20. Isabel
When George met my gaze in the rearview mirror, he grinned.
“Whoever is making you laugh back there, has my full endorsement. It makes me happy to see you happy, Isabel.”
If only George had the faintest idea. “Thank you, George.”
My phone dinged impatiently. I didn’t have to look to know it was Meg. Her curiosity about how my day went was bordering on neurosis. It was no use waiting to tell her once we were face to face, although it would have been a treat to watch her freak out.
I typed her a text. It was long but I spared little detail. I sent it as the Navigator turned into the cul-de-sac and pulled up to the house.
My timing was deliberate so I could have a front-row seat to her reaction. And Meg didn’t disappoint.
When I opened the back door of the Navigator, Meg was already barreling down the cracked cement path and through our small iron gate. She yanked me out of the SUV and growled in my face.
“You did this on purpose. I was waiting all day for news. My nails are torn down to the quick. And you only casually drop me a text now.”
“Shhh, let’s not broadcast it to the whole world,” I whispered with a quick glance at George. “I don’t want everybody to know.”
Meg shot George the brightest smile in history. “Hi George. Can you please wait for a minute, I need to ask you a favor.” Then she hugged me. “We’re going out to celebrate. That beefcake from the other night invited me to the opening of this super glitzy restaurant bar where he’s a bartender. As many free drinks as we can consume, thank me later.”
“Which beefcake?”
“The one I had to send home the night you were fired.”
“Now you make it sound like you were forced to.”
“Isabel you were in distress. But I’m not going to lie, it was hard to say goodbye to that.”
“Have you managed to remember his name at least?” I asked.
“How dare you. I think it’s Derek or something. Let’s call him Beefcake for the sake of convenience.”
Meg switched her attention back to George. “George, my dude. Have I told you lately what a handsome guy you are?”
George’s baritone laugh echoed through the open window. “Butter me up, why don’t you? What can I do for you, Meg?”
“Isabel and I have to go to this classy joint in town and it would be unbelievably awesome if we could be dropped off in the Navigator like the two class acts we are.”
I pulled Meg away from the car. “No, you can’t expect George to do that. We can take an Uber.”
But George was apparently very willing to bend the rules. He showed off his bright pearly whites with a wide smile. “I most certainly can do that. What time were you thinking?”
“Will twenty minutes be soon enough? That’s what it would take for Isabel and me to put our evening faces on.”
“Evening faces?” I asked. “What does that even mean?”
“Take your time,” George said. “I’ll listen to my podcast.”
I stuck my face through the window next to Meg’s. “George, are you sure about this? Won’t you get into trouble?”
He shook his head. “I was given instructions to see to your transportation needs. And I believe this is a transportation need. Correct me if I’m wrong.”
“You are not wrong,” I smiled.
George got out of the Navigator, carefully removed the clothing bag Emily had given me and draped it over my arm. Naturally Meg reacted. “What’s that?” she asked.
“You’ll see in the morning,” I said mysteriously, and amazingly Meg didn’t push for more information. Instead she dragged me up to the apartment, huffing and puffing. “I can’t believe you made me wait all day. Be prepared to repeat every detail down to the last second once I have a cocktail in my hand at the restaurant. Take off your top, we need to snazz you up with some bling.”
“Could we please like not?” I cringed. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“We’re going to the opening of a really swanky place, Isabel. We’ve got to look the part.”
“Agree to disagree. Bling is not the way to go. It’s a restaurant, not a club.”
After I gently deposited the clothing bag in my room, Meg propelled me into her bedroom. It looked like a Category 5 hurricane had sneaked through when no one was watching.
“How about I help you clean up here on Sunday,” I suggested innocently.
Meg shot me a contemptuous look. I might as well have suggested removing a chunk of her liver with a blunt rusty knife.
“Clean up what?” she muttered without feeling an ounce of disgrace. “Why on earth would I want to do that? I know exactly where everything is.”
“Fine. But I’m still not blinging up.”
“Okay, I’ll bling up, you can stay the classy little flower you are,” she agreed. “At least put on your fake Louboutins.”
“You know I’m not fooling anyone with those if this place is as ritzy as you say it is.”
“Humor me, for God’s sake. I got you shacked up with a sexy billionaire in those shoes. He’s sexy, right?”
“Oh God, he’s unbelievably sexy.”
“Well, there you go,” Meg grumbled. “Show some gratitude.”
“And we’re not exactly shacked up.”
“Ugh, and whose fault is that? Like if I crushed on a sexy billionaire and he begged me to move in, I’d already be requesting color swatches from designer places to redo his pad.”
I laughed. “Okay I’ll wear the fake Louboutins and I’ll put on mascara and lipstick. Happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” Meg mumbled. “Come here, help me pick an outfit, please.
The promise to hold off on the interrogation about my day was immediately broken, and I had to relay everything again, minute by minute. By the time we were dressed and putting on makeup, Meg was scribbling down negotiating points on any and all contracts, including an imaginary prenup Roman and I would have.
Naturally the pretend prenup weighed heavily in my favor. I was to only settle for a Caribbean island and a gazillion dollars should our sacred vows meet their demise.
“We should give this whole thing some breathing room,” I said carefully. “Maybe you’re making more of it than you should.”
“As your lawyer, it’s called being prepared and being on the ball, Isabel. I’m sorry if my competence irritates you.”
“Meg, I beg of you, take it down a notch. I’m nervous enough as it is.”
Meg made a big show of locking her lips and throwing away the imaginary key. “We will not speak of your unbelievably hot romance again. Only when you want to talk about it.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it.”
“I just have one more question, if you don’t mind.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. “What?”
“How’s the sex on a scale from one to ten.”
“I don’t have a whole lot of experience to draw from but I will say that it is the best sex I will ever have in my life.”
Meg stared at me. “So let”s see, he’s rich, attractive, crazy about you, really romantic, and he’s a stallion in bed. That son of a bitch. I totally understand your reluctance to embrace your destiny.”
“You already sold it, Meg. Don’t buy it back. It’s just a lot, all at once. And by the way, ‘attractive’ doesn’t quite cut it. He’s fucking gorgeous.”
“And yet, here you are, fighting Fate tooth and nail.”
“I’m not fighting it, I’m erring on the side of caution.”
“In English please.”
“I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
“Fine, but you fuck this up, I’m resigning as your lawyer.”
“Which brings me to the next point. You’ve been hired to negotiate my contract with the Belmont Trust.”
Meg stopped applying mascara to her lashes. “Who’s paying the bill?”
“Roman.”
“I’ve gotta say, this is a very symbiotic relationship. I push a sexy billionaire your way and in return, you give me my first job as a shark. Just one more thing to celebrate tonight. Now out with the details so I can start working on negotiation points and make you glad for choosing me as your trusting attorney.”