Page 11 of The Spring in My Heart

“Yeah, fuck him. This is the last time I cry for him. He can go to hell and take his gender along with him. I’m done with them for a long time.”

But I see Ollie looking up at me, the shock in his eyes—and probably the judgment.

3

Lux

Monday

My day is packed, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I have a meeting in New York at 11:00. It sucks, but I’ll be rushing back to Baltimore for my five o’clock with Oliver.

I’m glad I got everything together last night because the Acela leaves at 7:30, and I need to be on it to make my meeting. I leave my G-Wagon at home and take an Uber to the train station. Thankfully, my train is on time.

On my way to New York, I work on the script for one of my next videos. I hate having to do this twice a week, but thankfully, I’m able to concentrate. This one is special. I’m featuring Lauren’s new styling on-demand service. It’s going to cater to women of all sizes at affordable prices. I’m going to help her style and showcase how the looks work. We’ll even have a line with me as part of it.

It’s going to be a Bougie Girl X Autumn Lush collaboration. I’ve never done that, and I’m super excited, so I just need to get to working on the video concept so I can tell Lauren about it when we meet formally next week.

I stop an hour into the trip and set it aside. I can work on it for another hour on the way back. I check my phone and find a message from Ollie. I eagerly check it.

Ollie

I’ll see you at five. Got great things to show you.

Butterflies rustle in my belly.

Stop being silly, Luciana. Remember, we swore off men and should stick to the cause no matter how lickable and tempting he is. That ship has sailed. He probably thinks you’re a psycho after watching you throw your ex’s shit out of the window. Besides, he’s got a girlfriend.

He’s talking about work, not how—you know from experience—he puts it down. I can’t help it, though. I’ve been looking forward to seeing him all week. I’ve had to cancel our appointments twice because work had me drowning all week, and the fallout from the breakup has been taxing despite Maeven’s artful handling. Somehow, the chick he was with ended up being cast for a reality show where the cast is sequestered away while they find love.

People now believe it was orchestrated and bought the story that Mateo came home straight from the party and just dropped her and her friend off.

I don’t know how she did it, and who cares? Not my problem anymore. I am determined to put that chapter of my life behind me, so I force my attention on the notes for my meeting. They want to meet me to start this new series, and it’s obviously important enough that they want to discuss it in person. This could have been a Zoom call, but you know what, they pay me well enough, and it’s only an hour or so meeting. I should be out by noon. That should give me enough time to go to the Golden Door spa and get a facial or massage if they can fit me in.

When the train pulls into Port Authority, I hop on the subway and make it to Big Apple Magazine in twenty minutes. The security guard smiles and waves me into the elevators. At the top floor, the secretary practically leaps off her chair when she sees me. The textured two-piece suit is tailored to perfection.

She trades her signature smile for the frown crowning the top of her glasses. “Mimi is waiting for you and cleared her whole schedule to speak to you.”

What now?

Mimi is our boss, the head editor for the life and style section of Big Apple Magazine. We all swear she’s an Anna Wintour wannabe who has modeled herself after Meryl Streep’s character in The Devil Wears Prada—from the big shades to the sometimes downright cutting way she prefers to handle every situation. I’m lucky to be in her good graces because she loves Mateo and lusts after Chase constantly.

The secretary ushers me into Mimi’s office, and when I walk in, I’m immediately disconcerted.

My boss is surrounded by the editor-in-chief, the creative director, the marketing team, and three graphic designers.

And everyone is smiling at me like I’m Rosemary walking into the dinner party with the cult.

What did they get me into this time?

“Luxxy,” Mimi, in her high chignon, hollow cheeks, cigarette pants, and five-inch heels, crosses the room and hugs me. “So glad you are here.”

She towers over me on her platforms, looking down from what looks like a pedestal.

“I thought we were discussing a series.” They’ve ambushed me, so I don’t feel the need to be polite.

“Oh, it’s more than that, darling. Come sit down.” She leads me to a chair next to hers.

I sit and try not to cringe at the expectant way everyone is looking at me. “Why are you all smiling like that?”

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