WINNIE

When I unlocked the door to my apartment, I found Gwen in the kitchen, making spaghetti.  Her purple hair was tied up on top of her head and she wore an apron.  I was surprised to see her because she was usually at work on a Wednesday.  “What are you doing home?” I asked.

Gwen shrugged.  “I’m not feeling well.  I decided to take a mental health day.  What about you?”

I had already cried in the car all the way home.  I had no idea what I looked like.  I said, “Jenna had her baby, so I’m flying to New York.  I came home to pack.”

“It’s too bad you missed the birth,” Gwen said.  “I know how much you wanted to be there.”

I sat down at the kitchen table.  “Actually, I was there, but it’s a long story.”

Gwen said, “I’m in no hurry.  Tell me everything.”  So I did.  I told her everything – about the handcuffs and Philip, the baby, and breaking up with Shawn.

When I finished, I cradled my face in my hands and groaned.  “I feel like my entire world has turned upside down.”

“But at least you’ve got some more money now, some great new shoes, and you get to fly first class to see Jenna.  Sounds pretty good to me.”

“But I’ve broken up with Shawn.”

Gwen looked at me sharply.  “Really broken up or just having some pre-wedding nerves temporarily broken up?”

“I think it’s for real.  I don’t think I can go back to him after the things he said.”

Gwen took a deep breath.  “Are you sure?”

I nodded.  “I’ve been fooling myself, falling in love with a man that didn’t exist.  I think I was so busy planning the perfect wedding, I didn’t see the way Shawn and I were growing apart.”

“Well, as long as you’re sure you won’t take him back, I can finally tell you what I really think of him.”

“Go ahead.”

“He’s a selfish jerk who never appreciated you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

Gwen said, “Because he’s not bad.  As far as I know, he wasn’t cheating on you, and he never hit you.  He’s not a drunk.  He doesn’t do drugs.  But he just isn’t right for you.”

I sighed.  “You’re right.  It’s pathetic.  I feel like an idiot.”

“No,” Gwen said.  “You’re lucky.  Because you found this out before you married him.  It would be worse if you were married and pregnant when you figured out that he was always going to love Alamo Beans more than you.”

She was right.  I smiled.  “There’s one good thing about all this.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll never have to eat meatless fajitas again.”

Gwen grimaced.  “True.  And there’s the possibility of Mr. Billionaire, too, right?”

“No.  We’re friends, nothing more.  He was a perfect gentleman.”

“Too bad.  Didn’t he flirt with you at all?”

I thought back on all our conversations.  “No, not at all.  He even offered to give me a week’s stay at any of the Nilsson hotels for my honeymoon.”

“Maybe he’s gay,” Gwen said.

“Or just not interested in me,” I said flatly.  And honestly, that was fine with me.  I had my own heartache to deal with.  I wasn’t ready to jump back into the dating pool – not even with someone as spectacular as Philip Nilsson.

* * *

I FLEW BACK TO NEW York City that afternoon to spend a week taking care of Jenna and the new baby.  Jenna’s recovery proceeded as planned.  She stayed three days in the hospital, then came home to her apartment, where I made sure she rested as much as possible and didn’t lift anything heavier than a milk gallon.  Jenna thanked me every day, “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

I didn’t tell her that on the second day of my visit, I got a text from Philip.

Philip:  How’s it going?

Seeing his text made me smile.

Me:  Fine.  Mother and baby doing well.

Philip:  Just wanted to make sure you got to NYC all right.

Me:  Thanks again to you (and Ramon!) all the arrangements went smoothly.

Philip:  [Smiley face]  I’ll tell Ramon.

I thought that might be the end of our conversation, but a few minutes later he texted again.

Philip:  Sorry about the media drama.  Are you all right?

I didn’t know how to answer that.  Physically, I was fine.  Other than the two guys in the parking garage, no one had bothered me.  From Google searches, I knew that there was brief film footage of me refusing to talk to the reporter and there were a few photos.

I didn’t really know how bad it might get.  I was safe in New York City, far away from San Antonio.  I hoped that by the time I returned home, everyone would have forgotten me and any gossip about Philip.

And as for the situation with Shawn, I didn’t want to tell Philip we had broken up.  I didn’t want Philip to feel sorry for me or to feel responsible in any way for my problem.

Truth was, I was mortified by the whole mess and wished it would go away.

After a few minutes, Philip texted me again.

Philip:  You’re worrying me.

Me:  Sorry.  I’m fine. [Smiley face]

Philip:  Truly?  Or are you just being nice?

I smiled.  In that day together, he’d learned a lot about me.  I decided that he deserved the truth, or at least some of it.  I texted back.

Me:  Things bumpy with Shawn.  He wasn’t thrilled to read about us online.  But it’s okay now.

Philip:  Is there anything I can do to make things better?

Me:  Change the subject?

At this point, there was another pause and I wondered if I had offended Philip.  That was the problem with texting – there was no way to read tone, even with emojis.  I was trying to be funny, but I was afraid I sounded rude.

I waited a full two minutes, and he responded.

Philip:  [Smiley face]  Sure.  How’s the baby?

Me:  Cuter than cute.

Philip:  That’s cute.

We texted a few more minutes.  I asked him if he was still in San Antonio, finishing the mixer and he said yes.

Me:  Then what?

Philip:  London and Paris.

Me:  Must be nice.

Philip:  It is but sometimes I wish I had a home.

Me:  Buy one.

Philip:  [Smiley face]

There was another long pause and then:

Philip:  Next time I’m in San Antonio I’ll stop by and say hi.

Me:  [Smiley face]  Team 4 Forever.

Philip:  [Smiley face]

He was quiet after that and I didn’t know what to say, so I kept our text conversation to myself.  Instead of overanalyzing it, I distracted myself by focusing on Timothy.

Timothy was a sweetheart with chubby cheeks and a crazy tuft of dark hair on top of his head.  He liked to sleep during the day more than at night, but I had hopes that we could eventually change that.  Sometimes when I rocked him in my arms, I was envious.  I wanted a baby of my own, and without Shawn, that wasn’t going to happen.

When I told Jenna about Shawn, she said, “I always wondered about him.  I mean, he didn’t want to get married in June.”

“I know.  I was oblivious.  I should have seen the signs.”

Jenna said, “Don’t beat yourself up over it.  Just move on.  Like with Mr. Nilsson?  He seemed nice.”

Why did everyone think there was something between me and Philip Nilsson?  First Shawn, then Gwen, then the internet, and now Jenna.  “Nothing happened!” I said.  And a few texts were just his being nice, following up with me.

Jenna smiled.  “I think the lady doth protest too much.  Besides, I saw the way he looked at you.”

Now she had my complete attention.  “How?”

“He looked at you like you were his favorite ice-cream.”

I laughed.  “Be serious.”

“Seriously?  He looked at you as if he really liked and admired you.  The way Eric used to look at me when we were first going out.”

It made me happy to hear that, but I was realistic.  Philip and I lived in different worlds.  He was a Vice President and I was just the second assistant to the banquet coordinator.  He was a billionaire and I was still making payments on my Toyota.

We had shared one adventurous day.  That was it.

I did look him up online, though.  I did a search for Philip Nilsson’s girlfriend.  There were a few photos of me, and before that, there was a tall, elegant woman who was a lawyer standing beside him as they went to some charity event.  I looked up the date on that reference and it was three years old.

For all I knew he was still dating her.

Or someone else.

Or I was making myself crazy.

All I knew was that he was out of my league.

And a few texts meant nothing.

* * *

PHILIP

MY FATHER SUMMONED me to headquarters again at the end of the week.  “What is it this time?” I asked as I walked into his office.

My father didn’t mince words.  “What happened between you and Winnie Abbot?”

“Nothing,” I said.

“It’s all over the internet.”

Some pictures of us had been published and various sites were full of speculation.  I thought the best response was to ignore it and eventually the gossip would die down.  It’s not as if I was Conrad, who was always in the news.

“It’s still nothing,” I said.  “And she’s getting married in four weeks.”

“But you liked her?”

“I did,” I said.  “But I’m not a jerk.”

My father said, “All’s fair in love and war until there’s a ring on her finger.”

I shook my head.  “That’s not the way I work.  And if you met Winnie, you’d know that I couldn’t steal her away, even if I wanted to.  She doesn’t care about money.  She’s in love with her fiancé and loyal to the core.”

My father said, “Then I’m sorry I made you go to the Mixer in the first place.”

“No,” I said.  “You were right.  I needed to take a break.”  And I was glad that I met Winnie, even if I could never have her.  It made my heart sing to know that there was such a wonderful woman in the world, and I would do whatever I could to make her life better.

I just hoped that one day, someday, I would find someone like her for myself.