by Susan Ward
I hop over to the browser tab I’ve dedicated to him. Beautiful girls always on his arm. Fucking Tara. Didn’t need to read a caption to recognize her. She’s not someone you forget even if you’ve only FaceTimed with her once. She made sure I’d never forget her. Fucking bitch.
Though technically I was the other woman, I feel justified in thinking the fucking bitch comment. After reading the stories about their marriage—well, as many as I could stomach—fucking bitch doesn’t seem harsh in the least.
I use my finger instead of the stylus to advance through the screen. More pictures of him. God, there’s a gazillion. Girls, cars, stages, money, fame.
Times he looks awful.
Times he looks miserable.
Times—my heart turns over—he looks like him.
Sweet, adorable, happy him.
Tapping the pencil against my coffee table, I try to discern which Eric is real. Not that I can figure it out from the internet. Not that I can figure it out by being with him.
Maybe he’s all these men.
I slap shut my laptop and head to the kitchen for another cup of coffee, though I’m pretty sure I don’t need it. I’m on my second pot and I’m feeling the java jitters. I don’t need to be wired at Jade’s anniversary party. That’s going to be rough enough without mega jolts of caffeine rushing through my veins.
“Oh God, I have to see Dean tonight,” I moan out loud, suddenly remembering the announcement he’s got planned. Enduring that after the week I’ve had is beyond possible. No, I shouldn’t go. I grimace. Jade will have a fit if I skip out on her celebration.
Refilling my cup, I lean back against the counter and stare at the room, trying to calm my fast breathing yet again.
“Subway tile,” I mouth, exhaling.
Dean hated that, too. Well, fuck him. I like the simple tiles complementing the swirling pattern of black, grays, and beige in the white granite counters.
What was that shit Dean wanted instead of granite because he was worried about the money? My nails tap against my mug. Not quartz. Something worse. Industrial. Lifeless—like Dean. Corian. Yep, that’s it.
My heart stills. There’s not a single thing in this house the way he wanted it. Somehow I never realized that before now.
Oh God, five years ago, when I was married to Dean, I designed a home not for him but only for me. Like he wasn’t here or a part of it, and worse, as though if it didn’t look like he was part of my life then he wasn’t.
No wonder he had an affair with Sasha.
I made our home his permission to cheat.
Fuck, why would I do that?
My inner self glares at me and wags her finger.
You know why, Willow.
I cheated on Dean in my heart and head for years.
Pretended I wasn’t thinking of Eric.
Pretended I didn’t still love Eric.
Pretended I didn’t wish with all my heart Eric James would come back for me—like he did—but only in my fantasy it was to rescue me from marriage to Dean and end happily together.
I’m a liar, too—well, sort of. For six years I only spoke the truth with paint, flooring, tile, and furnishings. But still, lying is lying. It hurts the people you do it to, and even if I did it subconsciously, Dean saw it and understood. I’m far from innocent when it comes to being untruthful and hurting someone. I’m not blameless in the affair department even if mine was merely emotionally.
I’m tapping my lips with my nails now. Isolating myself in this house and trolling on the internet to reinforce how much Eric hurt me isn’t going to change how I feel.
What I want.
Why I’m miserable.
Not when every inch of my house is loudly screaming the truth at me. What was it that Charles Murray wrote in that film Things Never Said? “If where you are in life doesn’t feel right in your heart, and if what’s in your heart doesn’t feel right in your life, you have to make yourself heard after you hear yourself.”
I certainly made myself heard, only I did it with this house and to Dean, not him.
MY CELL PHONE TRILLS. I push back the shower curtain, quickly wipe my hand across a towel, and tap the speaker.
“What do you want, Jade? I’m getting ready.” I shout to be heard above the shower.
“I know you said no blind dates, and I respect your choice to be at my party alone while Dean does his best to humiliate both you and me—”
Oh, thank you, Jade. You word things so well.
“—but do you want me to send my friend to pick you up? He’s glad to do it. No strings. No fix up. It’s a favor from him to me. That way you don’t have to worry about your car or getting another ride if you need a DD or something. He’s willing to be your stand-in DD tonight. He doesn’t drink.”
My stand-in DD?
I roll my eyes. Not subtle at all, sis, and it’s not like Dean’s little announcement is going to bring on an uncharacteristic bender.
“That’s not necessary. And I should point out that I don’t want or need a date for your party. Calling it a DD instead of a blind date doesn’t have me fooled over what you’re really trying to do here. God, you make me sound so desperate or emotionally fragile. Which I’m not. I don’t need a man on my arm or a ride tonight. I already planned to take an Uber.”
“You’re arriving at my party in an Uber?” She sounds aghast, like I’m ruining her party planning or something.
“Yep. It costs seventy-five dollars to park for the evening at the El Encanto. One hundred with a valet. Fifteen bucks to get there by Uber. Uber wins. Though I do think that if you wanted to have your party on the rooftop in the Japanese Garden to rub in your friend Margo’s face that you’re every bit as rich as she is, then you should have provided complimentary parking for your broke-ass sister and friends. Not all of us can afford the fees, Jade. We’re not all tech rich. Can I finish getting ready now?”
No immediate response from my sister and I cringe. I shouldn’t have said that part about Margo. No one likes their own weaknesses shoved in their face. It was unkind, and it is her anniversary. Jade can’t help the chip on her shoulder she carries from having grown up poor. Her own little private piece of yuck. But it’s hers.
Lord knows I have my own version of it.
I spent some time being honest with myself before I hopped into the shower. Honest about my role in my failed relationship with Eric. I wasn’t upfront about me with him back then either. I gave and gave like it was no big deal, when everything we had was a very big deal, and not just to him but a long list of guys before him.
I wanted in the worst way for Eric to like me and maybe, just a smidge, I thought if he knew the real me—a poor girl struggling every day to make it to the next, hoping to find a hero to make her life less hard—he wouldn’t like me.
I’m no different than Jade, even if I do play proud poor and she plays proud rich. When we were young, we both wanted the same thing: a guy to love and rescue us. Rescue us from feeling forgotten and unloved by a father who worked too much and a mom who killed herself instead of staying. Rescue us from the long hours we spent waiting tables in Mel’s instead of having fun. All the hard work. The worry. The doing without. Jade and I carry the same baggage even if hers is Louis Vuitton and mine is Samsonite.
Oh fuck, I should apologize.
My inner me comes to her senses and panics. No! Don’t do that, Willow. She’ll try to set you up with her friend again.
I wait, fingers tightening on the curtain, water dripping from my hair down my face.
“Wear the Versace,” she says enthusiastically.
Wear the Versace, I mouth and then decide to take this as a win. “I’d planned to. It’s the only nice cocktail dress I have. It was such an extraordinary gift. Thank you for helping me get it.”
“I wanted to. You’re my sister. You deserve the best of everything.”
“You are the best, Jade. The best sister a girl could ha
ve.”
“You look amazing in that dress, Willow. How could I not buy it for you? I want all my friends to see how beautiful my sister is. Now I know you said you’re not ready to start dating anyone yet, but that doesn’t mean I can’t introduce you to my friend when you get to the party. He’s handsome, charming, and available. He’s perfect for you—”
Damn it. “No, Jade, no introducing me, no throwing me at anyone at your party. Just because I’m going alone tonight doesn’t mean I’m available. I’m semi-involved with someone—”
Click.
Fuck.
Great, she’s going to try to set me up with Mr. Perfect-for-Me, no matter what I say.
After doing another rinse beneath the showerhead, I switch off the water and wrap myself in a towel. Using my hand, I clear the steam from the mirror. My reflection holds my gaze on it.
Semi-involved? Where did that come from? I ended it with Eric in no uncertain terms. He’s fallen off the grid. It’s for the best. The way I want it.
Once my makeup is applied, I blow out my hair straight. It doesn’t look too bad with only the layers and not curled. The curls do add flirtiness to the style, but it’s not like I’m looking to be flirty tonight.
I continue to primp in front of the mirror until my Uber app dings. I grab my clutch from the bed and hurry toward the front door.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Willow
NERVOUSNESS RETURNS TO MY stomach as my driver takes me toward the El Encanto Hotel. My anxiety has returned full force, and I realize the moments of calm I felt while dressing were the eye of the storm.
Only it’s not Dean and his impending announcement causing my apprehension, my dimming mood. And it’s not Dean who is the storm I’ve been living inside for too many years. It’s Eric, my feelings for him, and I can no longer ignore that reality.
There’s so much roiling inside me that I need to think through, but the journey is too short. There’s the party ahead to get through. Later, I’ll figure out this conundrum that’s me and Eric.
I stare pensively out the window, the buildings passing in a blur. My lids drift closed, and inside my head Eric gazes at me, his eyes bright and unguarded, filled with longing and hope. His mouth—I remember it on me. Everywhere. His low, husky voice in my ear as he made love to me. My skin heats. I shift uncomfortably on the seat and frown.
The space beside me on the back seat feels poignantly empty. It’s been a long time since there’s been someone in that spot, only it’s never felt this empty.
“Looks like there’s some kind of major event going on here tonight,” the driver remarks, causing me to open my eyes. “Is that what you’re dressed up for?”
Major event? My sister’s anniversary party is hardly that, even if Jade likes to think of her social status in Seattle as more than it is.
“A private anniversary party on the rooftop,” I respond automatically, and I can see the driver’s disappointed by my answer.
From his expression, I think he was hoping it was someone famous. Though the number of cars—limos and high-priced luxury vehicles—waiting to pull up to the front of the hotel reminds me that Jade isn’t one of the Birch girls from Capitol Hill anymore. She’s climbed out, gotten away, and has her happy ending.
I shake my head, confused. I’m the closest I’ve ever been to envious of her, not over the money but rather how Gary loves her. I never thought he’d make her as happy as he has, and I’m glad for my sister even if it hurts a little.
The car pulls up to the entrance and the valet hurries to open the door for me.
“Good evening,” he says as I clamber out.
I’m not sure how to get to the roof, though I’m confident it’s not via a staff elevator the way Eric took me. “I’m here for the Howard party.”
“Inside. Left hallway from the lobby. Gold elevator.” He shadows me as I move toward the building and has the door opened and waiting for me by the time I’m there.
Inside the lobby, I stop, and for a moment my mind drifts away with my memories. It’s all exactly as I remember. The gold and crystal chandeliers, the white marble floors, the garish and expensive furnishings, and the large fountain in the center.
I used to stay here with my family…my throat convulses.
It was stupid not to think anything of that, not to have my suspicions of Eric stirred. This isn’t the kind of place someone just stays. Did I miss it because I was young and didn’t know any better, or because I wanted to?
There’s a woman standing in the center of the room, dressed in a black A-line dress, reserved smile on her red lips, and when I meet her gaze she gestures toward the left. I guess from my outfit and how I’m standing here staring that she’s determined I’m a party guest.
As I move past her, she says, “Good evening, ma’am. The Howard party is on the roof.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, continuing briskly on my way.
I’m inside the elevator and realize it’s a far cry from the service conveyance I rode with Eric. It’s more than double the size with spotless mirrored walls edged in gold, with a formally dressed attendant at the panel with a security card.
There a ding and the doors open.
Cold air tickles my cheeks as sound floods my senses. I glance around, my heart ticking faster each passing second. There are white lights twinkling everywhere, like a thousand stars fell from the sky onto the roof, and in all directions in front of me there are people.
I take a moment to compose myself, my gaze roaming the gardens, and all of a sudden, strangely, it feels like it was only a minute ago I was here with him. There, beneath the wood awning where there is now a bar, was a double chaise. And again, an image flits inside my head of how Eric smiled staring down at me as I lay there.
On the far side of the roof against the wall, a short flight of steps lower than the main floor, there’s a band and a dance floor designed to look like a sand island that stretches until it covers the pool. Instead of loungers invitingly placed amid the decorative bridges, rock and sand gardens, and manicured shrubs and potted small trees of pine and cherry, there are tables with white linen, small stone lanterns, and illuminated water basins.
As breathtaking as it is, as magical as it is at night, I preferred it in the daylight awash in only quiet and him.
The attendant gestures with his arm. “Have a good evening, ma’am.” The smile on his face is one of politeness, but I can feel he’s wondering why I haven’t stepped off his elevator.
I flush. “Thank you.”
When the metal doors behind me close, blocking any thought of escape, my tension grows. It’s harder than I thought it would be braving this alone. But it never registered to me that Jade’s anniversary party, even knowing where it was, would be this.
Hundreds of people I don’t know.
Or that the finale of my failed past with Dean would happen in this beautiful setting that holds a place in my heart and memories belonging to another man.
“WILLOW!”
Jade comes barreling through a throng of people and I breathe a sigh of relief.
She’s wearing a stunning coral dress, her red hair a cloud of curls around her delicate face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look more beautiful, and for sure I’ve never been happier to see her.
She enfolds me in her arms, hugging me hard. “I’m so glad you’re finally here,” she whispers in my ear before kissing my cheek. “I was starting to worry you weren’t coming.”
“And miss this? Truly, Jade, it’s spectacular.”
She beams. “The hotel staff did do a remarkable job. I’m sure there’ll be more than one picture on Sunday’s society page. Do I look presentable?”
I refrain from rolling my eyes and smile at my sister. “You look gorgeous, Jade. You always do, but tonight you’re glowing. Happy anniversary. You and Gary are a terrific couple and you’re going to have only happy years ahead.”
She nods, l
ifting her chin in her proud way, and loops her arm through mine as she gazes out across the garden. “I’m deliriously happy with Gary. And this is everything we worked so hard for, isn’t it? Wonderful friends, family, and beautiful moments.”
I nod, but I have to hold myself together. Her happiness is like quicksand for my heavy heart.
“There are bars all through the room,” she gushes, “and a buffet one landing above. I saw Ivy earlier here somewhere. And for some reason—” Her rapid words halt as she quickly scans the party. “My friend hasn’t arrived yet, or I’d introduce you to him. That’ll have to wait until later. The toasts are about to start. First Gary, then—yuck—Dean. Grab a drink, dear, and some food. Our table’s over there by the dance floor. I need to get back to my guests.”
As she rushes from me, she’s quickly swallowed up by a circle of women. I don’t recognize any of them, but it doesn’t surprise me. Unlike me, my sister’s always been very popular with other women.
That drags me back to the dilemma of being at a party where I know practically no one. I can also see that everyone’s paired up like Noah’s Ark. Jade’s circle of friends is nothing but couples, probably in an effort to minimize single women having access to Gary. Jade knows how to get what she wants and hold onto it.
My stomach is jumping too much to eat, so I decide to head for the bar beneath the awning. It’s on the fringe of the action and dark. A safe place to hang back and watch the toasts. Maybe no one will notice me hovering there alone, feeling awkward and out of place, the lone divorced woman, I’m sure, on Jade’s guest list.
Since when did not being with someone at a party become so uncomfortable? I wonder, carefully navigating the stairs in my heels. It was never an issue before. Why does it feel so odd tonight? Why do I feel restless and alone? I’ve been alone two years, and if I’m honest and include the years I was married to Dean, it’s longer than that. But it’s never felt this way before.
I order an Absolut martini—one of my rare indulgences, though tonight I suspect it might be frequent—and as I turn from the bar with my glass, my gaze lands on Dean.