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  I snapped out of my trance enough to reach out and take the polished wooden box in my hands. When I creaked the lid, I saw the sparkling, round diamond in its yellow-gold setting.

  If I’m going to be honest, I’d like to explain that I was in a bit of a daze looking at the thing. So, my first reaction—I’m ashamed to admit—was to think, yellow gold?

  I never realized until that moment that I must have pictured myself wearing something a little less obvious, a little more vintage, most definitely a lot more silver in color... and certainly not until many, many years from then.

  But there was Devin, just sitting there beaming, his handsome face split nearly in half with a huge grin and asking me to marry him. I was stunned, and my head was swirling with questions—How would we tell our co-workers? What was my father going to think?—but of course I said yes. I’d spent two whole years just kind of floating through the relationship, but I guess Devin had been taking things more seriously than I’d given him credit for.

  In my defense, it was kind of hard to think of us as a real couple when the main basis for our relationship was hiding out from the whole rest of the world. My own father had only met Devin a handful of times over the years, and I still, two days later, hadn’t been able to find a way to tell him about the engagement.

  My best friend Lisa, on the other hand, was given the news immediately.

  I’d called her as soon as Devin passed out after our engagement “celebration”. I knew she rarely fell asleep before midnight, so it wouldn’t be too late to call. Although, news like that wouldn’t have been able to wait until morning even if it was too late to call.

  Of course she freaked out and had a million questions, but my head was still in such a daze that I didn’t have any of the right answers. I just tried to sound excited and happy—because I was—and it was easy to conjure the right tone since the proposal was just such a surprise!

  Chapter 4

  WHAT LIES BENEATH

  Our reservations were for eight o’clock, and if I didn’t get my butt in gear, I’d never make it in time.

  I had already waxed my lip (lay off, I’m Italian) and tweezed my eyebrows sufficiently. I slathered on the Jolén before realizing I hadn’t yet pulled out the pair of shoes I was planning to wear.

  So, there I was, racing around my apartment with cream bleach on my arms, searching high and low for my strappy gold heels when Lisa decided to call. I answered the phone and was met not with a ‘Hello’ or a ‘Hey, what’s up’ like you’d expect from a normal person. No. The first thing I hear out of my best friend’s mouth is, “What are you wearing tonight?”

  “A Disney jean jacket and Hello Kitty pajama bottoms. You think I’ll be overdressed?”

  Lisa was not amused. “Listen, bitch. I’m totally PMSing right now. Don’t fuck with me.”

  I laughed, then decided I didn’t really have time to spend goofing around anyway. I’d been on fast forward since leaving the office, sweating my ass off in the process, seeing as my window-mounted air conditioner was barely cutting through the sweltering August heat wave we were experiencing. I fanned my face, hoping that I’d find my stupid shoes quickly so I could get off the phone and finally get in the shower. “Fine. A beige knit dress that you’ve never seen before and therefore can’t offer criticism about.”

  “Is it nice?”

  “No. It makes me look fat. Of course it’s nice, you dipwad!”

  I finally reached the bottom of the big, plastic bin that my summer shoes were kept in and came up with the elusive gold stiletto. “Aha! Found it!”

  There was a silent pause on Lisa’s end before she offered quietly, “I can’t believe I don’t even know this guy you’re marrying.”

  Her words managed to stop me in my tracks. Despite the time constraints I was dealing with, I slumped down cross-legged on the floor of my closet, absorbing what my best friend had just said. She’d only met Devin a few times, and half of those instances were before he and I had even started dating. I guessed it seemed weird for her to think I had agreed to marry a guy that my family and closest friends had barely met.

  “I know. But you’ll get to know him.” The declaration came out sounding more resolute than I had intended. Like I thought my statement would come true just because I had said the words so determinedly.

  Lis tossed me a bone. “I know, I know. You know I will. I just-” she sounded hesitant, like she was about to tell me something I wouldn’t want to hear. I readied myself for a lecture when instead, she suddenly switched gears. “Hey. I hope you guys have a great time tonight. Call me tomorrow or just fill me in on Sunday, okay?”

  “Sure. Sounds like a plan.”

  * * *

  By the time Devin was due to pick me up, I was primped and ready for a big night out on the town. I’d broken some major land-speed records in order to get ready on time, but still managed to look pretty darned good, considering. I’d worn my dark hair pulled back into a loose knot at my nape—not really my favorite style, but I knew Devin liked it that way—and I was happy to oblige him with such a painless gesture considering the gorgeous ring he’d given me. My dress was elegant and tasteful, yet still came off as alluring, the crocheted beige knit hugging every curve. I was thankful to have found my gold heels, because they were a perfect complement to the gold costume bangles at my wrist, the pave-ball drops at my ears, and of course, the band of my new engagement ring.

  When I heard the buzz of my intercom, I punched the button and said I was on my way down. I grabbed my handbag and teetered down three flights of stairs before emerging dramatically out my front door, striking a pose on the top step. I looked down at the sidewalk and realized Devin wasn’t the one there to meet me, but his driver, Peters, instead. He was standing next to the opened door of a black Lincoln Towncar, which upon inspection I could plainly see was very, very empty.

  I let my arms flop to my sides, visibly deflating. I gave Peters an awkward grin, feeling silly for going all Vogue for the benefit of my boyfriend—er, fiancé—who wasn’t even there. I wanted to crawl under a rock, but offered the man who was there a greeting instead. “Oh, hi, Peters.”

  He stood at the curb, trying not to crack a smile at my ridiculous Cindy Crawford impersonation as he offered, “Mr. Fields wished for me to express his apologies for being detained.” Peters went on to tell me that Devin would meet me at the restaurant, which was only a short distance from Howell House up in midtown. I guessed he was putting in another late night at the office.

  On our anniversary. Two days after our engagement.

  Sure enough and true to his word, however, he was already at Ocean when I walked through the door. He’d been sitting at a small square table, but stood and waved me over before I even had to give the hostess his name.

  I appraised the sight of him, so handsome and commanding such a presence—even out of the office—and was slightly staggered at the thought that such a dynamic man wanted to marry me.

  I reached the table, kissed him hello and gave a little twirl, showing off the handiwork of the past two hours.

  “Well, don’t you look pretty tonight.”

  Ummm... Pretty?

  Was he serious? I was well aware that Devin Fields was a man who never gave up control, but I truly thought that the sight of his fiancée all decked out would at least, oh, I don’t know, take his fucking breath away?

  But really. What was I going to do? Start our romantic evening off with a big, stupid fight over his flattering remark? Yeah, that would make a ton of sense. So, instead of reaming him out for not offering a bigger compliment, I got over myself, smiled, and sat down across from him. Out of pure habit, I futzed with my silverware, putting all the pieces at exact right angles to the edge of the table, making sure my place setting was perfectly centered in front of me. I hadn’t even realized I’d done it until I placed the napkin across my lap. The life of a borderline obsessive-compulsive. What can I tell you.

  Devin’s eyes scanned the room until
he caught our waiter’s attention. With an almost imperceptible nod, he summoned the man to our table. “I ordered us the spicy tuna tartare to start. Would you like some wine? Here. See what you think of this.” He held out his half-emptied glass so I could try a sip of the chardonnay. I knew it would most assuredly be a very expensive vintage, with just the right tannins and bouquet and probably lots of other winey adjectives that I had absolutely no clue about. I took a small drink, thinking that it tasted lovely, but that the true appreciation of it was lost on me. But what the heck. It tasted good.

  “Mmm. Yes. This will be great, thanks.”

  The waiter appeared at my side presenting menus as Devin pointed to his glass and held up two fingers, silently commanding a round of drinks. The waiter nodded his head in acknowledgment and signaled the order to another server before launching into the night’s specials.

  I was only half-registering the descriptions of the chef’s offerings for the evening, my mouth already watering for Ocean’s macadamia-nut-encrusted Chilean sea bass. It was only my third visit to this particular restaurant, but I knew that that dish was excellent.

  Our first waiter left us as the second server appeared with our glasses of wine, and Devin held his out to me for a toast. “To my beautiful fiancée,” he started, as I smiled into his handsome face, “and the past two, wonderful, tumultuous years!”

  That made me laugh until he added seriously, “May we have many, many more.”

  His eyes bored unflinchingly into mine, and I was struck yet again that this amazing man across the table actually wanted to make me his wife.

  Jesus. His wife! The word itself was so foreign to me, a term reserved for women who weren’t quite so immature. I was twenty-six years old, but most days, at least in my mind, I still felt perpetually sixteen. Weren’t there laws in the state of New York about marrying minors?

  While glancing over the menu, I started to smile to myself. Devin must have noticed because he asked, “What’s going on in that nonstop brain of yours, over there grinning all cat-who-ate-the-canary?”

  I gave a small chuckle and replied, “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about all the extra work you’ve just piled into my lap.”

  Devin had put on his reading glasses, which always managed to make him look like a pinup from a Hot Studs of the Ivy League calendar. If it weren’t for the wisps of grey at his temples, he’d spend his life in danger of being mistaken for a college student instead of the powerful media mogul that he aspired to be. I knew it wasn’t true, but he was just ambitious enough to be entirely capable of dying the few strands over his ears into a distinguished grey, just to be taken more seriously.

  When his confused brow raised over the edge of his glasses, I explained my initial statement. “In case you haven’t noticed, I now have an entire wedding to plan!” That made Devin grin as I added, businesslike, “You know, I should probably admit here that I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing on this project.”

  He looked down to his menu, smirked and asked, “You think I should get someone else to fill the position?”

  “Devin! Don’t you dare!”

  That had us laughing as our waiter returned and asked, “Well, have we made up our minds yet?”

  I smiled and started to place my order, but Devin cut in. “Are you really getting that again? I thought you were only joking before.”

  I gave an apologetic glance to our waiter, feeling bad that he had to stand there waiting while my fiancé and I conferred in a sidebar.

  “Why would I be joking? The sea bass is amazing.” I smiled wide-eyed to the waiter, who promptly agreed.

  Devin shook his head, amused yet incredulous. “Alright. I thought the mahi special sounded right up your alley, but you go ahead and get what you want.”

  I considered his suggestion briefly, but knew I’d be deciding against it. I was really in the mood for the sea bass. I knew Devin was just trying to get me to be a little more adventurous, trying to help me expand my horizons, and I appreciated that about him, really. But I still felt overly self-conscious as I directed my reply to our waiter. “I’m sure it’s fantastic—everything here always is—but I think I’m going to stick with my original order, thank you.”

  Who cared if I was playing it safe? Better that than taking a chance on the unknown. It wasn’t every day that we went out to such an expensive restaurant. Not that Devin couldn’t afford it, but I would have hated wasting his money on a plate of food that went untouched when I realized I didn’t like it, sitting there starving and annoyed that I hadn’t gone with my first choice. There’s nothing like having disappointment for dinner.

  “Okay, okay,” Devin laughed out, playing the brow-beaten boyfriend, “The lady knows what she likes.” He gave me a quick wink before placing his order. “I, however, would like to give the sturgeon a try.” I may have imagined it, but I thought I saw his eyes slide in my direction on the word “try”.

  The waiter clasped his hands together, gave a slight bow and said, “Very good,” before excusing himself to put in our order.

  Devin tucked his glasses back into his pocket and said, “So... We were discussing your recent workload?” He smiled and added, “Have you any thoughts regarding the wedding?”

  Just hearing him say the word “wedding” caused my stomach to drop. I guessed it was the first time he’d used that term out loud, and I must have been excited at the sound.

  I knew I was expected to have been in possession of a slew of bridal magazines that I’d collected over the years, diligently rifling through them from the time I was old enough to walk. But the truth was, I was always more of a tomboy growing up. The whole wedding thing was as foreign to me as it was to Devin. So, no. I had no thoughts regarding our wedding.

  I responded, “Not really. Not yet anyway. You?”

  He chuckled and answered, “No. I guess I hadn’t really thought about it either. Hmmm... Off the top of my head though, I’m thinking maybe the spring? What do you think?”

  Even I knew that there was no way to pull a proper New Jersey wedding together in under a year. Besides, my cousin was getting married in May. I thought that expecting my entire family to do the whole wedding thing twice in one season would be asking a lot, and told Devin as much.

  Then I asked, “Oh, hey. Are you coming with me to their engagement party? You were going to check your calendar and see if you were free.”

  Devin finished his sip of wine and asked, “Whose engagement is it again?”

  When I gave him a “really?” look across the table, he put his hands up, laughing. “Whoa. I was a little consumed with our engagement these past weeks. Can you blame me?”

  I ran a hand over my ring, gave him a fake dirty look and answered, “No, I guess not.” Then, in answer to his inquiry, “My cousin Jack, remember? He popped the question a couple months ago? His fiancée Livia did that photo shoot for us back in the winter. You liked her work.”

  The crinkle in Devin’s brow relaxed. “Ah, yes. Jack and Livia. The party’s on the...”

  I blew out an exasperated breath. “The twenty-ninth. September twenty-ninth. It’s a Friday.”

  He cracked his neck, then looked at me guiltily. I already knew what was coming. “Uh-oh. Layla... honey... You’re going to kill me, but I just booked my flight for that conference. I’ll be gone the whole week.”

  I didn’t know if I was surprised, but I definitely knew I was pissed. “Devin! I asked you about this weeks ago!”

  He gave a quick glance to our surrounding area, mouthing a shush in my direction and motioning his hands for me to keep my voice down. “I know, I know. I feel horrible, hon. I really can’t cancel, though. I swear I would if I could.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I wish I were.”

  As I sat there stewing, the waiter brought our first course. The tartare looked phenomenal, but I had suddenly lost my appetite. Devin, however, dove right in. He took a first bite, closing his eyes and moaning in rapt
ure. He was doing nothing more than enjoying his food, but at that moment, nothing could be more annoying to me than watching him chew. He looked at me then, could see my arms crossed against my chest, the scowl on my face. I hated myself for pouting, all whiny and Veruca Salt, but I hadn’t yet gotten over the slight.

  “Hon. What are you waiting for? You should really try this.”

  When I didn’t make a move, he acquiesced, put his fork down and said, “Okay, you’re mad. I get it.” He placed both hands on the table and looked right into my eyes, giving me his undivided attention to continue. “It was a stupid mistake on my part to forget something so important to you. I wish I could change things, and you have every right to be angry with me that I can’t. But truly, I’m very, very sorry.”

  At that small acknowledgment, my icy veneer started to crack just the slightest bit. It was a genuine apology, a rare and treasured event coming from him. And seriously. Everybody makes hare-brained mistakes from time to time. Lord knows I was certainly no exception.

  I could have prolonged the argument, really dug my heels in and made a big stink about it. I was justifiably miffed, but it wasn’t worth ruining our entire night over one little human error. Devin was normally so incredibly good to me. He’d never try to deliberately hurt my feelings. I decided to just let it go.

  I grabbed my fork and dove into the plate between us. The tuna was perfectly prepared and practically melted in my mouth.

  Devin was treading lightly, trying to gauge my mood as well as my opinion on his appetizer choice when he asked, “Well?”

  I sighed heavily, conceding, and answered in a flat, expended breath, “It’s delicious.”

  Devin laughed out, “That is probably the least enthusiastic enthusiasm I’ve ever heard in my life!”

  Even I had to admit that my words sounded funny. I started laughing along with him, which managed to defuse the last of our confrontation.