Simply Irresistible: A Totally Sweet Love Story Page 8

  “Stop right there.” Hannah knew I wouldn’t take handouts from family. I’d already burdened them enough over the years, even though they’d never admit it.

  She sighed. “I’m just worried about you.”

  “Don’t be worried about me.”

  “I’m your sister, it’s in the handbook. You’ve got a great thing with Mel, and I don’t want you to mess it up.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Tyler...I’ve known you a long time.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ve seen you end relationships over petty things. I’d hate to see what happens when you’re faced with a real challenge.”

  She wasn’t entirely wrong, but that wasn’t the case with me and Mel. We were good. Solid, even. Sure, Mel was spending more time with her boss than me these days, but I understood. She actually loved her job. No one was messing anything up, especially not me.

  “Is that how you’re getting your exercise these days, sis?” She looked at me funny. “By jumping to conclusions?” It was her turn to roll her eyes. “There’s no issue with me and Mel. We’re good. No one is ending anything. And I am happy for her,” I continued. “She’s exactly where she wants to be, and I admire that about her.”

  “Well, not exactly where she wants to be, I’d bet. I think she’d rather be one of the ones in the show, instead of behind the scenes.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. She’s an amazing designer. Do you know she designs almost every outfit she wears? One day she’ll make it, I know she will, and she’ll have made all those contacts working for Brianna and already have two feet in the door of the industry.”

  “What’s she waiting for?”

  “I don’t know. Her best friend has been trying to get her to show her boss her designs, but I think she’s afraid.”

  “She shouldn’t be. They really are amazing.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I’ve told her the same thing.”

  “You should motivate her, Ty. That’s one of the many jobs of a significant other. We’re that ever-present driving force behind our spouses, driving them to be successful.”

  “So you’re the reason Preston is a millionaire?”

  “One of the many,” she winked. “But seriously, you should encourage her to share her designs with someone. She’s been working for Brianna for a while, surely she has already made the acquaintance of someone she can share them with. Preston said Brianna spoke highly of her, I’d bet if she shared them with Brianna, she would take care of her.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I wish you’d let Preston help you.”

  “Han-”

  “I know, I know. You don’t want any help. But I can tell you’re not happy and it’s in my nature to fix that. I can’t help it.”

  “You’re a good sister.”

  “I’m your best sister.”

  “You’re my only sister.”

  She balled up her napkin and threw it at me. Despite the Town Car and driver waiting outside the restaurant, the powder blue Chanel suit with the Louboutin shoes, and all the matching Tiffany jewelry, my sister was still my sister. She was still that awkward tomboy I grew up with.

  And she still couldn’t throw to save her life; the napkin missed my face by a foot. Hannah blushed and muttered a quiet apology to the woman at the table beside us whose shoulder it bounced off.

  “Quit messing around,” I playfully scolded, laughing and pointing a stern finger at her.

  “You look just like Dad when you do that.”

  I stopped laughing, took a sip of my drink.

  “Sorry, Ty.”

  “Don’t be.” I looked like my father. Nothing to be ashamed of.

  “I know-”

  “It’s fine, Han.” I looked at my watch. “I have to get back to work.”

  “No, you don’t. Roger isn’t even there.”

  “I still have work to do,” I told her, taking cash out of my wallet for a tip.

  “I know the owner,” she joked.

  I stood and walked to her side of the table, giving her a kiss on the head. “I’ll see you for dinner this weekend.”

  “Bring Melanie. She’s your meal ticket,” Hannah warned with a smile.

  “I will.” I left the restaurant and nodded to Hannah’s driver as I passed by. It was a short walk back to the office, and I needed to feel the crisp, cold air.

  I hoped I would be bringing Melanie to dinner on Sunday, but I’d talked to her for all of thirty minutes this week and it was already Thursday. The few texts I sent went unanswered for hours. Two of the three phone calls we had were so late, she’d fallen asleep on the phone. I may have stayed on the line and listened to her soft breathing for a few seconds before hanging up. Creepy as that may be, the truth was I missed her. I missed her a lot. She’d become such a large part of my life in such a short period of time. She was having such a great time, too, doing what she was doing. It stung because she was having that fun without me, and she didn’t seem to mind.

  Hannah was right. I was being a baby.

  I pulled out my phone and fired off a quick text, surprised when she replied right away.

  Tyler: I hope you are having a good day.

  Melanie: I’m having the best day.

  Tyler: That’s great, Spice. Tell me about it over dinner this weekend?

  Melanie: I wish I could, but Brianna has us booked all through next week. Raincheck?

  Tyler: Sure.

  18

  Melanie

  Fashion Week was as amazing as I’d dreamed it would be.

  In my four years working for Brianna, this was the first time she requested that I be by her side through it all, and I was so grateful. The lights and the glamour were everything I thought they would be. I reveled in being in the middle of it all, and then I went home and stayed awake imagining running one of the shows myself. Dressing the statuesque models in my designs and sending them down the runway. The flashing lights of the photographers’ cameras capturing images of my clothing line and splashing them all over the pages of magazines like Leading Lady and Vogue.

  But through it all...I missed Tyler. I missed him so much. I hadn’t had an actual free minute during the day to call or see him in nearly two weeks, and I felt guilty calling him before I started my day or when I got home, knowing it was ridiculously early or way too late. I’d already fallen asleep on the phone with him too many times.

  Fashion Week was almost over though, and while I was having the time of my life, I was also relieved that my life would finally be returning to normal. No more eighteen-hour days on my feet in crazy heels. I wasn’t sure how the elite walked in these shoes all day long. I actually lost feeling in two of my toes and expected them to fall off any day now. My personal closet consisted of more practical selections, but because I was on Brianna’s arm, I had access to the sample closet and was expected to dress accordingly, mainly as a nod to the designers we were visiting at the show, but also in an effort to blend in with the rest of the beautiful people.

  By day, we were at shows and by night, we were mingling at whatever restaurant or club was hosting the best party, sometimes more than one a night. It was exhausting, but the food and drinks were delicious, and the company was decent. Tonight’s locale was The Theater. It was dark with a vintage theater theme. Candlelight sconces dotted the walls between dark, velvet curtains. Ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and what looked like actual candles burned in them. The theme made no sense to me because we were in Tribeca, nowhere near the theater district, but whatever. Maybe it had to do with the annual film festival. There were always going to be some things I didn’t understand about this world.

  “I’m so impressed with your work this week, Melanie,” Brianna said, turning my attention from the decor. “You’ve been such an asset to me this week. I can’t thank you enough.” She tapped her wine glass against mine in cheers.

  “Thank you for the opportunity to be here. I’ve dreamed of what Fashion Week was like my whole life. This
is pretty amazing.” I blushed, partially from the alcohol and partially from my rookie confession.

  Brianna leaned in and confided, “I used to dream of this, too.”

  I returned her smile and relaxed. I truly had the best boss. Maybe Meredith was right. Maybe I could share my designs with Brianna. She had told me my outfits were cute once or twice, maybe she would support me in my ultimate goal of being a designer.

  Gathering some courage, I leaned forward to confess the underlying reason I applied to work for the magazine four years ago, but Brianna spoke first.

  “There’s something I’d like to ask you, or rather, offer you. Another opportunity.”

  “I’m listening,” I said, intrigued. Was Brianna a mind reader? I doubted that.

  “I’ll be gone the next two weeks...London and Milan,” she said, not that she needed to remind me where the next two fashion weeks would take place. “I’ll finish the month in Paris and have some additional work to do there as we’re considering establishing a French sister magazine, Femme De Tête. I could really use the assistance of my assistant,” she giggled, the wine loosening her up as I’d witnessed a few other evenings this week.

  I softly laughed with her, until I realized what she was asking. She was asking me to go to Paris Fashion Week with her.

  “You’re an amazing assistant, Melanie. You always have been. You’re a little quiet in the office, so before I asked you to go to Paris with me, I needed to make sure you could handle yourself in that kind of environment, which is why I had you accompany me the past two weeks. You go above and beyond outside of the office, just as you do inside the office. Like I said earlier, you’ve impressed me. It’s not often that staff impress me, to be honest. I set extremely high expectations, and you’re constantly surpassing them. I appreciate that.”

  “Wow. Brianna, I don’t even know what to say.” I was speechless. This was probably the most I’d heard Brianna say to one person in four years and the fact that it was all praise directed at me had me gobsmacked.

  “Say you’ll come!” She smiled, taking another sip of her chardonnay.

  “Of course. I would be honored.”

  “Yay,” she said, clapping her hands together like a schoolgirl, nearly spilling her wine. Maybe I’d underestimated how many she’d had to drink.

  I tried to match her enthusiasm, but then I realized...I’d have to tell Tyler I’d be going to Paris. Another week spent away from him, and this time an ocean apart. If it was difficult to keep in touch while in the same city, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like when we were in different time zones.

  19

  Tyler

  “I missed you so much,” I said, my lips and tongue making their way up Melanie’s body. Fashion Week ended last night and after she slept in a little this morning, Melanie came straight to my apartment. That was ten hours ago, and it was starting to get dark. “I missed you, too,” she said around a groan.

  I rolled off her and she frowned. “Hey now…” she said.

  “What?” I asked. “We’ve been at it since ten o’clock this morning. I’m tired and famished.”

  “You’re such a tease,” she whined.

  “First, I do believe you’re fully satisfied. Second, I’ll show you a tease,” I said, and she smirked. “After I eat.”

  She frowned again and slapped my bare ass.

  “Ouch,” I said, rubbing it as I climbed out of bed. “Just for that, I’m not letting you pick the grub.” I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and walked the short distance to my folder of takeout menus, stepping around our discarded clothing as I went.

  “Can we just get pizza? I swear those fashion people only eat salads. I need some pizza in my life.”

  “Pizza, it is.” I knew I said she wasn’t picking the food, but no self-respecting New Yorker turned down pizza. Using the delivery app, I placed my order and returned to bed, sitting up against the headboard. She cuddled against me, her head in my lap, and I stroked my hand down her back.

  It sucked being without her...missing her...being with her again felt right.

  “I have some news,” Melanie said, and I looked down at her dark, messy hair. She wasn’t looking at me. I internally sighed, hoping this wasn’t bad news.

  “What’s up?” I asked, attempting to sound nonchalant. I don’t think it worked because I felt her stiffen against me ever so slightly.

  “Brianna invited me to go to Paris at the end of the month.”

  And there it was...the other shoe that always dropped. Was this how it would always be? This was the industry that Melanie wanted to be in. It would involve shit like this on the regular, right? Flying off to Paris, London, and Milan for the Fashion Weeks twice a year. Who knew where else she’d end up needing to go? L.A.? Everyone who was anyone ended up having to go to L.A. for something, and if I knew anything, it was that Melanie would end up being someone.

  “You’re not saying anything,” she said, now peeking up at me through her hair.

  I gave her my best fake smile. “It’s probably a great opportunity for you, right?”

  “Yeah. Brianna told me I was an amazing assistant, and she was really impressed with my work.”

  “That’s great, Spice.” I said, my tone sounding dull even to my own ears.

  “Is it though? Because you seem...I don’t know.”

  I thought about what to say, then I thought about my conversation with Hannah. I should be happy for Melanie because she’s on her way to making her dreams come true. I should be focused on her, because that’s what significant others do...they support the people they loved.

  Wait, did I love Melanie?

  I thought so. At least, it sure felt like I did. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I wanted to be with her all the time, or at least talk to her. She was an amazing woman and she had a cool family. I was happy with her. I think maybe I did love her.

  And suddenly...I wanted to tell her just that.

  I smiled down at her, looking deep into her dark green eyes. “I’m fine, baby. I just love you.”

  Her eyes widened, then filled with tears as she smiled up at me. “I love you, too.”

  I moved down the bed to kiss her, and the moment our lips connected, nothing had ever felt so right.

  ***

  “Mmm,” Melanie hummed as she devoured her fourth slice of plain cheese pizza. I was glad I’d ordered two pies; my girl had an appetite. “This is sooo good.”

  “I’ll tell you what else is sooo good,” I said, wiggling my eyebrows.

  Melanie shook her head. “Nope, a fresh and hot cheese pizza is better than sex, too.”

  I raised an eyebrow, gaping at her in disbelief. I loved pizza...but I wasn’t sure anything was better than sex. She looked so damn content though, shoveling the mixture of dough, sauce, and cheese in her mouth. I’d let this one go; the girl obviously needed her pizza.

  “How has it been at work since he-who-shall-not-be-named hasn’t been there?”

  “Quiet. Think you’re going to tell Brianna about your designs since you two have been spending so much time together?”

  “I don’t know. I almost did, but before I could get the words out, she asked me to go to Paris.”

  “Really?” I was so proud of her for trying.

  “Yeah. I just don’t want her to be disappointed that I don’t want to be her assistant forever though, you know?”

  I laughed. “I don’t think she expects you to be her assistant forever. You said it yourself, she’s impressed with your work. She probably knows you have bigger and better things in your future than just being her assistant.”

  “I could say the same thing about you,” she said.

  “Yeah, well, the difference between me and you is that your boss recognizes your work.”

  “He may not admit it, but your boss recognizes your work, too. He has to since you’re the one doing his job. You could run that magazine-”

  “I don’t want to run the magazine.”

  �
�I know you don’t, but you could.”

  “What’s with all the women in my life getting on me about my job? First Hannah, then you.” I was starting to get pissed off.

  “Because you hate it?”

  “Yeah, so let’s not talk about it.”

  “I just think you can do so much more, and you’re settling for whatever reason.”

  “How is what I’m doing any different from what you’re doing? I want to write, so I’m working my way into the industry. Same as you.”

  “But you’re not writing, Ty. I’m still designing—doing what I love—while I work for Brianna. You’re just working for Roger. You’re not doing what you love.”

  “I grill. I enjoy grilling.”

  “Then write about it. Start a blog or something. That could help get you in the industry as well. I can’t tell you how many fashion bloggers Brianna hires on a freelance basis for the magazine.”

  The idea had merit...but I didn’t know anything about starting a blog. Did guys even blog? Hell, I probably had some kind of non-compete clause in my contract anyway. It was no use.

  I blew out a breath, then groaned. Adulting was difficult. “I don’t know.”

  “Then write something and give it to Roger. You’re the Man would really benefit from some lifestyle features like food and exercise.” It wasn’t the first time she’d suggested that.

  “I agree with you, but if you think Roger would accept a recommendation from me, or better yet, an article, you’re nuts.”

  Melanie’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and I felt bad, but it didn’t change the facts. Roger would never go for anything I suggested.

  20

  Melanie

  “I can’t believe you’re going to Paris,” Meredith’s voice crackled across the line.

  I stuffed a few pairs of pajamas in my suitcase and smiled. “I know, it’s like a dream come true.”