Saved by the Celebutante (10 page)

ELEVEN

I am absolutely mortified. I can’t go out into the living room and face Brad after last night. What was with that kiss? Isn’t there a saying about not mixing business with pleasure? Does living with someone count as business?

That’s it. I’m going to have to move out. It’s only going to get weirder. Not only do I have to live in fear of Will finding out who I work for, but now Brad is going to think I’m a desperate old cougar.

I listen at the wall for a moment to see if anyone is moving about. I can’t tell, so I gently ease the door open and tiptoe into the hall.

So far, so good. The house looks like a bomb hit, but there’s no one around.

I reach the kitchen and almost jump out of my skin when I see Brad and Frank sitting at the breakfast bar, talking quietly and nursing mugs of coffee.

“Oh, hi,” I say awkwardly.

Brad looks up and grins. “Hey, Chrissie. How are you doing this morning?”

I look at him, confused. “Okaaay. You’re perky.”

“Yeah, whenever I do shots and pass out, I wake up fresh as a daisy. No memory either.”

“What, nothing?”

“Uh-uh.”

“So what
do
you remember from last night?”

He scratches his head. “I guess I remember when people started arriving and having a few beers…when did you get in?”

“Around midnight.”

“Ah. Yeah, I would have been well and truly wasted by then. Hey, maybe you can tell me where this bruise came from.” He holds out his leg where a nasty purple circle has formed on his calf.

“You got stuck under your bed,” I say flatly. “So you really don’t remember anything?”

“No, why? And why was I stuck under my bed?”

“Something to do with your stash,” I say, only half-paying attention. How can he not remember ANYTHING?

He beams. “It all makes sense now!”

“Becky is mad at you,” I add.

Frank looks on, seemingly amused.

Brad frowns. “Why?”

“Because she saw me helping you out from under the bed and got the wrong idea.”

“Oh, right. I swear I don’t know what’s up with that chick.” He appears perplexed, and I wonder again how one-sided their relationship is.

He shakes his head and then focuses on me. “Hey, Frank and I were going to grab an early lunch. Do you want to come along?”

I’m still mystified by the fact that he doesn’t seem to have any recollection of our interaction last night.

“I don’t know…”

Frank smiles at me. “You’re more than welcome to.”

“Okay. Let me just quickly get dressed.”

I go to my room and pull on a pair of skinny jeans and a cashmere sweater. I’m kind of relieved about Brad’s memory lapse, but also a tiny bit disappointed. I couldn’t have been
that
good a kisser if he doesn’t even remember it. But at least it solves one problem for now.

I step into my boots and then tie my hair back into a ponytail, smoothing out my bangs in the process. After brushing my teeth and swiping some powder across my cheeks, I grab my purse and meet them at the door.

Brad is reading a message on his phone, looking unhappy. “You guys go on ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Frank and I walk a couple of blocks up the road to a small strip of shops and cafés.

“Do you know what that was all about?” I ask.

“Nope. But probably something to do with Becky.”

“I can’t seem to figure it out. Is she his girlfriend?”

“She wishes. But Brad’s too scared to tell her otherwise.”

“Why?”

“Have you met the woman? Even
I’m
afraid of her.”

“She
was
kind of mean to me last night,” I admit. “But I assumed she was only angry because she thought Brad and I hooked up.”

“And did you?”

“No!” At least not at that point. And apparently as far as Brad is concerned, not at any point.

“I guess the real question is, did you want to?”

I narrow my eyes. “Did he put you up to this?”

He laughs. “No. I just feel like I should warn you that Brad doesn’t really do relationships. If that’s what you’re after, you’re better off looking elsewhere.”

“Believe me, I am still trying to cope with the fall-out from my failed marriage. I don’t need to add anyone else into the mix.”

Frank seems a bit disappointed by this comment, but it’s possible I’m just imagining things.

“How long have you been separated?”

“It will be three months in a couple of weeks.”

“And there’s no chance you’ll get back together?”

“Uh, no. He’s gay now. I mean, I guess he was always gay, but now he’s actually come out. Sort of.”

“Ouch.”

“Tell me about it. Anyway, how long was it until you felt normal again after your engagement ended?”

“I don’t know. I think it was maybe three months?” His eyes twinkle.

I look away, blushing. Is he flirting?

We reach a small café and sit down at a table with three seats. I wonder how long Brad is going to be. Not that I particularly mind just hanging out with Frank. I’m actually surprised at how much I’m enjoying his company.

I order a BLT and Frank orders fish tacos.

“I don’t know how you can order fish this early in the day,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “Especially after a big night.”

“I’m not actually hung over. Although, I have to admit my back isn’t feeling great after sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh. So do you have the same fortunate affliction as Brad and wake up fresh but forgetful after drinking?”

“I wish. No, I only had a couple of beers last night.”

“Ah.”

Over the next half hour, Frank and I chat, almost like old friends. We bond over the drama of our previous relationships, and I’m trying to decide whether I’d like to see him again when Brad finally shows up.

“All sorted with the missus?” Frank teases him.

“I wish you wouldn’t call her that,” Brad says.

Frank keeps pushing. “Well she
is
your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

I know it’s wrong for me to be enjoying Brad’s discomfort, but I can’t help it.

“Why do you have to put a label on everything? It is what it is,” he says.

I stifle a smile. Such a boy answer.

“Isn’t that just another way of saying you don’t want to be in a relationship, but she does?” Frank prods.

“No. And it’s none of your business. Hey, don’t you have that thing this afternoon?”

Frank gives Brad a death stare. I feel my stomach drop ever so slightly.

“It’s not until later. I have plenty of time,” he says, his tone challenging.

“You don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” Brad reasons.

The air is thick with tension. Weird.

Frank stands up. “You’re right. I should go.” He turns to me apologetically. “I’m sorry I can’t stay. It was really nice meeting you, Chrissie.”

“It was nice meeting you too. I hope your thing goes well.”

He smiles. “Thanks.”

He looks back at Brad, his eyes cold. “I’ll see you ‘round, buddy.”

“See ya,” Brad says stonily.

I wait until it’s just the two of us, and then I face him.

“What was that?”

“He was being an ass.”

“You mean hassling you about Becky?”

“Yeah, but that’s just his way of making himself look good to impress women.”

“You think he was trying to impress me?”

“Of course he was. But listen, you do
not
want to get involved with him. He cheated on his last three girlfriends.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“So I’m assuming he didn’t really have a thing to go to?”

“No. I’m sorry. He should know better than to mess with the girl I live with. I shouldn’t have left the two of you alone.”

“That’s all right. Thanks for looking out for me. What happened with Becky?”

“Oh, Becky’s cool. But I don’t want to talk about her. Let’s just enjoy the morning, okay?”

“Fine with me.”

I try to relax again but find I’m unable to. It’s not like I’m sad about Frank – I wasn’t even that sure about him before Brad told me his history – but it makes me worry that I can be so easily charmed without knowing anything about the guy doing the charming.

I always seem to be attracted to the wrong sort of guy. Even in high school I was obsessed with the boys who were either dating cooler girls, or didn’t even know I existed. I think there’s something wrong with me. I certainly made a huge error in judgment with my choice of husband.

Maybe it’s because I’m shallow and only go for good looking guys. People always used to tell me how good looking Corey was. And Frank was definitely good looking. Not to mention Brad, with his beautiful shoulder length brown hair, huge full lips and intense brown eyes. But I cannot be interested in him. He’s just as wrong for me as Corey and Frank.

“I love hanging out with my roomie,” he says, seemingly back to his chilled out self.

“You aren’t such bad company yourself,” I shoot back. “So, if you don’t remember anything from last night, I assume you don’t remember us talking about Will and how he used to work for Gia?”

He furrows his brow. “That sounds vaguely familiar. Shit. I’m sorry again. I really should have realized how awkward that could be if he found out.”

“I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

He pretends to zip his lips.

“You did that last night too,” I laugh.

“Did I? Well I mean it this time.”

I stay with Brad while he orders a tuna melt. Ugh. What is it with guys ordering seafood so early in the day?

I look at him for a moment and wonder if he’d remember our kiss if I prompted him.

He’s halfway through a mouthful of cheesy tuna when he looks back at me.

“Hey, I had this weird dream last night where we made out. Crazy, huh?”

I sigh. “Yeah, pretty crazy.”

He goes back to eating, a funny smile on his face.

It’s probably best if that moment is relegated to dream status. The last thing I need is more complications.

TWELVE

My cell phone rings while I’m sitting at the kitchen counter, going over some of Gia’s website statistics. I don’t recognize the number on the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hi! Is that Chrissie? It’s Barb from City Realty.”

“Oh, right. Yes! How are you?”

“I’m great, thank you. I have a couple of people I’d like to show through your apartment if you don’t mind. I know you said to call Mr. Lambert if any inspections came up, but he hasn’t been answering his phone and these people really want to see the place.”

Typical Corey. Missing in action again.

“That’s fine. He could be at work or sleeping. When did you have in mind? I can meet you there.”

“In an hour, if that’s okay?”

“Of course! I’ll see you there soon.”

I hang up and get ready to go right away. Knowing Corey, he’ll have left everything in a mess, and I’ll need to make the place presentable before the realtor arrives. I haven’t been back since I moved out, and to be honest, I’m a little nervous about what I might find.

I can’t stop wondering where he kept all his stuff while I was still living there. I wasn’t overly diligent in cleaning out our closets, but I can’t believe I didn’t notice extra lingerie in the washing, or tucked away under Corey’s boxers in the drawers.

I quickly text him to let him know I’m on my way. If he’s home, we definitely need to talk about the divorce. I can’t keep living in this state of uncertainty.

I head over to the apartment, distracting myself by thinking about anything
but
Corey. Work is good. The baby food is flying off the shelves, and Gia seems happier than I’ve ever seen her. She was over the moon when I told her about the movie audition. All we have to do now is call back in a few weeks to find out the exact time and location. Gia has even enrolled in some acting classes to get into character.

Life with Brad and Will is okay. I try not to talk to Will though because a) I don’t like him, and b) I’m worried I’ll accidentally let something slip about Gia.

Brad and I have a strange relationship. Since our kiss, I haven’t really known how to act around him. He’s quite flirty and always giving me hugs and complimenting me, but I’m also very aware of his relationship with Becky. Plus, who knows if he’s sleeping with anyone else? For now, I’ve decided to just go with the flow. It’s not like we’re ever going to start a romantic relationship, so I’m just treating him like a slightly unpredictable friend.

My heart beats a bit faster as I near the apartment. I sort of hope Corey isn’t home.

I loudly rap on the door several times, just to be safe. There’s no answer, so I let myself in.

He’s out. I didn’t realize I had been holding my breath until that point, but I now let it out in a big whoosh.

I step into the living room. It feels so normal, yet so strange at the same time. All the furniture is still in the same place, at least. Corey has certainly benefited from our separation. That’s another thing we’ll need to discuss at some point – dividing up all our belongings.

I glance around at the paintings on the walls. There’s an abstract canvas we got from New York currently hanging beside the couch. I don’t mind it, but Corey is absolutely obsessed with it. I guess he could keep that. I’m not actually very attached to many of the things here, but if I’m ever going to buy another place, I’ll need some stuff to put in it.

I look out the window at the rooftops nearby. It isn’t an amazing view, but I always found it comforting.

I run my hand over the caramel suede couch and remember all the dinner parties Corey and I hosted here.

A tear slides down my face. And here I thought I was coping so well.

I busy myself by rearranging the magazines on the coffee table and loading some plates into the dishwasher. I wipe down the kitchen counter and pick up a few crumbs from the carpet. It’s not as messy as I expected.

The next stop is the bedroom. I don’t really want to go in there, but I have no choice.

I brace myself and then yank open the door as if ripping off a Band-Aid.

Phew. It’s actually pretty good. I can’t believe Corey made the bed. He never did that when I was around. It just goes to show he can be quite a capable person when he wants to be.

I smooth out the covers anyway, and plump up the pillows. I then check to make sure the closet is presentable.

Oh. That’s all in decent shape too. Although, it does look like he’s gone out and bought a whole bunch of new clothes. There are at least five new shirts I haven’t seen before, and several pairs of pants. I would have thought he’d be trying to conserve money, now that he’s paying a whole mortgage by himself. I’m starting to wonder if that credit card debt was even real.

It’s interesting, but he seems to have moved away from his usual style. It’s a lot more preppy than I remember…polo neck shirts, crisp chinos, and even a salmon-colored sweater. Maybe Corey thinks guys will go for that.

Well. I guess I don’t have much more to do, other than check the bathroom and laundry.

The laundry is fine, even though it’s full of even more new clothes. I shove them into the washing machine and close the lid to hide them from view.

I just have the bathroom left, which all looks pretty clean too.

Except something isn’t quite right.

There’s an extra toothbrush, a second razor and some cologne on the edge of the basin. Corey hates wearing cologne, so unless he’s had a personality transplant (which isn’t entirely out of the question), it belongs to someone else.

The realization takes way longer to hit me than it should.

Corey has moved a guy into our apartment. And judging by the fact that they’re sharing a closet and bathroom, I’d say he’s more than just a roommate.

I feel sick.

The doorbell rings.

Shit. I’m not ready for this. I thrust one of the razors into the cupboard and then go to greet Barb at the door.

“Hi,” I say, smiling weakly.

She beams at me. “Hey Chrissie, it’s great to finally meet you in person.”

She ushers two people in. “Let me introduce you to Molly and Luke Silverstein. If you don’t mind, I’ll just show them through.”

“No problem,” I say faintly.

I sit on the couch and half-listen to Barb’s sales spiel, trying to ignore the prickly feeling on my scalp and the sweat breaking out on my forehead. 

“Here we have a lovely combined living and dining that leads through to the ample size kitchen…”

What is wrong with my husband? He’s been avoiding me for weeks and refuses to sign the divorce paperwork, yet he’s moved someone into our apartment? Who does that?

I call his number, but it goes to voicemail. As usual. I don’t bother telling him to call me back.

What if he’s out with
him
? The thought makes me shiver. And it’s not just because Corey is with a man. I’m pretty sure I would be having the same reaction if it were another woman.

I lean my head back on the couch cushion and close my eyes.

Why didn’t he tell me?

“And here we have a lovely walk-in closet,” Barb continues.

I wonder who he is. And what he looks like. Does Corey go for the same kind of men as me? I have this bizarre image of us one day in the future meeting up for coffee and checking out the cute guys walking past.

I can’t believe Corey has moved on. Already! I mean, I know I kissed Brad, and I enjoyed Frank’s flirting, but that’s completely different to having a live-in relationship! For all I know, Corey could have moved him in the day I moved out.

“Feel free to explore, and let me know if you have any questions,” Barb tells the buyers. She meets me back in the living room.

“Are you okay, hon? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m just a bit tired today.”

“A separation is never easy,” she says kindly.

I snort. “You’ve got that right.”

“Well, if it helps, I think these people really like the place.”

“Good. I hope they put in an offer.”

“Fingers crossed.”

Luke and Molly reappear in the living room. They can barely contain their excitement, but Luke tries to play it cool.

“Uh, thank you Barb,” he says formally. “We’ll call you later.”

Barb smiles at them.

“Sure thing. You have my number.”

Once they leave, she claps her hands together. “I can almost guarantee you they’ll put in an offer this afternoon. But even if they don’t, you’ll sell quickly. You’re in a great location, it presents well, and it’s not overpriced.”

“That’s good to know,” I say absently. My brain feels mushy.

Barb shakes my hand. “I’ll be in touch.”

When she leaves, I finally allow the tears to flow. Fat, angry, despairing tears.

How could Corey do this to me?

A surge of anger boils up from my stomach.

I grab a post-it from the counter and scrawl I KNOW in thick black marker, and stick it on the outside of the front door as I storm out.

Our relationship is now officially dead, and the sooner we sell the apartment and sort out the divorce, the sooner he’ll be out of my life forever.