: Chapter 5

Meant to Be Podcast

Pacey and Winnie

Welcome, listener, to the Kelsey:Meant to Be Podcast, where we talk to madly-in-love couples about the way they met. Pacey and Winnie, thank you so much for joining me today. Please, tell us how you met.

Where to even begin? It’s all kind of whimsical if you think about it.Winnie:

I thought she was a murderer.Pacey:

Stop it. No, you didn’t. Well, I guess you did, but that’s not the start of it. I was driving to Banff in honor of my late mother and got lost in the mountains. It was one of the worst storms I’ve ever seen and my car got stuck in mud. I had no reception, so I decided to go find help. That’s when I stumbled upon the cabin.Winnie:

I play hockey for the Vancouver Agitators, and every summer, a few of the boys and I drive to Banff for some relaxation. It was our first night there and Winnie came knocking on the door.Pacey:

I was soaking wet, and the minute the door opened, a flash of lightning lit me up from behind.Winnie:

It was absolutely horrifying.Pacey:

As a group, we went back and forth, attempting to show each other that they weren’t the murdering types and I wasn’t the murdering type. Pacey was really quiet at first. Eli Hornsby, a defenseman for the Agitators, was the one who welcomed me into the house and gave me a place to stay for the night. But the next morning, Pacey was the one who helped me find my car.Winnie:

I thought she was beautiful when she was all wet, but the next morning, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. And I knew I needed to spend every spare moment I had listening to her stories and enjoying her company.Pacey:

Three Weeks Later

“WOW, SIS . . . THAT’S SOME DRESS,” I say as Lottie steps out of her bathroom.

“Hux got it for me. Is it too . . . booby?”

My eyes fall to her very prominent cleavage, and I wince. “I mean, it’s really booby, but you also look hot. The red is perfect for your skin and that red lip color is such a great match. Now I feel like a fuddy-duddy in my dress.”

Lottie has this hourglass shape that any woman would kill for. Hips and tits, that’s her. I might have a good rack, but I am also more petite than she is. My curves on the bottom half aren’t like hers. And this siren-red form-fitting dress she’s wearing shows off every single curve. And despite the hem falling to her calves, it’s still one of the most revealing yet exquisite dresses I’ve ever seen.

“Stop it. You look beautiful. I think the yellow was a perfect choice and it goes so nicely with your fresh caramel highlights.”

“You think so?” I glance at myself in the full-length mirror positioned in front of Lottie and Huxley’s bed. We all know that mirror isn’t there for checking out outfits. I adjust the delicate straps on my shoulders and smooth my hands over the beautifully expensive silk fabric. The apron neckline cuts just low enough for a decent show of cleavage, while the flowy, long skirt has a slit to just above my upper thigh, making my short legs look longer in my heels. “God, why am I so nervous?”

Lottie flips her hair over her shoulder and then slips on a pair of nude heels. “Probably because you asked a man on a date to a work event and you’re worried about it.”

That’s very true.

Edwin is his name.

He’s a computer programmer who works remotely for a medical tech company. He loves to cook, go to comic book conventions, and is quite educated on different types of birds. He’s really nice, and we’ve been on three dates.

This will be our fourth.

We didn’t meet through the Going in Blind app. After my date with JP, I didn’t want to take any chances on whom they’d match me with. But instead, we were both at a coffeehouse, working. He spilled his coffee and I helped him clean it up. We started chatting, and well . . . that’s that. Some of the greatest love affairs start because of spilled coffee, and this very well might be one of them.

And the best thing about Edwin is that he’s not JP. He’s nothing like JP. He’s quieter, reserved, with thick-rimmed glasses and a mess of curly, blond hair. He told me he can’t grow a beard, so he doesn’t even try. And he’s slimmer, whereas JP obviously puts time in at the gym. Oh . . . and not even one tattoo.

Everything I need in life. Why on earth am I even comparing him to JP? JP is a work colleague and nothing more. He’s irrelevant.

“I’m a bit nervous. I like this guy. We’ve only been out three times, and sometimes when he talks about birds, it can get slightly boring, but he’s so kind and he doesn’t try to poke my buttons.”

“The antithesis of JP.”

“Exactly,” I say while exhaling. “Not that JP and I were ever an item, but after the night we don’t talk about . . . which, you didn’t tell Huxley, did you?”

“No.”

“And you’re not mad that I’m making you keep it a secret? It was your fault I told you since you kept pestering me.”

“I know.” Lottie turns toward me, clutch in hand now. “And I like having a secret from Huxley. Makes me feel naughty. And if he ever finds out . . . ooh, I can’t wait for the punishment.”

I roll my eyes and, standing from the bed, straighten out my dress, shimmying the fabric down my legs. Lottie looks at me and smirks. “What?” I ask.

“Not only are you going to make Edwin fall to the floor, but JP is going to be all over you.”

“No, he’s not. He has barely even looked at me during the last three weeks.”

“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about you.”

“Will you stop it with that? He never even liked me . . . ever.”

“That’s not what I heard. When he first met you, you were all he could talk about. But you were the one who put up the wall.”

“Because I work for him.”

Lottie gives me a look. “And I worked for Huxley.”

“Yeah, well . . . you apparently have no morals, but I do.”

She chuckles just as there’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” Lottie calls out.

The door pops open and Huxley steps in. He’s wearing a black, three-piece velvet suit with a black tie, his hair is slicked properly to the side, and his beard is trimmed just enough to not be messy, but still thick enough to make a mark. He exudes confidence as he approaches Lottie, his eyes locked on her and only her as he adjusts the expensive watch on his wrist.

Without saying anything, he closes the space between them, wraps his arm around her waist, and brings her up against his chest. I watch as he grips her chin with his forefinger and thumb, forcing her mouth toward his, and she gives in willingly. Quietly, just above a whisper, he says, “You. Are. Exquisite. I’m going to peel that dress off you tonight, spread your legs, and make you come on my tongue.”

I softly clear my throat, attempting to clue him in that I’m standing right next to my sister.

He doesn’t apologize. He simply presses his lips to Lottie’s and moves his hand down to her ass and grips it tightly. “Fuck, babe, you look so good.”

“Well, what a lovely night for a gala, don’t you think?” I say, standing there awkwardly.

“Mmm, I could easily stay home and sit on your face, if you want,” Lottie says.

And that’s my cue to leave.

“I’m just going to . . . uh . . . yeah, I’m going to meet you guys downstairs.”

I scoot past them and their wandering hands, hoping they realize they’re my ride to the event and that we need to leave in five minutes.

As I make my way down the stairs to the entryway, I can’t help but feel a bout of jealousy. Lottie is so in love, more in love than I’ve ever seen her. She’s not only infatuated with Huxley, but he’s infatuated with her. Possessive of her. Worships her. And, yes, I’m all about independence and women running the world, but there’s something to be said about breaking the glass ceiling during the day and coming home to a man who’ll do everything in his power to remind you exactly who you belong to.

Lottie has that with Huxley.

Will I ever have that?

Edwin flashes through my mind as I walk down the stairs. He might not be as power-hungry and domineering as Huxley, but he has traits that excite me. For one, we have a nice time together. For another, we can enjoy a simple conversation.

And the kiss we shared the other night when he walked me back to my apartment was . . . nice.

Sure, my shoes didn’t fly off when our lips met, but I also didn’t hate it.

If I’ve learned anything from my podcast, it’s that sometimes the type of passion Lottie and Huxley have for each other doesn’t happen right away, but needs time to grow. Edwin and I are still in the learning phase of our relationship. There’s so much more time to grow when it comes to passion.

When I reach the bottom step, I head toward the bench in the entryway, but just then the front door opens and JP walks in, momentarily stopping me.

He’s dressed in a navy-blue suit and black button-up shirt, of which he’s left the top two buttons undone, and his tie is draped over his neck, loose and messy. His hair curls over his forehead in just the right way that my eyes are drawn toward the thickness of his brows and the darkness of his lashes.

When he spots me, a smirk barely crosses his face as he adjusts one of the cuffs of his shirt.

Not saying a word to me, he heads to the stairs, grips the railing, and shouts up to Huxley. “Dude, the van is here. Get your ass down here.”

To my dismay, because I’m curious, I ask, “Wh-what are you doing here?”

He turns around and starts buttoning his shirt. “What do you mean what am I doing here? Same reason you are.”

“But . . . don’t you have your own transportation?”

“Don’t you?” he asks.

“I got ready with Lottie.”

“Well, I just moved in across the street and figured it would be more eco-friendly to all ride together. Any other questions?”

That makes me shut my mouth very quickly.

He moved across the street? How come Lottie never said anything to me? And which house did he move into? From memory, I can recall two that are across the way. A white one that’s bright and cheery, and an all-black house. Black windows, black siding, black roof. My guess is . . . that one.

I keep my gaze averted, but out of the corner of my eye, I catch JP adjusting his tie and making loops just as Huxley and Lottie come down the stairs, hand in hand, looking pristine and polished. I thought Lottie might have makeup smeared across her face and Huxley’s hair would be a total mess.

When they reach the bottom, Lottie pats JP’s shoulder and says, “Hey, neighbor,” and then walks up to me. Giving me a once-over, she says, “Doesn’t my sister look beautiful tonight?”

Oh God, Lottie. Why?

She looks over her shoulder at JP who gives me the briefest of glances before saying, “I’ve seen better.”

Huxley smacks JP on the back of the head and mumbles something under his breath I can’t quite hear. Then he turns to me and says, “Kelsey, you look stunning. I’m sure Edwin will be very happy to have you on his arm tonight.”

That pulls JP’s attention. “Edwin? Is that your latest attempt at love?”

“That is none of your concern,” I say while taking my sister’s hand, more for support than anything. I wish she had told me we’d be riding with JP, because I wouldn’t have gotten ready with her.

Hell, that’s probably why she didn’t say anything. When our eyes connect, I can see the apology in them.

“I hate you,” I mutter to her.

“I know,” she says back, and together, we walk out the door to the van that’s parked out front.

It’s one of those super fancy electric vans that celebrities use when going to the Met Gala so their dresses aren’t wrinkled. It can also double as an office on wheels, which is often what the boys use it for when they need to be driven around town and get work done at the same time.

The driver holds the door open for us and I step in first, followed by Lottie. We maneuver to the very back and take our seats.

“You should’ve told me he was coming tonight,” I whisper. Huxley is talking to JP at the front door of the house. From their mannerisms, it seems as though Huxley is lecturing JP about something. Hopefully how rude he just was. If I’ve learned one thing since Lottie started dating Huxley, it’s that I earned another person in my corner. Huxley will always stick up for me.

“I didn’t want you to not get ready with me because he was going to be here. This is our first fancy gala together. I didn’t want him to ruin it.”

“Well, he did. I mean . . . he’s seen better, what kind of comment is that?”

“A stupid one, because that’s what he is, stupid. He clearly has feelings for you and doesn’t know how to manage them.”

“Oh my God, don’t give me that crap. We’re not in elementary school. He can act like an adult man.”

“I’m not taking his side, just trying to offer up some sort of explanation as to why he’s acting like a tool. I’ve seen him when he’s relaxed and you’re not around, and he’s really nice, easygoing, and fun. Sure, he teases a lot, but that’s sort of his way. I think if you got to know him better, you’d see the same things.”

“I don’t need to get to know him better. What I know is enough.”

The boys walk onto the van, joining us, and they take the two captain’s chairs in front of us, but not before Huxley gives Lottie one of the most consuming glances I’ve ever seen.

Listen, I don’t have a crush on my sister’s fiancé, I really don’t, but I have to say, the way he looks at her is incredibly sexy. So sexy that at times, I notice how attractive Huxley is. I know, I know, I shouldn’t be thinking about my sister’s fiancé like that, BUT . . . ugh, the way he looks at her.

I’m knocked out of my inappropriate thoughts when the driver shuts the door and we are on our way.

“How long is the drive?” Lottie asks.

“Twenty minutes,” Huxley answers. “It’s at the River Estate.”

“Edwin is meeting you there?” Lottie asks.

“Yes,” I answer. “He’ll be a touch late, but he’ll be there. He actually had to rent a suit for the event because he didn’t have one. It was cute, and I helped him pick one out online.”

“What self-respecting man doesn’t own a suit?” JP asks.

My eyes flash to the back of his head. “Someone who works from home for a living and doesn’t go to events that require a suit.” My voice is laced with attitude and for very good reason. I don’t want JP picking on Edwin. Sure, I can handle his snark, but I’m not sure Edwin has a thick enough skin to handle it.

“Did your date have a dress?” Lottie asks, taking the attention off me. “Or did you have to buy her one?”

JP turns in his chair and says, “Genesis has multiple dresses, but I still bought her one anyway.”

Wait . . . what? JP is dating someone? When did this happen? I mean, not that I really care, but I didn’t think he was the dating type, unless . . .

“Did you hire her to go on this date as well?” I ask.

Not sure why I’m poking the bear, but the question flies out of my mouth before I can stop it.

“Interested in my dating life?” JP asks with a wiggle of his brows.

“No, I’m not. Not even sure why I asked that. Probably just to goad you.”

“Well, for your information, I’ve been dating Genesis for about two weeks now. She’s the vice president of Mecca Tech.”

“That’s nice,” I say, looking out the window. “I hope you two are very happy together.”

“We are, thanks.”

“She only just kissed him the other night,” Huxley chimes in.

“Dude,” JP bemoans, which of course brings a smile to my face.

When I glance at Huxley, he sends me a wink. I knew I liked him for more than one reason, besides loving my sister.

JP once again turns in his seat and as if he needs to save face in front of me, he says, “We’re taking things slow.”

“I didn’t ask.” I hold my hands up, smiling. “But you know, Edwin and I have shared more than one kiss.”

His eyes narrow. “And were those kisses any good? Seems like a guy named Edwin kisses more like a cow licking a salt block than with desirable affection.”

“He kisses just fine.” Slightly sloppy, but JP doesn’t need to know that.

“Why don’t we talk about something else?” Lottie suggests. The tension is rising, therefore Lottie swoops in with the need to diffuse it. I’m usually that person, but I’m in the trenches, grenades being tossed around, and I’m sitting back, knocking them right back at the thrower. “Uh, how about the wedding? We haven’t talked about that much. Huxley and I decided on a beach wedding.”

“You did decide on the beach?” I ask, facing my sister now. “That’s so exciting. When did you decide?”

“Just now . . . upstairs. Huxley went by the cove and restaurant you and I looked at the other day and he really liked it.”

“Isn’t it breathtaking?” I ask Huxley.

“It was.” His eyes connect with Lottie. “I could envision marrying Lottie there, making her officially mine.”

His eyes sear her with love and I inwardly groan as I go back to staring out the window. They’re exhausting to be around.

Lottie was never the romantic, between the two of us. She’s been the one searching out success, looking for validation in her work. I happened to stumble upon my business while seeking out love. I was the one who read all the books about romance, watched all the movies . . . hell, I started a podcast based on love.

And yet, I’m loveless, and my sister is consumed by it.

Where’s the luck there?

Hint—there’s none.

Just wait, Edwin and I will get there. Slowly but surely, we’ll get there.

THE VAN DOOR opens and cameras immediately start flashing.

Tonight’s gala is supposed to be a star-studded event, full of high-society members and a few celebrities. All proceeds benefit the Children’s Hospital, and just to get through the doors, it’s five thousand dollars a head.

Cane Enterprises paid for my ticket and Edwin’s without blinking an eye.

And the River Estate is a gorgeous mansion in the epicenter of Beverly Hills. It’s one of the largest properties in the area, with a sprawling, circular driveway, towering palm trees lined up along the pavement, and a grand entrance to the estate fit only for royalty.

Huxley is the first to exit the van and, as talked about prior to arriving, Lottie will follow behind him, and they will walk the red carpet, hand in hand. JP and I are to follow, separately.

Lottie offers me a wink before moving by me and heading out of the van. Together, they walk down the carpet, pulling the attention away from who’s left. Just the way I like it.

JP gets out next and buttons his suit jacket once he exits.

I take a deep breath and then make my way out, but just as I reach the second step, my heel catches on something and my body falls forward.

Oh God, no.

Cameras flash, I lose my balance, and just as I start to plummet forward, a hand closes around my elbow and steadies me so I don’t fall.

My eyes quickly land on JP, who smiles thoughtfully. Under his breath, he says, “Easy there, killer. Wouldn’t want to make a spectacle on your first red carpet.”

And I don’t know what throws me off more, his kind gesture of helping me or the soft tone of his voice that rolls over me as he helps me all the way out of the van.

Either way, color me shocked. Given the tumultuous nature of our relationship, I would’ve thought he’d have stepped to the side and let me land flat on my face, only to gather the cameras around me to take pictures.

Look, folks, come closer, come closer, see how she missed that step completely? Notice the gravel stuck to the side of her cheek. Oh, oh, wait, yes, zoom in, she bit her tongue on the way down, attempting to hold back a slew of curse words I’ve heard her say before. Be alarmed, she says “fuck.”

“You okay?” he asks, his voice growing close to my ear.

“Ye-yeah.” I stumble over the words that seem to be getting lost in my throat. He’s right next to me, shoulder to shoulder, still holding my hand. Anyone who isn’t privileged to our hostile banter would assume we’re a couple. Which we very much aren’t.

“You sure? You seem unsteady,” he says, still holding my hand as we walk toward the entrance. Thankfully, thanks to Lottie and Huxley, not too many cameras are paying attention to us.

“Just a little shaken.”

“Here, come this way, then,” JP says, ushering me around the gauntlet of photographers to a back entrance where a few cars are parked, most likely ready to sneak people in and out.

When we reach the door, JP opens it for me and we’re greeted by a doorman.

“JP Cane,” JP says.

The man doesn’t even bother looking at the clipboard in his hand, he just offers us a curt nod and then lets us in the back entrance.

Once inside, we pause a few feet away from the door and I lean against the wall, composing myself.

“God, I almost fell flat on my face.” I press my hand to my chest, taking a deep breath. JP is adjusting his tie when our eyes connect. “Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome,” he answers calmly. Sweetly.

Are we in some sort of alternate reality? Because . . . this is a different side of JP, one I didn’t know existed. He’s being . . . nice. There’s no snark, there’s no insult, no teasing. He’s being normal. Did I actually trip and, instead of being steadied by him, fall into some sort of black hole?

“That could’ve been embarrassing,” I say, patting down my dress and checking to make sure everything is in place.

“I’ve seen worse. You probably would’ve just fallen to your knees, a boob would’ve popped out, and then it would’ve been blurred in photos. Not a big deal.”

“Uh, that would’ve been mortifying to me.”

“Seems like a fun Friday night to me,” he says with a reassuring smile. He’s not trying to set me off, he’s just trying to help me forget. He takes a step forward, leaving little room between us as he reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

His fingers linger.

My pulse escalates.

And oh my God, why am I reacting to his touch, to his proximity?

Clearing my throat, I say, “Well, I know that must have been painful for you. Helping me, that is.”

His eyes study me and I can feel myself wilt under the steely gaze of his green eyes. Just like Huxley’s, they’re hungry, unmistakably intense, and there’s nothing I can do to tear my eyes away as my core temperature spikes. His cologne—serving more as an aphrodisiac—swirls around me, and when he takes another step forward, my mouth goes dry. “You might think I don’t like you, Kelsey,” he says with a shake of his head, “but that’s not the case at all. I actually—”

“There you are,” calls a feminine voice from down the hall. “I saw your brother come in but I didn’t see you. Got a little worried you were going to stand me up.”

JP looks to the left, where a beautiful blonde in a brilliantly sparkling gold gown is standing, looking nervous but also genuine at the same time.

“Hi,” she says to me. “I’m Genesis.”

“Oh, hi.” I wave while JP puts some distance between us, and from the corner of my eye, I catch him pull on the back of his neck, his veins straining. “Genesis, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Kelsey.”

“Kelsey, as in the sustainable organizer Kelsey?”

I smile politely. “That would be me.”

“Wow, I’m really impressed with your work. JP was showing me the kinds of changes you’ve made in the office the other day.”

I glance at JP. “You have?” That’s . . . shocking, to say the least. I didn’t think JP even cared what I did under the guise of my job. In all honesty, I assumed he thought it was just a bunch of wasted time and resources from the way he approached managing me. From the more efficient filing, to the cans of water in the break room, I didn’t think he cared.

“Oh yes, he talks about it all the time. He’s very impressed by you.”

Okay . . .

Okay, everyone.

Let’s all take a collective breath, because I truly, truly think I’m in a different world right now. What on earth is happening?

JP Cane talks about me all the time? Better yet, he’s impressed? That’s not like him, some might even say quite off-brand for him. Impressed? No, more like irritated by my presence, right?

“You know what”—JP steps up next to Genesis and puts his hand on her back—“I think I have to greet a couple of people. Genesis, do you mind coming with me?”

“Not at all.” Genesis loops her arm through JP’s. “Kelsey, I’d love to talk to you more, please find me this evening.”

“Sure.” I smile. “Enjoy.”

Together, I watch them walk away, down the hall and toward the party.

What the hell was all that about?

It almost seemed like JP cared about me. Like he didn’t want to see me fail, that he actually thought highly of my talents.

Maybe I’m just delirious. There’s no way JP has any kind feelings toward me.

None.

The door to the side entrance opens again, and this time, a familiar face smiles at me.

“Kelsey,” Edwin says right before pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Boy, am I glad to see you. Did you see all the cameras out there?”

I chuckle and nod. “Yeah, I almost fell on my face in front of them.”

“That would’ve been a travesty.”

“Tell me about it.”

He walks up to me and I half expect him to reach out and at least give me a hug, maybe a kiss on the cheek, but instead, he pats me on the shoulder. “That’s a nice color dress.”

A nice color dress? That’s all he can say about my appearance? I spent a good two hours getting ready today. Curling my long, thick, freshly highlighted hair is the main time suck. And then meticulously making sure I picked out the perfect lingerie that would accentuate this dress, to make my breasts look amazing, and leave no question if there’s a panty line.

Hint—there isn’t.

And the compliment I get is nice color?

That makes me feel . . . sad.

Growing up, I didn’t have the highest self-esteem when it came to my body, because I was always compared to Lottie, the goddess with curves. I’ve tried hard to make myself feel beautiful, and it’s been a journey. And my insecurities coupled with my inability to be in a relationship have taken their toll on me.

Tonight, with JP’s comment and now Edwin’s . . . my insecurities are tickling the back of my mind, telling me I’m not good enough.