Chapter 16
MAGGIE
Ryan’s apartment was the absolute epitome of bachelorhood. If any girl had ever been confused about what it meant to walk into a man’s apartment as a woman and know, at first glance, that you weren’t supposed to stay, all she would need to understand was a picture of his place.
Seriously.
While he was gone, I wandered around, taking stock of the apartment I now called home. So far, I’d established that he owned approximately seven thousand shirts in varying shades of white, gray, and blue—and that they were hung in his closet with military precision.
His more casual clothes were in a different closet, like business dare not mix with pleasure even symbolically. It was either that, or he hadn’t wanted to take the chance of leaving closet space open in the event that some woman he brought home saw it and took it as an invitation.
Another thing I’d learned was that he was a die-hard baseball fan. There were framed photographs and a few signed balls displayed on shelves, a baseball cap thrown over the back of a chair in his bedroom like that was the one thing that was allowed the indulgence of being out of place.
Then there were his books.
They were a depressing mix of finance, business, and a few biographies of people who claimed to conquer industries every morning before they’d even had their first sip of coffee. Wedged between those was an entire section that defined the term guy lit.
There were military thrillers and spy novels, some action heroes holding guns while staring moodily into the middle distance. I loved reading, but there wasn’t a single thing on his shelves I would even consider picking up.
Girls take heed, Ryan Thayer does not want you curling up on his couch with one of his books.
Also, he owned so many movies involving explosions that he might’ve been doing research on behalf of a small-scale terrorist organization. The television he watched those movies on was so large, it probably felt like he was right in the action, whether it be a ballgame or a filmed war.
Every piece of his furniture was constructed of glass, leather, or wood. No metal though, which was interesting. His kitchen situation, on the other hand, was appalling. One look was all it’d taken for me to know he’d been serious when he said he wasn’t a very good cook.
Maybe he knew how to make ramen and mac and cheese out of a box, but I doubted his oven had ever met a roasting dish and he certainly didn’t own a serving platter. All he had were a couple of pots and pans, cutlery, crockery, and bottle openers. There were plenty of those.
Honestly, it was all pretty reassuring.
For a guy who walked around looking like he belonged on the cover of a magazine, he was surprisingly normal. With my investigation into who exactly I was living with now complete, I padded across the cool tiles to his windows, looking down at the city I’d so desperately wanted to stay away from.
My time on the lam was limited. I knew that for a fact. Marcus had already been here, and by now, he would have told Daniel and my parents that I was back. It was only a matter of time before another Pembroke—or a Hawthorne—came knocking.
I needed a plan beyond waiting for Marcus to let me know that my parents had said no to giving me total control over the wedding. There was only one person I could think of who might be able to take control of the situation without making it worse, and that was Cathy.
That girl could organize a military coup that came complete with a list of approved florists for the inauguration of the new regime—and she’d do it without making anyone angry at her even if they knew she was the mastermind.
She was also the only person on earth who would hear me out before she started yelling at me about running out on Daniel, so I pulled out my phone and switched it back on. Seconds later, missed calls, messages, voicemails, and notifications came streaming in like a tide.
At this rate, my battery would go flat before I even made the call, so I ignored the constant stream of judgment and scrolled to her number, then hit dial. Cathy answered on the first ring, but her voice was suspicious, like she wasn’t sure it was really me. “Maggie?”
“Hi.”
“Oh my God. It is you.”
I winced. “Please don’t scream.”
Naturally, she pretended not to have heard me. “You’re alive! Oh my God, you’re alive. How are you? Where are you?”
“New York.”
She paused for a beat. “You’re home?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What does that mean?”
I looked around Ryan’s apartment. “It means I’m in New York, but not back home.”
She sighed. “Okay, I need to see you. Right now. Come to Cavendash Square and meet me in the back. We’ll be safe there.”
“Give me thirty minutes?” Her family’s department store was at least twenty minutes’ walk from here and I was still juggling the same three outfits I’d been wearing for the last week. I needed to build in some time to change. Into what, I didn’t know yet, but I’d figure it out. “I’ll see you then.”
“See you in thirty,” she confirmed. “Don’t be late, Mags. You have no idea how worried I’ve been. If you’re not here in precisely thirty minutes, I’ll think you got kidnapped again.”
“Again? I’ve never been kidnapped.”
“Don’t let your mother hear you say that, but for now, just don’t keep me waiting and we’ll talk when you get here.”
“Yeah. I’ll be there,” I promised, then hung up and glanced at my t-shirt.
Gross as it was, I’d slept in it last night, but I was still waiting for my other shirts to dry, which meant I was bang out of luck on changing into something of my own.
I wasn’t proud of it, but I slid my phone into the pocket of my jeans and made my way to Ryan’s bedroom, rummaging through his closet and stealing one of his sweatshirts.
It was huge on me, but it smelled like him—a gorgeous blend of fragrances I didn’t recognize, but adored—not that I’d ever tell him that.
The first time I’d walked into his bathroom, I’d seen a whole array of White Water Lily bottles, and since I knew his two older brothers were married to the Saad sisters, I assumed that was the scent he wore. It was gorgeous, though. Sexy and masculine but not overpowering at all.
My compliments to the chef, not the man. Of course.
I grabbed the baseball cap and a pair of his sunglasses and pulled those on too, then looked myself over in the mirror. Perfect. I look like a hungover college student desperately seeking coffee.
Satisfied that no one would ever recognize Hamptons Barbie in my current getup, I shoved my hands into the sweatshirt pocket and left. Undercover Maggie was officially in business.
Cathy was waiting at the back entrance of her family’s department store wearing a cream suit and enormous sunglasses, but she pulled them off when I approached her, doing a double take when she realized it was me.
“Oh, no.” She shook her head hard and fast. “Uh-uh. You need to change.”
“I thought I looked casual.”
“No, honey. Casual is one thing you don’t look. If anything, you look like you mugged a frat boy.” She sighed and pulled me into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. God, I was so worried.”
As I wrapped my arms around her, I let myself relax into her embrace. Everyone else might be pissed at me, but Cathy was still here, still acting like herself, and obviously, she hadn’t written me off as a friend just yet.
“It’s good to see you too,” I murmured. “Are you okay? I hope the press hasn’t been hounding you about what I did.”
She waved me off, sliding her arm around my waist as she led me through the cavernous halls of the staff-only area of the store to an office. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. How are you?”
“I’m okay.” I paused for a beat. “I mean, as okay as I can be, I guess. My phone has been off, though. I have no idea how big of a mess I made.”
“Your phone has been off?” Her eyebrows hiked up. “You mean, on airplane mode, right?”
“No, I mean off.”
She stared at me for a long beat. “I don’t think I knew they could do that.”
I chuckled. “Yes, you did.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” She winked. “I just don’t know how to make mine do it.”
After we took a quick elevator ride up, she led me into a private, carpeted office that overlooked Central Park in the distance, shutting the door firmly behind us. A moment later, I even heard the lock click.
“So you really have no idea what’s been going on?” she asked, waving me into a plush armchair in the sitting area. “Is that even possible in this day and age?”
“I’m happy to report that it is.” I hesitated for a moment, but I had to find out at some point and ripping off the band-aid seemed like the best idea. “How bad is it?”
She lowered herself gracefully into the seat opposite mine, a soft smile spreading on her lips. “Actually, as far as the world is concerned, you had a medical emergency.”
My eyebrows inched up. “Seriously? What kind of emergency could possibly be so bad that it keeps a bride from going to her own wedding? Outside of death, that is.”
“A shellfish allergy.” She faked a worried, almost forlorn expression and pressed her hand to her chest. “It’s a terrible, life-threatening allergy. We had no idea the food in the bridal suite had been anywhere near shellfish.”
“I don’t have a shellfish allergy,” I said. “I don’t have any allergies at all.”
She smirked. “Call it an awareness campaign for people to learn just how serious an allergy it can be.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Welcome to high society.” She leaned back in her chair and elegantly slid her elbows onto the armrests. “The wedding has been postponed, not canceled.”
“Postponed? For how long?”
She gave me a little shrug. “As long as necessary for you to recover from the terrible allergic reaction you had.”
“Are you serious? The press thinks the wedding is carrying on?”
“Of course, they do. Because it is. You have to marry Daniel, babe. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it. There’s no option, and besides, Daniel is hot. A little boring, but very good looking.”
As I stared back at her, I wanted to tell her everything, but while Cathy truly was my friend and I really did trust her, she was also part of the same social circle I’d grown up in. Gossip was currency where we came from, so I had to be careful about what I told even her.
“You should marry him,” I said after a short beat. “Take my place. I’m sure the Hawthornes would be happy to have you and you’re going to have to get married at some point anyway.”
“Of course, but Daniel isn’t my type. Didn’t I just say he was a little boring? Now, if Marcus was involved, I’d volunteer as tribute in a heartbeat, but alas, Danny boy is all yours.”
I sighed. “Thanks for the support.”
“You’re the one who suggested I marry your fiancé, darling. I just told you that he’s the wrong one for me.”
“Daniel isn’t my fiancé anymore, and legally, I can’t marry Marcus, nor would I want to. Eww.”
“Definitely not eww, but I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
I nodded my agreement, then folded my hands in my lap as I glanced out of the window. “So what happens now?”
“For starters, you don’t worry about the rumor mill anymore,” she said. “I’ve got this city firmly under my excellently manicured thumb. Manhattan will believe whatever I want it to believe, and when you’re ready to try again with Daniel, I’ll be there.”
“What if I’m never ready?”
She shrugged, not missing a single beat. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” When her phone started ringing on the elaborate desk, she winced. “I should get that.”
“I’ll go.” I hugged her again on my way out, definitely feeling better now than I had before I’d spoken to her.
Cathy was masterful at reassurance. I just had to hope all her promises held up, but I was certain they would. She really did control the gossip grapevine to a large extent and she had an impressive network of reporters in her pocket.
Feeling like I could breathe at least a little bit now, I decided that the next step was to see if my father had blocked my access to money after all. For all I knew, he’d changed his mind or allowed at least one of my cards to work again once I’d gotten back to the city.
Unfortunately, my predictions had been right. Marcus had given me my wallet back when he’d visited Ryan’s, so I pulled out a card and tried to take out some cash, but no luck. I tried another card and then another, but all of them were declined.
My stomach dropped when I glanced back down at my wallet and realized I didn’t have another one to try.
Ryan and Marcus had both warned me this would happen, and while I’d believed them, part of me had clung onto the hope that my father wouldn’t have gone quite this far, but it looked like that part of me was an idiot.
On the walk back to Ryan’s apartment, the reality of what I’d done properly sank in. I was wearing the sweater of a man I hadn’t seen since my debutante ball without his knowledge or permission. I was also living in his home despite all the many obvious signs that he didn’t want women there.
My parents weren’t bluffing. The money was gone and the cards had been cut off.
When I stared back at myself in the reflection of the elevator in Ryan’s building, I realized that despite Cathy’s reassurances, I still needed to figure this out.
Even if it meant I had to give my parents what they wanted.