by T. K. Leigh
“And that’s Imogene Joyce,” Sadie says under her breath as we sit at the same table a while later. Julian and Christopher excused themselves earlier. I haven’t seen them in over an hour. At least they left me in good hands. Sadie seems to know the dirt on everyone. And being the Hamptons, there’s more dirt than usual. “She claims to be James Joyce’s great-niece or some shit.”
“Is she?”
Sadie shrugs. “Who knows? One can never be too sure of anything around here. People constantly say whatever they need in order to secure an invitation to the next big social event, or to make someone jealous, or to appear better than someone else. Hell, if you wanted, you could say you were a distant relative of F. Scott Fitzgerald and people would probably believe it. You’ll soon learn that everything out here is a façade. Nothing is real. It’s all for show. The smiles. The clothes. The houses. It’s all a competition, a game we play every summer to see whose dick is the biggest.”
“Then why do you come year after year?”
As she relaxes back in her chair, she crosses her legs. “It’s too entertaining a show to miss. Not to mention it’s good for Chris to network, considering he works in wealth management. Plus, Julian asked me to hang out this summer, as a favor to him.”
“He did?” I furrow my brow.
“Yes.” She smiles warmly. “He didn’t want you to feel lonely. Thought you could use a little female camaraderie.” She’s silent for a moment. “He’s a good guy. A really good guy. Loyal to a fault. Caring. If you have a problem, he’ll do whatever he can to help you, regardless of what he has going on in his own life at the moment. He may look like he’s this tough bad ass, and he’s definitely perfected the mystery man persona he seems to exude, but to those of us who know the real Julian Gage…” She reaches across the table and clutches my hand in hers. “Well, you’ve hit the jackpot because there’s no one better.” She pulls back. “Well, except Christopher, but Julian comes in a very close second.”
She winks as she sips on her drink. It warms my heart to hear someone talk about Julian with so much affection. It solidifies my original assessment of him. He truly is a good guy, not the playboy con artist some would have me believe.
“And I’m so glad he’s finally met someone who makes him happy.”
“That’s all I want.” I force a smile. “To make Julian happy.”
It’s not a complete lie. I do want to make Julian happy. If I didn’t care about him, I wouldn’t be giving up my weekends to be his proverbial arm candy, as ridiculous as the idea of me being anyone’s arm candy sounds, especially when I’m surrounded by several women who actually are models and only here to be some rich guy’s arm candy for the night.
“And this may be the alcohol talking,” she continues, her voice slurring more and more with every word she speaks, “but I think you could be the one. Ever since I was a little girl, I had these…feelings about people. Like I could see a couple and know instantly if they were made to last. And you and Julian…” She slowly nods, waggling her brows. “You two are made to last. I saw the way he looked at you. That man could not take his eyes off you.” Her playful expression grows serious. “Every woman deserves to find a man who looks at them the way he does you.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek as I lower my head, a blush blooming on my face, wishing I could tell her it’s all fake, but I can’t.
“And every man deserves to find a woman who looks at him the way you do Julian,” she finishes. “It seems I’ve been waiting for him to find a girl for years, at least someone who’s more than a passing fling.” She reaches for my hand and squeezes it again. “I’m so glad he found you.”
“Me, too,” I whisper, wishing I’d met her somewhere else. I could see us being real friends. I could see her joining Nora, Chloe, and me at our Thursday evening get-togethers. I could see her dropping whatever she has going on when one of us has an emergency. But that won’t be possible, an unfortunate side effect of this arrangement I hadn’t anticipated.
Needing to cut through the growing tension, I lift my eyes back to the growing crowd of people swarming around the pool, dancing as if the world is watching. In a way, I suppose the world is watching.
“So…who else do you have dirt on?”
“Everyone.”
After draining her drink, she sets the glass back onto the table and scoots her chair even closer to mine, continuing to give me the rundown on the who’s who in the Hamptons. Every so often, a few women approach, fabricated smiles on their faces as they hug Sadie, claiming it’s good to see her. Then their disdainful stares settle on me. It doesn’t take a genius to conclude that they know who I am. They probably came to talk to Sadie as a pretense to getting a closer look at Julian Gage’s girlfriend.
“You should write a book,” I joke after a while of soaking in the stories she’s relayed. I used to watch soap operas during high school and college, thinking the plot lines were far-fetched. Or so I thought. These people have proved that soap operas aren’t as ridiculous as I presumed. Secret babies. Amnesia. Arranged marriages. Mistaken identity. Faked deaths. It’s all here, and then some.
“The thought’s crossed my mind. I doubt anyone would actually believe any of the stuff is plausible. It all sounds crazy, don’t you think?”
“Before today, I would have thought the same thing. Now I get the feeling the stories you’ve shared are only the tip of the iceberg.”
“Oh, honey. You have no idea.”
We both laugh and I finish the rest of my manhattan, standing up. “I’m going to get another drink. Want one?”
“Sure. Would you like me to come with you?”
“Nah. You stay here so we don’t lose our table. We’ve secured a prime piece of real estate to people-watch.” With a wink, I spin from her, squeezing through the throngs of people to make my way to the bar, ignoring the stares as I do.
Now that the party’s in full force, the bar is much busier than when we first arrived. While I wait to place my order, I scan the pool area, amazed that this kind of party is an everyday occurrence here. Most people would plan all year to throw a celebration of this magnitude. Here, it’s just Wednesday.
As I continue soaking in the atmosphere, I stiffen when I see a familiar face a few yards away. My heart drops to my stomach as he wraps his arm around a petite woman’s waist before raising a scotch to his lips. Lips I once kissed. Lips that once told me how much he loved me. Lips I used to make smile daily. I’m no longer the reason they smile. The woman at his side is.
He leans down and kisses her forehead, bringing her even closer, as if he can’t stand to be any farther from her than necessary. An ache builds in my throat, in my limbs, in my soul as I’m forced to witness their exchange. Sensing my stare, Trevor flicks his eyes in my direction. When he sees me, he flinches, his muscles growing taut.
I remain frozen in place, dumbstruck, unsure what I’m supposed to do. I should have anticipated running into them, considering Julian did mention Theresa is a friend of his neighbor. I just didn’t expect to come face-to-face with them at my first party. Based on the confusion covering Trevor’s brow, he didn’t anticipate this, either.
Just then, an arm snakes around my waist and I snap my head up, meeting Julian’s concerned gaze.
“Guinevere?”
I blink, wishing something as simple as a kiss didn’t have this effect on me. But we were together twelve years. How can I just forget that? I’m on a see-saw. One minute, I want to write off Trevor. The next, I want him to tell me he’s made a mistake.
“Are you okay?”
With a quick nod, I avert my eyes, hiding the emotions coming to the surface. But Julian won’t let me, grabbing my chin and tilting my head back.
“He’s a fool,” he whispers, leaning toward me.
“He looks happy, doesn’t he?”
“So what if he does?”
I pull my lips between my teeth to stop my chin from quivering, trying to avoid making a scene in front of all these people…an
d Trevor.
“Because I’m supposed to be the one who makes him happy. That’s always been my job. How can he—”
“Like I said, he’s a fool. You make me happy,” he offers in consolation.
I lower my voice to barely above a whisper. “But it’s not real.”
“My happiness when I’m with you? It’s more real than anything I’ve felt in a long time, even if the rest of this is only for show. And I want you to be happy, too. So tell me what it’ll take to make you happy, and I’ll do it.”
I laugh as I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “A dartboard with Theresa’s face on it.”
“Consider it done,” he responds in a lively voice. “Would you like another with Trevor’s face? Or perhaps a punching bag?”
“I certainly wouldn’t send it back.” I wipe the few tears from my eyes. It’s surprising how quickly Julian can make me smile, even when facing heartbreak.
“Good.”
I peer into his eyes, his compassion seeming to mend the rips caused by Trevor. “Thank you.”
When he brings his hand to my face, rubbing his thumb under my eye to erase one last tear, a shiver trickles through me, my sadness and despair turning into something else.
“I don’t care what it takes. I want to show you that you deserve more than he gave you. No woman deserves to be with someone who doesn’t appreciate them. And Trevor didn’t appreciate you, not if he broke up with you because you no longer fit into his idea of perfection. You deserve someone who will appreciate you. Never settle for anything less. Okay?”
“It’s not as easy as you make it sound, not after twelve years.”
“I know. But with time, it will be.”
I nod, unsure if I like the idea of getting over Trevor. Since I was eighteen, he’s been a part of me. It’s hard to picture life without him. Divorced couples must go through this, still sleeping on the same side of the bed, even though the other person’s no longer there. Still sitting in the same chair at the dining room table, even though you now have your choice. Still using the same bathroom sink to brush your teeth, even though they’re both now yours.
Feeling another crack in my armor, I look back at Julian. “I need to use the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.” I go to turn from him, but he grabs my arm, stopping me, forcing me to face him once more.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I insist. Sensing curious eyes watching us, I place my hand on his chest, then raise myself onto my toes, inching toward his neck. “Never better,” I murmur. When my lips touch his cheek, he inhales a sharp breath.
All afternoon, we’ve shared more than a few sensual touches — a brush of his hand on my leg, a finger smoothing an unruly wave behind my ear, his hand intertwining with mine. But there’s been nothing more. Until now. In fact, I’ve never had the pleasure of experiencing the warmth of his skin on my lips, the scruff from his unshaven jaw harsh and piercing, but invigorating at the same time. I didn’t think I’d like it, considering Trevor always kept his jawline smooth. But something about Julian’s two-day beard stirs me to life, replacing my despair with yearning, desire…hope.
When I pull back, Julian’s eyes find mine, both of us powerless to look away. It was only a chaste kiss on the cheek, but in it I felt something I hadn’t in a long time…a spark. Based on the bewilderment in his expression, I surmise he felt it, too.
“Bathroom,” he says, finally finding his voice, snapping me out of my daydream.
“Right. Bathroom.” I peer at him for a few more seconds, then spin from him, trying with everything to regain my composure.
As I’m about to duck into the house, I glance over my shoulder, a jolt of electricity coursing through me when I notice Julian’s eyes glued to my body. In that moment, I don’t even notice Trevor standing just a few feet away. Maybe this is why Julian walked into my life. Not to take Trevor’s place, but to help mend my heart so I can move on. Maybe Chloe was onto something when she formulated her motto, “You live. You learn. You upgrade.” Perhaps Julian is my chance to upgrade, even if for just a few months.
Feeling hopefully optimistic, I continue into the house, navigating the long corridors to the guest bathroom, which is just as spacious and luxurious as the rest of the house. To my surprise, there’s no line. I step inside, allowing myself a minute to breathe for the first time all afternoon.
Once I’m refreshed and ready to face the party, I walk back through the stunning home. I didn’t have a chance to truly admire its beauty when I first arrived, but now that I’m alone, I take a moment to soak up my surroundings. While Julian’s house is impressive, this place makes it look like a shack. High, decorative ceilings. Crown molding. Furniture that looks like it’s merely for show. Artwork. Sculptures. Fountains. I feel like I’m in a museum, not a person’s home.
As I reach the ornate living room, my eyes focus on a painting hanging on the far wall. From the limited exposure I’ve had to art, it appears to be impressionist. Broad brushstrokes and muted colors. I step toward it to get a better look.
“Do you like art?” a voice inquires.
I whirl around to see a man I estimate to be in his forties approach. He has a touch of silver in his beard, making him look distinguished. He has a full head of dark hair and mesmerizing gray eyes I’d recognize anywhere.
“Holy crap,” I say, covering my heart with my hand. “You’re Ethan Ludlow.”
“Guilty as charged.” He winks, approaching me. “And you must be the lovely Guinevere I’ve been hearing about all afternoon.”
“Trust me, I doubt anything you’ve heard is true.”
“Not much you hear about in the Hamptons is.” He leans against the wall, crossing his arms. “But it’s not all bad. And it’s not all lies. I can now confirm a few things with my own eyes.”
“And what’s that?” I smooth a strand of hair behind my ear, trying not to freak out over the idea that I’m standing here, having a casual conversation with Ethan Ludlow, child actor who rose to fame playing on one of the longest-running sitcoms in the 80s. He had a leading role in a few movies during his teens and twenties, then decided to try his hand directing and producing. The movies with his name attached are some of the most popular ones out there. And I’m standing next to him. I want to pinch myself to make sure this is real.
“You have some incredible…assets.” He waggles his brows and a chill instantly envelopes me as he advances. The stench of alcohol wafts from his breath, and I back up as my heart drops to the pit of my stomach.
I grit out a smile, brushing him off as Sadie’s warning about this kind of thing plays in my head. While there are some good guys here, a lot of them think their overflowing bank accounts allow them to have anything they want. They don’t realize there are things in this world that can’t be bought. And what they can’t buy, they simply take.
“I suppose they could be saying much worse. If you’ll excuse me, I should be getting back to the party.”
“I heard you’re a writer for a magazine,” he says, preventing my retreat. “I’m always interested in meeting new writers to see what kind of ideas they have. Ever consider working in the film industry?” He leers at me.
I wish I had more than this flimsy coverup on. Every time Julian had stolen a glance, he gazed at me in a way that made me feel like the most beautiful woman around. This guy makes me feel like I’m a piece of meat. Is that how he looks at every woman?
“I’m happy at the magazine.” I attempt to sidestep him, but he mirrors my movement, blocking me again.
“Come now. There’s a vast difference between working for a women’s magazine and working on a script for the next blockbuster. Who wouldn’t want to be involved in something like that? People would kill to be in your shoes right now.” He closes the distance, the heat of his breath like the blade of thousands of knives. “In more ways than one.”
I swallow down the bile rising in my throat, unable to believe this is actually how Ethan Ludlow behaves. G
rowing up, he had the persona of being a wholesome kid from a great family. Hell, he’s married to Sonia Moreno. They’re the Hollywood power couple. Why would he be hitting on me when he has someone as stunning as Sonia at home?
“Like I said…” I attempt to mask the tremor in my voice, peering over his shoulder in the hopes of finding a familiar face. Unfortunately, no one here is familiar. “I’m happy at the magazine.”
When he places his hand against the wall, I duck underneath it, walking as fast as my legs can carry me. I only make it a few feet before a pair of arms wrap tightly around me, pulling me against a hard body. Instinct kicks in and I struggle, thinking it’s Ethan. But it’s not, the arms holding me warm and familiar. When I look up, I stare into Julian’s frantic and concerned eyes. He rakes his gaze over me, trying to figure out what has me so rattled. Then he glares over my shoulder, every muscle in his body tensing.
“Julian,” Ethan says as he approaches. Julian’s protective grip tightens around me. “Good to see you again. I was just getting to know your girlfriend here.” He continues past us, smirking, holding his head high and acting as if he can do whatever he wants. “I’m looking forward to getting to know her even better over the next few months.”
Julian doesn’t utter a single word, staring him down until he disappears through the living room. Once he’s out of view, Julian returns his attention to me, scanning my body for any hint of harm.
“Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” His voice sounds frenzied, desperate.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “He’s just like every other asshole here who thinks they can treat women like property.”
“Except for me.”
I open my mouth to agree, but he is using me as a pawn in whatever game he’s playing.
“Except for me,” he repeats, this time firmer. “Right?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I push away from him, but he’s in front of me before I can return to the party.
“It does, Guinevere. It matters to me. I don’t…” He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at it.
“It’s okay, Julian.” I cup his cheek, offering him a comforting smile as I lower my voice so no one overhears. “I knew what I was getting into when I signed up for this. We’re both using each other. We’re both pawns in this game. Nothing more.”