a bit superficial. Lots of compliments and praise, but not much in the way of real conversation. No, it was all “keep doing what you’re doing” and “we just want more.” How much more of this was there? One day the world would tire of the Manhattan Matchmaker. It happened to everyone who ended up in the spotlight as she had, and when it ended, it always seemed to end badly. Tastes changed. Fads came and went. She didn’t want to be reduced to that, but someday she would. In some ways, it would be a big relief, but it would mean that her fabulous ride was over.
People assumed that since she was on TV, she’d wanted the limelight. That wasn’t the case for her at all. Her confidence in what she was doing and in her ability to do it were unwavering, but it was the other piece of the puzzle that gave her problems. She didn’t want her face on the sides of buses. She wanted to match people. She wanted the world to believe in true love. In a world where there was so much bad, she wanted people to remember that there was good.
“I’ll be sure to tell everyone that all of the credit for the world’s most perfect dress goes to you,” Ashley said to Peter.
“Keep talking like that and I’ll keep you in party dresses forever.” He winked at Ashley then held out his hand to help her step off the pedestal. “You’re done, sweetie. The girls will have your dress ready by the end of the day. We’ll have it sent to your apartment.”
“Oh no. Send it to my office, please. I’m in the middle of a huge apartment project, and it’s a total mess.”
Ashley left Peter Richie’s design studio in the Garment District and opted to walk along 8th Avenue to her building on the Upper West Side. She probably wouldn’t make it all the way in heels, but she’d try. It was too beautiful a spring day to not enjoy the splendor of the city. Sporting her biggest Jackie O sunglasses and with her hair tucked up in a hat to avoid being spotted on the street, she set out on her way.
What was left of the afternoon sun peeked between the buildings, the late-April air warming her enough to make her shed her cardigan, draping it over her arm. South Carolina would always be home, but she couldn’t see herself living anywhere but New York for the foreseeable future. The city was simply too much fun, brimming with its own kind of beauty. Sure, it could also be a very lonely place, but changing that, one couple at a time, was her charge. There was love to be found in the city that never sleeps. And she was just the girl to give it a push.
After a good twenty blocks, her feet had had all they could take, and she hailed a cab. It didn’t take long before they were stuck in rush hour traffic, so she took the chance to call her mom.
“Hello, sugarplum,” her mother answered.
As welcome as the sun she’d soaked up along her walk, Vivian George’s sugary South Carolina accent was all Ashley needed to shake off the vestiges of her stressful day and feel much more like herself. “Hey, Mama.” Her voice cracked simply out of happiness. If she closed her eyes, she could smell her mother’s cooking and remember exactly what it was like to grow up in a house where there might have been little money to pay the bills, but love made it seem as if they wanted for nothing.
“You’ll be happy to know we’re having nearly thirty people over for the premiere of Manhattan Matchmaker. I wish we could have you here, honey, but I know you’re busy.”
It’d been two months since she’d been home, and that’d been only for a few days. It was difficult for her to get away. Work was a constant demand on her time. And that didn’t assuage even an ounce of guilt. “I need to come home. And I will. Or maybe you and Daddy could come up to see me. I can book you first-class tickets, and you can stay in my guest room. It’ll be so beautiful when the apartment is done. I really want you both to see it.”
“I know you do. I really do. We’ll have to see how your dad is doing. Travel would take an awful lot out of him.”
“I could pay a nurse to travel with you. You wouldn’t have to do anything. I swear it wouldn’t be much trouble.”
“And that’s so generous of you, really. But I don’t want to make any promises, Ash. He doesn’t even like it when we go to the grocery store. New York would be a big undertaking. We’ll talk about it.”
Ashley saw through the cab window that they were close to arriving at her building. “I just really want you to see it. That’s all.” She knew deep down that her parents understood her success. Still, she wanted them to see the physical manifestation of it, outside the things she paid for that they saw every day. She wanted to show them that she had done well for herself, and done well for the family.
The antique rocker in Lila’s nursery was the perfect place for a daddy-daughter summit. “So, Lila, Daddy’s going on a date tonight, but it’s very important that you know that you will always be the most important woman in my life.”
Lila looked up at him quizzically. “Hi.” She palmed the side of his face and smiled, rubbing her tiny fingers over the stubble along his jaw.
He chuckled quietly. Hi was her new word, and she was eager to use it. “Hi, yourself.”
“Hi,” Lila replied.
Joanna, over that night as babysitter, was listening in, leaning against the doorway. She stretched out her arms. “Want me to take her? You really don’t want to be holding a baby while wearing a tux, do you? You’re begging for a disaster. She’ll drool all over you.”
Begging for a disaster. Fitting description of what he was all dressed up for. “I’m getting my last few kisses before I have to go to this wretched party.”
Sure enough, a droplet of drool fell from the corner of Lila’s mouth, dropping down onto his black suit jacket.
“See?” Joanna grabbed a clean washcloth from the top of the nursery bureau. “She’s going to ruin your suit.” She crouched down next to them, wiping away the moisture that had collected on Lila’s lips. “Daddy just needs those teeth to come in so he can get a little more sleep and we can all stop doing so much laundry.”
Marcus shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me at all. It means she’s still a baby. I’m in no hurry for her to grow up.” Indeed, he wasn’t. He’d take millions more moments exactly like this one. Freeze time and let him stop the clock on the impossible search for the one woman on the planet to take on the role of his wife and Lila’s mother.
“I’m glad you’re going tonight, Marcus. Really, I am. I hope you are, too.”
“Happy for our business. This is nothing but a business arrangement. You know that. Ideally it’ll be a productive one. You wanted something out of the ordinary. This is certainly that.”
“Actually, I believe I said I wanted something sexy and exciting. It could be that, too.”
He’d been bracing for sexy and exciting. He was ill-equipped to deal with either, especially the former.
Joanna stood and took Lila from him. “Now go, before I shoo you out the door. Stay out as late as you want. I certainly don’t want you coming home before midnight.”
“Why not?”
“Because if you do, it means you haven’t had any fun, and Lord knows you could use some fun, Marcus. Loosen that tie at some point. Live a little.”
He got up out of the chair, stopping to give Lila one more kiss on her cheek. “Good night, darling. Tell barmy Auntie Jo that I’ll be home by midnight.”
He strolled out of the apartment and across the hall. He knocked at Ashley’s door, not surprised she didn’t answer immediately. Muffled strains of popular dance music came from her apartment—another way in which they were polar opposites. He preferred ’60s soul.
He tugged at his shirtsleeves and straightened his collar, which felt a bit as if it was choking him. He had to wonder what a woman with a career in reality television would wear to