The outfit that stared back at me wasn’t exactly sexy. Not in an obvious way at least. The corset was boned, the ivory satin fabric cupping my curves. The cut of the corset made my boobs look amazing; the matching lace thong was delicate and feminine. It made me feel beautiful.
“I think I like this one,” I protested stubbornly. “It’s more me.”
Fleur shook her head. “I like the black.”
“Why don’t you get them both?” Mya suggested. “At least then you have options.”
That wasn’t a bad idea. When I’d begged Mya and Fleur to come lingerie shopping with me, I had been nervous about where they would suggest we go. I couldn’t afford the likes of Agent Provocateur or La Perla. But I wanted something elegant and fun.
The shop on High Street Ken had been the perfect suggestion.
“I think I will.”
I changed back into my regular clothes and followed them out of the dressing room, the two outfits in hand. Mya and Fleur giggled over some of the shop’s more decadent merchandise—glow-in-the-dark vibrators and strange male underwear that looked anything but sexy—while I handed the shopgirl my credit card. She wrapped the lingerie in tissue paper, placing it gently in a large shopping bag.
It felt like such a momentous purchase.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Mya asked, coming to stand next to me as I signed the credit card slip.
I thought back to my last conversation with Hugh, to the feeling I had when I told him I was only nineteen—and the fear that he wouldn’t be interested in me anymore. I thought about that awful moment when Samir announced he had a girlfriend.
I didn’t want to be alone.
“I’m sure.”
* * *
For two weeks I lived like a hermit, mostly to atone for my earlier slacking. Finals began at the International School and suddenly a student body that had spent the last four months partying buckled down and focused on the exams that would decide their final grades. It was an interesting transformation to see—one that even my least academically motivated friends succumbed to. Rather than spending our nights in the clubs, we fled to the library, cramming a semester’s worth of knowledge into a few marathon study sessions. It was two weeks of hell, filled with late-night food runs and copious amounts of caffeine. This was the other side of college. The not-so-glamorous side.
At the end of two weeks, after my fifth and last final, I finally stopped and looked at myself in the mirror. The girl staring back at me would have scared small children. “I look like a mole person.”
Fleur looked up from her magazine. She had been lucky enough to finish her exams a few days ago. Now she was in full-on relaxation mode.
“Yeah, I figured you made the decision to let hygiene go after your second final,” she teased.
I threw my brush at her.
Fleur moved out of the way, a grin deepening on her face. “You know, I’ll never understand why you Americans think sweatpants are clothes to actually be worn out in public.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please. I remember seeing you rocking some Uggs last week.”
“They’re comfortable,” she replied, nonplussed, turning her attention back to her magazine. “So what time is this wedding?”
I glanced at my watch. I still had a few hours left to transform myself into Hugh’s elegant date. “Tonight at seven.”
Her eyes widened, taking in my appearance. “I mean this with as much love as possible, but you definitely have some work to do.” She grinned. “We have some work to do,” she corrected.
I groaned, rubbing my face in my hands. “I know.” I turned to face her. “I beg of you. Take pity on me. I definitely need makeup and hair help. Do you have any plans for tonight?”
Fleur hesitated for a fraction of a second before turning her attention back to her magazine. “No. No plans. I can help you.”
My eyes narrowed. “What’s up?”
She looked up at me, her expression innocent. A lovely Gallic shrug that instantly reminded me of Samir rolled off of her shoulders. “What?”
“I don’t know. Something is obviously going on with you. You’re being a little weird.”
“I’m not being weird.”
I tapped my foot against the cheap linoleum floor, suddenly impatient. I knew what was coming. “You’re hiding something. You definitely are. What’s going on? And why do I think this has everything to do with Costa?”
Fleur set down her magazine, guilt flashing across her face. “Promise me you won’t judge me.”
“I can’t promise that.”
“Well, at least know this—I know what I’m doing. I’m not going to get hurt.”
“This doesn’t sound good.”
Fleur waved her hand dismissively. “It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“Costa—”
I shook my head, worry filling me. I had already seen her go off the rails once with this guy. I didn’t want to see it again. “He’s not worth it, Fleur.”
“We’re just going to talk—”
“No. I’m sorry, but no, I don’t believe that you guys are just going to talk. I saw you together. That didn’t look like talking. Besides, after everything he has put you through, why on earth would you agree to meet with him to talk about anything? The guy is an asshole. Everyone knows it. Why can’t you believe it and move on? You deserve someone better. Hell, at this point I feel like anyone would be a better choice.” I softened my tone. “I’m sorry if I sound like a bitch. I don’t want to fight again. I’m just sick of seeing you hurt and in pain.”
“I know. I just need to get some closure on things.”
“I don’t understand what closure he can possibly give you. I think he’s going to hurt you again.”
Fleur lifted her chin, a stubborn look flashing in her eyes. “You don’t get it. You’ve never been in love before.”
Maybe she was right. I hadn’t ever been in love before. But if this was what love looked like, I wanted no part of it.
* * *
The wedding was beautiful. The hotel was decorated in white roses and candles. The setting was hopelessly romantic. The couple was so obviously in love—the entire ceremony they kept exchanging smiles and whispering to each other. I was ashamed to admit that seeing that kind of chemistry made me a little jealous.
“It was a gorgeous wedding,” I mused, smiling up at Hugh.
We danced together on the dance floor to the sound of a jazz band.
“It was.” He paused, a smile tugging at his lips. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
One of the girls in my class had told me about this amazing website where you could rent designer dresses for cheap. I’d found this gorgeous Marchesa gown that basically decimated my food budget for the rest of the semester. It was well worth it. Thankfully school was almost out and really, at the end of the day, how important was food anyways?
The dress was navy-blue with one shoulder draped and the other bare. Floor-length, the skirt had the most amazing organza panels that fell around my body. Fleur did my hair and makeup and I couldn’t help but feel a little like Cinderella. Hugh was definitely well suited to the role of Prince Charming. In his tux he looked like every male fantasy I’d ever had—save one.
“Thank you,” I responded, feeling a bit shy. “You look nice, too.”
Hugh twirled me, the sudden motion catching me off guard. He caught me as I ended the twirl, his arm grasping my waist, pulling me closer to him. I could smell the scent of scotch and mints on his breath.
I shivered. Under my rented gown I now sported the ivory boned corset I’d bought two weeks ago with the girls. Tonight was the night.
The song stopped playing and the band announced they would be taking a short break.
“Do you want to go outside and get some fresh air?” He didn’t answer me. “Hugh?”
He ignored me, staring at the entrance to the ballroom. Curious, I followed his ga
ze, scanning the crowd for what had taken his attention.
And then I saw her.
There were those girls who always looked flawless. Their hair was always silky, with none of the visible signs of frizz I seemed doomed to combat on a daily basis. Their makeup was always impeccable—no stray smears of eye shadow or days when they put on just a little too much blush. Their outfits were never wrinkled; they seemed impervious to coffee stains and loose buttons. Those were the intimidating girls—the girls who carried themselves as though the world was their oyster, as if they could never take a wrong step.
I was not one of those girls. She was.
My head jerked back to Hugh. He stood in the middle of the dance floor, his gaze riveted to the entrance, his jaw clenched.
“Hugh?” I repeated, my arm grazing his sleeve. We were both rooted to this invisible point in the dance floor, our focus on this one girl—
This girl who was very clearly someone to Hugh.
He shook his head, as if to break himself from his stupor. He turned his attention down to me. “Sorry. What did you say?”
For a moment I couldn’t answer him. Questions pounded through me. “I asked if you wanted to get some fresh air.”
He frowned for a moment, his dark eyes hooded. “Sure.”
I led the way out to the balcony, navigating through the crowded ballroom. Hugh followed behind me, his hand loosely pressed against the small of my back. Despite his physical presence, the whole time I could feel his distraction. He might have been with me physically, but it was obvious mentally he was somewhere else entirely.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know where.
When we reached the balcony, I walked out to the edge, planting my hands out on the railing. I took in the London scenery—the dark streets, the skyline I had come to love. I sucked in a deep breath, the cool air filling my lungs. I struggled to calm the nerves raging inside of me.
Neither one of us spoke, silence filling the space between us. With the silence came a new tension, an awareness that something had just happened. Something we both had no desire to speak of. The worst part, the thing that lodged in my throat, wasn’t the truth of what had just happened. It was the question of what would happen next. I knew in that moment that no matter how hard I tried, it would be nearly impossible for me to forget the look on his face when he saw that girl—woman, really. And I knew, without a doubt, that there would be no need for my lingerie adventure.
“I’m sorry.” The words came from behind me. I heard the regret in them. I recognized that he wasn’t just apologizing for his reaction to the girl. It was an indication of things to come.
“Who is she?”
“My ex-girlfriend.”
I absorbed the impact of this with little more than a tight nod. Hadn’t a part of me known who she was from the first moment I saw her? Given his reaction to her, it all made perfect sense. She looked like a match for Hugh. In a way that I doubted I ever would.
Somehow I found my voice. “You still love her.” I didn’t even bother asking the question. His eyes said it all.
“Yes.” Hugh sighed. “I’m sorry, Maggie. This isn’t working.”
This too, wasn’t a surprise.
“I know.” My voice was barely above a whisper. Hadn’t I known from the beginning? Girls like me didn’t keep guys like him. Not for long, anyways. All this time I had just been borrowing him.
“It’s not the sex thing.”
We stared at each other across the balcony. On some level we both knew he lied.
“It’s not totally the sex thing,” Hugh amended.
I couldn’t bear the answer to the question I desperately wanted to ask. Why not me? But maybe the most telling question of all wasn’t the one I wanted to ask him—it was the one I wanted to ask myself. The same question Fleur had posed: Why hadn’t I ever let my guard down with Hugh? Why hadn’t I let myself fall for him? Because as much as this hurt, as much as the pain overwhelmed, I didn’t doubt that there was a part of myself that I still kept locked away. A part I wouldn’t let him touch.
Hugh moved in closer, his tall frame blocking my view. “I’m sorry.” He leaned in, running a finger across my cheek. His voice filled with regret. “I’m too old for you. I tried to tell myself that the age difference wasn’t that much, but it is, Maggie. We’re in different places in our lives. You know that.”
“I’m mature for my age.”
He nodded. “You are mature for your age. But you’re still so young. And there’s nothing wrong with that. You should be young. You should experience all of the things that you haven’t had a chance to explore yet.” I thought of the lingerie under my dress. I felt so stupid for buying it. “It’s not just numbers,” Hugh added. “We’re in different phases of our lives. I always knew it—I just thought if we kept things casual between us it wouldn’t matter. But it does. There’s just too much of a difference.”
“I know.”
Something that might have been regret passed across his face. “I really liked you.”
I sucked in a deep breath. Somehow that only seemed to make it worse. I really liked him, too. But I understood now what I hadn’t understood in the beginning. Really liking each other wasn’t enough. There was too much standing in the way—ourselves included—that kept us from having anything real.
Hugh sighed. “It’s hard seeing my ex again. I haven’t seen her since we broke up.” His gaze was hooded, his tone pleading. “I tried to tell you from the beginning—I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend or anything serious. But you’re not that girl. And I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t think you can do casual. And I can’t give you anything else.” Hugh shifted, shoving his hands in his pants pocket. “I’m sorry. I think we should just be friends.”
There it was. The end that I had been dreading all along. And there was nothing I could do to fight it.
“I should go.”
Hugh moved closer to me, his arms slipping around me. “I’m so sorry.” He sounded nearly as upset as I was. It struck me then that he didn’t like being the bad guy. And he wasn’t. He had been good to me, honest from the beginning. It just wasn’t the right fit.
Chapter 46
It wasn’t until Hugh had gone back inside that I realized I didn’t actually have any cash in my bag to get a cab. And my debit card was useless considering how little cash I had left in my account. I stared up at the sky. It was getting dark out, night beginning to fall. The walk would be half an hour tops. Not ideal in a long dress and heels, but I couldn’t imagine the alternative—having to go back in and face Hugh.
I gathered the hem of my skirt in my hand, making my way through the exit, turning toward Knightsbridge. I walked through the city, my head ducked low, all too aware of the stares coming my way. The evening dress stood out, even in London.
My phone started ringing. I hesitated before pulling it out. The last thing I felt like doing was talking to anyone, but curiosity won out. I pulled out my phone, feeling a flash of relief at Fleur’s name on my caller ID.
She was the only person who would really understand how I felt right now.
“Hello?”
“Maggie?” Fleur’s voice sounded on the other end of the line. Except that it didn’t sound like Fleur at all. The Fleur I knew was confident, her voice cool and crisp, with just enough of a French accent to sound exotic. This Fleur sounded anything but confident. She sounded as though she had been crying—my name coming out in a muffled whisper.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Costa—”
My heart sank. “What happened?”
“It’s over. This whole time, he was lying to me. He told me he loved me, but it was all just a game with him. He just wanted sex.” Her voice broke off. “I thought he cared. After what happened between us, I thought it meant as much to him as it did to me. It never meant anything.”
Anger filled me. I wasn’t exactly surprised, but I wanted to kill him for hurting her. “Are you okay?”
&
nbsp; She didn’t say anything.
“Fleur?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I am.” I could hear the tears in her voice. “I loved him. I loved him so much. And I thought he loved me. I thought that if we just worked through our shit, we might actually be able to work things out between us. I thought we could fix what happened. I feel so stupid.”
I sighed. “I know. But you’ll be okay, Fleur. There are other guys out there. Better guys. Guys who will love you the way you deserve to be loved. I promise.”
Fleur laughed harshly. “Maybe what I had with Costa was what I deserved.”
“It isn’t,” I insisted. “I promise you, you deserve better.”
“I’m just so sick of feeling this way. I wish it wouldn’t hurt anymore.”
“I know.” A lump formed in my throat. “I know how you feel.”
“Are you okay, Maggie?” Worry filled Fleur’s voice. “You don’t sound great. Are you still at the wedding with Hugh? I’m sorry I bothered you. I just needed to talk.”
“No. I’m not okay. And I’m not at the wedding. Or with Hugh.” The words came out with a strangled sob.
“What happened?”
“He broke up with me.”
There was a pause. “What an asshole,” Fleur spat out.
I shook my head, wiping furiously at the tears spilling down my cheeks. As much as a part of me welcomed Fleur’s anger, I knew it wasn’t fair.
“He wasn’t an asshole about it. He was really nice. He was right, there was just too much of an age difference—too much of a difference between us for it to ever work. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. And that was all I wanted to be.” I didn’t even bother adding the part about the ex-girlfriend. I could share that part later. Preferably with alcohol and chocolate involved.
I moved to the side of the sidewalk, hovering under the green awning at Harrods. I turned toward the windows, struggling to hide my tears from the crowd. Samir had been right all along, I was an idiot.
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