It is a truth universally acknowledged that [girls - deleted] women [who want to find love - deleted] who are [seeking love - deleted] looking for love are
“The least likely to find it,” I muttered just before face-planting on the wooden desk, just narrowly missing a collision with my poor laptop. “And the least likely to become best-selling novelists.”
It shouldn’t be this hard.
Writerly inspiration certainly wasn’t lacking. With my father the successful novelist, my best friend the acclaimed writer, and of course, my beloved Jane Austen the timeless muse, everything was in my favor. The only thing lacking was, well, a happily ever after of my own to draw inspiration from, but Austen had managed without that. Surely I could too.
With a deep sigh, I dragged my eyes back up to my document and backspaced on the first line.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that ________.
Frustrated, I closed the laptop. Surely the words didn’t simply flow out of every novelist easily at first, right? Scratching my head, I tried to remember the name of that movie where Nicolas Cage sat at his typewriter and couldn’t manage to write, but then the itchiness reminded me I was overdue for a shower. Not bathing daily was one of the perks of living alone and working from home, even if the work that allowed this flexibility was about as thrilling as my beige walls and faded blue drapes. It was all temporary, right? Until I found something truly fulfilling … like becoming a famous writer.
But what if I’m not good enough?
Then I’d settle for just being a writer, without the “famous” part. No one expected me to be great at anything anyway.
Lillian’s the perfect daughter, not me.
And that was fine, really. It took the pressure off.
Still, I had to try. Even if it wasn’t writing, there must be something. I was 31, and my life was comfortable. Fine. Nice. My old nemeses anxiety and self-doubt arose sometimes, but I could minimize them by arranging my life comfortably, at home or with my safe circle of friends. It was nice.
Nice?
Is that really enough?
The answer eluded me. I tried to ignore those questions arising in my mind with ever-increasing frequency. What if I did become a writer? I’d always wanted to, as a child looking up to my talented father. My parents had always been busy, leaving me abundant time to lose myself in books, as well as notebooks full of my own half-written stories.
A knock at my door startled me, and I leaped off the swiveling chair and made my way to the door while scratching my head again. Upon seeing my best friend’s face through the peephole, I grinned and unlocked the door. Jack lived down the hall and had a key, but he always knocked anyway. Why couldn’t all guys be as considerate and decent as him?
“Hey, Vivi,” he said with a smile, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as they always did when he greeted me. His wavy, dark-brown hair was a little damp but neatly arranged off his forehead. Beneath his navy winter jacket was a crisp white button-down suggesting he had an in-person work engagement.
Ah, that’s why he looked freshly showered. He tended to prioritize hygiene more than I did. Then again, most people did.
“How’s your morning—”
“Jack!” I tugged on his jacket to pull him inside. “You know that crazy idea I had last night after, like, the third glass of wine?”
His mouth closed and then widened into a grin as he straightened his jacket sleeve. “Hmm. The one where you wanted us to move to England and start an Austen fan-fiction publisher based in Bath?”
My cheeks warmed. I’d forgotten about that. We’d just finished a movie, and I’d pleaded “just one more glass” before Jack went home.
I need to cut back on wine.
“Um, no. The, uh, the one where I write an Austen-inspired novel myself.” I cringed, feeling my bravado waning. Jack was my best friend, one of my oldest friends, but it was still slightly—no, very—terrifying to try something new like this. I’d considered keeping the idea entirely to myself, but last night’s chardonnay had ruined that plan.
“Of course, Vivi.” Jack’s smile widened. “One of your better ideas last night.”
“You think?” I looked into his eyes, my brows crinkled.
“Oh, absolutely,” he said before looking at his watch. “Hey, I would love to talk more about this, but I actually came to ask if you want a ride to Bolder today. I’m headed to a meeting in that part of town.” He looked me up and down. “Or … is your meeting canceled?”
“Crap!” I blurted, realizing it was Friday, when I had the weekly copyeditor meeting at Bolder Publishing. If I didn’t leave in about two minutes, I’d be late and get an earful from my boss. I glanced down at my sweat-stained running clothes and felt my slick ponytail. “No, I lost track of time. Crap.”
“Vivi, it’s fine. You always look great.”
I bit back a smile. “You do realize that means nothing when you say it all the time, right? It’s like best friend obligatory flattery.” Laughing, I started to run to my bedroom before calling out, “And such a blatant lie in this case.”
When I looked back briefly, he was shaking his head with a tired smile. “Believe what you will, Vivi. Just maybe put on pants?”
Well, maybe showering infrequently wasn’t always a perk.
***
Ready to duck out as soon as the meeting ended, I felt my heart sink when the editorial manager asked me to stay afterward.
“You too, Annie.”
My friend groaned beside me. Annie, my former mentee from school, was now a fellow freelancer at Bolder.
I bit my lip, adjusting the hat I’d thrown over my hair. “Ellen, so sorry, but Jack’s picking me up soon, so I can’t stay long. If I’d known—”
“This shouldn’t take long,” my boss said, waving her manicured fingers lightly. Though Ellen took pains to look like the 20-something professional Black woman she’d been when we met, always current with the latest fashion and fitness fads, I knew she was, in fact, older. And so did the rest of the office, as she’d recently let it slip that her younger brother was 38. “What are you wearing? I can’t—no, never mind. No time for that. They’ll be here any minute.”
“Who?” Annie asked, twirling her silky red hair with impatience. Unlike me, Annie didn’t hate leaving her house, but she would rather be almost anywhere than stuck at the office.
Before Ellen could respond, the answer walked in the door. He was somewhat tall, with a blonde surfer guy haircut and a physique to match.
But he’s no surfer dude. His polo shirt and pressed pants speak of money. Golf. Stock options. Whatever else rich people do. Far above the likes of me.
I glanced sideways, noticing that Annie’s demeanor and posture changed instantly.
“Girls, this is Brandon Bolder, the legend.”
At Ellen’s introduction, he flashed an almost boyish smile at the three of us, his azure gaze lingering on Annie. “It’s a pleasure to meet you …”
“I’m Annie York,” my friend said, stepping forward with a dazzling smile. After a pause, she added, “And this is Viviana Cantwell. We’re editors here at, well, your publishing house.” Then in a low voice that had even Ellen raising an eyebrow, she added, “It’s great to finally meet you, sir.”
The object of my attention let out a small cough and then a grin. “It’s Brandon. No ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Bolder’ or anything. And this guy,” he said, stepping sideways to fully reveal the man behind him, “is my buddy, Gregory Fitzgerald. He’s a hotshot in publishing in New York, and he came to the Twin Cities here on business with me. We go way back,” he said with a sideways smile at his friend.
My breath caught in my throat as I took in the sight of the most attractive man I’d ever seen, at least in person. Gregory was tall and toned, his stance rigid as he looked me up and down with the darkest brown eyes and thick black lashes. Short, sleek black hair—or was it brown?—framed an angular face that I could only describe as beautiful, his brown skin somehow looking both smooth and masculine at the same time. My breath caught. He was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Brandon, and you too, Greg,” I managed to say.
His mouth was set in a thin line as he replied in a deep voice, “My name is Gregory. But you can call me Dr. Fitzgerald.” His eyes left me as he nodded to the others and walked out.
He just left.
He just—
He didn’t even …
Who does that?
Astonished by his curt response and subsequent vanishing act, I stood there gaping for a moment. I’d been proud of myself for managing to speak at all.
Brandon winced. “I … truly sorry about that. We don’t mean to offend. I’m just really happy to meet you,” he said, flashing a wide smile suggesting that he was Gregory’s polar opposite. Why on earth were they friends? “Oh, and there’s an office party tonight, right? Where I can meet more of your people, Ellen?”
Before Ellen could answer though, I looked from Brandon to my boss with narrowed eyes. “Wait, what?”
“I sent a message about this last week, Viviana,” Ellen said, her tone slightly chiding.
With my brow furrowed, I shook my head slowly. “I don’t think—”
“Maybe you need to check your email more often, Viv,” Ellen said breezily. “In any case, it’s tonight, and I expect you all to be there. It’s being catered by …” As Ellen droned on, I tuned her out, realizing it was pointless to argue that I had not, in fact, been informed about a mandatory work party. I made a face at Annie, who was staring at Brandon with obvious interest. She either hadn’t heard Ellen or didn’t care.
Looking at the clock, I stood up. “Sorry to interrupt, Ellen, but I really have to go. Jack’s probably waiting outside for me.”
Ellen opened her mouth to respond but slowly closed it and merely nodded instead, eyeing me oddly for a moment.
As I walked past them, I gave only a quick wave to Annie and Brandon, figuring I’d see them tonight anyway. I released a long sigh.
Hopefully he won’t bring his moody friend.
***
I wasn’t thrilled about having to return to the office today, but at least I’d had time to shower and make myself presentable. My outfit—a loose cotton dress with a blue and yellow flowery pattern over thick blue leggings—wasn’t going to win me a “best dressed” award, but I had no one to impress anyway. I assumed this event was fairly casual since it was being held at the office, apparently at short notice, despite Ellen’s awkward claims to the contrary.
As usual, though, Annie looked as if she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine.
“Annie! You look amazing in black, but aren’t you freezing in that short skirt?” Nothing would compel me to do bare legs in February in Minnesota. But then I noticed the direction of Annie’s gaze.
Brandon was chatting with some office staff on the other side of the large conference room that occasionally doubled as a party room. Tonight, someone had managed to transform the boring room into an almost elegant party space. The usual bland fluorescent lights were off; in their place were dozens of soft, subtly placed lights that cast the room, its occupants, and the tasteful decor in a warm glow. My mind reeled at the effort and money thrown at this last-minute event. I was probably underdressed, but how was I to know? The company never hosted events like this.
As if on cue, Brandon looked up just then. His eyes widened and locked with Annie’s, and he flicked his head in invitation.
Before I could reflect on this presumptuous gesture from our boss, Annie grabbed my arm and steered me across the room.
“Oh, excuse me!” I said as I bumped into someone taller when we’d reached our destination. “Sorr—” My apology died on my lips. “Oh, it’s you. Uh, sorry.”
Gregory narrowed his dark eyes for a moment and then turned around to face Brandon.
“What—” I scoffed. “I believe it’s customary to apologize when you bump into someone,” I said loudly as I moved to stand next to him, hands coming up to my hips.
He probably would’ve ignored me, but Brandon and Annie cast amused eyes in my direction. Gregory exhaled, his lips pursed. Then he turned to me, his eyes full of disdain. “I was merely walking normally. In your carelessness, you collided with me.”
His rudeness nearly stole my breath, and for a moment, no one spoke.
Finally, Brandon chuckled nervously. “Aww, Gregory, not feeling the chivalry tonight, eh?” Brandon said, patting his friend hard on the shoulder. When Gregory scowled at him, Brandon just laughed again. “Can’t take him anywhere, you know.”
“How ridiculous,” Gregory replied curtly.
I watched as he glanced from Brandon to me. Was he calling Brandon’s comment ridiculous or calling me ridiculous?
Maybe both. What a jerk. Why is he even here?
“My theory is that we all need a little ridiculous from time to time,” Annie said, smiling as she moved to stand closer to Brandon.
“My thoughts exactly,” Brandon said, his eyes lingering somewhere below my eye level.
Annie giggled. “I also think—”
“I can’t listen to this,” Gregory said, somewhat under his breath. Before I could respond with more outrage, he turned and walked away. My eyes flitted back to the flirting couple, but they didn’t seem to have noticed. That was likely for the best.
Sighing, I scanned the room and reluctantly wandered over to a few people I barely knew. I disliked mingling, but I could fake it when necessary. At least I spotted a friendly face in the group, one of Jack’s old friends.
“Hey, girl, I thought you’d drag Jack to this thing,” said Jermaine, a graphic designer.
“If only,” I said with a smile. “He’s been so busy anyway lately though.” When I had asked Ellen earlier if I could invite Jack, she’d hastily announced it was staff-only tonight. Apparently Gregory got a special pass though. I fought the urge to clench my teeth in resentment. Hoping dinner would be served soon, I glanced over at Ellen, who seemed to be arranging seating and talking to the caterers. Then Gregory approached Ellen. I quickly turned around, not wanting the man anywhere near my line of sight. I let out a frustrated breath, realizing it would be a long night even if I managed to avoid that snob for the rest of it.
“True, true,” Jermaine was saying. “He couldn’t even commit to the fantasy league for the upcoming season. You’ve got to talk some sense into him, Viviana.”
I laughed but felt my brows lower slightly.
Wait, what? He didn’t tell me. Jack is religious about fantasy baseball. Is he really that busy?
I forced a smile. “You know I will. In fact—”
Suddenly Ellen was by my side, her long nails gripping my arm. “Viv, do me a favor, please. Can you go see if the florist is here yet? Maybe they’re waiting outside.”
I opened my mouth to ask if I was now her secretary, but then I clamped it shut before uttering any words. From the look in her eyes, Ellen didn’t seem like she was in the mood for snark, so I merely nodded.
It was actually a good reason to escape the crowded space.
Before I could walk away, Ellen tugged on my arm again and whispered, “If they’re not here yet, give them some time or a call, OK? You’re a darling, Viv.”
Before I could ask which florist I’d even be calling, Ellen disappeared into the crowd. I shook my head and headed out into the hallway.
After a few minutes of searching the office suite and peering outside into the poorly lit parking lot, I didn’t see anyone other than a couple of IT guys setting up a board game in a smaller conference room. My lips curved into a smile. I didn’t know them very well, but surely hanging out with gamers would be far more fun than returning to that crowded party. Could I get away with it?
But as I walked tentatively toward the open door, I failed to notice a restroom door opening.
And too late, I saw the dark eyes.
No, no, no.
Not him.
This time, we didn’t quite collide. His arm connected with my shoulder firmly, but not painfully.
Once we’d both righted ourselves, I stepped back quickly. “Um. Sorry, I guess.”
“Likewise, I apologize,” he said in that deep voice. My eyes widened. Who’d have thought he was capable of apologizing? “I didn’t expect anyone to be roaming the halls.”
I crossed my arms. “I’m not roaming the halls. I was just … I mean, I am waiting for the florist.”
For the first time, his frosty, conceited demeanor transformed into something else. Something like curiosity or amusement. “The florist?”
“Yes.”
“In a darkened hallway?”
“Well … maybe they’d gotten lost.” It sounded weak even to my ears. I just winced, realizing I’d forgotten about the florist as I considered joining the random staffers’ board game. Ellen would have been so angry.
So in a way, Gregory sort of saved the day?
No, no. Still a jerk.
“Ah.”
“So, yeah.” I didn’t know what to say. He didn’t move but only stood there staring at me with an impassive expression. I cleared my throat. “Have you seen a florist?”
His eyes swept over me at a leisurely pace. “No. But your dress …”
My brows furrowed, and my voice rose an octave. “What about my dress?”
“It’s floral,” he said before tipping his chin down briefly and then strolling away.
I inhaled sharply. What … was that? Was he making fun of my clothing? My heart rate rose. “That jerk! How could he …” I muttered to myself.
Wait. Was it possible he was making a joke? Trying to lighten the mood?
Oh, why is that man so maddening?
