The Cocktail Collection Read online

  “I think she really just wants to make sure that she’ll look good if Neil comes, you know? I mean, is he coming? For sure?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” he replied again, the tiniest of crinkles appearing on his forehead. I let him rub my feet for another minute.

  “So, is he bringing anyone to the wedding?” I asked in the most nonchalant tone possible.

  “Caroline,” he warned.

  “What? If he’s bringing someone, that’s something that would be good to know ahead of time, don’t you think? It’s not like you’re betraying the guy code just by telling me if he’s bringing anyone, right?” I asked, poking him in the belly with my big toe, eliciting a smile.

  “Yes, he’s bringing someone,” he allowed, watching my face carefully. I breathed out just as carefully.

  “Okay, see, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” I asked, pushing my foot under his hand again. He resumed his kneading. I let one minute go by.

  “So, is she pretty?”

  “Not gonna do this,” he said, lifting my feet off his lap and standing up.

  “What? I’m just asking if she’s pretty,” I insisted as he turned back toward me.

  “I’ve told you, this is not something we can talk about. You get too worked up to be rational, and I—”

  “I get worked up? Of course I get worked up! My best friend had her heart ripped out because your best friend was an idiot who cheated on her, and—”

  “For the last time, he didn’t cheat!” he snapped.

  “Kissing is cheating! Of course it’s cheating!” I snapped back, standing up to face him.

  “He kissed an ex-girlfriend once—it happened once. And he told her. He didn’t have to tell her about it at all! He could’ve kept it from her, but he told her!”

  “Oh, now he’s supposed to get points for that? For telling her after he cheats on her?” I cried.

  When I said Simon and I didn’t fight, we really didn’t. Except for this one thing.

  So here’s the full story. When Neil’s ex-girlfriend came to town and their dinner ended with the kiss, Neil told Sophia about it, and she left. And since then, she’s refused to talk to him, refused to see him, refused to have anything to do with him. Erased e-mails and deleted texts. She didn’t want him to try and explain anything, because in her mind there was nothing to explain.

  The problem is that all of the guys agreed that what Neil did, wrong as it was, wasn’t enough to break up over. Of course, the girls all agreed that kissing was cheating: dicks didn’t need to be inserted for it to be cheating. Sophia had every right to end things with Neil, and as the cheater, he didn’t get much say in how it went down.

  Hence the arguments.

  Mimi and Ryan had fought over this as well; it was something that everyone had an opinion on. Opinions that Simon and I had agreed weren’t worth sharing, since it made us argue every time we talked about it, yet the subject kept bubbling up.

  What was cheating? Where was that line that, if crossed, you couldn’t come back from? Was it different for every couple, or was it black and white?

  “He doesn’t get points for it. That’s not what I meant, and you know that—”

  “That kind of thing doesn’t just happen, Simon. He made a choice—”

  “A kiss! And that had to end everything? What about Sophia? She won’t even give the guy a chance to explain, she—”

  “There’s nothing to explain, don’t you get that?” I yelled, throwing my sketchbook across the room.

  Quiet.

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I mumbled, crossing the room to pick up my book. He caught my hand as I walked by.

  “This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk about this from the beginning. There’s no right or wrong here”—he raised his fingers to my lips when I started to explain that yes, in fact there is—“or at least it’s a gray area. But no matter what it is, it’s not worth us getting in a fight over, right?”

  I sighed, letting him pull me into his chest. I pressed my face into the exact center. The scent of Downy calmed me.

  “Right.”

  He held me tight.

  “I love you,” he told the top of my head.

  “Love you too.”

  Being half of a “we” is sometimes hard.

  chapter three

  “It’s melon.”

  “It’s marigold.”

  “Marigold! It’s pumpkin way before it’s marigold, but that doesn’t matter—because it’s melon.”

  “If you think that’s melon then you need your eyes examined, because it’s obviously—”

  “Mimi, what do you think? This is totally melon, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Mimi, look at this and tell me how in the world this is melon.”

  “Goldfish,” Mimi said.

  “What?” I asked, looking at Jillian.

  We were standing in the ladies’ bridal salon at Neiman Marcus. Wait, strike that. I was standing in the ladies’ bridal salon, in my bra and underwear, while Jillian and Mimi sat on giant tufted chairs sipping champagne.

  “Goldfish. Your dress is the color of those cheddar Goldfish crackers. And it’s kind of perfect for your skin tone, actually,” Mimi said, pouring another glass and drinking it down. “Now both of you shut up. Honestly, listening to two designers argue about the color of your bridesmaid dress is boring.”

  Jillian and I looked at each other in the mirror and we each raised our eyebrows.

  “Okay, fine. It’s goldfish. Now can you please try it on?” she said, handing it to me. I agreed, stepping into the dress. As I twisted to zip it up, I distinctly heard her mutter “melon” under her breath.

  I let it go.

  I turned into the mirror and looked at my reflection, and had to admit, I looked good in goldfish.

  Full skirt, scooped neck, thin straps, bare arms. With a tan, it would work just fine. Better than fine. I twirled in the mirror, then stopped midtwirl when I saw Mimi going for the champagne again.

  “Jillian, stop her, she’s cut off,” I said. Mimi was barely bigger than a champagne bottle herself, and more than two glasses knocked her on her tiny ass.

  “You’re no fun, Caroline,” she huffed as Jillian snagged the last glass for herself.

  Jillian looked triumphant as she approached me in the mirror, standing behind me. “It looks great,” she murmured, smoothing the skirt.

  “Thanks again for asking me to be a bridesmaid,” I replied, meeting her eyes.

  We both smiled, and then smiled bigger when we heard Mimi making retching noises. “Ugh, you two are so sweet, I’m gonna puke.”

  “Okay, moment’s over. Outta that dress and let’s go get Mimi something to eat,” Jillian said.

  Mimi cheered. We finished up, headed out, and grabbed a table at a favorite bistro in North Beach.

  Once we were settled and got started on some appetizers for Mimi to soak up the champagne, we talked about the honeymoon.

  “Wait, wait, when did France get put on the table? I thought you were going to Italy,” I said, buttering a piece of bread.

  “Well, Benjamin and I talked about it and we realized it’s been ages since we had a real vacation, not just a weekend away. So we wanted to extend the trip a bit.”

  “Wow, that’s going to be some honeymoon! Italy and France—sounds amazing,” I replied.

  “And Switzerland. We added Switzerland too,” Jillian added, a guilty look on her face.

  Mimi sighed romantically, clutching her roll close to her chest. “That sounds heavenly—a European honeymoon! I can’t wait to start planning my honeymoon. Ryan said we can go wherever I want, provided I wear lots of string bikinis for him to enjoy. And remove.” She giggled, then hiccupped. Champagne was still lingering.

  “Wait, wait, wait—you’re going to Switzerland too?” I asked incredulously. “Anywhere else you’re planning that I should know about?”

  “Well, I was planning on talking about this at the office, but—”

  �
��Whoa, what’s going on?” I asked.

  “Actually, we’re taking an open-ended trip,” she said matter-of-factly. “We just want to wander freely, and this seems like a good time to do it.”

  I sat back in my chair, my head spinning. “How long are you planning on being gone?”

  “Long enough to know that you’re gonna need an intern.”

  “Wait a minute, just wait a minute. An intern? Seriously Jillian, how long are you going to be gone?” I asked, thinking of all the projects that were coming up on the calendar, to say nothing of the Claremont Hotel, if I was lucky enough to land it.

  “Let’s talk about it at the office, okay? The food is here,” she said, nodding at our waiter with our dinner.

  As he set plates down in front of us, I met her eyes across the table. “We’ll talk about it at the office,” she said again. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

  It was a quiet dinner. Except for Mimi’s hiccupping.

  • • •

  Text from Simon to Caroline:

  Hey, babe, you free for lunch today?

  I wish. I’m slammed.

  I can come down there; I’ll even bring my hammer.

  As much as I do love your hammer, I’m literally buried under a pile of colored pencils at the moment.

  Hmm, how about dinner?

  Negative, Ghost Rider, I’m heading out to Sausalito tonight as soon as I leave work.

  For the hotel? And did you just Top Gun me?

  Yup, tonight is the first chance I’ve had to get out there to actually see the place. And yes, I totally Top Gunned you. You want to meet me out there? We could grab a quick dinner afterward.

  We could grab a quick something . . .

  Babe.

  Sorry. OK, text me the address and I’ll meet you out there. 7?

  Perfect.

  Dammit Simon, now all I can think about is a quick something.

  Aaand we’re back. See you at 7.

  • • •

  I walked around the property, checking sight lines and viewpoints, noticing where the late afternoon light hit the buildings. I saw windows where they weren’t, walls where they could be moved to exploit the natural landscape, and pocket gardens that could be renovated to bring a sense of green to a modern shell.

  I was getting excited to bid on this job.

  A Range Rover’s honk broke me from my reverie. I turned from the front walkway to see Simon pulling up in front. Not quite done with what I was doing, I lifted a finger to indicate that I needed another minute. He parked and walked to where I was.

  “So this is the place, huh?” he asked, wrapping his arms around me as I gazed up at the structure.

  “Yep, what do you think?”

  “I think my girl’s gonna kick some ass on this project,” he replied, resting his chin on the top of my head.

  “It’s a beautiful location, isn’t it?”

  “What, Sausalito? Yeah, I suppose.”

  “Are you kidding? Look at that view!” I pointed back over the bay at the city. San Francisco twinkled in the twilight, the cars going back and forth over the bridge. Coit Tower. Transamerica building. Lovely.

  Then I did a 180 and looked back at Sausalito. It wasn’t just a great place to gaze at San Francisco. The houses were glowing against the mountain, streetlights just coming on, sailboats dotting the marina, people walking along the waterfront on their way to dinner or shopping or going home.

  “The restaurant isn’t far from here. Let’s walk,” I said, tugging him toward the main drag.

  He twined his fingers through mine and as we walked, we talked. About my design ideas, about the upcoming wedding, about his next trip. He was leaving again in two days, this time for South Africa. He was going out on a shark boat, getting shots of the great whites feeding. I couldn’t really think about it without shuddering.

  Shudder.

  “So Jillian told me today they added France and Switzerland to their honeymoon. Looks like they’re going to be gone awhile,” I said as we headed toward the pier with the restaurant.

  “Oh, yeah? Good for them. I know Benjamin has always wanted to travel more.”

  “Jillian too, but she was building a business. Hard to leave a business like that—unless you have Super Caroline back home, running the show.” I laughed, making a show of my muscles, which he squeezed appreciatively. “But I admit, I’m surprised they don’t seem to have more of a plan.”

  “Sounds like they just want to wander around.”

  “Sure, sure. Except wandering without a plan is not like Jillian.”

  Simon shrugged. “It’s their honeymoon, babe. And it’s not like they can’t afford it.”

  “Yes, I’m well aware of Benjamin’s giant assets,” I replied, getting a swat on the bum for that one. Simon indulged my crush on Benjamin, but he still reminded me whose assets I needed to be concerned with. “I’m just . . . a bit nervous, I guess. This is a lot to take on.”

  “Did you talk to Jillian about it?”

  “Not since this hotel proposal came up. She’s so busy with the wedding right now and everything else she’s got going on, I’ve barely seen her.”

  “I’m sure she knows what she’s doing. She wouldn’t leave if she didn’t know you could handle it, right?”

  “That’s what she said,” I told him, thinking of how much I was really biting off here. “And she did say she’d bring in an intern for me, so that’ll help.”

  “Nice! Moving on up,” he exclaimed, humming the tune from The Jeffersons.

  “Yeah, the president of the design firm is bopping around Europe for who knows how long, but I’ve got a twenty-year-old intern to help me make copies, so it’ll be fine,” I snapped, reaching for the door to the restaurant. A strong hand reached over mine, stalling the door.

  “Hey, it’ll work out. Don’t worry so much,” he said, gently nudging my chin up with his fingers to meet his eyes. My frustration that had flared so suddenly melted away when those sapphire eyes starting spinning their voodoo.

  “You’re probably right.” I sighed, letting him open the door for me and guide me inside, one hand on the small of my back.

  “Of course I’m right,” he teased.

  Once we were seated, I pulled out my calendar.

  “Okay, you get back two days before the wedding, right? I want to make sure you have time to settle in before the festivities start.”

  “Yep, I’ll be back in time and ready for all best-man duties.”

  “Cutting it pretty close, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking when I said I’d do this shoot, but it’ll be fine. I can sleep during the vows, right? They don’t need me for that,” he joked.

  I turned his palm up on the table, tracing the lines with my fingertips. I glanced up at him, noticing his gaze had turned dark under his lashes. “You can’t sleep during the ceremony, babe. Besides, there’ll be a bridesmaid across from you thinking the dirtiest thoughts imaginable.”

  “Dirty, huh?”

  “Oh my, yes; I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself. You? In a tux? Deadly,” I purred, raising his hand to press a quick kiss to his fingers.

  As the waiter came over to get our drink order I winked, dropped his hand, and mouthed “later.”

  While Simon looked over the wine list, I looked out the large picture window at San Francisco. The sun had finally set, and the light from the city bounced back across the water. I smiled, considering myself one of the very lucky to call my favorite city home.

  chapter four

  I sat across from Max Camden, my designs tacked up on boards around the room and my formal presentation in my hand. On a disk. And in a folder. And backed up to a thumb drive in my purse. And a thumb drive in Jillian’s purse. And after a midnight run to Sophia’s apartment, a thumb drive in her jewelry box.

  I had thumbs all over town. But would I get the thumbs-up from Camden?

  Nerves gave Backbone a high five for punning in the face of
life-changing moments.

  I had circled the room for an hour, laying out my ideas, bolstered by pictures, charts, and more graphs than high school geometry. Jillian had interjected occasionally, but she let me take the lead. The vision I had conceptualized for the Claremont was clean and simple, with a nod to the boutique hotels that used to line the California coast.

  While Camden’s hotels were known for their modernistic design, there was a reason that he wasn’t going with his usual design team. He was looking for something new, whether he knew it or not. Would he be swayed by what I had to say?

  His gray eyes flickered back to me, his gaze narrow and sharp. This guy was intimidating, and he knew it.

  As I had presented, he had stopped me only a few times, asking very clear and concise questions that were exactly the right ones. I was ready, though. I was as prepared as I could be with the limited time I’d been given, and I thought I held my own. Now it came down to whom else he was seeing, and whether their vision matched his own.

  It was time for me to bring it home.

  I slid one more picture across the table toward him, a photocopy from an old San Francisco Chronicle article about the town of Sausalito. It was old, nearly eighty years, and the picture showed that the town was much the same as it was now. Picturesque but bustling, quaint but proud. Next to its much grander neighbor of San Francisco, it could have lived for years in its shadow. But Sausalito had a heartbeat that was all its own; its own DNA. It was family, in whatever way the modern times defined it.

  “So you can see, Mr. Camden, that while other towns around the Bay Area have grown up and out, Sausalito is content to remain in its own little oyster shell, enclosed by the bay that makes it such a unique community. For a new hotel to succeed here, it needs to be unique as well. The existing hotel fails to do that.

  “This hotel needs to be appealing to both young and old clientele at the same time, environmentally conscious without appearing to be so, green without being granola, with a design that harkens back to the town’s beginnings but nods toward the future,” I said, then took a breath. Jesus, I hated speaking in motivational.

  “A modern hotel will be out of place here, Mr. Camden. This needs to melt into the landscape, but leave such a strong memory that once you stay here, you’ll never think of booking anywhere else.”