A little after midnight, Toby finally agreed they could leave. Dean had ducked out a bit earlier with profuse apologies that he had to get to a friend’s party he simply couldn’t miss (damn him!), Mackenzie was now feigning disinterest in Jack on a love seat in a dark corner, and Adriana was, once again, supremely bored. She’d already tried every trick in the book to get Toby to take her dancing, but he would have none of it. He was exhausted from the work and the travel; he was going directly back to the hotel, and he expected his girlfriend to join him.
Toby chattered on about something as he helped Adriana into her coat, but it wasn’t hard to block him out. What proved more difficult was remembering that she was only thirty – a mere girl, practically! – and not the fifty-year-old woman she felt like. At least the night wasn’t a total loss; it looked like Mackenzie, all touchy and laughing with Jack, was a changed woman. Adriana waited to catch her eye and offered a little wave good-bye.
Mackenzie motioned for her to wait a minute and, like a consummate professional, lightly grazed Jack’s lips with her fingertip and sashayed away from him, toward Adriana.
‘You’re leaving already?’ Mackenzie asked, glancing at Adriana’s coat.
‘It’s after midnight. I’m beat,’ Adriana lied. Not beat, just bored, she thought. ‘But it looks like you’re doing great work.’
‘You. Are. A. Goddess!’ Mackenzie whispered, leaning in and clutching Adriana’s arm. ‘He’s already invited me back to his place for a drink. I told him I’d think about it.’
Adriana was impressed. Nothing worked more efficiently than a maybe. It wasn’t a flat-out rejection, but it definitely sent the message that he’d have to work a little harder.
‘Just remember, if you sleep with him, no staying over. I don’t care if it’s five in the morning; you have to be the one to get up and out. Stay as long as you’re having sex. The moment it’s time for sleep, you’re out of there,’ Adriana advised her new pupil and tried not to think about how much she sounded like her mother.
Mackenzie nodded, hanging on every word. ‘What if he—’
‘There are no exceptions.’
Another nod.
‘Enjoy!’ Adriana trilled. She gave Toby’s hand a little tug to pull him away from the circle of people who had entrapped him. ‘Honey, we really should be going …’
‘Oh, and one more thing,’ Mackenzie whispered. ‘I want to pitch a story idea to you, as the focus for our next issue. I’m not sure what the angle would be yet, but you have an absolute gift and I think our readers would love to know about it.’
Well. This was an interesting – and unexpected – development. Adriana was accustomed to being solicited for her picture by random tourists who thought her exotically gorgeous, and tonight wasn’t the first time a magazine editor had deemed her beautiful enough to be included in an issue. But a story focusing on her innate abilities with men and her talent for teaching other women how to snare them? That didn’t happen every day.
She feigned indifference even though her voice shook slightly from the excitement of it all. ‘Oh, well, that might be nice,’ she said blandly.
‘Oh, I do hope you’ll think about it and agree. I can see a double-page spread with a full interview and lots of gorgeous glossy pictures. We’ll make it phenomenal, I promise,’ Mackenzie gushed. She hadn’t seemed like a gusher earlier in the evening, but then again, she hadn’t seemed like someone who could snag a guy so expertly, either.
It was all Adriana could do not to shriek with joy. ‘Well, um, Catherine knows how to reach me – or, at least, how to reach Toby – so that’s probably the best way …’
But Mackenzie had already started back toward Jack. ‘I’ll call you next week! Great to meet you. And thanks … for everything.’ She waved and continued her sashay back to the darkened love seat.
‘I hope you had a nice time, sweetheart?’ Toby asked as he hailed a cab outside the building.
‘It was so much more than nice, Toby. I had a wonderful time,’ Adriana said with more honesty than she’d thought possible before Mackenzie’s idea. ‘An amazing, splendid, wonderful time.’
The knock woke Leigh out of a deep sleep, something she rarely achieved at night, never mind in the middle of the afternoon when she hadn’t even intended to fall asleep. There was something about the air or the water out here, something she needed to bottle: Every time her little rental car pulled into Sag Harbor, her whole body went slack with relaxation.
‘Come in,’ she called after a quick check to make sure she was clothed and not covered in drool. She was shocked to see that it was already dark outside.
Jesse opened the door and peeked just his head inside. ‘Did I wake you? Sorry, I figured you were hard at work twenty-four hours a day.’
Leigh snorted. ‘Uh-huh. I’m learning firsthand that having two Bloody Marys before lunch isn’t all that conducive to productivity.’
‘True enough. But how good do you feel?’
‘Pretty good,’ she admitted. Despite the bits and pieces of her dream that were flashing back to her – something to do with walking down the aisle naked and shivering – she still felt rested and peaceful.
‘Wait just a minute,’ Jesse said as he crossed the room in three quick strides. He sat on the edge of the bed where Leigh sat fully dressed bolstered by half a dozen pillows, on top of the quilt. ‘What do I see here?’
Leigh followed his eyes to the paperback that was spread open across her stomach. It sported a baby blue cover with a picture of a prettily wrapped gift and was a sequel to Something Borrowed, a book she’d just finished and loved.
‘This?’ she asked, folding down a page and handing it to him. ‘It’s called Something Blue. The first one was about a girl who falls in love with her best friend’s fiancé and doesn’t know what to do. Well, they end up together, and now in this one, we see the story from the perspective of the best friend who lost her fiancé. Not that she’s so innocent, either, because she slept with one of her ex-fiancé’s groomsmen.’
Jesse read the back cover while shaking his head. ‘Incredible,’ he murmured.
‘What?’
‘The fact that you read this.’
‘What is that supposed to mean?’
‘Oh, come on, Leigh. You don’t think it’s amusing that little Ms. Cornell-English-major-I-only-edit-serious-works-of-literature is reading Something Blue in her free time?’
Leigh snatched the book back and pressed it against her chest. ‘It’s really good,’ she said with a frown.
‘I’m sure it is.’
Leigh wanted to say that, at least as of this moment, Something Blue was far better written than the latest draft of Jesse’s novel. That it had a sensible structure and coherent language. That maybe it wasn’t exploring too many lofty intellectual themes, but so what? It was witty, clever, and fun to read – something Mr. Literary Hotshot could use in triplicate right about now.
But of course Leigh didn’t say any of this. She merely said, ‘I’m not going to defend my pleasure-reading choices to you.’
Jesse held up his hands in surrender. ‘Fair enough. But you do realize that this changes everything, don’t you? I now have actual proof that the work-Nazi editor is actually a human being.’
‘Just because I read chick lit?’
‘You got it. How tough can someone be if they read and relate to Bridget Jones’s Diary?’
Leigh sighed. ‘I loved that book.’
Jesse smiled. ‘What was that other one … The Nanny Diaries?’
‘A definite classic.’
‘Mmm,’ Jesse murmured, and Leigh could tell he was rapidly losing interest. She knew his gestures now, his expressions, could decode the meaning of a furrowed eyebrow or a half-smile. She’d been to the Hamptons four times in the last three months, and with each meeting things had felt less awkward. The second time she’d again stayed at the American Hotel, although she’d spent barely a handful of hours there – a fact that said a great deal consi
dering the visit took place on a No Human Contact Monday (she waived the rule for one night). On the third and fourth visits she accepted Jesse’s offer to stay in the guesthouse he’d built for his nephews – it was so much more convenient – and it wasn’t until yesterday, on this fifth visit, that Leigh had realized the wisdom of bunking in one of the main house’s upstairs guest rooms. After all, they often worked late into the night, and the walk to the guesthouse was winding and dark.
It was all very innocent and, to Leigh’s surprise, it felt extremely natural. She was pleased that they were able to work so well together and still maintain professional distance, even if they were sleeping in rather close quarters. Henry hadn’t thought it strange when Leigh mentioned she’d stopped staying at the hotel; he had other editors who traveled to visit authors – some to places more far-flung than the Hamptons – and they often bunked down on the property somewhere. When Leigh had told her father at dinner last week that she’d taken to spending two or three days a week working with Jesse in his home, he’d said something to the effect of ‘It’s not ideal, but if they won’t come to you, you go to them.’ All their blasé attitudes only furthered Leigh’s conviction that Russell didn’t need to know.
‘I wondered what you wanted for dinner,’ Jesse was saying. ‘It’s almost six and it’s the off-season, so if we don’t motivate soon, we’re going to be shit out of luck. Do you want to grab a burger somewhere, or should I make something?’
‘By “make something” do you really mean “pour cereal in a bowl”? Because if that’s the case, I’d rather a burger.’
‘Ah, sweet Leigh, charming as ever. Is that your way of saying “Thanks, Jesse. I’d love a home-cooked meal, I’m just way too difficult a bitch to actually say so”?’
Leigh laughed. ‘Yes.’
‘I had a feeling. Okay, then, cooking it is. I’m going to run to Schiavoni’s for some food. Any requests?’
‘Lucky Charms? Or Cinnamon Toast Crunch. With two-percent milk, please.’
Jesse threw up his hands in mock disgust and left the room. Leigh waited until she heard the front door close and the car start before she picked up her phone.
Russell answered on the first ring. ‘Hello?’
He always pretended he didn’t know it was her, even though he had caller ID like the rest of the civilized world. ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘It’s me.’
‘Hi, baby, how are you? How’s the lunatic these days? He staying sober enough to get any substantive work done?’
Russell had taken to putting down Jesse pretty much every chance he got, regardless of how often Leigh reassured him that Jesse was nothing like his reputation, or how many times she told him that he was just another author, alternately confident to the point of arrogance or insecure to the point of debilitation. It didn’t seem to matter, and Leigh figured out the more she defended Jesse, the more it incensed Russell. He was jealous – she certainly would be if he spent so much time with another woman – but she couldn’t bring herself to reassure him. Even if Jesse never mentioned his wife (and Leigh had yet to detect any actual proof of her existence), the fact remained that Jesse was married and Leigh was engaged, and they had developed a nice friendship in addition to their working relationship. A nice platonic friendship – something Russell claimed, much to Leigh’s irritation, was an impossibility between men and women.
Leigh sighed. ‘He’s really not like that, Russell. He’s not a drunk, he’s just … just different. He’s not quite as regimented as we are.’
Dammit. This was definitely not the right approach. Any conversation she allowed to veer toward Jesse would definitely end in a fight, something that, despite her very best efforts, seemed to be happening a lot lately.
‘Regimented?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘It sounds like you think he’s all chill and Zen and that I’m stressed out and … and … regimented.’
‘We are different people, Russell. And in my opinion, we’re the ones living like responsible adults while he’s lost and directionless, okay?’ Leigh didn’t acknowledge to Russell that although this had been her opinion a mere month earlier, Jesse’s lifestyle no longer seemed so unappealing. ‘Look, why are we even talking about him? Who cares? I called to see what was going on with you. How was today’s postproduction meeting?’
‘It was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary.’
‘Russell, don’t sulk. It’s unbecoming.’
‘Thank you for the etiquette lesson, dear. I’ll remember that.’
‘Why are you being like this?’ Leigh sighed. She had merely wanted to check in, exchange a few pleasantries, and get back to her book, but she sensed that Russell was preparing a huge State of the Relationship talk. They were his specialty and her worst nightmare.
‘Leigh, what’s going on with us?’ His voice grew softer, gentler. ‘Seriously, I think we should talk about it.’
Leigh took a deep breath and exhaled silently. She strove for calm although her insides were screaming, No, no, no! I’m sick of talking about it. Let’s not talk about everything. Can’t we just tell each other about our days and move on? Please don’t do this to me! and said, ‘What do you mean, Russ? There’s nothing wrong with us.’
He was silent for a minute. ‘Do you really feel that way? Doesn’t it seem like there’s a lot of distance? And what am I supposed to say when people ask why we haven’t had our engagement party yet? That my fiancée doesn’t seem to have time, even though we’ve been engaged for five months?’
Oh god, please not this again. ‘You know what a big deal this is – why can’t you be understanding?’
‘Yeah, well, call me crazy, but I guess I thought that getting married would be a big deal for you, too.’
‘Of course it is. Which is why I want to wait until everything can be perfect.’
This wasn’t completely untrue. Leigh knew she was dragging her feet with all the plans. Part of it was just an overall lack of interest in all things wedding-related – she wasn’t the girl who picked out her gown at age twelve – and part of it was the dread of dealing with both her mother and Russell’s, but when she was completely honest with herself, Leigh knew it went beyond that.
For a while she could tell herself that everything was moving too quickly. After all, it felt like only yesterday that they were kissing for the first time on a bench in Union Square. She’d liked Russell very much then, too – she’d thought he was sweet and good-looking, and she was flattered that he was interested in her. She hoped they would date and the relationship would develop or disintegrate naturally. Either two people grow closer and thrive, or the connection slowly fizzles and it’s time to break up. She’d enjoy her time with Russell and not get all stressed out about what the future held. Which had worked fairly well, until he had gone and proposed. And not just proposed, but slid that ring onto her finger while Leigh sat frozen in shock, and then kissed her mouth as it hung open in disbelief. She had never been less prepared for anything in her entire life, and it didn’t take a genius to see that she’d been haunted by doubts these past few months. What she didn’t know how to explain to Russell – or anyone else – was what, exactly, was wrong. Nothing had changed between them since they’d first met; he was still every bit as sweet and kind and understanding. The problem was that Leigh was still waiting to fall head over heels in love with him, and everyone else – her friends, her parents, and worst of all Russell – thought she was already there. In light of all this, was it really so strange that she just wanted to take her time?
It was his turn to sigh. ‘I understand. I just wish there was, I don’t know, a little excitement in your voice. Do you even talk about it to the girls?’
‘Of course I do,’ Leigh lied. Emmy and Adriana asked about the upcoming wedding plans incessantly – they desperately wanted to plan a bachelorette party – but Leigh always found herself changing the subject. Why didn’t they understand that this was all going way too fast? Even thinking this, though, made
her feel guilty, so she softened her voice and said, ‘Baby, I’m excited about everything. We’ll get married, and when that’s finished we’ll go somewhere exotic and very, very far away, like the Maldives, and we’ll just relax and enjoy each other, okay? I promise.’
‘Will you wear that bikini I love? The one with the metal circles on the hips and in the middle of the top?’
‘Definitely.’
‘And you won’t bring your laptop or a single manuscript, not even just for reading on the plane?’
‘Not a single one,’ she said with certainty, although this gave her pause. ‘It will be perfect.’
‘Deal,’ Russell said, sounding as though the issue had been completely resolved.
‘I’ll call you later to say good night, okay?’
‘You’re definitely back tomorrow, right? We need at least one night alone together before the big Meet the Parents Thanksgiving.’
‘Of course we do, baby. I’ll definitely be home tomorrow night,’ Leigh forced herself to say. She wasn’t particularly dreading Thanksgiving in Connecticut, even though she probably should be, considering Russell’s entire family was flying in to spend the holiday with hers, but her desperation to hang up the phone was overtaking everything else right then.
‘Mmmwah!’ Russell made a loud kissing noise into the receiver, a little inside thing they’d always done when they were apart.
Leigh did it back, feeling silly and slightly annoyed and then guilty for feeling silly and slightly annoyed. They hung up and she felt relieved, then exhausted, too tired even to reopen her book.
She awoke with the disconcerting feeling that someone was watching her. She glanced out the window and could see a few scattered snowflakes highlighted by the light above the front door. The room was nearly pitch-black, but she could feel someone else’s presence.
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