2 Unhitched (6 page)

Readying for our dinner party, I silently curse Charming and Cinderella. Damn it! I wish they weren’t coming over. They’re just going to get in the way. Especially Cinderella. She never stops chattering about herself. I’ll never have a chance to interrogate Gallant.

Alone in my dressing room, I slip on one of my new gowns—a pouf of black and white Chantilly lace—and struggle with the fastenings along the side. I can barely close them; the dress—Size 8—is miserably tight. Under all the layers, I can’t even feel my hipbones. It’s as if they’ve melted away. Dragonballs! I’ll need to diet, something I’ve never done in my entire life, if I’m ever going to land myself another husband.

Stop it
!
Hold your tummy in and just get through the night, I tell myself as I catch a glimpse of my not-so-thin self in the mirror. Mr. Infidelity won’t even notice. I mean Gallant. I need to remember. Innocent until proven guilty.

When I get downstairs, Gallant is pacing the length of the great room. He must have just gotten home. He’s disheveled. His blousy shirt hangs out of his britches, both covered with remnants of paint, and his tumbled locks of hair look like he’s just gotten out of bed. Just not mine.
Stop it, Jane; don’t go there.

Gallant wheels around when he hears my footsteps. He gazes at me, not giving me even the faintest smile. He says nothing about my new dress.

“We should have canceled dinner,” is all he says. He sounds irritated.

As usual, Cinderella is late. Very late. She has a major time management issue. I’m sure leaving the ball past midnight, which caused her coach to turn back into a pumpkin, was not the beginning. My mother-in-law, The Queen of Hearts, has begged her to get help. She just laughs it off. “One should always be fashionably late,” she says.

I sense an opportunity. “Why don’t we share some wine while we wait for your brother and Cinderella?”

“Perhaps later. I am going to work on my speech for the museum opening.” He crosses the room, heading toward his desk. “Let me know when they arrive.”

He takes a seat at his favorite work place and slides open the top drawer. My heart skips a beat. Shit! I still have Aurora’s letter in my bag. What if he notices it’s missing? It’ll change everything. He might even turn on me if he thinks I stole it. Which I did!

I hold my breath as Gallant scours the drawer. His brows furrow; my heart flutters. Has he discovered it’s gone? I exhale loudly when he pulls out a sheet of parchment and puts a stylus to it. Mental note to self: Put the letter back. No, on second thought, once he confesses everything, I may want to stuff it down his throat. Now, if I could only get him smashed.

A tug on my dress startles me. It’s Calla. Lady Jane is dangling from one hand. Her other is clasped around something that I can’t make out.

“Mommy, I’m hungry!”

I glance at the grandfather clock. It’s almost nine o’clock. Cinderella’s already an hour late. Poor Calla! She was so looking forward to having dinner with her aunt and uncle and partaking in our adult evening. The precocious little girl just loves adult chitchat and gossip. I’ve even caught her sneaking peeks at the
Fairytale Tattler.

“Come, let’s eat, my sweet girl.” I wrap an arm around her thin shoulders and shuffle her toward the kitchen.

The kitchen smells delicious. A fragrant blend of fresh breads, stews, and tarts wafts through the air.

Our cooks, most of whom have families of their own, are scurrying about, trying to keep the lavish meal they have prepared warm.

“Go home to your families,” I tell the weary-looking workers. The truth is they could be here all night waiting for Cinderella and Charming to show up.

With smiles of relief, they gather up their belongings and file out the back door. I bid them a good night. They are all so hard working, kind, and loyal.

I quickly throw together a little bit of everything—succulent braised ribs, velvety potato purée, golden buttery beans plus a chunk of warm crusty bread—on a plate and serve it to Calla at the large butcher-block table in the center of the kitchen. Lady Jane sits propped up on a stool beside her. Lately, this is where the two of us—actually make that three, if you count Lady Jane—have been eating since Gallant’s been coming home so late.
Or
not at all. While I sulk, Calla scarfs down her meal. She is still holding that mysterious object in her right hand.

“What’s in your hand?” I finally ask her.

She unclamps her slender fingers.

Aagh! It’s a frog. He jumps onto the table.

“This is Henry,” beams Calla. “I found him at school today.”

Henry ribbits as though acknowledging his introduction. His big, black bulging eyes gaze at me. I stare back at him, speechless.

“I’m in love with him.”

Ribbit.

“O-kay.” I don’t know what else to say.

“One day, I’m going to kiss him, and he’s going to turn into a handsome prince.”

“Have you kissed him yet?”

“Yes.” Calla puckers her lips. “But nothing happened.”

“He’s probably not ready for a relationship,” I say consolingly.

“That’s what I thought,” nods Calla. “You know, men are so immature.” Her beyond-her-years words of wisdom make me want to laugh—something I haven’t done in the last twenty-four hours.

In a heartbeat, Henry hops off the table and takes off at lightning speed. By the time Calla and I leap up from the table, he’s nowhere in sight.

“Henry! Where are you?” cries Calla.

We both get down on our hands and knees and search frantically for the missing frog. The kitchen is vast—cluttered with cooking utensils, food bins, and storage containers. He could be anywhere. Hiding in a pot. Or a barrel of oats. Or even in the garbage. I just hope he hasn’t gone for a steam bath in the bubbling cauldron or a sauna in the smoldering hearth.

After a frantic half-hour of crawling in every direction, we take a well-deserved break. We’ve turned the kitchen upside down. And no Henry.

Calla bursts into tears. “My prince doesn’t love me anymore!”

Her words slash through me like a sword.
And mine doesn’t either.

I give myself a mental kick.
Jane, you have no right to go there until you find out from Gallant what’s really going on. Stop jumping to conclusions!

I grab a clean napkin and gently dab Calla’s tears. She can’t stop crying. I think she’s just overtired, but her sobs tug at my heart.

“Come, my sweet girl. Let’s get you into bed.”

“But what about Henry?” she sniffles.

I kiss her forehead. “You know men; they like to wander. But absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Calla looks up at me with tear-soaked chocolate eyes, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

I wink. “He’ll be back in your arms tomorrow.”

“You mean cage.” Calla lets out a giggle and gives me a hug.

No, I meant arms, I think wishfully.

After tucking Calla into bed, I tiptoe downstairs and find Gallant still working on his speech. Crumpled sheets of parchment are piled up on the floor. I guess it’s not going well. He must have writer’s block. Good. Serves him right.

The grandfather clock gongs. It’s now ten o’clock. Cinderella and Charming are still not here. It’s not unusual for her to show up close to midnight. It’s now or never. I’ve got to use her tardiness—or should I say rudeness—to my advantage. This is my chance to interrogate Gallant. To find out what’s really going on between him and Aurora. My heart pounds. Am I prepared to face the truth?

“Darling, let me get you some red wine,” I say calmly and seductively though my pulse is racing. “You need to unwind.” God! I’m good.

“Fine.” He crumples up another sheet of parchment and tosses it to the floor. “This speech is going nowhere.”

Perfect. I hurry to our bar, find a carafe of red wine, and pour him a goblet full. And one for me. With my nerves growing edgier by the minute, I need it more than he does.

“This is nice,” he says, after taking a sip.

I let him savor the wine and take a few sips of mine. I gaze at his face. His gorgeous face with its strong, chiseled features and layer of golden stubble that makes him even sexier. My skin prickles, and a fire kindles in my core. Why does he still do this to me?
Focus, Jane. Focus. Stay on task.

He drains his wine. I quickly refill the goblet.

His leans back in his chair and kicks up his long muscular legs on his desk. He’s loosening up. And so have I. I’ve finally worked up the courage to ask him about the letter.
Take it slowly. Very slowly.

“So, darling… by any chance, do you know someone named… Aurora?”

That dazzling smile spreads across his face, rendering me, damn him, breathless. “I adore her. She’s an amazing woman.”

I choke on my wine. He knows her! Adores her!! Beds her!!!
No, Jane, stop it! Don’t jump to conclusions. Keep your cool. Prove it!

I take a deep breath and steady my voice. “So how do you know her?” Good. I didn’t sound too suspicious. Or desperate.

“We’ve been meeting.”

I almost spit out a mouthful of wine. I force myself to swallow.

“Where?” My stomach is sinking with dread.

“At her new place.”

Oh my God! That proves she did split up with Prince Phillip. And now, she’s doing it with Gallant at her new bachelorette pad. Rage rushes through my bloodstream. My lips part. The words are about to fly out.
Did you sleep with her?
Just at that moment, Cinderella and Charming breeze in through the front door. Three fashionably hours late. Their timing couldn’t be worse.

We help ourselves to the now cold dinner that’s laid out buffet-style in the kitchen and bring our plates back to the dining room. There’s little on my plate. I’ve totally lost my appetite. My stomach feels like a punching bag, and a painful lump in my throat makes it impossible for me to swallow. I was not at all prepared for Gallant’s confession. Not one bit.

I can hardly look at him. On his fourth goblet of wine, he’s seated opposite me, talking nonsense to Charming who’s pretty smashed himself. It’s hard to tell them apart, now that Charming has let his hair grow longer. They’re arguing about whose toy soldier collection is bigger. Please! Just kill me now.

Still registering the shock of Gallant’s confession, I am so not in the mood for Cinderella’s chitchat. She hasn’t stopped babbling since she arrived. I can’t focus on a thing she’s saying. All I can think about is Aurora. How could Gallant have…

“Jane, I want you to take a look at these.” Cinderella reaches into her dainty beaded purse that perfectly matches her pearly blue gown and shawl.

Oh no, here we go again. Paint chips for the baby’s room. The child isn’t even due for two months, and she’s already decorated the nursery five times. And, did I mention that it’s not even built yet?

In addition to her time management problem, my annoying sister-in-law has a hard time making decisions. I think one issue just feeds the other. The Seven Dwarfs, the kingdom’s top construction company, labored 24-7 rebuilding her palace after her evil stepsister Sasperilla, now serving a life-term behind bars, set it on fire. She played eeny-meeny-miny-moe with every stone and then couldn’t decide if she liked brick better than stone. She’s been obsessed with the new nursery wing. You can’t imagine how many times the Dwarfs have had to knock it down and rebuild it from scratch because she’s not 100% positive that it’s right. Poor Grumpster had a nervous breakdown and is on disability leave. I don’t know how Charming puts up with her. But like I said, they seem perfectly suited for one and other. Unlike Gallant and me.

“Well, Jane, which one should I go for?” Cinderella displays three shades of yellow that I truthfully can’t tell apart. I’m not big on yellow in the first place. And honestly, how does she expect me to deal with pathetic paint chips when I’ve got a much, much bigger chip on my shoulder.

Randomly, I point to the middle one.

“Do you really think so?” She studies the three paint chips. “Hmm. Maybe I should paint the nursery lavender.”

A typical response. Why did she bother to ask for my opinion in the first place? I wish this evening would just end. I need to be put out of my misery.

Cinderella continues to play with the paint swatches, contorting her face as if she’s making a life or death decision. “Jane, maybe you can get Armando to work his bippity-boppity-boo magic on the nursery.”