Page 16 of P.S. It’s Always Been You
“I want to hear that he was so bowled over by your beauty that his perfect, sculpted jaw fell off his face and hit the ground.”
I wince, feeling a phantom pain and cupping my chin. “Ouch.”
“Ouch indeed.”
I adjust the top, then freshen up my makeup and add some mascara to make my eyes pop.
“A little more mascara, please. Men have no clue of its power, but it works wonders.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Plus, bonus! Hunter was a sucker for my eyes,” I explain to Truly in the mirror.
“Your baby blues are pretty fabulous.”
I laugh. “He said I could get him to do anything if I just looked at him a certain way.” My eyes darken as I give the mirror my best smolder. “Like that.” In an instant, my chest aches with a realization. “I suppose I should have shown up at the airport and tried to use that trick on him before he left.”
She squeezes my shoulder, her voice soft. “No, you should never trick someone into staying. Plus, your life worked out great without him.”
I stare at her in the mirror. “Did it? Did it really? I’m the poster child for ‘down on her luck.’ Wikipedia the term and it’ll serve up a photo of me.”
“Stop. This is a no-negativity zone. You have a solid job, a decent apartment, and a huge opportunity in front of you. Try to see the glass half full.”
“Yes, but the other half of the glass tastes like flat, warm soda. I feel like the universe is tossing banana peels at me. I mean, seriously? Hunter?” I sigh forlornly. “Of all the people in my past. I’d rather be paired with . . .” I pause, casting about for names of memorable exes. “With Jonathan.”
“Oh yes. Although how he’d find the time in between his visits to Quick and Speedy Hookers for Fast Blow Jobs, I don’t really know,” she deadpans, and I wince at the mention of my ex-fiancé.
Jonathan really put the S in scumbag. Good thing I learned about his predilections for paying for extras when I needed to research an old bureau one night while at his apartment. Snagging his laptop, I started the search for “bureau” when Google helpfully suggested “bury my dick in . . .”
“Fine. I might have a bit of a bad track record when it comes to men. Maybe my past is strewn with relationship wreckage.”
“Yeah, the kind you hide in a storage unit that you hope burns down.”
“I never said I knew how to pick ’em. It does seem like I dodged a bullet with my un-engagement.”
“Um, yeah. And want to know how to dodge the current ex bullet?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
She spins me around and gives me her tough-girl stare. “Don’t let him throw you off. Whatever it takes. Exes don’t deserve to have power over us. And do you know what power is?”
“Sex appeal?” I ask, a little confused.
She shakes her head. “Information.”
“Information is power with men?” I raise a hand, like I’m in class. “I’m still a little lost.”
“Then let me help you find your power.” Her smile is devilishly delightful. “If he starts to dig into what you’re up to, if you have a boyfriend, if you’re involved, keep that close to the vest. He doesn’t need to know that. Not tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s yours. That’s your story. He needs to earn it. And you, my friend, need to come out of this first meeting feeling like a million bucks. You do that by keeping the power.”
I raise my eyebrows, impressed. “Damn, woman. How did you learn that?”
She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Being a bartender, you learn a thing or two about human nature. I observe. And when women hold back info, they keep the upper hand. Right now, I can tell you need the upper hand. That’s how you keep it with Hunter. Got it?”
“Got it. You’re like the infantry and the general and my chief strategist.”
“You know it. Now, just remember . . .” She mimes zipping her lips.
Thirty minutes later at Bryant Park, when I walk up to the man I once was wild for—the man who, surprise, is even sexier than he was before—his eyes say it all.
They pop.
Then, the most excellent thing happens. It’s barely perceptible, but I still see it when he mouths, Wow.
Yes, eat your heart out, Hunter Armstrong. You don’t get to ever have me again.
6
Hunter
There are survival guides on pretty much everything. How to outlast a zombie apocalypse. How to make it out of a plane crash alive. How to handle a snake bite.
But where the hell is the survival guide on seeing your ex for the first time in more than a decade? For all my instincts on avoiding a bear attack in the tundra, I’m at an unexpected loss when Presley Turner comes into my line of sight.
