Diana in Love (Dirty Diana #2)

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

L’Wren pulls up in a bright pink limo and pops her head out of the sunroof—her hair crimped and pulled into a side ponytail.

“You didn’t.”

“I so did. We’re pulling up to the very front and getting out like we own the place.”

We walk arm in arm through the front door of the decorated gym—eighties everything. “So much better to be here on our own. Look at all these sad couples!”

“You’re a good friend, L’Wren. The best.”

“So are you.”

“So what are you going to do? Get on the apps? I could ask if Arthur has any friends?”

“I think I’m going to wait a beat.”

“Oh. My. God. Oliver is here. Don’t look. He’s wearing a white tux.”

“What? He said he was with Emmy.”

“Must have gotten a sitter.”

“Wow.”

“Fucking Oliver. I wish I could say he doesn’t pull that tux off, but he kinda does.” Her eyes go wide. “No, Diana. Ignore him. Let’s go for the punch. Hopefully it’s spiked.”

“We’re coparenting, L’Wren. I can’t ignore him. We’re not even legally divorced.”

“Hey.” Oliver kisses us both on the cheek.

“Hello.” L’Wren can’t help being polite. “You look handsome.”

“I figured I’d come. When would I ever have the opportunity to wear this tux?”

“Have you written a check yet? Diana put a lot of work into this.”

“I did. And I got one from my dad too.”

“Oh. Well. Good. Shit. The silent auction. Will one of you please bid on the weekend in Telluride at the cabin? That bitch Penny wants it bad. I know it.”

L’Wren flits off to find out when the auction starts.

“You look nice.” He admires my turquoise taffeta.

“So do you.”

A photographer comes by. “Picture?”

“Umm. Sure.”

Oliver puts his arm around me and I smile at the camera, unsure what to do once the photographer leaves.

“You didn’t have to come to this.”

“I wanted to.”

“Oh. I can’t make therapy on Tuesday. Can we switch it to Thursday?”

“Sure. What do you have?”

Before I can answer he says, “I sound like my parents. None of my business.”

The song changes. “Right Here Waiting for You” by Richard Marx.

“Want to dance?”

“Seriously?”

Silence.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

We slow dance. Energy passes through us. I feel like all the blood vessels inside me are about to explode.

“Do you remember our first dance at our wedding?”

“I do.”

“You remember that kid who tried to upstage us?”

“Your second cousin. Jeffrey.”

“What a little jerk.”

“And a horrible dancer.”

“We were so much better. But there he was. Sharing the dance floor. We upstaged him in the end. But still.”

“That was a good night.”

I look up at him and he pulls me even closer. I want to tell him so many things. I want to tell him that there is still hope for us. That by going through hell and back maybe, just maybe, we could emerge stronger. That our spark has not dimmed completely.

“Oliver…”

“Yes.”

And that’s when I see her. Katherine. Wearing a turquoise taffeta minidress, walking over to us with an easy smile.

My hands immediately fall off Oliver’s shoulders and drop to my sides. I step away from Oliver as if he was hot to the touch.

“Diana! I was hoping you would be here! Doesn’t he look amazing? He was scared it was too much, but I told him it was perfect.”

“Yes. He looks great.”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for someone to give this to. I know it’s a fundraiser.”

“I can give it to L’Wren. She’s the chair.”

“Amazing. Thank you! You mind if I cut in? I’d love to get in a dance before I turn into a pumpkin. We have to be back by nine, to let the babysitter go home.”

“Sure. Of course. You two have fun.”

L’Wren appears immediately by my side. “You okay?”

“I just need some fresh air.”

“Absolutely. Come on. You look gorgeous and no one is watching.”

L’Wren forces open the heavy gymnasium door. “Does she even have a kid at this school? I mean, who hijacks a random school charity? I hate her, right?”

“No, she’s actually really nice. And she made a donation.” I hand L’Wren the check and her eyes light up.

“Dammit. She is really hard to hate, isn’t she?”

“You don’t have to hate her.”

“She’s pretty easy on the eyes too. In a generic way, of course. Like one of those old-school Neutrogena commercials. But you’re high fashion all the way.”

“L’Wren, I need to tell you something.”

“What is going on? What is that face? Are you sick? God. Are you fucking sick?”

“No.”

“Emmy? Please don’t tell me Emmy—”

“No, no, it’s not anything bad. Or, at least, I don’t think it’s bad.” For months I’ve wondered if L’Wren will think it’s wrong. Up until her divorce, she’d been so protective of our lives, keeping us safe in the small bubble of being perfect wives in Rockgate. We lunched at the same places as the other moms, practically wore the same uniform as them, and sat in a line at the same recitals. I learned party tricks like how to share a confession about a “parenting mistake,” with no real confession or mistake shared. I read rooms and figured out which pieces of me were too much. But now, standing in front of L’Wren, it all seems like a tiresome, giant miscalculation.

“I’ve been working on this project and I haven’t told you about it. I don’t really know why not. It’s important to me and I want you to know about it. It’s a website called Dirty Diana.”

“Dirty?”

“I post sketches and paintings and I interview women about their erotic fantasies and desires. The images of the women represent how they feel, how they look, when they allow themselves to fantasize. I should have told you about it a long time ago. Liam said you would be okay with it…”

“Liam?”

“He’s been helping me out with the site. He’s been great. Really. He’s so smart.”

“Sorry. Wait. What? You’ve been employing my stepson for how long? Making…erotica?”

“Saying this all out loud, I am realizing what a big mistake it was to keep this from you. Like it’s something to be hidden. I was going to tell you in Paris. But I should have told you even before that—”

“How long has Liam been working with you?”

“I don’t know. A few months. Alicia and I have been working on it longer.”

“Alicia?”

“I underestimated you and that’s the worst part.”

“Underestimated?”

“And misjudged—”

Her eyes well with tears. “You certainly misjudged Liam. Why not hire him to design a rocket for NASA? I mean, erotica? Diana. Liam used to masturbate to my Good Housekeeping magazines. He still giggles at the word penis and he walked out of the room when we were watching Basic Instinct. So yes, misjudgment all around.”

“He’s actually been really helpful. Not with content. But he’s been so supportive—”

“I’m your friend, Diana. I could have been supportive.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, L’Wren.”

“I don’t want to be mad at you, Diana. I actually really need you.”

“I need you too. Can we just reset? Pretend this never happened?”

“But it did happen. I mean, what did you think would happen if you told me?”

“Honestly? I thought you would try to talk me out of it.”

“You thought I would try and talk a newly separated mother living in a Texas suburb out of making erotica with my stepson? That’s what you thought?”

“Isn’t that crazy?” I ask hopefully.

“I don’t have a stick up my ass, Diana. I mean, maybe I’ll never be the woman who talks freely about their orgasms at the dinner table, but that doesn’t mean I’m a nun. You know?”

“I know.”

“I can’t believe you’re making me have this fight with fucking crimped hair.” She smiles but I can see by the flush in her cheeks that she’s hurt.

“I don’t want to fight.”

“And I guess Oliver doesn’t know?”

I shake my head.

L’Wren sighs. “Piece of advice, Diana? From a friend who’s apparently more like the rest of them.” She waves an arm toward the school gym. “Maybe you should put a pause on all this. At least until Emmy graduates. Rockgate just isn’t ready. And neither is Oliver.”