Page 34 of Until You

Chapter Ten

At nine thirty, Lanie and Stephanie sat at a table for two in a crowded bar on the Plaza. Lanie couldn’t help wishing she’d just gone home. It had been a stressful day and evening, and the chaos of the bar scene was the last thing she needed, but Stephanie had insisted and Lanie couldn’t tell her no after her assistant gone above and beyond to cover her ass the last couple of days.

Lanie lifted her vodka tonic and clicked it into Stephanie’s cosmo. “To kick-ass women getting shit done.”

“Hear, hear,” Stephanie said with a huge grin.

Lanie had been like twenty-seven-year-old Stephanie once, she thought, full of energy and ready to take on the world. But she was only thirty-two years old, for God’s sake. She was too young to be so jaded.

“You’re brilliant,” Stephanie said. “FaceTiming Eve at eight forty-five to personally walk her through the report, line by line, was a nice touch.” She laughed. “Especially when you pointed out that, given how important it must be—since she needed it at an unusual time in the middle of the weekend—you thought it best to walk her through it so there weren’t any questions.”

Lanie’s mouth lifted into a wry grin. “I can be a bitch when I need to be.”

“I still say you should have worn your purple bridesmaid dress during the call.”

“Nah.” Lanie laughed. “It would have been overkill.” It had been a damn good thing that she’d had a spare skirt and blouse at the office in case of disaster. She glanced down at the grass-stained lilac pumps. Too bad she’d never foreseen needing shoes.

Stephanie clicked her glass into Lanie’s. “To being bitches.”

“Damn straight,” Lanie said before she took a sip. But she’d realized something else during that call. She didn’t want to work for people who didn’t value her opinion and her expertise. She was going to turn in her notice.

A wave of terror had washed through her, but a wave of excitement quickly followed. She was going to change careers.

But how was she going to tell Stephanie?

“So how did the photo shoot go?”

Tyler’s profusely bleeding forehead came to mind, then the way he’d set her body on fire followed quickly after.

“Oh!” Steph exclaimed in excitement. “There’s a story behind that look, and I want to hear it.”

Stephanie knew Lanie’s modus operandi when it came to dating, so she wouldn’t be all that surprised if Lanie was interested in a sexy groomsman. Since she and Lanie rarely spent more than six months in any location, a serious relationship was pretty much off the table. A year ago, Steph had fallen in love in San Francisco. But she’d quickly gotten her heart broken when her boyfriend had insisted she quit her job when it came time to for her to move on to Seattle. It had been a tough choice, but Steph had chosen the job.

For Lanie it was never a choice. She always chose the job. Even before she said hello to the guy. But she wondered if she was being too black-and-white. From what she could see, Randy was a great guy who loved and worshipped Brittany. Even as cynical as Lanie was, she knew there were good men still out there. Maybe when the dust settled with her career, she should consider looking for one.

Steph leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs. Her eyes lit up with excitement. “I want all the details.”

“About?”

“That look. The guy who incited it.”

Lanie told her about Celesta and the poses, carefully skirting any mention of Tyler.

Stephanie shook her head. “You’re holding out on me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The guy who put that look on your face…I want to know about him.”

Fighting a grin, she took a sip of her drink. “There’s not much to tell. I scarred him for life. It doesn’t get much better than that.”

“I know you can be intimidating…”

“No, Steph, I mean a literal scar. On his face.” She pointed to her own forehead. “I took your advice and drank before I went, but I drank straight from the bottle, and then Aiden called and I got distracted while I was searching my apartment for these damn shoes—bottle in hand—and by the time I’d found them, I’d almost drunk the entire thing.”

“Oh my God! You drank an entire bottle of wine?”

“No.” She shook her head with a frown. “Just half a bottle. And when I got there, I struggled to walk across the lawn in my three-inch heels—”

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