet. Listen, I know I said this before, but I am sorry about last night. I was stressed to the max, had worked an incredibly long day—and you know how I get when I've worked past eight at night." With my shoulder, I nudged the glass door open and headed into the agency. I nodded in greeting at Alaina, the receptionist and a friend, as I walked briskly past her. "The good news is, the campaign is now all set," I said a little loudly, hoping Alaina would hear and think I was on a business call, even though she wasn't my superior. "And I'll be home right after work today," I continued, when she was out of earshot. "No later than six, I promise. And then I'm all yours. Maybe Carla can even babysit Rayna for a couple extra hours and we can go for a nice dinner."
I paused as I attempted the fine art of opening my office door with full hands, succeeded, and stepped inside. I quickly placed my coffee on my desk, along with my purse. "Can you just call me, please? Let me know the wedding's still on," I added with a laugh, the kind that said I was sure it was, but in reality, I wasn't entirely confident of that anymore. Anytime Eli and I had had a disagreement before, he'd never taken this long to get back to me. We were the type who patched things up in a couple hours at the most, and we certainly never went to bed angry with one another.
Eli wasn't that mad at me—was he?
After all, I was the one with the right to be mad. I was a single mother, and he'd damn near bitten my daughter's head off when she spilled her milk on his lap. At the time, I'd reacted instinctively, like a mother hen protecting her chick, but now the clarity of the morning after had me realizing that Eli had simply overreacted, then I had over-reacted, which had led to a stupid fight.
I tossed my cell onto my desk and collapsed in my leather chair with a long-suffering sigh. No sooner had I sat down than my door swung open. My boss, Debbie Noble, walked in and closed the door behind her.
"I'm sorry, Debbie," I began without preamble. "I got held up a little this morning because my sitter had to run an errand, so I couldn't bring Rayna over there at the usual time." A lie, but what the hell. I didn't need any more grief today.
Debbie waved a hand dismissively. "That's not why I'm here."
"Oh?"
A grin slowly spread on her face as she strolled toward my desk. "Ask me what I was doing last night."
I reached for my Starbucks cup and took a quick sip of my latte. "I already know what you were doing. You were having dinner with a potential client." The agency represented motivational speakers and life coaches, and I worked as the office manager. "Did you sign her?"
"After that," Debbie said. "When I came back to the office."
"You came back to the office?" I'd been here until nearly eight, and only the cleaning staff had been around when I left.
"Just ask me."
"Okay, I'll bite. What were you doing last night when you came back to the office?"
"Maybe the better question is who I was doing…." Now my eyebrows shot up. "Debbie—"
"Jason!" she squealed before I could formally ask the question. "And, oh my God! I've been dying for you to get here so I could tell someone."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, waving my hands around as I stared up at her in total shock. "You slept with Jason? Jason from the mail room?"
Debbie grinned proudly and rested her butt on my desk. "Honey, nothing that we did together even remotely resembled sleep."
"I don't understand. What was Jason doing here so late?"
"Meeting me for a scandalous rendezvous."
"You're totally serious."
"As a heart attack."
"But he's so young!" I blurted, not meaning to sound judgmental, but I couldn't help it. "What is he—twenty?"
"Twenty-two, but who cares?"
Which made him sixteen years Debbie's junior. "Does he even shave yet?"
"He's old enough to be legal, but young enough to be horny and hard—all the time. Vanessa, he is like a steel rod. And I tell you, girl, that boy couldn't get enough last night! On the f loor, against the wall, bent over my desk giving it to me from behind. Mmmm!" Debbie closed her eyes and shivered, as if reliving her orgasmic pleasure.
I cast her a wary look as I reached for my latte and gulped it this time. Her story was making me miss Eli all the more.
"I hope you know what you're doing," I said.
Despite my expressed concern, I knew Debbie wouldn't take offense. Not only was she my boss, she was a good friend. We shared all kinds of personal info and didn't hold back on our opinions.
"Of course I know what I'm doing. And I'm doing it again tonight." She laughed airily. "Though this time I'll make sure he's on the f loor. I got some serious rug burn on my knees…."
"Okay, I think it's a little too early for that kind of talk." I downed more coffee.
"You should try it some time."
"Jason?"
"No, a twenty-two-year-old. Heck, even eighteen."
"Eighteen! You have lost your mind. Besides, I have a man." Debbie rolled her eyes.
"And I'm getting married." I waved my three-carat rock."You remember that important detail, don't you?" I didn't mention that my fiancé was mad at me right now and that he'd spent the night at his best friend's place. I didn't feel like bringing up our stupid fight, especially when I had no doubt that we'd be making up later in the day. Or that a delivery-man with a dozen roses would show up any minute.
"Seriously, Vanessa—don't knock it till you try it. Nothing against Eli, but only the young ones can give it to you the way you want. Talk about stamina! Before you walk down that aisle, I think it's in your best interest to—"
"Enough." I held up a hand to silence Debbie.
"Fine."
"Tell me more about you and Jason," I said.
She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "You know he's got a tongue ring, right?"
"Yes, I've seen—" I stopped short when the implication of what Debbie was saying hit me. I'd heard plenty about tongue rings, although I'd never dated a guy with one myself.
"Okay, are you saying…?"
"Mmm-hmm." She smiled slyly.
"Don't get coy now. I want the dirty details. Is it true what they say—"
My office line rang, interrupting me, and I groaned in disappointment. I reached for the receiver, saying to Debbie, "Hold that thought."
She clamped a hand over her mouth as she giggled, either because of the look on my face or because she was remembering everything about the tongue ring that I now wanted to know.
"Vanessa Cain," I said into the receiver, my eyes still on Debbie. "Will you hold a moment?"
I pressed the hold button before the person on the other end of the line could even speak, but Debbie shook her head. "I'll finish the story later," she told me. "You take that call."
"Oh, no you don't! You can't leave me hanging like this!"
She tapped her watch.
"Fine, tell me about the tongue ring later," I said hurriedly, "but do you like this guy or what?"
"I'm married," she said candidly.
"I know, but…" In the last year, Debbie had grown increasingly less attracted to her husband and was now on her third affair. I didn't agree with her infidelity, not in the least, but when I'd made that fact clear in the past, she firmly told me she was a big girl and could do what she wanted. That she didn't need my approval, just my friendship.
Since she was a friend, I tried not to judge her, even if I didn't agree with what she did behind her husband's back. Still, I tried to talk sense into Debbie whenever I could slip my moral opinion in.
"You've found a new boy toy, Debbie," I said. "Obviously, you're not happy in your marriage. That's been clear for a long time. You owe it to Ben—and to yourself—to leave him if you can't be faithful to him."
"And what about my children?" she countered. When I didn't answer, she went on. "Look, screwing Jason i...
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