The Cost of Happiness: A Contemporary Romance (32 page)

“Now I really feel like Cinderella. One minute I’m entering data in a windowless office, the next day I look like this.” She swept her hand from her shoulders to her hip, ruffling the full skirt.

He made a leisurely survey from her feet to her head before returning to her face. There was nothing leering or lascivious in his regard. Instead, Meghan felt oddly cherished.

“I know I’ll see you more beautiful someday, but right now you are perfect.” He held out his arm for her to hold.

“More beautiful?” Meghan murmured as she tucked her hand at the crook of his elbow.

Dan paused in the process of thanking Kassie and cocked an eyebrow at Meghan. “I don’t know. In a wedding dress, perhaps?”

A thrill—or was it a chill?—went through Meghan, all the way to her toes. She was speechless on the walk to the car.

Dan figured this evening was going to be perfect. He had never seen Meghan look prettier, although naked in his bed ran a close second.

A lot of people at the firm would have no idea who Dan’s date was, even lawyers who had met Meghan before. Her appearance was different, but it was more than that. She looked gorgeous. Delicately slim, exquisitely feminine, and pretty in a fresh, unspoiled way. Other women would look more glamorous, certainly more expensive, and probably more elegant. But he doubted anyone could see Meghan and not think her the loveliest woman in the room.

Dan’s assessment—that he was accompanying the loveliest woman at the Formal—remained unshaken throughout the cocktail hour. Wally beamed at them both, Anne van Oostrum made a point of introducing Dan and Meghan to various partners in Tax, Trusts and Estates, and the Transactional departments. Meghan charmed everyone they spoke to, often by knowing a little something about what everyone was working on.

In a rare moment alone, Dan asked, “How do you know so much about what’s going on in the firm?”

“I read the conflicts checks emails, the firm newsletter, the Legal Intelligencer, even that gossip site online. I figure you can’t get too much information about your own law firm.”

He shook his head. “If I didn’t love you, I’d find you a bit disconcerting, maybe even too good to be true.”

As they made their way to their table, he watched to see if Meghan would react to the L-word, but she didn’t, at least not visibly. Was that a good thing?

They were seated at dinner with four other lawyers and their spouses. Dan knew none of the lawyers well, which was a relief as it made the conversation general. Meghan contributed quietly but intelligently. She rarely initiated a conversation, but she seemed to hit it off with a young woman associate from Trusts and Estates.

As soon as dessert was served, the band began to play standards from Sinatra to Michael Jackson. Dan leaned down to whisper in Meghan’s ear. “Do you dance?”

“A little.”

“We’re evenly matched, then. Shall we?”

There were showier dancers on the floor, but the majority of couples were content to shuffle their feet in an approximation of a box step. He led Meghan onto the dance floor, pulled her close and started to dance. He could feel the folds of her skirt, like thigh-high beach grass waving in the breeze. He could smell the pleasantly spicy perfume she had on. Not overwhelming, just right, perfect. Like all of her.

He moved his right hand a little higher, just on the edge of her dress. His forefinger rested on her bare skin, moving gently back and forth in tiny increments. He could feel her shiver.

They could talk but Dan didn’t feel like it. He was dancing with the loveliest girl in his arms. The only thing better would be dancing at their wedding reception, when he’d know he had the rest of his life to make her happy.

A flash of color caught his eye—Vicky Womack’s red hair, white shoulders and strapless black dress. She was standing on the edge of the dance floor, alone, staring at him and Meghan. He remembered the gossip that she cared for a disabled mother. It made him wish she was happier. He also wished she wasn’t staring at him and Meghan like they were personally responsible for her unhappiness.

Dan moved in the dance step, cutting off his sight line although he thought he saw Vicky walking toward the table where he and Meghan had been sitting.

The song ended and a faster-tempo song took its place. “I don’t dance disco, do you?” He smiled at Meghan, who shook her head.

They went back to their seats. Meghan excused herself to go to the ladies’ room, so Dan stood politely while she walked away.

“Dan, let me congratulate you.” Wally came to slap him on the shoulder. “Lou Trioli called me back to say how amazed they are that the cell phone class action is going away. He had nothing but good things to say about you and Ms. Mattson. Where is she, by the way?”

“Off to repair her lipstick, I believe.”

“Ah, yes. Well, I want you to meet Adrian Leveque, ProCell’s patent lawyer. I think we should make a play for a bit more of ProCell’s work, don’t you?”

Dan looked around for Meghan, but she hadn’t returned. He actually had no idea how far away the ladies’ room might be. “Hold on.” He took out his business card and scribbled, “Networking w/ Wally. BRB” and left it at Meghan’s place.

“Why am I not surprised?” Meghan had her lipstick out and halfway to her lips when Vicky walked in.

Vicky’s smile was ugly. “Oh, I think you will be.”

Meghan decided to ignore her and concentrate instead on remembering what Kassie had said about the correct way to apply lipstick.

“You do know he’s married?” Vicky’s voice reeked of triumph.

Meghan’s arms turned to ice. She met Vicky’s look in the mirror. “You don’t know him, so why should I listen to idle gossip?”

“Because it’s not gossip.” Vicky unfolded a single piece of paper and laid it on the dark stone counter. Meghan glanced down. It was a copy of a page from Dan’s personnel file.

“How many right-to-privacy laws did you have to violate to get this?” Meghan was horrified at the thought of Vicky pawing through Dan’s file.

“Never mind that. Read where it says ‘Emergency Contact.’” A bloodred fingernail rested lightly next to the entry. Meghan could see it listed a Susan Wolfson as Dan’s contact. Next to that, “Relationship: Wife.”

“So?” Meghan looked up at Vicky. It was like a horrible flashback to scenes from Meghan’s adolescence when she’d refuse to give Bianca the satisfaction of reacting to her cruelty. A calm face and no reaction—that was the key. Feeling like she’d turned into a block of the same stone as the counter, well, that helped too.

“So he’s been lying to you.”

“How do you know? Have you been violating wiretapping laws as well as invading his privacy?”

Vicky narrowed her eyes. “I know him. He’s a serial charmer. He’ll tell you what you want to hear and never mention the awkward or inconvenient truths. And you’re so naive, you fall for that shit.”

Meghan leaned against the counter and folded her arms. “You sound very bitter. Did someone do that to you?”

For a second, Meghan thought Vicky was going to slap her. No one had hit her for over a decade and it was going to hurt.

Don’t think about the hurt. Don’t think about Dan or his wife. Don’t think about the party going on out there. Just concentrate on staying ice-cold
.

Watching Vicky’s face was like watching the stormy sky over an Iowan corn field. Emotions scudded across her eyes—rage, fear, annoyance, anxiety and finally a curious sort of acceptance.

“Clearly you don’t care about him. I was wrong about you. You’re even more of a cold bitch than I thought possible.” Vicky snatched up the photocopy and stalked out of the ladies’ room.

Meghan tried to behave as though nothing had happened, but when she lifted her lipstick it was shaking uncontrollably. She rolled it back down and jammed the cap back on.

She opened the red silk clutch to return the lipstick. Only now did it occur to her that Kassie must have stocked the bag. In addition to the lipstick, there was a tiny atomizer of perfume, a wad of tissues—
don’t look at them, they’ll make you cry
—a compact, her apartment keys, and…no wallet. Inside a zippered pocket was a twenty-dollar bill.

Thank God. She wouldn’t have to walk home in a fancy dress and high heels.

She was out of the ladies’ room and halfway back to their table before it dawned on her that she had no idea what to say to Dan. Assuming the page from his personnel file was accurate, what did that tell her? He didn’t live with his wife, the apartment was just what he’d said it was. Maybe they were recently separated. Maybe that was an old HR contact form—but no, he’d only just joined the firm so he was married six weeks ago—or…or maybe it was a mistake…or something.

Whatever it was, Meghan couldn’t talk about it. Not with Dan, that was for sure. She couldn’t afford to let him see how hurt she was. They’d fight and break up and it would be ugly and make working together impossible. No, she had to tough this one out until she had a plan for getting out of the relationship without losing her job.

But she couldn’t stay here. He’d dance with her again, do that thing with his hand on her back, he’d smell of sex and sheets and her heart would explode on the spot. She had to act as though the relationship spontaneously ended. Poof! Just another present she wasn’t allowed to keep.

She slowed down as she approached their seats. She was still considering the relative merits of a fake stomach bug versus a bogus migraine when she saw he wasn’t there. She smiled at the two couples on the far side of the table, then noticed the business card on the tablecloth. She read it, then turned it over. Four square inches, approximately, for her to write a Dear John note that no one would recognize as such.

She looked in the bag. No pen.

“Excuse me. Might I borrow a pen?”

The nice Environmental Law partner dug one out of her purse and handed it over to Meghan.

She scribbled on the back of Dan’s card, “Cinderella has to flee the ball. Had a lovely time, but no happy ending for us. M.”

First things first.

Meghan hung up the fairy-tale dress on its specially-constructed padded hanger, then wrapped a sheet around it. It had its own garment bag—snitched, Meghan assumed, from Kassie’s store—but that was over in Kassie’s apartment. No way could Meghan face her yet.

Next, turn off the phone.

Remove makeup, take off necklace, put away shoes and slip underwear into the hamper. Take a long, long shower. Supposedly to get the product out of her hair, but really just to hide while she cried. Once she left the bathroom, no more tears. In here, with the water running, no one could hear her or see her break down and end up curled up in a ball, her arms around her knees, her face pressed against her legs, tears sluicing down the drain.

She couldn’t make sense of it. Who was Susan Wolfson? Why had Dan never mentioned her? His law school girlfriend, Shana—sure, he’d mentioned her a couple of times. But that had to have been ten years ago, at least. He’d had relationships since then, but to get married, stay married and list his wife on his personnel form as his emergency contact? That meant a personal relationship. A current personal relationship. He might not love his wife, but he still trusted her.

Oh, God. He trusts her and doesn’t trust me.

And there it was, the worm in the apple. He’d been selective in what he told the woman he was dating. Not sharing the name of the woman he lost his virginity with—that made sense. Not telling Meghan that he was still married to someone he’d never mentioned? That was dishonest.

Could she have heard him wrong? Could he have talked about Shana only it was Susan? They didn’t sound at all alike, apart from the initial S. She just couldn’t see how it might be an honest mistake.

Meghan leaned her temple against the edge of the tub. Hot water rained down on her, plastering her hair to her head. She wasn’t cold but she started to shiver, then her teeth began chattering. Reaction. She was in shock.

No, she didn’t want to get out of the tub. Once she got out, she’d have to face it, face the job—oh, lord, she was going to have to quit her job. She was just barely able to make ends meet on her current salary. No way could she pay her law school loans, the restitution and rent on any less.