9. Renee

Make no mistake: I do hate being back in this world.

But there are days, like today, when it has its upsides. Today, I have Deacon’s credit card, no limit, and a directive to buy “suitable” clothes for the galas, for the luncheons and brunches, for the operas and plays, premieres, and photo ops at which my attendance will be mandatory.

Coming home has been devastating on so many levels. At least for today, I can be free for a while to have fun with Sutton, who’s accompanying me.

When the car pulls up in front of The Palais, she’s already waiting downstairs with Paolo. He opens the door for her and smiles when he sees me. “Ms. Renee! What a pleasure.” Obviously, he didn’t get the memo that I’m persona non grata at the building.

I force a smile back. “How are you?”

“I’m doing fine. The wife loved the cookies.” A couple days before I got the boot, I’d sent him home with some cookies I made for his wife’s birthday.

“I’m glad.” It’s hard to keep cheesing when I know that, any day now, someone is gonna tell Paolo about what happened and that friendly grin of his will dry right up. That will be a very sad day.

Before he shuts the door behind Sutton, he checks over his shoulder, then murmurs to me, “Don’t you worry about what Mr. Scott said. Anyone who knows you would never believe it.”

My heart. I hope that’s true. I would hate to think that Paolo believes it. The rest of the world doesn’t matter that much.

When he closes the door, I look at Sutton. “A guy who opened the door for me in the mornings knows me better than the guy I was sleeping for more than a month. How is that for ‘unbelievable’?”

She sighs and puts my hand between hers. “How are you, babe? Have you talked to him?”

“No. I mean, well, kind of. He’s…” I shake my head and start over. “He came up to me at the gala the other night. He ruined my life and had the nerve to come up to me and say, ‘We need to talk,’ all solemn and stuff. So I told him I’m getting married to Deacon.”

I say it like I’m proud of that. Like I’m happy to have made sure he knows. But the truth is, telling him about Deacon broke something inside of me. I didn’t have a choice but to walk away before I started bawling.

I turn my attention out of the window. Rodeo Drive is as opulent and as expensive as it looks. But every time I catch my reflection in yet another gleaming storefront, another little part of my soul gets robbed from me.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go plays in my head on an endless loop.

“So seeing him was okay? You were tough?”

I laugh because if I don’t, I’ll cry. “Well, you know me. But I didn’t drag him to the bathroom and ride him like a pony, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Sutton laughs and I do, too—but I can’t stop seeing his face. It’s those eyes. He tries to hide behind anger, behind his quick temper, but his eyes tell the stories his mouth doesn’t.

I thought so, anyway. I thought I knew him. I was fooling myself, but I did love his eyes. So much.

“It hurt to talk to him, though.”

“I know, honey. If I was there, I would’ve kicked his ass. I almost did already. A couple of times.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“He came to see me, you know.” Sutton looks at me like she’s testing the waters, seeing if I’m ready to hear stuff like this.

“Ninety eight percent of me doesn’t give a shit,” I say. “But that remaining two percent is dying to know what he said.”

“I know, honey. We don’t have to talk about him. Let’s just talk about…” As we get out of the car, she casts around for the closest store. “… Gucci. Let’s just talk about Gucci.”

We stride in side-by-side. “It isn’t that I don’t want to talk about him,” I explain. “It”s just that he’s gone. Out of my life now. And that’s how it needs to be.”

“Understood.” She picks up a diaper bag off the nearest pedestal. “I’m buying you this.”

“I don’t need a two-thousand-dollar diaper bag.”

“And yet I insist.”

Before we leave the store, she also buys two purses and a wallet for herself. We’re walking down Rodeo among the throngs of other shoppers. It’s a beautiful day, sunny and warm.

“So how is life at Casa Carrington? Do you see the devil spawn often?”

I chuckle. “Not really. I stay in the pool house. We have a deal.” I fill her in as we continue walking. “He sees who he wants to see—discreetly, of course. And I’m allowed to do the same. And he’s going to take care of the baby, although he wants one of his own.”

“Are you going to tell the baby about Weston?”

Oof. That’s a very good question, and one I don’t have an answer for. I should probably give it some thought, though. “I’d guess yes, at some point. Maybe when the baby’s twenty or so.” I laugh bitterly. “Deacon would never want me to tell anyone, obviously.”

“Of course not. That’s just one of the many reasons to do it. You know what else you should do?” Sutton has her evil smile on her face as she points to a children’s boutique. “You need to start decorating the nursery.”

Laughing, she drags me in. It’s surreal to be in here. Amongst baby clothes and baby cribs and baby toys. It makes it feel painfully real to touch a pink shag blanket and think, The child in my belly could use this. I bounce a little blue ball and think, The child in my belly could use this.

I make Sutton leave after a few minutes of pretending to browse, because it hurts to linger among all these things and spend time thinking about the futures that could have been versus the one I’m getting.

We spend the rest of the day meandering in and out of stores and loading up the trunk of the town car with outfits for my suddenly chock-full social calendar. It”s weird blowing this much money on clothes when I’ve been so focused on just getting by for so long. Every swipe of Deacon”s credit card hurts me in a way I can’t explain. I don’t want to get dolled up in designer—I preferred wearing sweatpants at Weston”s. I’d pick takeout burgers and beers on the couch over Michelin stars all day long.

But I left that life behind.

It was only ever a stupid fantasy to believe it could be mine.

We’re at our last store of the day and Sutton is trying on some athleisure because she’s auditioning for a role in some baseball movie, when something catches my eye.

A small teddy bear with a Firebirds logo. I hurry and buy it, push the bag into my purse, and act like nothing is up when Sutton reemerges from the dressing room.

There’s no point in telling her. It doesn’t mean anything.

It doesn’t mean anything at all.