Try Me On for Size (17 page)

CHAPTER
Twenty

O
n his
way home, Oliver called his parents’ house.

“Let me speak to my mother, please,” he said when the maid answered the phone.

“She’s resting.”

He thought of demanding to speak with her, to make sure she was okay, but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb her. “Okay. Please have her call me later.”

“I can’t do that.”

“What? Why?”

“I’ve been given strict orders. Please don’t call again.”

Before he could say anything else, the line went dead. Great. His father had forbidden the staff from letting him talk to his mother.

Oliver drove to the condo and arrived to find a moving van in front of the building. He didn’t even need to question it. When he reached his door, it was propped open and men in jumpsuits toted out boxes. From inside he heard the screech of Alexiana’s mother barking out orders.

Oliver walked inside. Man they were fast. The place was near empty. Fine by him. Most of the décor had been furnished by Alexiana or her mother, and it was all tacky as hell.

He strolled to the kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge. After opening it, he headed toward the living room, receiving an eye roll from Mrs. Ryland as he passed. He sat on the couch, reaching for the remote control, and flipped on the TV.

“Look at this jerk,” Mr. Ryland said. “Relaxing like he’s done nothing wrong.”

“I haven’t,” Oliver countered, knowing he should keep his mouth shut. “I told Alexiana that I didn’t love her and I wanted to cancel the wedding.”

“That in no way excuses what you did. What kind of man parades around like that? Like some slut? Not a real man, that’s for sure.”

“I have my reasons and I don’t regret one second of it.”

“Well, I hope you’re happy now. You’ve destroyed your reputation.”

Oliver stared at the screen, channels flipping by. He’d never liked any of those society snobs anyway. He only cared about Mia and what she thought of him.

And right now, she hated him. Oliver’s gut twisted, pain radiating as his brain flashed him a picture of her face during all the commotion—the anger and confusion. The pain in her eyes when she’d spewed her last words at him before slamming her office door in his face. She’d called him a liar, and she was right. Again. He didn’t deserve her. He deserved to be alone and miserable.

Oliver set his beer bottle on the table. Another sip and he’d puke for sure. He went to the bedroom. Alexiana was there, carefully placing her jewels in velvet-lined traveling boxes.

“So, how’s it feel to get what you want?” she asked.

“This isn’t what I wanted.”

“Yes it is. You’re rid of me.”

“I wanted to end this civilly. You didn’t need to go to that extreme.”

“Sure I did. If we’d broken up mutually, no one would know what a horrible person you are. Now they hate you and feel sorry for me.
And
they think you killed our baby.”

He shook his head. “I knew you were faking. But even after all the threats you made, I never expected you to drag my mother into it the way you did. That was low, even for you. You had to know that was wrong.”

Alexiana shrugged. “She needed to know what kind of a son she has.”

“It wasn’t for you to decide. I should have told her what I was doing. I could have told her gently instead of forcing her to be a part of that spectacle.”

She closed the case and locked it, her eyes refusing to meet his. “You had plenty of chances. But oh well. It’s over now.”

She was right about one thing. It was all over. In a few short moments Alexiana would be gone and out of his life. Mia—he didn’t want that to be over. But it was. Oliver ran his hands through his hair and dug his fingers into his scalp, willing the headache away.

Alexiana picked up her jewelry case and wheeled a small suitcase from the room. Oliver dropped to the bed and closed his eyes. Sounds from the condo echoed into the bedroom, but began to fade. Soon they were gone completely.

OLIVER WOKE
the next morning, sunlight streaming in through his window, still in his jeans and tee. The room was mostly empty. All traces that a woman had ever lived there were gone. And he didn’t care one bit. A new day, a new life.

He sat up and stretched, then headed out of the room. He took in the bare walls and floor. Only his couch and flat screen were in the living room, all the artwork and rugs, gone. He headed into the kitchen to make some coffee. Nope. She’d taken the coffeemaker too.
Wait. I bought that!

Whatever. A three-hundred-dollar coffeemaker was a small price to pay for getting rid of Alexiana.

Oliver sat at the breakfast bar—she’d actually left the stools. Looking over his condo, barren and lifeless, he’d decided this was just what he needed. His slate was clean, sort of, and he could start fresh. He could be the man he wanted to be, not who his father wanted him to be. He’d already disappointed the man as much as a son could, so now he could do whatever he wanted. Make himself happy, for once.

First on the agenda, make it up to his mother. She’s the only family member he cared about. Maybe he could make her understand. Tell her about Mia and her shop and how badly he’d wanted to help her. How special she was to him. How, in barely a month’s time, he’d felt more for her than he’d felt for Alexiana in several decades.

After that, he’d do everything in his power to make it up to Mia.

AFTER A
night of broken sleep, Mia arrived at the shop just before eleven. When she’d volunteered to take the Sunday shift the day after the party, she hadn’t expected to be so exhausted. But it was only a half day. In four hours she would be out of there and crawling back in her bed.

She entered the showroom and flipped on the lights and the neon Open sign. Turning, she was smacked with a life-size photo of Oliver. Her stomach swirled, a combination of rage and misery. It had been the same all night. One minute she was furious over how stupid she had been, the next crying because she had finally found a guy and he’d been too good to be true.

Part of her wanted to rip the poster down and tear it to shreds. The other wanted to pull it down, wrap it around her, and cry.

Enough of this. You are a strong woman. Strong women don’t let men get to them. Forget him. Move on.

Easier said than done.

The first customer of the day headed right for the dildo display, now only a quarter full. “Oh good! You still have some.”

She approached Mia, setting the Oliver on the counter while she rummaged through her purse.

“I was so bummed I had to miss the party yesterday. Any chance Oliver will be doing another meet and greet soon?”

“We haven’t planned any yet, but after yesterday’s response, I’m sure we’ll do something soon.”

“Oh good. I so wanna see those abs in person. He’s pretty hot, huh?”

“Um, yeah.” Mia tried not to picture his bare stomach and how it felt to run her hands up and down it. Concentrating on the task at hand, Mia rang the purchase into the register and wrapped the box in tissue and set it in a plastic bag. “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

“Oh, no. This is all I need.” The woman lowered her voice, even though they were the only two in the shop. “I can’t wait to get this home. Is it really an exact replica of his . . . parts?”

Mia nodded. “Yep.”

“Wow. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to have sex with the real thing.”

Mia could. But she preferred not to think about it.

She ran the women’s credit card though the machine, then handed her the slip to sign. “Have a great day.”

“Oh, I will,” the woman said with a wink and took the bag, finally leaving the shop.

Mia breathed a sigh of relief as the woman walked away. Only three and a half more hours to go. She walked through the shop, tidying up the few things they’d missed the night before, and rearranged the dildo display. The door chime rang and three younger women strode in, making a beeline for the toys.

Mia ducked out of the way as the women chatted.

“You should have come with us yesterday,” the one said. “You missed a great party.”

That comment made Mia smile.

“Yeah, the guys were so hot,” another said. “I bought the Logan, and used it last night. OMG. It was so awesome.”

“I have the Oliver,” the first said. “It was very nice. I actually slipped the real Oliver my number. Maybe he’ll call and I can try out the real thing.”

As the girls giggled, a spark of jealousy punched Mia in the gut. But she had no right to feel that way. He could have sex with whomever he wanted. All he was to her now was a work acquaintance—an employee. She shouldn’t have gone against her better judgment to begin with. If he’d stayed just an employee, none of this would be happening right now.

The afternoon continued, a bit busier than a normal Sunday. Most of the purchases were Logans and Olivers, women who’d been unable to make the party. A few others were so happy with theirs, they brought a friend back, insisting they buy one, too. One woman was in love with her Logan and needed to have the vibrating version, too.

Mia cashed out the last customer of the day, one more Oliver. As she bagged the purchase, the door chime sounded. This always happened. Someone came in at the last minute, probably needing a bra fitting and trying on a dozen bras. Mia just wanted to get out of there. Her bed was calling.

But when she looked up, it wasn’t a woman needing bras. It was Oliver.

Mia handed the customer her bag. The woman thanked Mia and turned, looked at Oliver, then the poster, then back to him. She squealed and threw her arms around him. The middle-aged woman completely fawned over him, pulling out a pen for an autograph. She then handed Mia her cell phone to snap a photo.

Oliver smiled, albeit a forced one, and humored the woman. After all, he was a gentleman. A lying, cheating gentleman, but still. He walked her to the door and wished her a lovely afternoon. He turned the lock on the door and flipped off the neon sign.

“Can we talk?” he asked when he faced Mia.

“No.” She turned off the lights in the shop and headed toward her office. Probably not the best idea. He stood in her doorway, trapping her. She had no choice but to hear what he had to say.

“I never loved her. I was forced into asking her to marry me after one night of drunken sex. She told me she was pregnant.”

Mia stared at her computer screen.

“When you’re part of a society that only cares about money and reputations, a man doesn’t get a woman pregnant and not marry her. I knew she was faking, but I couldn’t find a way to prove it.”

Mia shut down her computer and fidgeted with the things on her desk. She tried ignoring him, but she couldn’t mute his voice.

“Before I met you, I was miserable, but was going along because I had nowhere else to go. Then I saw you in that bar. And you were so different, so relaxing and effortless. I wanted to be with you.”

Tears flooded Mia’s eyes as she read a letter they’d received earlier in the week about advertising rates for a local women’s magazine. The text blurred as much as she tried to blink them away.

“I told her I wanted out and she refused to listen to me. Finally I’d had enough. I told her I was calling off the wedding myself. Obviously she didn’t like that and brought our parents here. She’s trying to destroy my reputation . . . and . . . well, it worked. The wedding’s off, but she came out looking like the injured party. Everyone hates me. But you know what? I don’t even care. I only care what you think about me.”

“I think you’re a liar. And an asshole.” Mia stood and walked toward him. “Now can you please move?”

“Not until you hear what I have to say.” He reached for her hand, and for some bizarre reason she let him take it, but kept her face turned away from him. “I’m falling in love with you.”

Mia yanked her hand away. “I don’t care. Now move.”

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel it, too.”

“All you’re going to feel in five seconds is my knee in your crotch.”

“Please don’t leave it like this.”

“Five . . . four . . .”

“You have to let me make this up to you.”

Mia met his eyes for the first time since he’d arrived, clouded with moisture.
He’s a filthy liar. Don’t let those sad eyes pull you in.
“Three . . . two . . .”

He stepped back and turned without another word. Mia waited until the back door had opened and shut before letting the dam of tears burst.

MIA SOBBED
the whole way home, but when she got there, she couldn’t get out of her car. She put it back in drive and drove to Bryn’s house. No one home. Mia used her key and let herself in, crashing on the couch and crying some more.

An hour later, after Mia had cried so much she couldn’t cry anymore, Bryn’s front door burst open and the kids ran in. “Aunt Mia!”

They all jumped on her, which usually would have turned into a free-for-all tickle fest, but not that day.

Bryn came to her rescue, her tone the one she used when one of her kids was sick or had come home crying after a bully had pushed them down. “Let me settle the kids in the other room with a movie and I’ll be back.”

All Mia could do was nod. When Bryn came back, two glasses in her hands, filled with what Mia assumed was some kind of liquor, she reached for one and gulped. When she’d downed half, she told Bryn everything Oliver had said.

“Wow. I don’t even know what to say.”

“It means nothing.” She took another sip, the liquid burning her throat, but it felt so good. “Right?”

“I can’t decide that for you. He seems like a decent guy who made some really bad mistakes. I guess some of it wasn’t his fault. I mean, what else was he supposed to do in that situation?”

“Uh, not lie might have been a good thing to do. How do I even know if anything he said is true?”

“Do you think he was lying today?”

Mia closed her eyes and took another sip. “I don’t know. I guess he seemed sincere.”

“You of all people know what it’s like to have family members pushing you to do things you really don’t want to do.”