Ryan Kendall: Working It

Our relationship was so new, so fragile, I feared what the distance might mean. If this was a Lifetime movie, I’d run away with this man and never look back. But sadly, life didn’t work that way.

The entire ride to the airport, Ben kept telling me he was proud of me, and that I should be excited about this opportunity. I couldn’t help but think it was just a ploy for Fiona to get rid of me since she had learned of my relationship with Ben.

I trusted him, but that didn’t mean I was happy about him spending three weeks alone in Paris with the woman he’d had an ongoing affair with. I didn’t trust her. Not at all.

Ben paid to upgrade my seat to first class, even though I told him it wasn’t necessary, and then walked me as far as security would allow.

“Hey, it’s just three weeks.” He cupped my cheeks in his big palms, meeting my eyes with a worried stare.

“Three weeks and two days,” I pointed out.

Ben smiled and pressed his lips to mine. “We’ll talk every night. I’ll send you dirty texts.”

I giggled despite my sour mood. “Did you just tell me you’d sext me? Spoken like a true fucking romantic right there.”

“Anything for you, baby. I love you, Emmy.”

“I love you, too,” I told him, drinking in that brilliant hazel gaze I’d miss so much. “Behave.”

“I will, I promise. You too.” Ben pulled me snuggly into his arms, lifting my feet from the floor so he could cradle me in a full-body hug. I melted into his embrace.

We could do this, right? It was just a few weeks.

Emmy

Ben was increasingly hard to get ahold of in the weeks that followed. Maybe it was the six-hour time difference or our work schedules, but we were rarely afforded the time to talk. The only thing that helped me pass the time was that I’d taken one of Ben’s T-shirts with me from Paris. His masculine scent still clung to the fabric, and each night I’d buried my face in the cotton and inhaled deeply. When the scent finally wore off, I worried that it was somehow a sign of things falling apart between us.

Ben had trouble sleeping through the night again and told me he had started taking his pills. It disappointed me, but I understood. The man needed to sleep. He ate dinner most nights with Fiona, which I tried to be mature about—they were the only two left in Paris since Gunnar had returned to New York a few days after me to prepare for another big campaign. But my old doubts and insecurities about their relationship started to creep in again.

I’d been working so much since I’d returned that Ellie and I hadn’t had a proper girls-night-out yet. So tonight she’d insisted we were going to do something. Admittedly, it was exactly what I needed to get my mind off things.

We ventured uptown, even splurging for a cab so we didn’t have to deal with walking to and from the subway in footwear that was more cute than comfortable. Ellie was dressed in skinny black jeans and a beautiful pair of Jimmy Choos. I was in jeans and pair of tall, black, high boots.

I loved fall in New York. There was a whole new wardrobe needed. I’d thrown myself into shopping, owning it like it was my job. It was the perfect distraction. Ellie was all too happy to help. She showed me the best shops in the city where we could get a deal on the latest fashions.

We entered the overly loud club and elbowed our way to the bar. It’d been a long week and nothing sounded better than an ice-cold beer. Unfortunately, the bar was surrounded three-deep with waiting customers waving bills in the air, trying to capture the overworked bartenders’ attention. It would to be awhile until we got our drinks.

“Ugh. Apparently we didn’t get the memo it was douche-bag night tonight,” Ellie said over the music.

“What?”

“I hate guys like that.” She shot an annoyed glare at the group of guys tucked into a corner booth in the sectioned-off VIP area.

The guys seemed to be celebrating something. Bottles and shot glasses littered their table, and they laughed loudly and shared fist bumps.

“Oh my God. That’s Braydon!” I tugged Ellie’s hand. “Come on.”

“You know him?”

I chuckled at Braydon. For some reason he was stripped down to a tank top and jeans and wore a pair of sunglasses. Inside. And not just any glasses. Women’s heart-shaped, pink, glittery sunglasses.

I stopped in front of their table. “Braydon?”

His crazy-glasses-covered gaze snapped up to mine. “Jellybean?” He leapt from his seat and tackled me in a hug. “What are you doing here?”

I felt like blurting out that Fiona had banished me from France once she learned Ben and I had gotten too close, but instead I politely explained that I was back to work on New York Fashion Week in the spring.

He slipped off the silly shades and his gaze wandered behind me and latched onto Ellie. “Introduce me to your friend.” His tone was decisive and he was practically eye-fucking her. Clearly Braydon liked what he saw. All that dark mahogany hair and pretty olive-toned skin made lesser men weak. And drunk Braydon was no match.

“Oh, right. Braydon, this is Ellie.”

Ellie surveyed him coolly, her expression bored and unimpressed.

“Hiya, kitten.” Braydon smiled.

Eliie rolled her eyes at the cheesy pickup line. “Do you have ears? She just told you my name. Use it.”

Braydon turned to me and his uneven grin told me he was several drinks ahead of us. “Ohh . . . she’s a firecracker. I like that.”

“Embracing your inner douche tonight?” Ellie retorted, her eyes widening as if to make a point.

One side of Bray’s mouth curled up. “Is Ellie short for something?”

Her chin lifted. “Elizabeth. But if you’d like your testicles to remain attached to your body, you’ll stick to Ellie.”

Braydon reached down, unconsciously cupping his manhood. “I’ve become quite fond of these boys, so Ellie it is.”

I didn’t know what had made her claws come out, but watching their fiery exchange was entertaining.

“Well . . . we were trying to grab a drink at the bar . . .” Ellie looked longingly in the other direction.

Braydon shook his head. “We have a waitress, she’ll be by in a minute. It’ll be faster.”

I sat down in the booth next to Braydon, and Ellie reluctantly slid in next to me.

Braydon introduced us to his friends, who, based on their height and features, I guessed were also models. I was now used to being around models, and Ellie, blessed with a healthy self-esteem, didn’t bat an eyelash.

Braydon signaled the waitress and we placed our order. He asked for our drinks to be added to his tab.

“What’s with the glasses, Bray?” I nodded to the pink glasses that lay discarded beside him.

He shrugged. “Found them on the table. Aren’t they cute?” He slipped them back on and grinned at me. Oh yeah, he was trashed. He was funny and playful when he was drunk. Ellie rolled her eyes, clearly not amused.

Braydon leaned closer, throwing his arm around my shoulders. “Big Ben’s not here to bust us . . . you can play with my APA again later.” He flashed his white teeth at me, smiling brightly.

I shook my head and laughed. While some would have thought it was crass the way he’d practically propositioned me for sex, I knew Braydon was only kidding. Ellie shot me a questioning look, but I just laughed it off.

I checked my phone again, wondering why I hadn’t heard from Ben at all that day. I tried not to think about the fact that he was alone with Fiona in the most romantic city in the world.

Ben

I opened the door to my hotel room to find a tear-streaked and sobbing Fiona.