Chapter 45
HOPTIMISM AND OPTIMISM
REMY
On the tour, Miller charms the donors with his fabricated ghost stories in the Golden State Fox’s locker room, then his tales of a haunted equipment room before ending the tour with everyone’s favorite part—a photo opportunity on the Zamboni.
He motions for Anna to join him at the end, then slips his arm around her waist as I snap a pic, all while smiling like I know what’s coming next for them.
When the tour is over I thank everyone and wish both Miller and Anna good luck for the game tonight. Anna will be commentating in the booth, and Miller on the ice.
I head upstairs to my cubicle to finish a few things before I slip away for the spa day.
I’ll miss seeing the game this evening. Part of me feels a tug in my chest at the thought of missing it, even though I had never planned on going to it.
But there’s no way I’m missing the spa session, especially since I’ve got this jersey to show off.
When I reach my cubicle, Devon’s setting a small ruby red bag on my desk with a ribbon around the handles.
“Oh, you got another gift. Is this from your boyfriend?” she asks as she spins around.
“I don’t know,” I say, feeling tingly and giddy all over, and I sure hope it’s from him.
But I also feel a little queasy when she says boyfriend. At the way the word sticks in my chest, like heartburn.
At the way it still feels like a lie not only on my tongue but on other people’s tongues, especially as Devon adds, “I bet it is, and your boyfriend is seriously a king.”
“He is,” I say.
When she spins around and leaves, I swallow down the guilt. One more day. One more day and we’ll figure it out.
For now, I rip open the bag and gasp when I see a midnight blue velvet box I recognize instantly. It’s from Victoire.
I tug it out, along with a card on it.
It just says—It should fit you now.
My breath catches. With excited fingers I click it open then. My heart is beating so fast. This feels so unreal as I stare at the elegant timepiece that I tried on at Lake’s apartment.
I can’t believe this. He’s giving me the watch I modeled for him, and it’s just for me. He had it resized…for me.
Delicately, I tug it out of the box, and I’m about to slide it on my wrist when I spot something on the back. It’s been engraved with the words For you.
I clutch it tight for several seconds as something dangerously close to happiness floods my chest. Not for the watch. But the gesture. Then, I click it open and slide it on. It fits perfectly, and I can hear what he said the day I tried it—it’s touching you now.
Like he wanted to. Like he did. Like he’s still doing. And in ways I never saw coming but now desperately want.
* * *
For the record, I am a spa kind of person. As soon as the scent of lavender and the sound of soft waves greets me when I swing open the door of DeLaTour Spa in Russian Hill, my muscles relax. My mind breathes more regularly.
Maybe I’ve always needed the mandatory calm that the permission slip of a place like this affords.
Sure, I need to be on as the mistress of spa ceremonies this afternoon—maid-of-honor duties are no joke—but I also get a massage and facial for it.
That’s winning.
I’m fifteen minutes early, so I head straight to the counter and tell the attendant I’m checking in for the Hatmaker party.
When that’s done, I wander around the entryway, soaking in the ambiance of the plants hanging over the front counter, the photos of serene beaches, the soothing scents of the candles, lotions, and potions.
I peruse some bars of soap, sniffing each one.
For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel wound tight. I’m not checking and re-checking every detail to make sure everything is going to be okay.
Maybe everything is going to work out just fine. Caroline’s wedding will go smoothly, Fresh Face will be happy, I’ll get the job, and I’ll swim into a new romance, no one the wiser that it started as a revenge scheme.
I set down a candle as the door groans open.
“A bakery that serves beer. Right? Wouldn’t that be a perfect combo? It was my idea.”
All the good feelings are washed down the drain as Jameson walks in with a boast and a lie.
“Hmm. What about a brewery that serves baked goods?” a cheery woman asks.
And yes, that actually makes way more sense than Jameson’s new concept restaurant as she lands on a better business model than him easily.
I want to tell him his concept is another ridiculous idea, but when I spin around, I’m struck with one thought—gratitude.
I’m so immensely glad he dumped me for the world to see.
Let his new girlfriend deal with his ludicrous ideas. Let her manage his hoptimistic ambitions. He’s not my problem anymore.
“Hi, Jameson. Hi, Chelsea,” I say, since I recognize her from the shower.
“Hi, Remy! Thank you so much for including me in this,” she says, enthusiastic.
“Same here,” Jameson says, then looks around, peering behind me. “Where’s your other half?”
“He has a hockey game,” I say.
“Bummer he couldn’t make it,” Jameson says, but he hardly sounds bummed, especially since his eyes flicker with plans. “But maybe we can chat about an idea I have for the wedding tomorrow for the best-man toast.”
Oh for fuck’s sake. I’d like to throw him into the sauna and let him bake and then give a toast about that.
I give him my best “so sorry” look. “Wish I could, but I need to greet all the other spa guests. Oh look, I see the bridesmaids right now.”
I don’t spot a soul but I leave anyway, choosing to wait outside for my sister.
When she arrives, sans Fresh Face, I’m inordinately happy that she’s free of her entourage. They’ve been like her wedding homunculus. I hug her and say, “Everything is going to be great tomorrow.”
And I believe it.
“It is,” she says, then motions for Parker to come inside. “Let’s go treat everyone to some relaxing.”
“Anything for you, babe,” Parker says, then drops a doting kiss to her cheek, and soon the rest of the party is here, ready to be pampered.
* * *
I’m lounging in a comfy spa chair, wearing a fluffy bathrobe, my glasses, and a face mask, a manicurist artfully applying a soft shade of pink to my toenails.
“Would you like some cucumbers for your eyes?” another woman asks.
I flash back to the conversation with Lake earlier today when I told him I needed these to process the day.
But I feel pretty good about everything.
Still, I might want to put these on when the pedicurist is done.
Besides, I may as well make the most of my contact-lens-free time.
“Thank you. I would but I’ll put them on myself,” I say, since that’s one thing I like to feel in control of.
“Of course,” she says and sets a plate of sliced cucumbers on the arm of the chair.
As she offers cucumbers to the bridesmaid next to me, Jameson appears again out of nowhere. He’s wearing a robe and some kind of muddy goop is slathered on his face. He strides straight to me.
And those cucumbers sound real good right now. I grab two slices and drop them on my eyes before he can say a word.
Yes, these definitely help process my ex, that’s for sure.
When I peek past them and see he’s safely out of range, I snag my phone—it’s on airplane mode but I have it for pics—from my pocket, and take a selfie, then sneak it back into the bathrobe pocket.
A little later, I’m getting dressed in the ladies’ locker room and once I pull on the jersey again and place my contacts back in, I send the selfie to Lake.
Remy: Hope you had a good nap while I had cucumbers.
He’ll be busy on the ice, but he’ll find it later. I’m tucking my phone in my pocket when Caroline pulls me aside and says, “Guess what I just worked out with Fresh Face?”
For them not to come to the wedding? “Tell me,” I say, doing my best to muster enthusiasm for her brand partner, even though I kind of can’t stand them.
More than kind of.
I’d like to put them on Clem’s hate list.
“They’re going to live stream the wedding,” she says, giddy, and she’s never giddy.
Kill. Me. Now.
But this is also the true test of my faking skills. I paste on a smile and say, “That’s great.”
“I know. Views have been so good for the content. It’s all working out,” she says.
I’m happy for her, but when I leave the spa, I’m ready to go home and see Lake later.
When I check the score in the hockey game and see it’s still the second period, I have a better idea.