Just One Day Part 1

Just One Day.

Sharla Lovelace.

Chapter One.

My face was sore. Like maybe I should have done facial stretches beforehand. Then again, I had no inkling that the night would be so-social. I'd sort of expected something a little more intimate for our special evening. Like-dinner for two. Still, I had an open mind, and Brad was nothing if not innovative.

I smiled again as I nodded and shook another hand, hugged another of Brad's bank colleagues, wondering how many of them really remembered me. I wasn't the typical arm candy.

"Andie, you've got yourself quite a guy here," a gorgeous brunette woman said, as she gave Brad a sideways hug, pressing her very exposed cleavage against him. Her hair was done up in a chignon I could never pull off, although I'd tried. Mine looked more like a messy cl.u.s.ter, and I just hoped that appeared intentional.

I struggled with her name-Marcia? Marissa? Oh, how I wished for the stick-on name tags of Brad's usual company parties. But this wasn't supposed to be a company party. It was our party, and cleavage queen had the unfair advantage of a giant banner sporting mine and Brad's names.

"Oh, don't I know it," I said, smiling equally as coyly, trying to play the game and blend. I would have loved to press my b.o.o.bs against him, too, but I was afraid the movement would knock them out of the dress I was wearing. Instead, I pulled his hand to my lips and planted a kiss on his knuckles. "He's the best."

Marcia-Marissa laughed, a s.e.xy husky sound that drew four appreciative sets of male eyes to her. And those were just the ones I noticed.

Brad didn't appear to be moved by her, however; which either meant he was a really good bluffer or overly smitten with me. Either way, he responded with a soft kiss on my lips that I chose to signify the latter.

"Aw, that's so sweet," Marcia-Marissa cooed, laying a hand against Brad's arm as she extracted herself. "You'd never peg this guy as cutthroat, seeing him with you tonight," she said, laughing again.

Brad snagged a pa.s.sing drink, and handed it off to her. "Nope, no business talk," he said. "It's all about me and Andie tonight."

As we smiled at each other, my first thought was, Then why invite the office?

"Bradley, you've outdone yourself," boomed a voice from behind me.

We turned and were greeted by the toothy grin of his best friend, Martin. He slapped Brad on the back and kissed my cheek. I got the feeling, as usual, that his aim would have been more centrally directed if I didn't turn.

"Martin," I said. "Where's Alicia?"

He turned for a cursory look around for his wife. "Somewhere," he said with a wink. "At least I think that's who I came with."

He laughed as if that were hysterically funny, and Brad shook his head as he laughed with him.

"She might not want to go home with you if she hears you talking like that, big guy," Brad said.

Martin held up his drink. "Too true," he said. "My wife is a saint." After downing half his gla.s.s, his eyes landed on me. "Wow," he said, backing up and making a big show of taking in my appearance. "Don't you look amazing."

"Thank you," I said, holding my chest in as I did a mock bow.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this-" He gestured with his hands as if he couldn't find the words.

"Fancy?" I suggested, trying to ignore the embarra.s.sed heat climbing up my neck.

Martin chuckled. "I was going to say exposed, but sure, we can go with that." He winked at Brad and nudged his arm.

My smile felt like a grimace. "Well, that's better," I said under my breath.

Brad squeezed my hand as I tuned out the rest of their banter. He knew I only tolerated Martin because of their longtime friends.h.i.+p. I drew in a slow breath, inhaling the salty Gulf air, and coaxing myself to relax.

He really had outdone himself for this party, I thought, as I pushed back the self-imposed walls and let myself appreciate the beauty around me. The boat-a term I'd use very loosely for something that could hold that large a party and not go belly-up-was decorated in tiny white holiday lights and crystal accents, making everything appear to twinkle like diamonds. Food adorned tables at every corner, the deck was polished to a sparkle, a band played from the upper deck overlooking us, and free alcohol flowed as freely as the water surrounding us in the s.h.i.+p channel.

To me, a boat was something you went fis.h.i.+ng in. Possibly skied behind. I spent most of my childhood in my dad's boat, strapped in poofy orange life vests with a fis.h.i.+ng pole or a crab line in my hand. What I sat in then, with hot aluminum under my bare feet, was a boat. What Brad owned was a floating ballroom.

Brad Marcus had spared nothing to celebrate our two-year anniversary, with sixty of our closest friends, of which I kind of knew four. It didn't escape me that none of my friends were there, but then most of our socializing tended to be with Martin and his wife or a few of Brad's other coworkers. Somewhere along the line that had become the norm. I frowned, wondering when my friends had fallen off the radar. He probably wouldn't have known where to find them, anyway. Not that he should have. I couldn't imagine calling people up to come to a party on a yacht at the Baytown Marina, for an anniversary of dating. Especially at our age. If it were me, I would have rolled my eyes and called a friend to snicker over rich people and their extravagant idiocies. So maybe it was a good thing that the only attendees I could see so far were Brad's people. They probably didn't see it as embarra.s.sing, just another reason for a gala.

I would have been good with pizza and ice cream and a movie. But hey-that's me.

"There you are," came a singsongy voice to my left. The hug and expensive perfume that accompanied it belonged to the missing Alicia. "Here, I snagged you something real," she said, replacing my wine with a tumbler of something red with ice.

"Lord, I need more food," I said. "All this alcohol and no lunch today."

Alicia looped her sparkly braceleted arm through mine. "Let's go get some more shrimp."

I laughed as we headed toward the shrimp table, which I'd already hit up three times before. "I need something with bread."

"So, tell me about your adventure today," Alicia said, wiggling her eyebrows. "I heard he was pretty creative. Amazing dress, by the way."

I laughed and looked down at myself. "Yeah." I smoothed a hand carefully along the deep green sequins. "Kind of outside my league, if you know what I mean."

"No way," she said with a giggle and touch of my arm. "You can rock any league you choose to. You look fabulous."

I adjusted my chest while my back was to the crowd. "Martin said I look exposed."

Alicia sighed in mock disgust. "Martin's a pig," she said with a smile. "He's too male for his own good." She piled shrimp on a tiny plate. "Now tell me."

I relayed the afternoon as it had played out. A box arriving at my door, with a brand-new glittery dress inside, and an envelope with a typed note saying, "Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to go to the mailbox, where you will find further instructions on where to go next."

"Oh my G.o.d, seriously?" she said around a mouthful of food. "That's adorable."

"He can be cute like that," I said, feeling a little proud. I glanced back to where he stood seriously chatting up his boss with Martin, and wished we were telling the story together. So much for no work talk.

"I wish he'd arranged for you to go with me," I said, piling up my own plate. "It would have been more fun."

"Me too!" she said. "So what was next?"

I told her about the clues that led me to a salon for a mani-pedi, which had additional clues waiting for me to hit up a shoe store for the new sparkly sandals he had already purchased. Then to Macy's for a prepaid makeover, before a limo brought me to the marina for the final event.

What I didn't tell her was the disappointment I felt when I realized it wasn't just Brad waiting for me.

"What a surprise!" Alicia said, eyes wide, looking maybe a little envious.

"That it was."

"I can't believe he picked out this dress," she said, touching the waistline. "Oh, h.e.l.l, what am I saying? Yes I can. He's so GQ, he probably walked in and had five salespeople at his beck and call."

I laughed. "Probably." I fidgeted with one of the straps again. "Although I wish they'd thrown in some double-sided tape and maybe a bungee cord."

Alicia nearly spewed her drink, and had to cough to keep it from coming out her nose. She was so tickled, I had to giggle with her, but I was serious. The bodice was nothing but a few straps of material wrapping around me and pus.h.i.+ng me up at strategic places. Very s.e.xy, but more suited for a fancier woman like Alicia.

Brad beamed at me when I'd arrived, however, and I knew he was over the moon to have me there in his world and actually in the spotlight with him. Something I usually managed to avoid. I guess he figured out how to change that.

The musical tinkling of a spoon against a crystal champagne flute made me turn.

"Everyone!" Brad called, bringing to mind Fantasy Island scenes of Mr. Rourke welcoming his guests. "Thank you so much for being here tonight."

"Oh Lord, look at him," Alicia said, nudging me. "All up in his element."

His element.

He extended an arm in my direction, beckoning me to join him. I was suddenly conflicted on whether to bring my plate of shrimp with me. Was it a photo op? Should I just stand next to him with my pretty red drink, smiling? I decided to bring it, since the shrimp were pretty, too, and probably cost a mint.

As I settled into his side, gazing up at him, I counted my blessings. I truly was blessed to have such an amazing man. I'd already run the route of the ordinary, married to someone with no ambition and less dependability. I had life lessons and an amazing daughter from that early experience-I treasured that-so why not embrace the next chapter of my life? So what if he only watched ESPN and the History Channel, and didn't believe in b.u.t.tered popcorn? What did it matter that he hated sweatpants and never let me hear the end of it if I spent the day in a pair? Brad Marcus was gorgeous, successful, creative, and for some reason had chosen to spend the last two years with me.

"This is a special night for Andie and I, as you know," Brad continued, smiling down at me. "And isn't she stunning tonight?"

The crowd clapped, and I went head-to-toe crimson. "Stop," I whispered, managing not to move my lips and maintaining my appreciative smile.

"I've been so fortunate to know this beautiful woman, and I hope you'll all get to know her better tonight, as well," Brad said. "Champagne is coming around, please take one, as I'd like to make a toast."

I switched out my gla.s.ses as the tray went by, and the murmurs ceased as Brad raised his gla.s.s.

"To friends and love and beautiful futures," he said, clinking gla.s.ses with me. Clinks echoed all around, sounding like a cacophony of chimes, which I would have found entertaining and lovely had Brad not then lowered to one knee.

My first thought was that he'd dropped something. Then the precious shrimp plate was plucked from my hand, the champagne gla.s.s was plucked from Brad's, and he was gazing up at me.

"Oh my G.o.d, what are you doing?" I asked under my breath, not wanting the guests to hear.

Brad just grinned, as if my impending panic attack was cute and expected, and his charm would heal all that ailed me. He was charming. He was adorable. And he was on one freaking knee. My heart was so loud in my ears it almost drowned out the awws and oohs along with a distinct shriek from Alicia's general vicinity.

"Please get up," I whispered, wanting to go somewhere private.

He ignored me.

"I want the world to know you're mine, Andie," he said, taking my free hand. Someone took the gla.s.s of champagne from the other one, as I was shaking so badly the liquid sloshed over the edges. "Two years is long enough for us to know."

No, it isn't! my head screamed as he reached into his suit pocket.

The little white box squeaked open, and the crowd gasped in unison, as if on cue. The oddest thought zipped by as I wondered if that was staged, but that could have just been the lack of oxygen to my brain.

"I can't brand you," Brad said, his blue eyes and perfect smile radiating charm and bringing laughter from all sides. "But I can put this on your finger and give you my name," he said, kissing my fingers as I stared down at him. "If you'll have me."

The marble-sized rock in the box swirled and doubled in front of my eyes. It looked like all the crystals that hung around the boat, catching the light. Ahh, I thought. That was creative. My head swam with random bursts of sound from the guests, the band playing something soft and backgroundish on a violin overhead, and all the thoughts pinging me at once. Mostly that I needed to say something. That everyone was waiting for me to say something. But something in me was still waiting-for him to say something.

I blinked hard, and willed the image in front of me to focus, but I had bigger problems, as my head went light and three plates of c.o.c.ktail shrimp crawled back up.

"Brad," I whispered, as the little pinpoints of black started closing in.

"Andie?"

I wheeled around and ran blindly for where I knew the railing to be, shoved two gasping Vera w.a.n.g gowns and their owners aside, and unloaded all that pretty shrimp back into the water. Not quite the same way they left it.

Chapter Two.

I awoke to buffalo ramming the inside of my skull and leaving their fur behind in my mouth. That was the good part. Remembering the reason for it was worse.

The gasps and shrieks of the guests. Alicia coming to my rescue and Brad holding me. My leaving in a taxi in utter mortification, stopping for greasy tacos and a six-pack of beer, and downing it all within an hour while sitting in the dark park next to our condo. I still couldn't kill the humiliation or the questions. By the time I dragged myself through the door, a very un-dapper-looking Brad awaited me in a chair.

He'd been worried, stressed, definitely p.i.s.sed. His hair stuck out on one side, and his s.h.i.+rt was untucked. He woke up in the mornings looking better than that. He would have probably even taken me up on sweatpants if I'd offered it about then.

"Why, Andie?" he'd asked, sounding deflated. "Don't you love me?"

He'd sounded like such a little boy with those words. Such a normal person, and nothing like the s.h.i.+ny persona he normally sported. And it was those words that had eaten me up the most. He wasn't big on the love word. Only used it on occasion, choosing the special moments to wow me with it. The proposal would have been a good time.

It had been the longest night of my life, and it had ended with me in bed and him on the couch. Not quite the way I pictured our anniversary.

As I stared at the white ceiling and counted the beats against my head, I wondered what thoughts or poundings were going through his. What was wrong with me? I'm sure that's what he was wondering. Any other woman would shove me into the nearest gutter to take my place-and I wasn't blind to the smiles and hair flips and cleavage that paraded around him trying to do just that. To be the one that Brad Marcus branded as his own.

An involuntary body s.h.i.+ver hit me as I recalled that sentence, and how gaudy it felt in front of all those people.

Maybe I was overreacting. On the nineteenth and twentieth replay in my head, it sounded a little better. Cuter, maybe. Less contrived. But no matter how many times I played it back, I love you never made an appearance. You mean the world to me. You're my everything. You're my best friend. I want to grow old with you. I love you, Andie. None of the above made the cut in his proposal. Instead, I got I can't brand you.

The smell of Italian roast coffee filled my senses, almost strong enough to lift me out of bed without my a.s.sistance. Seconds later, Brad walked in carrying two steaming mugs. He was wearing my favorite white pullover and jeans, and looked deliciously down-to-earth.

"Hey," I said, struggling to a sitting position, and grabbing my head to keep the buffalo at bay. "Oh, dear G.o.d, I'm too old for this."

Brad handed me a mug and two aspirins he had in his palm. "Here, this should take off some years."

"If only."

The coffee was fabulous, sending warmth and good tidings to every nerve ending in my body. Except my heart, which felt stabbed with tiny needles every time I looked at him. With a twist for good measure when our eyes met.

I had hurt him with my lack of an answer. Embarra.s.sed him in front of his people. He had been so sure of the outcome, sure enough to invite an audience to witness it. How was he so sure and I wasn't? He sat on the edge of the bed with his coffee, and I waited for him to look me in the eyes again.

When he did, I felt like something had flipped off-kilter. We weren't the same. "I'm so sorry," I managed to say.