I tuned out the rest of his suggestion, knowing that it was a hell no. Penelope would never willingly set foot inside of a clothing store. She’d freeze at the glass doors, come up with an excuse for why she suddenly needed to leave, and walk away in tears.
She never admitted the reason to me—even after all these years, but it was because of her mother. Shopping was the last thing they did together—half an hour before the accident, and she never got over it.
“Stop.” I cut Lawrence off. “That’s not happening. Give me something else to do.”
“What’s wrong with taking your best friend shopping?”
“Move on to another suggestion.” I kept my voice firm. “Now.”
“Fine.” He flipped through his folders, then he slid a sheet toward me.
“Okay, next option,” he said. “I want you to write an apology letter to every single person or company that you’ve ever wronged. I’m sure that some people will leak their letters to the press, and over the long haul, this can start the rehab process for your image.”
“You know how I feel about apologies, Lawrence,” I said. “They don’t do anything but state the obvious.”
“They’ll do something more than that this time. Trust me.”
I looked down at the sheet. “You think that I’ve wronged two hundred and fifty people?”
“Ha! Don’t be silly.” He flipped it over. “There’s more on the back, and I left the other sheets at headquarters.”
Before I could tell him that this suggestion wasn’t happening either, my phone sounded with Penelope’s signature ringtone. A FaceTime request.
“Don’t you dare answer her right now.” Lawrence glared at me. “She can wait.”
“This’ll only take a minute.” I tapped the screen anyway.
“Yeah, Pen?” I answered.
“Why haven’t you called me back yet?” Her face appeared on screen, and a subway whooshed by in the background. “I’ve already made it back to New York.”
“I don’t have any missed calls from you.” I noticed the silver charm around her neck and tilted my head to the side. “Are you dressed up for something?”
“I’ve called you five times and—” Her lips froze, and I waited for her to realize, for the umpteenth time, that her phone had terrible reception in the subway tunnel.
As the call stalled, I stared at her gorgeous face.
I wasn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere between our final days in Seattle and now, she became sexy as hell. Her dark brown hair fell to her shoulders in waves, and her light hazel eyes perfectly accentuated her full, pink lips. Even though she usually wore T-shirts and sweats, she was fucking stunning without trying.
Now and then, I had to catch myself from looking at her too hard or fantasizing. Especially since I knew that her brother would have me stoned to death if I ever uttered the words, “Your sister is sexy as fuck,” within a hundred-mile radius, so I kept that opinion to myself.
“Hey!” Her screen suddenly unfroze. She was now on a street. “Can you see me now?”
“Yes.” I stared at her lips. “I can see you.”
“Guess what happened to me at the airport this morning?”
“Can he guess after we get done with our meeting?” Lawrence called out. “Hayden has a billion-dollar business to run, Penelope. I’ve told you countless times to stop calling during business hours unless it’s important.”
“This is important.” She smiled. “I ran into the one.”
“The one who did what?” I raised my eyebrow. “What’s the rest of his breakup name?”
“He’s the one that got away.”
I blinked. None of her exes came to mind.
“He’s not an ex,” she said, reading me. “And I never told you about him, because—It’s a long story. Can you meet me at Central Park to talk?”
“No, but since I already know that you’ll insist on talking to him anyway, you can come to him.” Lawrence intruded again. “We’re at Sweet Seasons on Park Avenue, and thanks to your friend’s ‘special member’ making waves in the news, the paparazzi are outside. Please don’t speak to them.”
“I would never,” she said. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”
I ended the call and looked over at Lawrence. “Now, where were we? Discussing how long these apology letters need to be?”
“No, we’re at the part when I finally realize that you’re incapable of focusing on anything if Penelope calls or texts you.”
“That’s not true.” I picked up a pen. “I hit ignore when she calls sometimes.”
“Ha! I’ll believe that when I see it.” He stood to his feet. “Now that you mention it, I don’t think you could ever hit ignore on Penelope, even if you wanted to.”
“How much would you be willing to bet on that baseless assumption?”
“I’ll roll the dice on my entire life.” He shrugged. “Want to take me up on it, so I can retire in peace?”
“No, I’d rather keep you miserably employed a little while longer.” I smiled. “But just so you know, you’re wrong.”