Chapter 4

4

L IZ

In the afternoon

"Ready?" my mother asks, sliding a jacket on and giving me a quick once over.

I look plain.

I try to look plain.

My hair is pulled into a loose bun at the top of my head, my lashes coated with brown mascara, a faint shade of pink on my lips.

I'm trying to look classy and be invisible at the same time.

It's normal to be dressed up––we're attending a small gathering at Thea's place––and I don't want to look like I just fell out of bed, which is pretty much what happened an hour or so ago, but I also don't want anyone's attention on me.

I wear white pants, a white shirt, a light brown sweater, and matching boots.

My mother likes how I look.

I'm also unusually quiet and have a small backpack draped over my shoulder. It's one of the more fashionable pieces in my wardrobe, not one of the oversized backpacks I wear every time I drag myself to school, work, or gym.

I'm rested and tired at the same time, and I don't feel like talking, my body and my heart at odds.

I had a few good hours of sleep after David left, yet I woke up with a hole in my chest.

I can't believe that only a few hours ago, I couldn't get enough of having sex with him in my bedroom, and that we almost broke the bed at the motel last night, fucking like crazy.

He took all that energy away with him––the storm swirling inside me.

He just grabbed it, tucked it away, and left.

And he was in a rush today when we finished.

I watched him fix his pants, fasten his belt, button up his shirt, shrug his jacket on, and run his fingers through his hair.

He had a blazing smile on his lips that read like satisfaction and, above all, pleasure.

That made everything that followed hard.

I was still sprawled on the bed when he kissed me goodbye and murmured he'd let himself out.

I gave him the spare key.

Yes, I did.

I was so beautifully tired, still basking in the afterglow, and he was so concerned that I wouldn't lock the door behind him that he wanted to make sure the back entrance and front door would be both secured.

He locked the doors as if he were leaving his own house, and then I fell asleep.

It was a good sleep.

What wasn't good was waking up to an empty house.

I thought it was bad that he had made me feel that way––like I was missing him––but I couldn't make myself think about it seriously.

I made peace with it, pushed out of the bed, and got ready. That's why I'm rested and tired at the same time.

As much as I would've loved to use my new car––and let's be honest, brag about it just a little––I took the bus here.

"I look all right," I mumble like I'm still sleeping and garner a curious look from my mother.

"You're in no mood to go, huh?"

"No, no. I am. It's just that these past days have been way too busy for me."

"Tell me about that," she says, flashing a smile.

I wonder what my mother would say if she knew David Moore had given me a car.

She'd probably want to know why he did it, and things would get dicey.

Sighing, she grabs her keys and purse.

"Well, things will settle down, and we'll get back to our old lives. Speaking of that, when do you plan to take your car to the shop?" my mother asks as we enter the garage.

"Soon," I say curtly before opening the door and getting into the car, hoping to avoid the topic altogether.

"You need to take care of it. You can't rely on buses and other people to give you a ride."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it," I say confidently, clutching my phone.

She gives me a double take.

"What's going on?" she asks curiously, slowly stepping on the gas and backing away while I check my phone.

"Nothing."

I slide my phone back into my pocket and lean back in my seat.

She glances at me again before focusing on the road.

"It's Chloe," I say.

"What is it?"

"You know the story. She called me, and I couldn't talk to her. And then I said I'd call her, and I forgot about her and fell asleep. I tried to call her again, and she didn't answer."

"Maybe she's out."

"She's probably out," I say, eager to stop talking about her.

It wasn't my intention not to talk to her, but things kind of slipped out of control.

Everything I said to my mother was true.

Chloe didn't return my calls, and now I wrestle with guilt because I didn't call her when I said I would.

It's not like her to get mad at me for something like this, but I'm still a little nervous.

We're the last guests to arrive at Thea's place.

It's hard to believe a wedding took place here last night. The tent is gone, and the backyard looks impeccable.

The table is set in the dining room, and the patio doors are open. Rain is here. And Dahlia is here. And Eve.

It's mostly us, the girls.

I happen to sit between Rain and Terry, and I do my best not to look half asleep or come off as impolite and too damn quiet.

I am quiet.

I'm so afraid the first words falling from my mouth if Rain had turned to me and asked me if I liked the wedding party would be something like… ‘I had sex with David Moore in a motel room. And then he gave me some money and a car, and we did a lot of dirty stuff.'

So, to prevent that from happening, I focus on the appetizers and drink a lot of wine.

At some point, my phone rings, and I fish it out of my pocket and quickly run a napkin over my lips.

"Excuse me," I say to no one in particular. "I need to take this."

My mother softly touches my arm.

"Is that Chloe?" she asks, chewing on some eggplant parmigiana.

"Yes. It's her."

I grab my glass of wine and spin around.

"You can go into the reading room," Thea says, and I smile, thank her, and swiftly head in that direction.

The women's voices fade into the background while I answer the video call and pin my stare on my friend.

"Were where you?" I ask.

She shifts her focus to me, a smile on her face.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm sorry about last night."

I give her an apology and a lengthy explanation about why I couldn't call her.

"You fell asleep?" she asks.

"Yes."

She searches my eyes, an amused expression on her face.

"You're getting old."

"I'm not old," I retort, laughing and pushing the door to the reading room open with my shoulder.

The room is lit, and the temperature is pleasant.

Looking around, I notice a fireplace, the burning logs scenting the air with a hint of smoke.

"Is this Thea's place?"

"Uh-huh."

I take a sip of wine, set my drink down, and plop myself on the couch.

"It's nice, isn't it?"

I move the camera around so she can get a glimpse of the interior.

"Yes, it is."

"You shouldn't have left," I say. "And by the way, that man wasn't even amongst the guests."

Her smile melts off.

"He wasn't?"

"Nope. I didn't see him. There was no need to change your plans because of him."

Looking down, she hides her expression.

Why is that man so important to her?

It makes no sense to me, but if she's not willing to talk about him, I won't insist for sure.

"It doesn't matter," she says, as if his absence is connected to her in some weird way.

"If you say so."

She brings her gaze to me.

"Have you thought about my idea?" she asks.

"What idea? Oh, that…" I say right away. "No. I'm not coming to Spain," I add, laughing. "I may come visit you, but that would be it."

She shakes her head, a smile beaming on her face.

"Liar."

I laugh.

"I'm not a liar."

"Yes, you are. But okay… All right." She sighs. "You don't know what you're missing."

"What? Cold weather? No, thanks. I have that here."

"We could go out. Have some fun."

"We did that here, and it didn't work that well for either of us."

"You're still celibate?"

I chuckle.

"I'm not celibate. Come on." Warmth spreads across my cheeks. "What about you?"

"What about Keith?" she tosses at me, ignoring my question, a twinge of curiosity flashing through her voice.

"Keith?" My cheeks burn even more. "You remember Keith?"

"How could I forget him?"

"I haven't seen him since that night at the club. But I met a cute valet."

Oops.

At the last moment, I stop myself from bringing my hand to my mouth.

Why did I have to let that out?

I was only trying to make some conversation.

"A valet? As in a parking valet?"

I'm so warm, I want to fan myself. I'd run to the window, open it and get some fresh air if it didn't look suspicious.

Instead, I pick up my drink and take a swig. The alcohol makes me even warmer.

"Yes, a parking valet."

"Huh… Where did you meet a parking valet?"

Swallowing hard, I place the wine down and run my fingers through my hair.

She studies me in silence.

"In the parking lot," I say, not looking at her as she laughs, entertained.

"You crack me up. You met the parking valet in the parking lot. My brain is about to explode as I try to cope with the information overload."

I gesture.

"It was a joke," I say dismissively.

Her silence makes me move my focus to her. She pins an inquisitive stare on my face.

"You actually met this guy," she says quietly.

"Yes, I did. But he was working, and I was… passing by. No, actually, I needed a cab, and he was nice enough to help me get one."

"That's it?"

"That's it," I say, looking straight into her eyes. "I'm giving up on finding a man."

"Why?"

Her voice is tinged with surprise.

"Why would you do that?"

"I want to focus on other stuff."

"Like what…?"

I gesture at her.

"It doesn't matter. It's not about that. It's that I got tired of dealing with bad things."

She waves me off.

"Stop that. Tell me more about this guy. Did he like you?"

I think about Vale for a moment.

"Yes, he did. It was one of those things. Nice guy meets needy girl. Needy girl leaves. Mr. Nice Guy moves on."

"If you say so."

A noise comes from the door, and I shoot my eyes in that direction.

"What's that?" she asks.

"I should probably get back to them. I'm here with Terry."

"Okay. All right. Please keep me updated on your, um, parking valet."

"If you keep me updated on your mystery man."

She cracks a smile.

"There is no mystery man. And besides that, there isn't much to say other than… My move here was probably a mistake."

"Why?"

She shrugs.

"I'm lonely. And I don't get the gist of things. I've made some friends, but things aren't the same. No matter what I do, I can't shake off this feeling that this world is unfamiliar to me, and no matter how many beautiful places I visit, it will never feel like home."

"You're homesick."

She smiles, a hint of sadness sparkling in her eyes.

"Yes, I am."

"Well, maybe you should consider coming back instead of trying to convince me to move over there."

"Yeah… Maybe. We'll see how things go."

We end the call before I finish my drink, push out of my seat, and exit the room.

A door opens to my right, and Rain exits the restroom.

Her hair falls down her back in big waves, a few locks framing her face.

"Things all right?" she asks with a smile.

"Yes, everything is fine."

She wears black pants and a matching tailored blouse, her elegance so effortless and chic.

We walk back, talking about the weather and the wedding, and as we reach the table I remember something about my backpack.

The women are out on the patio, so I take the opportunity to slide my hand into my backpack and pull out a book.

Her gaze dips.

"I hope you don't mind. I knew you'd be here…" I say. "So I took my chance and brought this here to ask you for an autograph," I add, giving her a humble smile.

Pleasant surprise shines through her gaze.

"If I don't mind? Of course I don't mind."

She grabs the book and checks my special edition copy of Owned by L. Carter.

Her book.

Her bestseller book.

A shred of red colors her cheeks.

"No way…" she says, her eyes glinting with a smile. "We only had a few of those in stock," she murmurs. "Where did you get it?" she asks, lifting a curious gaze to me.

"It was a gift."

"A gift?"

Her smile widens.

"From whom?"

"A friend gave it to me," I say, quickly retrieving the pen tucked inside my backpack.

Frankly, this was a last minute idea, and the main reason I dragged myself out of bed and came here.

It wasn't like I didn't want to see Thea.

It was that I found it difficult to go from napping to getting all dressed up and spending my afternoon with my mother, my newlywed cousin, and her friends.

Normally, a newlywed couple would be enjoying their honeymoon at this point, but Thea and Ed aren't just any kind of couple.

They considered several things when they chose to stay here, the most important of which was their kids.

And then Thea's school.

I'm happy that we're all here, but the naughty woman doing naughty things with their family friend––Mr. David Moore––has a mind of her own.

So, to appease her, I promised her I'd get Rain to sign this copy of her bestseller limited edition book.

"Sure," she says and flips the book open.

She graciously scribbles down a few words.

‘To Liz, my dearest friend,'

L. Carter

"Thank you so much," I say enthusiastically. "It's such a beautiful book," I add, sliding the dust jacket off and admiring the golden embossed letters on the hardcover.

Her eyes also tip to the cover, and a flicker of curiosity flits through her gaze. Her stare stalls on the intricate design as if grasping something invisible to me.

All I see is a golden swirl of leaves and flowers outlining the title of the book.

She thoughtfully brushes her fingers over the design while I wait for her to shift her eyes to me, not knowing what to do.

Eventually, she looks at me with a strange look on her face and hands it back to me.

She manages a faint smile, and trying to crush the awkward silence, I open my mouth and speak.

"I read it several times. I find it fascinating."

"Really?" she says, averting her eyes, a secret grin on her face.

She gestures me to the table, and we both claim our seats and nurse the glasses of wine in front of us, the rest of the guests still outside.

"What do you like the most about it?" she asks before taking a sip of wine.

"The fact that it's a brutally honest account of what happened," I gush. "And it's not any kind of story."

Slowly nodding her head, she tips her gaze down with humbleness.

"I was simply lucky," she says before dragging her gaze back to me, and I get this feeling that she looks at me with different eyes.

She seems intrigued and mystified, and I don't know why.

"In what way?" I continue, experiencing unusual discomfort.

She leans back in her chair and shrugs, grinning.

"I didn't know what I was doing…"

Her voice trails off, and I look at her, puzzled.

"Are you talking about the book?"

She seems distracted.

"What else?" she murmurs, focusing on me this time.

Her question feels like a setup, so I keep my mouth shut.

"I knew I wanted to write that story. It begged to be written, and one day, I finally sat down and put it on paper."

"Was it because of him?" I dare to ask.

"Him? You mean David? Or James?"

"Both."

What else can I say?

That I'm solely interested in David?

But she's no dummy––her perception maybe even sharper than mine––yet she doesn't comment on what might motivate my sordid curiosity about her work.

"To answer truthfully, it was all about me. I didn't care how it would sit with everyone else involved in the story."

Inside myself, I applaud her grit and gasp in admiration.

She goes on.

"I wanted to process everything and move on. And I thought to myself, what better way to do that than writing a story?"

She sighs and drinks more wine before setting the half–empty glass on the table.

"I was so naive…" she murmurs, staring blankly at her drink before bringing her eyes to me.

"Can you believe I did those things?" she says softly, having a hard time believing it herself.

There's no good answer to her question, so I remain quiet.

"And then I had the audacity to feel hurt," she says, a soft chuckle peeling off her lips. "After hurting other people."

Something clenches in my chest. It has the bite of apprehension.

"That's why I wrote that book. I wanted to let it all out. Put it out in the open. Remove the possibility of keeping it a secret and allowing it to gnaw at my happiness. It was a selfish thing to do, yet it turned out to be one of the best things I could do. Writing that story felt cathartic, and it helped me make sense of myself, if you know what I mean."

I nod.

"And as I said… It made me realize how fortunate I was. Do you know how difficult it is, or should I say unlikely, not to fall for a man you have chemistry with?"

Her eyes are fiercely connected to mine as if hunting for a reaction while I sit stiff in my seat, not blinking or breathing.

"That was my luck… Not falling in love with two men at the same time. Had I fallen for David, I would've lost both of them."

Interested in the story, I nod a couple of times to encourage her to continue.

"What makes you say that?" I ask when she fails to elaborate.

She flashes a smile.

"Experience. At one point, I was unattainable. Impossible to get. And that's a sweet spot to be in if the two men competing for you are pretty much the same. Fierce and eager to do whatever it takes."

"Was David like that?" I ask, enjoying our little chat and hoping the girls won't come back too soon.

"David…" She breathes a sigh, her smile fading, her gaze trailing down. "David saw me as a trophy. I was never his soulmate, but we clicked. And he was very much enticed by my story. It resonated with him."

"He was married."

Her eyes come to mine.

"Yes, he was. But I didn't know that up until the end. We had never discussed those types of things. It made no sense to do it. And he didn't get a divorce because of me. The rumor was that he had, but he didn't. Well, things weren't that clear for me back then. I was confused and hurt by his wife's allegations. She didn't think highly of me, which was understandable. At any rate, he had an unusual marriage and had his reasons for getting a divorce."

The corners of my mouth slacken.

I wish she had said more about that.

"How come you didn't fall for him?" I ask.

A quiet chuckle falls from her lips.

"I think I made it obvious in my book. I was in love with James, and there was no room for anyone else. And to be fair, David had never opened up to me or laid his soul bare. And I hadn't either. Our story wasn't about that."

I kind of sag in my seat, seeing so much of what she's talking about in my life.

David and I have an understanding, and we do our best not to be more than what we are for each other.

A trickle of disappointment makes its way into my heart. I don't want to feel sad, but I do.

On the other hand, wanting and having more in this constantly evolving relationship scares me to no end.

I'm not ready for serious things.

Who knew?

"The good thing is that you two stayed friends," I say, baiting her with a platitude.

"Yes. You can say that. We've always had each other's backs. That's what James likes about him. He's a man of honor."

I almost choke on air.

"He is?" I screech, prompting her to laugh.

It's a good thing that he is, I suppose.

I somewhat saw that side of him myself. Which makes things even more puzzling.

As if a noncommittal man is not a puzzle in itself, he occasionally becomes the knight in shining armor, saving the day and making everything even more baffling.

"Yes. I think he is," she says.

"He has a girlfriend," I argue.

Pam.

Wait.

"Sabina," I say in response to her puzzled look.

"Oh, I forgot about her. Yeah… He always has someone with him," she adds as if Pam is no big deal.

Maybe I'm no big deal either.

With a heavy heart, I take the book and slide it into my backpack.

"I wanted to write a book like you," I say, closing the backpack and shifting my focus to her. "I mean not exactly like you, but you know, something real and raw. A gripping story."

"What happened?"

I lift my drink and hide my face behind it for two seconds.

"I wanted to start from a glimmer of truth, and I didn't have that. And then I thought I could just invent a story if I had some inspiration."

I stop abruptly and take a sip.

"And?" she says.

Smiling, I put my drink down.

"I couldn't find the inspiration that I needed. And even if I try to make it all up, which I should, it doesn't hold my interest enough to write it."

"Take a break from it and revisit it later."

"I've already done that," I say in the voice of someone who's made peace with the fact that this will never work.

She studies me for a few moments.

"You shouldn't give up. And even if you invent a story, you can still put something real in it. You can still use someone like David as your inspiration."

The blush tickling my cheeks feels like a raging blaze.

"David? No. Besides, he's already inspired a character in your book."

"Readers don't know that. They don't know whether my story was fully based on true life events or not. They won't know in your case either."

"Yeah… I don't know about that. I'll think about it, though," I say to end our conversation.

A few moments pass, her eyes still trained on my face.

"If I did that, I would need to know more about him and his past," I say.

"I can help you with some of that. I don't know much about his past, but I know a few things about the businesses he used to run and how he made his money."

That's not exactly incendiary material for a smutty book, but you wouldn't say that based on my reaction.

"That would be great," I say, hoping not to go down that path with her.

I wouldn't be able to lie to her for long.

Besides, the only single thing I need to ruin my inspiration is the balance sheet of his company.

This thing won't get me anywhere.

"We can talk more about this," she says, her eyes flicking over my shoulder as the rest of the group comes inside.