Chapter 2
Maeve
Ping.
The minute I log into the computer from my office, I get an alert for an incoming email. A quick glance tells me that it’s from the planning committee for the No More Sleepless Nights charity gala coming up.
Just a few short weeks away, the gala is one of the most significant fundraising events for No More Sleepless Nights , an organization created to help homeless families in the Washington DC area. The gala brings together all of the who’s who of Washington, D.C., for one night to raise money for their cause. With the funds raised, they’re able to place homeless families in temporary and permanent housing.
It’s always been one of my favorite events to attend alongside my father, Vice Admiral Rodney Peterson. This year, I was given the distinct privilege to help plan the whole thing along with six other notable people from the area. If this event goes well, it can put Peterson Events and Marketing on the map as one of the area's top agencies.
When I started building the company from the ground up three short years ago, I never thought I’d get to where I am today, but I’m damn proud of how far we’ve already come. If not for my team of employees, we wouldn’t be where we are today. And we wouldn’t have the ability to donate our time and energy to this event.
Before I get down to business for the day, I open the event planning committee's email to find that the caterer we booked has suddenly dropped out. They’re looking for last-minute recommendations. Two weeks isn’t a lot of time to find someone. If we’re lucky, someone will have space, so I quickly pull up my vendor information and flip to caterers. A few I already know are booked. I call a few others to ask about availability and cost before compiling a list to email back to the team.
A text message from my best friend rolls in on my phone reminding me that I've also only got two weeks to find a date for said charity gala. I shake my head and type a quick reply letting her know that I'm well aware that I am still painstakingly single and will probably be attending the event alone. Like she has many times before, Adele offers to set me up on a blind date, which I kindly refuse. The last time I went on a blind date, the night ended horribly. I do not wish to have a repeat of that ever again.
It takes a good chunk of my morning to empty my inbox, then begin checking off all the to-dos for events we’ve got on the books for this weekend. A few of my employees are out of the office at events today and we’ve got two more lined up for both Saturday and Sunday.
I check in with Autumn, who’s handling her first wedding tomorrow, to make sure she’s all set and see if she needs any help with last-minute things. Then I field a handful of phone calls from clients.
The rest of the day seems to run smoothly. Before I know it, it’s time for me to head out for a Friday evening dinner hosted by a local politician. We’ve been planning this dinner for his campaign team for months and with election season upon us, we’re doing more and more of these.
This one is pretty straightforward. Set at a nearby restaurant, The Chow, venue and food are taken care of. My sole job tonight is to make sure all the gift bags for his employees are put together and ensure that everything runs smoothly.
I arrive at The Chow an hour before the guests are set to arrive and check over everything. Place settings are good to go with the evening’s itinerary set atop the place settings. Each gift bag is put together as it should be and dispersed around the room for the night’s attendees. Before long, Congressman Nolan and his team begin filtering in along with the rest of tonight’s guests.
“Miss Peterson,” Congressman Nolan approaches me and extends his hand. “Things look lovely. Thanks so much for putting this all together for me.”
“Good evening, Sir. It’s been my pleasure. Everything is good to go.”
“Have you met my wife?” he asks and turns to the stunning woman beside him. “Emily, this is Miss Peterson.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Nolan. It’s so great to meet you,” I shake hands with her as well.
“Miss Peterson, this is lovely. It’s so great to meet you as well. I’ve been telling Bob here that I couldn’t wait to see what you’ve done. You know, I’m looking for someone to put together a luncheon for my book club’s anniversary. I would love to talk to you more and see if we can’t schedule something.”
I smile proudly. “That would be wonderful. I’m sure we can make something work.”
“Oh, that’s so great. Can we chat later tonight?” Mrs. Nolan asks.
“Absolutely.”
“You’re a darlin’. I appreciate it so much.”
Congressman Nolan sweeps his wife away after our brief exchange so they can make their way around the room to greet everyone. I fade into the background and roll up my sleeves to help out wherever I’m needed.
When the evening finally wraps up, I’m exhausted and my feet are killing me. None of that matters when I feel like I’m floating on cloud nine. Everything went off without a hitch. The Congressman and his wife are thrilled with how things turned out.
I exchange numbers with Mrs. Nolan, who promises to call me first thing on Monday to talk about the luncheon she wants to plan before they leave. I hang back until everything is cleaned up to ensure everything is taking care of and nothing has been forgotten. With one last thank you and a final payment to the restaurant, including a hefty tip courtesy of The Nolan’s, I’m finally able to go home.
I make a pit stop at my favorite liquor store on the drive home to pick up a bottle of wine. With not one but two bottles of Pinot Noir in hand, I head for the register. Almost to the check-out line, a familiar voice calls out my name. Blood drains from my face, and a chill runs down my spine.
“Maeve, it is really you.” I don’t even need to look up to see his face. I know exactly who that voice belongs to.
I will not let him see me break. Forcing my shoulders back, I raise my head high and plaster fake confidence on my face.
“Peter.” His name rolls off my tongue in disgust.
The man standing before me nearly destroyed my life and my reputation. The fact that he has the balls to even mention my name is awfully brave of him.
He chuckles nervously, “It’s been a while.”
“Four and a half years to be exact,” I spit the words at him.
The woman beside him looks me over in disgust. Oh, honey. If you only knew. Peter Westbrooke is the one she should be disgusted with.
“How have you been?”
“Better without you.”
His lips form a tight line. I can almost hear his teeth grinding together, and it’s so rewarding right now. Knowing that he no longer holds the power to control me gives me even more courage to stand taller.
“Have you met my wife? ” The way he says wife is meant to sting. It was a good try on his part, but I’m not phased. Another time, another place, and I would have been destroyed by the notion that he married someone else. The woman I am today – is not.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. Funny that Peter never mentioned you before.” If he wants to play dirty, I can too.
Blondie’s brows arch and her body stiffens as she looks down her nose at me. “How do you two know each other? Work colleagues?”
Aww. Isn’t that cute? She thinks we were work colleagues. Hm. I guess you could say that. We did work together at another marketing firm until Peter got me fired when I’d had enough of his bullshit and found out that he was married. I moved from Baltimore to DC after that because I needed a fresh start. I can’t say I’m the least bit surprised that these two are in town, though. Peter has several friends in the area who are always hosting parties and such.
Not waiting for Peter to answer her with what I know will be a lie, I tell her the truth. “Well, not exactly. Peter and I dated for a while. That was until I found out he was married. Isn’t that right, Peter?”
Steam is practically coming from his ears, and his wife’s face turns beet red.
“I think you must be mistaken.” She tries to defend her husband.
I almost feel sorry for her.
“Hm. I don’t think I am. This has really been fun. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got someplace else to be tonight.”
As I walk away, Peter tries one more time to hit his mark. “I’m sure you can’t wait to get back to your apartment and drink that whole bottle of wine, alone .”
He’s good. Real good. The bottle nearly slips from my hand, but I manage to recover and take a deep breath. I will not let him win.
The cashier has clearly heard the whole exchange and gives me a warm smile and head nod. “That’ll be $46.57.”
I hand her fifty dollars and smile right back at her. She mouths, ‘I’m sorry, and I shake my head. I don’t need anyone’s pity. Even if I’m going home to drink a bottle of wine on my own. Drinking alone sure as hell beats being trapped in a relationship with a narcissistic asshole who claimed to have commitment issues. Guess that worked out well for him with his very pregnant wife.
Not going to let it get to me. At least that’s what I keep repeating to myself over and over on the car ride to my apartment. And all night, with each glass of wine I finish.
Fuck Peter and his bimbo baby momma too.