The Perfect Woman (Rose Gold Book 2)

by Nicole French

  As the doctor left, Nina pressed her face into the pillow, trying not to cry. Would it be over soon? And what would that look like? She’d have a daughter…a baby…and what in the world was she going to do after?

  She had finished the letter to Peppe but never sent it. It was on her desk. His face, thin and mournful, rose in Nina’s mind. She choked back a sob. Another contraction began.

  “Oh, God,” she wailed into the coarse cotton.

  That same vise grip wrenched her belly even tighter than before. She gasped at the ceiling, then rolled onto her side. The pain throbbed in harsh, consistent waves for thirty seconds, forty-five. Nina squeezed her eyes closed, but tears came anyway.

  “Peppe,” she gasped, again and again. “Where are you?”

  And then, as suddenly as it had arrived, the contraction faded. Nina’s tears did not, but as soon as she decided to really let go, she was started out of her misery by a knock at the door.

  “What?” she snapped, wiping viciously at her face. “Who the fuck is it?” Who could possibly be here for a social call at a time like this? Who could possibly think this was important? “Calvin, I swear, if you are knocking right now—”

  “It’s not Calvin.”

  The door opened, and instead of Nina’s husband, another familiar face popped in: Caitlyn Calvert.

  Immediately, Nina relaxed some. “Oh, it’s just you.” She lay back on her pillow, suddenly conscious of the fact that she was half-drenched in sweat in a rumpled hospital gown. “I thought it was another insipid idiot from the hospital board or something like that. Someone trying to kiss Grandmother’s ass. At least two have made appearances since I checked in.”

  Caitlyn chuckled as she slipped into the room. “You’re a dear. And you were swearing at Calvin, not them, so you can’t fool me. N, I’ve never heard you speak like that before, you beast.”

  Nina grunted, still catching her breath‚ both from choked sobs and the remnants of the contraction. “Well, I’ve never been in labor before. I think I’m allowed a pass.”

  Caitlyn laughed again as she sat down in one of the bedside chairs. “Agreed. I’m sure if I were in your shoes, every bit of Jersey in me would be coming out in spades. Here, one of the nurses said this is for you.” She handed Nina a cup of ice.

  Nina accepted it gratefully and popped a few chips into her mouth. The chill was a welcome relief. “Thank you.” She took a closer look at her friend. “You look different. Where have you been?”

  The Caitlyn Nina knew these days never looked anything less than perfect. Today, though, Caitlyn was simply dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, her caramel-colored hair pulled back into a ponytail. She looked more like an average, twenty-year-old college student than a budding socialite. Like the girl Nina had met when they were kids—the trust fund brat and the yearly scholarship student.

  “I came as soon as I heard,” Caitlyn said. “Maddie said your mom bought everyone drinks at El Farallon when she got your call.”

  Nina tried hard not to think about how the idea of Violet treating a restaurant full of strangers instead of coming to see her own daughter in the hospital made her feel.

  “I went home to change first, though,” Caitlyn continued. “I didn’t think Chanel was really appropriate for the birthing room. Florian would kill me if I ruined it.”

  Nina blinked. Ah, there was the new Caitlyn, loud and clear. But before she could reply, another sudden, much more violent contraction seized.

  “Oh fuck!” Nina could barely breathe, but still managed to hiss a long stream of profanity for close to a minute.

  When it was finished, Caitlyn was bracing herself against the chair, like she was expecting to be hit in the face or something.

  “Sorry,” Nina breathed. “That was terrible.”

  Caitlyn shook her head. “Honestly, it’s a bit of a relief to see you like this. Nina de Vries finally breaks.” She chuckled. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

  Nina slumped into the pillows. Everything hurt. Everything. Too much for her to care about Caitlyn’s passive-aggressive punches.

  “So…you want to tell me who Peppe is?”

  Nina froze, eyes closed. Even through the heat, the sweat, the exhaustion, her skin grew cold. “What?”

  “You were crying for him when I walked in.” Caitlyn bent closer, eyes gleaming. “Is it…is it the baby’s father?”

  Nina opened one eye. “What are you talking about?”

  But there was no guile on Caitlyn’s newly perfected face. Just care. Just sympathy. “N, come on. We’ve known each other since we were kids. I mean, we practically still are kids.”

  Nina snorted. It was true, but like so many people from this city, they had grown up faster than most. Even in high school, half her friends were already starting to date men ten years their senior.

  The habits of New York’s elite class.

  “You were supposed to come home in triumph,” Caitlyn said. “Cynthia Devon went to Smith, you to Wellesley, and so forth.”

  She sniffed. Nina knew it was because, unlike the rest of them, college hadn’t been an option for Caitlyn. Not with her grades or interests.

  “Instead, you turn up after your year abroad engaged to…him?” She shook her head. “And now he’s not even here?”

  They both stared at Nina’s bare hands, which had been too swollen for months for the ugly pear-shaped diamond.

  Nina swallowed. Even then, she couldn’t reply, though she desperately wanted to. In all honesty, it would’ve been so nice to tell someone about the way her life had changed completely in Florence.

  “So…Peppe?” Caitlyn asked again. “I’m guessing he was Italian. Handsome?”

  Nina shrugged. Handsome, yes, but not in a typical way. It wasn’t quite the right word to describe her dignified professor.

  She closed her eyes again. Just thinking about him was painful.

  “Does he know?”

  Eyes open, Nina shook her head in defeat. “No.”

  But Caitlyn didn’t look away. Instead, she just watched somberly as the next contraction arrived.

  “It’s okay,” she said as Nina’s eyes started to water. “You can tell me. I won’t say anything.”

  “I want him to know.” The words tumbled out as the contraction tightened its iron grip once more. Nina grasped the rails of her bed, leaning forward, face contorted with pain. “I never t-told him! But now—oh fuck!—I want him to know!”

  Caitlyn grabbed for her hand as Nina began to moan louder.

  “It’s all right, N, it’s all right. Just…well, I don’t know what you’re supposed to do. I guess breathe, right?” Caitlyn started to mimic Lamaze-style breaths the way people did sometimes in movies or TV shows.

  “Gah!” Nina shouted, though she almost started laughing through the gut-wrenching pain. Caitlyn looked absolutely ridiculous with her cheeks puffing out like a fish.

  Caitlyn started laughing too. “Does that help?”

  “No!” Nina squealed. “Ah, they are so…c-close!” Each word came out through a painful huff. The contractions were so fast now. Things were happening. She didn’t have time to think about anything other than the baby.

  “All right!”

  The door opened again, and this time the doctor swept in with a nurse beside him. “Who’s ready to have a baby?” he asked, his over-pronounced joy bouncing off every surface in the room.

  Nina wanted to murder him.

  “We are!” Caitlyn rejoined, squeezing Nina’s hand even tighter.

  Nina turned, even as nauseating levels of pain swept through her. “We?”

  Caitlyn turned back to the bed with a weak smile. As the contraction grew, she squeezed as hard as Nina did, biting her lip with effort but never once letting go.

  “We,” she said with surety Nina couldn’t feel. “I’m here, N, I promise. Until the end.”

  Chapter Twelve

  December 2008

  “Here we are, Mrs. Gardner. Looks like the
y’re all ready for the season, aren’t they?”

  Through the backseat windows of the big black Escalade, Nina peered up at her grandmother’s familiar Park Avenue building. The Escalade was new, just like the chattering driver, Davis, whom Calvin had hired after the birth. He had insisted that it was ridiculous for them to take taxis or hire town cars. People like us have their own drivers, he’d argued.

  Us? Nina wanted to ask. Or me?

  Either way, she didn’t really care about the answer. And she had learned quickly over the last few weeks not to provoke the beast.

  This was one of her first nights out since the birth. From the wide window sill in her suite, she had nursed Olivia and watched Christmas bloom in the city streets below. The world had been quiet. Calvin was gone most of the time, thankfully, showing even less interest in his supposed “daughter” after she was born than he had before. And for the last nearly two months Nina had been given a sanctuary from her marriage.

  It also gave her time to think about its end.

  A year, they’d said. Enough time for Calvin to get his business off the ground. Enough time for her to avoid the scandal of having a baby out of wedlock. It was half over now. She could hire a lawyer, make sure the terms of the prenup would be upheld. Plan a life outside of her tower for her and the baby. Together.

  Nina sighed as she looked up at the traditional garland and lights decorating the familiar brick building. The problem with getting out of the marriage was that she didn’t know what that life was supposed to look like afterward. Money wouldn’t be an issue. But it wasn’t like she would be able to jump right back into being an impetuous college student. She had a child to care for now. She had to think about where she wanted to raise her. Whom she wanted in their life.

  Giuseppe.

  The letter had sat on the desk in her room for over a month until she finally got up the nerve to send it to the university.

  Peppe—

  Buongiorno from Novo York, as one might say! I hope you’re doing well and have a good Christmas planned with your family. The museums here are dressed in garlands, but every time I visit the Met, I take a peek in the Renaissance section and remember your lectures on perspective.

  I am planning a visit to Florence again next year with some family to show them everything you taught me. If you have time, it would be lovely to get an espresso and learn a bit more from you.

  xNina

  It was harmless. Nothing more than a polite hello from a former student, in the event anyone else discovered it. More importantly, she couldn’t imagine telling Peppe they had a child together in a simple letter. Some things had to be said face-to-face.

  Regardless, over a month later, she hadn’t heard back. Now she was wondering if she and the baby would have to make a surprise trip. If she got up the nerve to do it at all.

  Once, she’d had a bit of nerve. Down several blocks, the light marking the entrance to the subway blinked, a beacon for the constant stream of people pouring in and out of the tunnels. For a moment, Nina could see herself, glancing this way and that to make sure none of the family’s security or staff were following before darting underground where no one could find her. A sixteen-year-old girl’s small act of defiance. Girls like Nina weren’t supposed to take the subway. But she had. Just like she’d attended Wellesley instead of Smith. Studied in Florence instead of London. For a short time, she had been a girl willing to stage small rebellions, but rebellions nonetheless.

  She wasn’t a girl anymore, though, was she?

  Nina turned to the tiny bundle in the car seat next to her. She wasn’t even twenty-one yet, but not quite eight weeks since the birth—most of them spent at Mount Sinai’s NICU—she felt much older. Strange how something that weighed less than two pounds could change your entire life.

  “But you’re not two pounds now, are you?” Nina whispered to the tiny figure, who was still fast asleep, and thankfully, healthy as ever. “And now everyone wants to meet you. So let’s do our best to shine, shall we?”

  The decorations continued into Celeste de Vries’s grand penthouse, the same place where Nina had essentially grown up. Technically, her mother’s townhouse a few blocks away had been her official address, but considering her father’s absence and Violet’s preference for yachts in Palm Beach over town cars on Park Avenue, Nina had spent the majority of her childhood here, with Eric. Under the wing of Celeste de Vries, being coached on all the things expected of them as part of this tribe. For Eric, that had meant golf and tennis lessons, public speaking education, and gradually learning about the family business. For Nina, it had meant a barrage of etiquette and finishing classes along with incessant critiques of her hair, skin, nails, clothes, posture, and anything else related to her looks. The best part was the ballroom dance classes, to which Caitlyn often tagged along.

  Yet despite all of her grandmother’s autocratic tendencies…this had been home until just six months ago. It was the reason Nina had fought so hard to change her name from Astor to de Vries when she was a mere teenager. It was once a place that was at least stable in its tyranny.

  Now it felt surreal.

  “Mrs. Gardner.” Garrett, the decrepit old butler who had been with the family since Nina’s mother was born, bowed slightly from the waist when he greeted her in the foyer.

  Nina set the baby, still in her carrier, on the large table bearing nothing but a massive vase of white poinsettias. Like the lobby, the apartment was lit up with Christmas splendor. The Ming vases gleamed on their stands under the garland and lights strung around the elaborate crown molding. More clusters of poinsettias garnished the few open doors and the foot of the salmon-colored wainscoting that led through the maze of hallways.

  “Is Eric here?” Nina wondered hopefully as Garrett helped her remove the white, fur-lined wool trench she had gifted herself as a “push” present. After all, it wasn’t as though her husband would do such a thing for her, and she rather thought she had earned it.

  “I’m afraid not, Mrs. Gardner.”

  Nina kept her face pointed away from the old man while she worked to hide her disappointment. Eric had been gone now for nearly seven months. Occasionally news had filtered to her through Caitlyn or other friends. He’d been spotted bouncing around Ibiza at one point; someone had supposedly seen him biking around Bali in November. Once the summer ended, she had hoped he might have resurfaced, if only to tell their grandmother off. But there had been nothing but silence, and then Nina had been too busy at the hospital to notice that he still hadn’t returned her emails, or that her calls now went to a number that had been disconnected. While she no longer blamed him for not coming to the wedding…a part of Nina expected him to show up here. Now. To meet the newest addition to her family.

  Eric was more than her cousin. He was practically her brother.

  He wouldn’t abandon her completely.

  Would he?

  “Nina, please, Garrett,” she said as she turned to pick up the carrier again. “After all, you’ve known me since I was this age.”

  The butler simply sniffed as he brushed off Nina’s coat and hung it in the closet. “As you wish, madam.”

  Nina rolled her eyes to her baby girl. “Madam” was even worse than “Mrs. Gardner.”

  Garrett escorted the two of them through the penthouse, which was still structured in the classic pre-war style, with a maze of corridors blocking each section of the house from another. The help know their place and we know ours, Celeste had once said. She had never cared for the modern fashion of open-concept apartments like the lofts downtown or in Brooklyn, though Nina quite liked them. Perhaps one day she could remodel her own apartment so it less resembled a series of cellblocks and more the open, joyful home she wished she had.

  They wound around to the main drawing room—the ornate parlor centered around a large fireplace could easily hold twice the hundred or so people who had come to Grandmother’s annual Christmas salon. Celeste de Vries would never hold something so pedestrian a
s a simple party. A salon, by unspoken decree, only included a specially curated group of people deemed worthy.

  There was Violet, of course; Aunt Heather, Eric’s mother, and her husband; Celeste’s brother Rufus, and several of his children and their children; plus a few other distant de Vrieses and van Dusens. The other guests rounded out a veritable “Who’s Who” of Upper East Side society. These weren’t so much the local celebrities that generally populated Page Six (though a few did from time to time). No, these were old money, people with names like Astor and Vanderbilt. People Nina had known all her life. People her family had known for centuries.

  But before they entered, Garrett stopped in the hall and cleared his throat. “This arrived for you, madam.”

  He then produced an envelope. A crisply folded piece of cream-colored card stock with Nina’s name scrawled across the front in familiar curling letters.

  Nina’s stomach leaped as she took it.

  “Thank you, Garrett,” she said, then turned into the smaller parlor across the hall—a more private room that also had its own crackling fireplace. She set the baby, still snoozing in her carrier, to the ground and sank into one of the armchairs to read the note.

  She knew what it was before she opened it. Giuseppe wasn’t given to extravagances, but he loved his stationery. How many small notes had he affixed to her papers when she was in his class, all embossed with one of his gold and red insignias? She had saved them all, and would at times take them out of a shoebox in her closet, where, on her worst days before the baby was born, she would sink to the ground under the swirl of hanging skirts and read them before crying herself to sleep. She hadn’t done that for a while, but something told her tonight might be different.

  Cara,

  Thank you for the kind letter. It was a wonderful surprise to hear your voice, if only on the page. I trust you are well in New York for the holidays and enjoying life as only one your age should.