Chapter 48

48

The thing about getting your shit together is it doesn’t always work like it does in the movies. Just because you figure out how to remove your skull from your ass doesn’t mean you can cut across Midtown traffic like you’re the star of the show.

Nor does it mean the woman will answer the phone.

I keep calling Truly to see if I can meet her ahead of Enzo’s ceremony, but I reach voicemail every time. I hope she’s not abandoning me before the wedding, but if she does, I deserve it.

I get dressed quickly, putting on my tux and knotting the bow tie, and catch a cab to the hotel where the happy couple will exchange vows in a flower-festooned ballroom. I search for Truly in the lobby, down the hall, and around the corner.

I don’t see her, and a knot of worry tightens in me.

I poke my head into the ballroom, scanning the seats. She’s not here early. I’m dying to wait on the front steps for her, but I can’t spend any more time on this mission just now.

Because here’s the other thing: commitments matter. A man should keep his promises. I need to stick to mine, so I put my phone away, join the groom, and head to the front of the room.

Wondering where Truly is when she hasn’t appeared by the time the ceremony begins, I take my place by Enzo’s side as he promises to love Valerie for the rest of their lives. As he kisses her, I’m struck by a certainty— he will . I have no doubt, just like I don’t doubt Chip’s love, or Gavin’s, for that matter.

The men I’ve stood for might have needed help in the friend department, but not in the love department. They’ve all seemed true to their hearts, and looking back, I’ve learned something from each of them.

Find a woman you want to spend each day with. Find someone who shares your passion. And give the woman what she wants.

What does Truly want?

As I flash back to the diner, the way she looked when I arrived, how she wanted to share her thoughts with me, I could smack myself. She came to the diner to talk to me about her news, and I made it all about me, me, me. And even when I did, she defended me. She told me The Consummate Wingman had been lucky to have me. And when I said love was distracting, she didn’t answer with a yes.

She answered with It can be distracting, but it can also maybe be something . . .

Something wonderful. Maybe that was what she was going to say before I cut her off.

When I spot her at last in the back row, wiping her eye as Enzo and Valerie slide on rings, I can’t wait to tell her that I agree.

I mouth, “ Wait for me .”

She gives a quick, crisp nod that does nothing to ease my mind. But that’s not the point. I don’t get to have my mind eased. I need to ease hers.

I wait till Enzo kisses his bride.

I wait till they’re declared man and wife.

I wait till they walk down the aisle into their happily ever after.

Then I steal time.

I practically run past the rows of people, stopping inches from her. “I was a daft prick today. You should bang my head against the wall.”

“Is that so?” she asks, careful and measured.

“Bricks would fall out of it if you banged it hard enough. Or even pigs, because I was stupid and pigheaded.”

She raises an eyebrow. “There are pigs in your head?”

“There must be, or what other excuse is there for how I behaved? But I know this: when a man has made a mistake, he should own up to it. And I want to own up to mine.”

She’s deliberate, taking her time as she asks, “What mistakes do you think you made?”

“Oh, the list is a mile long. But let’s start at the top. How about the time I said falling in love is absolutely fucking distracting and ruined everything we’ve built? That was a horrible mistake. Because love hasn’t ruined a damn thing. In fact, I think it’s made everything better.” I lock eyes with her, waiting, hoping. Hers seem to sparkle a little more than a moment before.

“What do you think?” I press.

“I do think love can make everything better,” she says, still careful in her tone.

“And another mistake is when you said, Love can be distracting, but it can also maybe be something , and I answered it all wrong. Completely wrong.”

A smile plays across her lips. “Would you like a do-over on that answer?”

“Yes.” I cup her cheek, and she lets me. She doesn’t turn away, even as a woman slides past us to walk out of the aisle and out to the foyer where waitstaff serve sushi appetizers. “Love is distracting, but it’s also something wonderful.”

She seems to fight off a smile—a huge, winning grin. “It is wonderful.”

I thread my hand through her hair, so damn grateful to touch her again. “I need you. I want you. I love you, Truly, and I love you in a way that terrifies me and thrills me too. And I think that scared me more than anything. I thought I’d protected my heart from hurt, but I can’t keep it safe from you. And here’s the thing—I don’t want to.”

She sets her hand on my chest. “I’ll keep it safe for you.”

This woman. My God. My heart thunders in my chest, beating madly with this barrage of emotions. And with emotions come words. “I want to give you everything you want, and everything you need. If that investor can’t realize what he has in front of him, then let me be the one you lean on. Let me be the one you talk to. Let me be the one who helps you figure out what to do next.”

“You’d do that? You want that? Are you sure?”

My answer is straight from the heart. “I should have done that earlier today. I know now that’s what you were looking for, and I want to be the one who supports you. Will you let me?”

She melts against me. “I thought you’d never ask.”

I press my forehead to hers as I learn something new. Sometimes you do need to beg when it comes to asking the woman you love to have you again. But beg like a gentleman. “Then will you please take me back?”

She laughs, and her laughter turns to happy tears. “I don’t want to curl up at the end of the day with work. I want to curl up with you. And we can help each other when work doesn’t go our way. You’re the one I want to depend on, because I’m in love with you.”

My heart soars—out of the hotel, up to the stratosphere, far, far away from me. I no longer have any control of it. Maybe I never did. Maybe it’s simply time to let go of my fears, the true shackles that were holding me back. To let go and love again.

Or really, to love in a whole new way.

Because this is real love. The forever kind.

“I can’t believe I was stupid enough to almost let you get away.” I haul her in for a kiss.

When I break it, she says, “Simple solution: don’t let me get away again.”

“I can do that. I can definitely do that.” I take her hand, and we head into the reception where I give a kick-ass toast.

Valerie thanks me with such earnestness that I scrap any notion that she sabotaged me. The job simply didn’t happen, end of story. There will be others.

But love? As I’ve learned from the men who’ve hired me, you don’t let that slip away.

In fact, you don’t let it get away even if Coldplay is playing.

I groan when Walker puts on a tune from the band that kills eardrums. “ Is it Armageddon? ” I mouth to him.

He shrugs impishly.

At the head table, Enzo’s eyes light up. “I love Coldplay. They are big in Madrid.”

“Oh, Enzo, I’m going to have to introduce you to U2 and Panic! at the Disco and Arcade Fire,” Valerie says.

I turn to her. “You like all those bands?”

“That surprises you?”

“Actually, no. You have excellent taste.”

She runs a hand down her husband’s arm. “I do indeed.”

He winks. “She has the best taste. But then again, so do I.”

“We both have impeccable taste, my love.”

He stands and offers her his hand. “Then come with me and make me look good on the dance floor.”

“I believe it’s the other way around.” She joins him, and they sway.

Truly reaches for my hand, mischief in her eyes. “Dance with me, you Coldplay hater.”

“Seriously? You do know it’s a deep and powerful loathing?”

“I know. I definitely know. Don’t forget, I know a lot about you, and I still like you.”

“Let’s keep it that way.”

“Then let’s dance.”

“Well, I’m not going to make the mistake of turning you down.” I take her to the dance floor for a spin, and somehow I survive the song. That makes me realize something important. “I must really dig you if I can dance to this song with you.”

She clasps my cheek and plants a kiss on my lips.

Yes, I can tolerate Coldplay a hell of a lot like this.

A little later, I head over to the deejay stand, leaning against it, surveying the vestiges of the reception.

Walker lifts his brow. “I see you’re starting to get your act together.”

“Am I now?”

He strokes his chin, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Let’s see. First time I’ve seen you at a wedding where you look legitimately one hundred percent happy.”

“Are you saying I’ve been a grumpy bugger at other ceremonies?”

He shakes his head as he packs up his gear. “Not at all. But there’s a difference between the charm you serve up as a best man for hire and the way you are when you’re with Truly.”

“You’ve been studying me? I suppose that’s understandable. I am fascinating.”

“Human nature is fascinating. You happen to occupy an interesting niche of it.”

I pat his speaker. “And your niche? Are you simply a fill-in deejay now?”

He flashes a satisfied smile. “Just filling in for a buddy. But I’m no longer taking any new gigs. And I do believe I’ve achieved nirvana.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. That is so. I’m doing what I want. Took me a while to get here, but I’m here. I’m happy to help out a friend now and then, but for the most part, I’m on the other side.”

“You’ve made it. You’ve caught your dreams. Like that Thoreau quote: Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you’ve imagined. ”

“You’ll get there too. Just don’t take too long to press go.”

“I’ve been formulating a plan all night. Mulling over options. I have an exit strategy, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to put it in motion tonight. I don’t have a safety net, but I don’t care. It’s time to move on.”

He holds up a fist to knock. “You’re doing it? Going after what you really want?”

I knock back. “I’ve decided. I’m going all in on the Modern Gentleman. No more half this, half that. I can’t keep playing both angles. I’ll be letting this go.” I sweep my arms wide to encompass the ballroom.

“Dive in. The water’s warm when you follow your dreams.” He mimes swimming. Through tropical seas, I suspect. “Also, kudos to you for having the balls to jump without a safety net.”

“Wish me luck.”

“To all the safe landings. Now how about telling me the details?”

I begin to share my plan when a sexy, smoky voice whispers, “Jason.”

I jerk my head in a matchstick response. What the hell? I’m not Jason tonight. I’m Jay.

But it’s Valerie beside me, beckoning for me to join her at her table.

For a moment, fear crawls up my spine and slinks under my collar. But just as quickly, I say no to it. I’m not afraid of my worlds colliding anymore. I have Truly, and whatever happens with work, I’ll sort it out.

I follow Valerie and sit next to her.

She smiles like she has a secret. “I remembered you.”

“Is that so?”

“It came to me in a rush in the middle of the night, and I’ve been wanting to talk to you. I popped out of bed, hopped onto the laptop, and looked you up. I’d heard you on my friend Ryder’s show. And I went and listened to several of your podcasts. And read all your blogs.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“I don’t need much sleep. My brain is always whirring. And when I read them, and I heard your voice, everything clicked.”

Tonight, I don’t even consider hiding under the bar till the morning. I simply lean back in the chair, cross my leg at the ankle—no manspreading here—and I wait. “And what clicked?”

Her brown eyes seem to twinkle. Her lips curve in a devilish grin. “As you may know, I run a multinational media conglomerate. And in that capacity, I often acquire other companies.”

“Sure. That would seem a normal course of business.”

“And I’ve acquired a prominent men’s magazine in the United Kingdom. Gentleman’s Style . Have you heard of it?”

“Of course. It’s better than Esquire . And GQ .”

“It is indeed. And I’m going to be expanding it in the United States.”

That’s quite interesting yet surprising, given the state of print periodicals. “But magazines are a dying breed,” I say, since page counts are down, ads are down, and so on.

“Of course. But brands aren’t. And the brand name has value. Imagine a Gentleman’s Style series of books. Handy little gift books sold in the front of stores on tips for men. Or perhaps a revamped website with the type of articles that search engines love. Five Tips on Better Communication. The Top Ten Ways to Impress a Boss.”

It sounds fantastic. “I can imagine that perfectly.”

She leans closer, clearly enchanted with her new property. “And podcasts, since they’re the future. Can you picture a quick-hit podcast on top tips of the day? I can.”

“I think I can too.”

She taps her finger against her lip. “Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“You’re going in the direction of creating a US presence for a popular and well-respected British brand,” I say, since I’m pretty sure I have that right.

She sighs as if she just can’t believe one wouldn’t grasp the concept. “Jason Reynolds, I need a voice, someone with a point of view. I need a front man. I need you.”

I blink and sit bolt upright, rubbing my ear. She didn’t just say that, did she? “Pardon me?”

She laughs, a deep, throaty sound. “You heard me right. I want you to be the front man. I want you to be the voice—and the face if you’d like—of Gentleman’s Style in the United States. And don’t worry, you can keep up your work on Ryder Lockhart’s show.”

“Oh, he already let me go.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what he told me when I called him today.”

“You called him today?” I feel like I’m trapped on another planet, trying to decipher distant radio signals.

“Of course. He’s a business associate. I wouldn’t poach his talent without talking to him first.”

“It’s not really poaching at this point.”

She raises one eyebrow. “Be that as it may, are you interested in my offer?” She puts forth a number that nearly dislocates my jaw. I’m tempted to ask if it’s a joke, but I’m also certain I’ve advised readers and listeners never to ask that when offered a financial figure more than you ever dreamed of.

“I’m incredibly interested,” I reply.

“Then it’s yours. I’ll have a deal memo sent over tonight.”

“Tonight? Aren’t you heading out on your honeymoon?”

“Of course I am, but I don’t send out the contracts. I have people. And someday, you’ll have people. Mark my words—I can always spot talent. As an author friend of mine once said when she discovered the perfect narrator for her books: You’re a gold mine .”

“Smart author.”

“Very smart, and a smart narrator to keep saying yes to her.”

“You’ve got my yes.”

“One of my favorite words.”

When I say goodbye to the newlyweds, I do feel like I’ve discovered a gold mine, but it’s not only in the job.

It’s in the woman I take home with me.