1. Dani
DANI
I’m at my desk pretending to work, but really I’m spiraling.
It’s spring, and that means all the men in the office insist that it be kept at a frigid temperature.
The Prescott Garden Party is in three days.
I have, as per freaking usual, nothing to wear.
“You want to go shopping?”
Piper plunks down on the file cabinet next to my desk. She gets glared at by my seat neighbor.
You’d think dating a billionaire would get you special treatment, but you would be wrong. The Svenssons seem ambivalent at best toward Graham, and the feeling is apparently mutual.
“Yes, we need to go shopping.”
“I thought your mom bought you that white dress.”
“It’s lemon chiffon—cream white would be too much. Anyway,” I admit, “I don’t fit in the dress she bought me anymore.”
“Does your mom know that?” Piper claps a hand over her mouth. “Ooh, you’re not pregnant, are you?”
“God, I hope not. I cannot be pregnant and unmarried—Mom will have a fit. She is determined to save face. She says I ruined our place in society.”
“Has she been watching Downton Abbey again?” Piper snickers. “Just get Graham to make a big purchase at the garden party fundraiser. Then Mrs. Prescott will tell everyone how much she loves him.”
“Yeah, him but not me.”
“Well, you’re going to be Mrs. Graham Richmond soon, right?”
“I don’t know—has he talked to you about a proposal or anything? Right, you can’t say, but just wink once if he has.”
Piper winks.
“Oh my God—”
“No, no!” She rubs her eye. “There’s something in it. I don’t know why they have to run these air conditioners all the time—geez. No, he hasn’t said anything to me.”
“It’s been months,” I fret.
“Most people wait at least eighteen months before getting engaged.”
“I don’t have eighteen months! I’m supposed to have six children, remember?”
“Ooh, are we really going to be sticking with your plan from when we had our ‘plan your life’ sleepover in middle school?”
“A bad plan is better than no plan,” I argue.
“Well, I really hope you’re open to rethinking your baby names, because I am not going to be a godmother to anything named after a Hunger Games character.”
“Danielle! Where is Danielle?” Victoria, the VP of Client Relations comes marching through the office.
“When did they move your desk?” she snaps at me.
“Um, I’ve been here since I started five years ago…”
“I don’t care. Where is that disgusting little dog my ex-husband gave me for Christmas?”
Lulu’s sitting on her pillow under my desk. She pokes her head out.
The VP’s lip curls.
“I cannot abide little dogs.” She reaches down and scoops up Lulu. “Ugh, why does it smell?”
“What—what are you doing?” I rush after her as she turns and starts walking away with Lulu.
“I need this dog back—it’s part of my divorce. My ex wants the dog back, so the lawyer says I have to give it to him. I told him he can have the stupid dog, but I want to keep the antique Persian rug.”
“But I’ve been taking care of her—”
Victoria doesn’t stop as she heads to the elevators. “Yes, I suppose you have. Expense your lunch tomorrow.” She nods like that’s an acceptable trade.
As if anything would be an acceptable trade.
“You can’t just take my dog.” I’m too loud, and everyone is staring at me.
“The dog isn’t yours. Just go buy another dog. Get one that doesn’t smell.”
“But… but you can’t do this—this is illegal!”
“You can talk to my ex’s lawyer—he’s the one who is insisting on this custody arrangement. Also, when you write him, tell him I’m sending them a dry-cleaning bill for my suit.”
The elevator doors close.
“Oh my God.” Piper’s hovering. “Did she seriously just steal Lulu?”
“She says Lulu belongs to her ex,” I sob. “This can’t be right, can it? She can’t just kidnap my dog.”