One Week in Paris

by Roya Carmen

  “Nice to meet you,” Mark offers with his trademark smile, the kind of smile that could sell anything to anyone.

  “There’s lots of food,” Mom says. “Help yourselves. We need to go mingle.”

  And off they go.

  I spot Gabbie and Eli in the corner, helping themselves to appetizers from the caterer’s table. Gabbie looks amazing in a silky red dress, her small pregnant belly rounding out. She looks healthy and happy. Eli’s smile is almost blinding. Corrie’s right when she says they’re a little sickening.

  Oscar grabs my hand. “Let’s go say hi to your friends.”

  Gabbie and I share a long hug, the kind reserved for close friends. The boys shake hands and get into a bit of boy talk. We chit chat about everything and nothing.

  A smile traces Gabbie’s lips. “Looks like Corrie is late again.”

  “Business as usual, I guess,” I say and I notice Oscar’s gaze darting around the room. “Who are you looking for?” I ask him.

  “I’m looking for dickwad. I want to meet the jerk.”

  “That’s probably not a great idea.”

  “You want something from the apps table?” he asks. “I know what you like. I can get you something while you catch up with your friends.”

  I smile up at him. “Sure. Thanks.”

  As soon as he’s gone, Gabbie nudges me in the ribs. “He’s a sweetheart, that one.”

  I smile. “He is.” And good in bed too.

  We chat about Gabbie’s kids and the nursery she’s decorating. She’s expecting a girl. When Oscar gets back with my food, I practically scarf it down. I’m famished. This party is an after dinner cocktails affair, and I haven’t had dinner at all — too busy having sex and getting ready. Also way too nervous to cook and eat a proper dinner.

  I’ve just popped in a cracker with gruyere cheese and prosciutto in my mouth when Matt startles me. “Kayla,” he cheers. He’s bright eyed and seems happy to see me. “So nice to see you again.”

  My mouth is full, and I can’t utter a word. I shoot my free hand out for a handshake. He squeezes it and leans in for an awkward hug.

  Oscar finally clues in and assesses him carefully, from head to toe. A scowl traces his brow and his eyes roll back. This is an expression I don’t often see on him. He offers his hand. “Oscar Cohen,” he deadpans.

  “Matt Moore,” Matt says. “I’m sorry… you are?”

  “I’m Kayla’s special friend,” he tells him with a playful smirk.

  I take a step closer. “He’s my boyfriend, actually.”

  Oscar grins and pulls a face but says nothing.

  “Oh…” Matt says, seemingly caught off guard, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that disappointment crosses his features, just for a second or two.

  “Well, you’re a lucky guy, Oscar. Kayla is quite the woman.”

  “A tough life makes for a stronger person, they say,” Oscar says, his tone business-like.

  Matt eyes Oscar suspiciously. “Uh… it does.”

  “You seem like the kind of guy who’s had a pretty easy life,” Oscar adds. “According to the theory, that makes you weak.”

  Matt cocks a brow. “Well, I suppose I have, if truth be told. How ‘bout you, Oscar? Have you had an easy life?”

  “No actually, I haven’t,” Oscar says, dead serious. “I’ve suffered. I’ve seen my whole life fall apart.”

  I inch closer, confused. What the hell is he talking about? I’m not sure if he’s kidding or not. Oscar’s had a Leave it to Beaver life — perfect family, perfect house, friends, summers spent camping. He’s bullshitting Matt.

  Matt is speechless for a beat, but recovers quickly enough. “I’m sorry to hear that, Oscar. I guess we all have things in our pasts we’d rather forget,” he adds, and his gaze lingers on mine. My heart speeds to a jog, and his baby blues hold me captive for a second or two.

  “Hey, everyone,” Corrie cheers. She’s wearing the most fabulous sparkly silver dress and already has a cocktail in her hand. I’d been so engrossed in Oscar’s and Matt’s discussion, I didn’t even notice her come in.

  We hug like junior high girls at camp, and she whispers in my ear, “Who’s the hottie?” I turn to look in the direction her eyes are pointing at. Ugh…

  “That’s Matt,” I tell her. “My future brother.”

  A wicked smile spreads across her face. “Oh, that’s too bad. I guess he’s off limits… that would be incest.”

  I laugh out loud, and it comes out as a cackle. I quickly cover my mouth.

  “So he’s available?” she inquires.

  “He’s bad news, Corrie,” I warn her. “Total ass.” Corrie knows nothing about my Whaley Wilson days — none of my friends do.

  She pouts. “What a shame.”

  I watch Matt and try to see him from her point of view. He’s chatting up a small elderly lady — she’s smitten as a bored housewife looking for a little excitement. He’s tall and lean in the most fabulous suit I’ve ever seen. His dirty blond hair is slicked back, and a five-o-clock shadow traces the edges of his strong jaw. But it’s those eyes, those husky dog eyes. Lethal.

  I shake my head. Why couldn’t he have gone bald, and gained a hundred pounds. I would have loved that.

  He ruins my existence, and still gets to be successful, attractive, and have a great life. It doesn’t seem fair. Where’s karma when you need her?

  “So where’s the lucky couple?” Corrie asks. “I haven’t seen your mom. I’m dying to see what she’s wearing. She’s always so fashion-forward.”

  I laugh. “Oh, she’s wearing a white pant suit with a deep V cut at the front. Completely age-inappropriate.”

  “That sounds like your mom.”

  Yep, my mother has always been super slim and delicate, and she can get away with wearing anything, even at her age. I’ve always taken after my dad, a little fuller, curvier. I could never get away with a deep V cut décolletage — my boobs would join the party, invited or not.

  And to top it off, Sarah is the spitting image of Mom. I suppose this could have had a little something to do with my eating disorder. That and my dad’s constant teasing. I guess it’s not really fair to blame it all on Matt.

  “Oh, there she is,” Corrie says and abandons me. I take the opportunity to raid the apps table again. I watch them in the distance. My mother hugs her tightly, and then she introduces her to Mark. They exchange a stiff handshake. I can’t wait for Corrie’s assessment of the very charming Mark Moore. I pop an olive in my mouth and scan the room. Oscar is chatting up Gabbie and Eli. Matt is just getting away from an elderly gentleman. He spots me and flashes me a smile.

  A playful grin traces his lips as he closes the distance between us. “You look even more amazing tonight than you did the last time I saw you.”

  “Thank you. Although last time you saw me, I was wearing a parka and was covered from head to toe.”

  “Oh, yes. The famous dead battery incident. I’ll never live that one down, will I? I’m still recovering from the shame.”

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “So how have you been?” he asks. “Are you looking forward to Paris?”

  “Very much,” I admit. “You?”

  “Very much too,” he says. “Especially the part where I get to take you out to dinner.”

  I blush. I actually blush. My brain seems to have amnesia.

  “To old friends,” Oscar cheers and lifts his glass. He’s mildly intoxicated. I wonder how he could get wasted so quickly, and then I remember the beers he downed at my place. Looks like I’m driving again. I hardly ever drink so I’m always the designated driver — I’m used to it.

  “To old friends,” Oscar repeats, just in case we didn’t hear him the first time. “To old friends who treat us like shit, and then act as if everything’s all good and dandy,” he says in a very ordinary party chat voice, not boorish or too loud, just very matter-of-fact.

  My pulse quickens. “Oscar,” I whisper and grab his bee
r. “I think you’ve had enough.”

  Oscar is acting so strange tonight. It’s not like him at all to drink that much, and it’s not like him to be confrontational. He’s usually so nice to everyone. I barely recognize him tonight. Could it be jealousy? Could he be jealous of Matt Moore? Crazy.

  “So I hear you work at your dad’s firm,” Oscar goes on.

  “You hear right,” Matt says.

  “I bet it was real hard work getting that job.” He smirks. “But I’m sure you deserved it.”

  Matt is at a loss for words. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that Oscar’s being a complete jerk.

  “How can you even talk to her?” Oscar asks. “After all you put her through? How do you dare?”

  “Well, Kayla and—”

  A blush creeps along my cheeks. I want to say something, but I’m stunned speechless.

  “You two were best friends and then you turned on her and made her life hell,” Oscar plows on. There’s so much rage in his eyes — I have never seen him like this. “Do you have any idea what you put her through?”

  “I was a kid—”

  “Oh, you were a kid,” Oscar sneers, cutting him off. “That’s a valid excuse, is it?”

  I want to crawl under the table and hide. I want to be anywhere but here. I hide behind a strand of my hair and check my surroundings — thankfully, no one seems to have noticed us.

  “You know how messed up she was… for years? You realize what could have happened? What if she killed herself over you?”

  Matt’s jaw drops. “She wouldn’t—”

  “How do you know that? Did you ever, even once in your life, stop to consider her feelings, Matt Moore?”

  I grab a tight hold of Oscar’s arm. “That’s enough.” With all my strength, I drag him away from Matt.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I snap. “What’s gotten into you?”

  He stares down at the floor. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” his words trail off.

  Is he jealous? Oscar is not really the jealous type. If he were, we could never be in this friends-with-benefits arrangement. No, there’s more to it. I’m convinced. “It’s just what?” I ask sweetly.

  His gaze finds mine, and for a moment, he seems so vulnerable, I just want to take him in my arms and hold him.

  “Kayla,” Corrie whispers. “I need to talk to you.”

  Can she not see that Oscar and I are in the middle of something? I’m mildly annoyed when I ask her if it can wait.

  She pulls at my arm. “Nope, it can’t.”

  I turn to Oscar. “I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.”

  Corrie leads me toward the hall outside the grand room. I wonder what’s up. It could be something completely trivial. Corrie can be such a drama queen sometimes — everything is a crisis.

  As soon as we’re out of everyone’s sight, she pulls me to her, so close I can smell her trademark scent — Happy by Clinique. “I’ve met Mark before,” she tells me.

  “Oh, really?”

  “Well, he and Jacob run in the same circles,” she points out.

  I consider this for a moment. Yes, Jacob is also a lawyer, and works in commercial law.

  “We’ve met once or twice at parties,” she goes on, “back when he was married. I can’t believe the guy. He just acted like we’ve never met before, like I was crazy or something.”

  “What? Why?” I’m so confused — she’s not speaking fast enough. “Tell me, Corrie.”

  12

  “THE GUY IS A TOTAL WOMANIZER,” Corrie tells me. “He’s got mistresses in every state. Everyone in the industry knows about him. ”

  My stomach drops. I feel sick.

  “There was even a lawsuit or two. And more payouts than you can wave your hand at. That’s the main reason the guy’s divorced. Apparently, the ex-wife made out with a lot of money. Has he asked your mom to sign a prenup?”

  “Yes, well that’s standard, isn’t it?”

  Corrie shakes her head. “Not really.”

  “Are you really sure?” I ask, not wanting to believe a word. If she’s putting me on, I will kill her. Corrie likes to mess with people occasionally, and she sometimes goes too far.

  “Positive,” she says. “The man’s a legend. I’m not messing with you, Kayla. I wouldn’t do that.”

  God, my poor mother. This is going to destroy her.

  Corrie takes me in her arms. “I’m sorry. I like your mom. She doesn’t deserve this.”

  I pull from her. “What am I going to do?”

  She winces. “I don’t know… but we should do something. She can’t marry him.”

  I glance over at my mother. She’s standing close to Mark, an arm entwined in his. He’s busy charming yet another woman, our old neighbor, Matilda. Matilda used to babysit Sarah and I all the time. She might be about eighty-years old, but she cannot escape his charms. She’s smiling wide, and so is my mom.

  I’m going to need to speak to her, to tell her the truth. I hate this.

  She twirls for me. The silky black fabric sways and shines under the warm lights of the lingerie store. “What do you think of this one?”

  Seeing my mother in a teddy is not my idea of a fun Monday afternoon, but the woman loves shopping and that’s where she’s happiest. I figured I might as well pick her happy place to drop the bad news. Although, she is wearing a teddy intended for a sexy night with him.

  She looks amazing. She always does. “It looks great, Mom. They all do. Listen…”

  I can’t do this.

  She stares at her reflection, a smile on her face. She’s glowing. “It’s expensive, but it’ll be worth it.”

  I need to tell her before she wastes more money. “Listen, Mom… I need to talk to you about something important.”

  She turns to me. She’s not perfect, but through all the years, my mother has always listened. “Is it Oscar?” she asks. “Is it Matt? I saw you two talking at the party. Is he treating you badly again? Because if he is—”

  “No, it’s not them…” My heart sinks. “It’s Mark.”

  Her eyes grow wide. “What about Mark?”

  Just like I was taught as a child, when we went to the lake every summer, I jump right in. “Corrie knows him. He and Jacob run in the same circles, both being lawyers and all. And it’s not good, Mom. It’s not good at all.”

  Her face falls. She suddenly looks so fragile and delicate, her skin alabaster white against the stark black of her negligee. “What do you mean?”

  “She says he’s a known womanizer. Apparently, there’s been sexual harassment suits brought against him. It’s the reason he got divorced. He has mistresses in every state.”

  “And you believe this ridiculous dribble?” she sneers. “You know Corrie… she likes to play games. Remember that time she set you up with that ridiculous magician… told you he was a dentist, and asked him to play tricks on you.”

  I smile at the memory. “That was funny and harmless. Corrie is playful, but not mean.”

  “How about that whole scheme she came up with to make Maeve’s fiancé jealous? She broke those two up. Now Maeve is with that fisherman.”

  I’m getting really annoyed. “First off, Maeve’s fiancé was a total jerk. Her new guy is quite an improvement and he’s not a fisherman, he’s a businessman. But that’s neither here nor there. Corrie was just trying to help her.”

  “I don’t believe a word. I refuse to. Mark is a good man. Corrie is just jealous because I’ve got myself a handsome successful man, and her own marriage is falling apart.”

  I shake my head. “I know Corrie comes off as a little brash, and she’s never been your favorite friend of mine, but she’s not vindictive. She’s a good one. She was just trying to help.”

  “Well, I don’t need her help. Now get out of my room. I need to get my clothes back on.”

  I trudge out of the pretty change room, my tail between my legs. That did not go well.

  My mother is stubborn, and if I know her as much as I l
ike to think I do, she’ll be angry at me for a while. Incoming: cold shoulder.

  I text Corrie while I wait for my mom.

  My mom refuses to believe you.

  Her reply is instant, What?! It’s true.

  I know.

  --

  How will we stop it?

  --

  What do you mean? The wedding?

  --

  Yes. We need to do something, or your mom is heading for a huge fall.

  My mother finally reappears, a huge scowl on her face.

  Gotta go. Bye.

  “So, are you buying it?” I ask.

  She heads towards the cashier, ignoring me.

  “The silence treatment has officially started, I see.”

  She sneers at me as she hands the pretty negligee to the cashier.

  “So you’re still buying it?”

  She shoots me another scowl. If looks could kill, she’d be left with only one daughter.

  The cashier gives her a warm wile. “This is beautiful,” she says. “Your husband will love it. Good choice.”

  Mom smiles at her tightly, and doesn’t bother to correct her.

  Fiancé. Not husband. Not if I can help it, anyway.

  We leave the store without a word, and head back to the car. I drop her off at her place.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” I say just before she exits my car quietly.

  “I love you,” I call out as she heads back to her little townhome.

  I feel like shit. We were going to have so much fun in Paris together, and now she’s not even speaking to me. I wish Corrie had never told me.

  I’ve ruined everything.

  I’m painting my toenails when my phone rings. My heart swells, hoping it’s Mom wanting to kiss and make up. My hopes are dashed when I hear Maeve’s voice.

  “So, how is everything with you,” she asks. “Getting ready for Paris?”

  “Yes, it’s be great,” I tell her. “How about you? Got all your outfits picked out?” Maeve is a bit of a fashionista and always wears the best clothes. She and Corrie are similar that way.

  Her voice is not as cheerful as it usually is when she tells me, “That’s the reason I’m calling you actually… I can’t go.”