Page 38 of Meant to Be

“So what?” I said. “All that means is that those guys are self-made—they came to fame later in life—whereas Joe is famous because he was born into a rich family. He was famous atbirth.”

“Exactly,” Wilbur said, as if I’d proven a point for him.

“That’s not impressive,” I said. “He hasn’t accomplished anything on his own.”

“Well, neither has Diana. All she did was marry into a family.”

“Touché,” I said.

“So?” Wilbur said. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”

“Because I don’t really. We just met once. In passing. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Well, you made an impression onhim,” Wilbur said, smirking.

“How do you know that?” I asked, a little perturbed with myself for feeling flattered.

“Because he told me, girl! He told me how you two met in the Hamptons…on the beach…. He said he lost your number, but he somehow knew we worked together…and he wants to come in for an appointment.”

“Oh. Cool,” I said, nodding and doing my best to feign professional nonchalance. “What’s he looking for? Casual stuff? Business attire? Black tie?”

Wilbur grinned. “He didn’t mentionclothing. But hedidask me whether you were single.”

“And?” I said, getting a funny feeling in my stomach.

“And I told him you were.”

“Oh myGod,Wilbur. You know I have a boyfriend,” I said.

I’d been seeing a British soccer player named Arlo Smith for a couple of months. Jocks weren’t really my type, but with tattoos and spiky hair, Arlo had something of a rock-and-roll vibe that I loved. We had fun together, and things were going well.

“You’re going to turn down Joe for a third-rate footballer?” Wilbur said.

“Wow, Wilbur. Don’t be such a snob.”

“Guilty as charged. Iama snob.”

“Well, I’mnot,” I said, reaching for my lavender eye mask, ready to recline my seat and doze off. “And I’m happy to sell Joe Kingsley a boatload of clothes. But I’m not entertaining any of the rest of this.”

“The rest of what?”

“You know what.”

“And whyever not?”

“Because,” I said, feeling resolute. “I don’t need that kind of nonsense in my life.”

—

About ten dayslater, Joe strolled into our new SoHo store right in the middle of a busy trunk show. I spotted him out of the corner of my eye but was with a client and pretended I hadn’t seen him. For more than thirty minutes he hovered nearby, turning down help from my sales associate, clearly waiting for me.

When I was finally free, he tentatively approached me and said, “Hi there, Cate.”

“Oh. Hi, Joe,” I said with a bright but detached smile. “Are you here for the trunk show?”

Joe put his hands in his pockets, shuffled his feet a little, then said, “Um. Well…I’m here to seeyou,actually.”

I laughed and said, “Well, that’s a shame. I would rather you be here for the trunk show. It’s amazing.”

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