It's a Fugly Life (Fugly #2)(35)

“But that’s why this company’s mission is so important,” I said in meeting after meeting, discussing LLL’s product lineup for next year. “In five, six, ten years, we’ll have had the opportunity to influence a new generation of girls. The goal is to get their mothers, grandmothers, aunts or older sisters addicted to our products and our message.”

“But the other companies can outspend you, and they’re not going to change a strategy that’s worked for centuries.” Meaning, they’d built their businesses on making women feel lesser.

“Every journey starts with one step,” I’d say. “And if we do well and we can show that our business model is successful, others will follow.”

“Then you’ll lose your competitive advantage if everyone tries to copy your marketing strategy.”

“A world full of companies selling self-love rather than self-hate to half of the world’s population? Sign me the hell up.”

So the more I talked to potential customers—buyers for major retails stores, Internet retailers, specialty boutiques, and hotel chains with high-end spas—the more I realized that I had not been the only person on the planet feeling imperfect and tired of it.

And Max had been right. This was my dream. This was the reason I’d suffered all those years with a face that made people cringe. It was why I’d been given a big beautiful brain and the drive of a pit bull. And it was why I’d met Max.

Did this realization signify easy sailing? Or that things between him and me were settled romantically? I didn’t know. But I knew our relationship was so much more than romance or sexual attraction. And now, after having time to breathe and think, I knew that what we could accomplish together was f*cking amazing.

And I loved him for that. I loved him for not giving up.

Just past midnight, as I sat back in Max’s king-sized bed, typing away on my laptop, my cell phone buzzed on the nightstand. I looked, and it was Patricio.

Strange. He’d not called, emailed, texted—nothing—since I’d left him that voice message weeks ago. It still stung to think about how easily he’d left me behind, but it had proved I’d made the right choice.

My hand hesitated before finally tapping the glass to accept the call. “Hello?”

“Lily, I must talk to you.” His voice was frantic and scratchy, like he’d been crying.

“Patricio, what happened?”

“I must talk with you—in person.”

“Why haven’t you called me?” And why so desperate to see me out of the blue like this? Did he not understand that I had cared about him? It was not the same crazy chaotically passionate relationship I had with Max, but I’d genuinely felt something for this guy. Then he’d called me a slut, walked out of my store, and never said another word.

I did call him and leave a message to tell him we were over-over.

“This is why I must see you. I need to explain what has happened, Lily.”

I sighed and wiped my left hand over my face. I supposed, after everything, I owed him that much. “I’m in Chicago right now.”

“Chicago?”

“It’s a long story, but I’m helping Max with his…with our…with a business project. His sister is ill.”

Max called every few days with updates. It had not been going well. His sister had refused to see him for the first week and her husband spoke no English, so Max’s attempts to reason with him did no good.

Of course, Max, being a resourceful guy, got a translator and found out what he could about the situation from the doctors. Apparently, his sister had preeclampsia and kidney failure. They were trying to keep her stable long enough so the baby could be delivered prematurely and survive. Max then started looking into doctors and treatments and finally convinced the husband to talk to Max’s sister on Max’s behalf. That had only been a few days ago, and Max sounded like hell. “I can’t leave, Lily. She’s either going to die or that baby will.” I’d had no choice but to stay on and assure him I was taking care of things. So here I was, three weeks later. Luckily, Max was very organized with his business, so it hadn’t been difficult for me to step in—reviewing data for site locations for the first five stores he planned to open, discussing consumer feedback and tweaking the product lineup, meeting with the contract manufacturer to review volume projections. And then there was the hiring. The headhunter had people swarming her with applications from some of the best and biggest cosmetics companies in the world.

“I see,” said Patricio. “You are back with Maxwell, then?”

“No. I mean…” I whooshed out a breath. “It’s not like that.” I had issues to work out in my own life, which was what I was doing.

“I had wanted to speak in person, but fine. I will put all of di cards on di table,” Patricio said with that accent of his, a bit thicker than usual. He was definitely upset.

“Okay?”

“My mother and father are here in town. So are my sister, brother and their spouses along with my nephews and nieces.”

“Uh. Good for you?”

“Lily, they are all here to see you. And me, too, but mostly you.”

“Why me?”

“Because I haven’t told them that we are not getting married.”

Uh-oh. I saw where this was heading. “Then you’re going to have to tell them.” I had big issues to deal with right now, and his family drama didn’t concern me.