18. Welcome to Crone Life
18
Welcome to Crone Life
CARLY
To-do list—December 24
?? Hair and makeup (must be perfect)
?? Shapewear (I’ll regret it if I skip it)
Anytime I think I’m falling for Andrew, remember I’m almost old enough to be frenemies with his mother
P oking my hoop earring into my ear, I walked out of my bedroom to the living room where Andrew sat on the couch. “Can you call down to the front desk for a cab? We don’t want to be…”
His Financial Times fluttered to the floor.
“What?”
He stammered, “You’re…you’re…”
“Is it too much?” I stopped fiddling with my earring and looked down at myself. The jumpsuit was from two seasons ago, but the divorce had dried up my social obligations, and I’d never worn it. It was a classic shape with long sleeves and wide legs that pooled around my espadrille wedges. The embroidery on the pale pink tulle overlay gave it structure and visual interest.
Judging by his stare, what gave Andrew the most visual interest was the deep vee neckline that plunged between my breasts.
I cleared my throat. “Too much?” I repeated.
“No.” He swallowed. “Absolutely not.”
I brushed at the fabric over my right thigh. “Hayley’s young and beautiful, and she couldn’t think I was trying to upstage her, right?”
“Carly.” He kicked the paper aside and stepped around the coffee table to stand in front of me. Brushing his smooth-shaven cheek against mine, he rumbled in my ear, “You’ll upstage every person in that room. It’s unavoidable.”
I stepped back. Hayley was a nice girl. I even liked her. I couldn’t blame her for falling for Brad. He was magnetic when he wanted to be. And the last thing I wanted was to make the bride feel less-than during her wedding week.
More than that, the dangerous glint in Andrew’s eyes reminded me of his slip-up last night when he’d jokingly called me Mom . Despite how much of a turn-on I found his interest in me and my business, anything romantic between us was a mistake.
People would laugh at us. At me for trying to use young, gorgeous, sexy Andrew to cover up my crow’s feet. As my mother used to say, “In pageants and in life, they’ll judge you for your appearance. Control it.” Maybe fade-into-the-background black was a better choice. “Should I change?”
“No. You look exquisite. Besides, we wouldn’t want to be late.”
Exquisite? I smiled, not caring about the lines it carved in my face.
“Right.” A late arrival would draw more attention. “Ready?”
He took the earring from my hand and, with his tongue poking out between his lips, threaded it through the piercing in my ear. “You are incredible, Carly Rose.”
Warmth pooled in my chest. “Thank you,” I whispered.
W e weren’t late, but Brad must have started the party early. In the private room in the hotel restaurant, his voice that carried over everyone else’s and the red tip of his nose broadcast his buzz. Hayley hung onto his arm like he was a helium balloon and she was the only tether keeping him from floating off into the atmosphere.
“Carl!” he boomed, spreading his arms wide. Then he paused. “Can I still hug you?”
I flashed him a smile that made my face feel tight. “Sure.”
When he enveloped me in his arms, the amber and cedarwood scent of Chanel Bleu reminded me of my annual Christmas gift of the fragrance. I wondered if Hayley knew to put a box of it under the tree or if he’d figured out how to buy things for himself.
When the hug went on a beat too long, Andrew cleared his throat. I gently pushed Brad’s shoulder and muttered, “He’s an affectionate drunk. It’s only when he has too much that he?—”
Brad’s hand had wandered to the small of my back, and I not-so-gently shoved out of his arms. “That’s enough. Do you remember?—”
“Andy!” He extended a hand to my date. “I guess you’re still with our Carly?”
My nostrils flared with my sharp intake of breath.
“Actually, it’s Andrew,” he said. “And she’s my Carly now.” He slipped an arm around my waist.
Arrangement or not, I couldn’t let that stand. I stepped out of the circle of Andrew’s arm and captured his hand in mine to keep it from roving. “He means, yes, we’re here together. But I’m my own woman.”
Andrew’s cheeks reddened. “Of—of course you are. I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s fine.” I squeezed his hand.
“Together.” Brad narrowed his bleary eyes. “I don’t get it. Andy’s like half your age.”
“Not even close,” I said as calmly as I could. “Hayley is, in fact, much closer to a third of your age than Andrew is to half mine.”
Brad squinted, working out the math.
“Age doesn’t matter,” Hayley said. “That’s what we tell everyone, right, babe? Anyway, I’m so glad you came. With all of Brad’s friends here, it’s great to see a friendly face. Two friendly faces.”
My heart melted a little. “Thanks for including us.”
Brad was still stuck in the math. “But—but Andy was in diapers when I married Carly.”
“No, Brad,” I said. “He was a teenager.” Barely.
“So, while I was fucking Carly, you were, what? Listening to *NSYNC and whacking off to a poster of Jessica Simpson?”
I winced. He’d turned the corner from affectionate to mean. He’d never been physically abusive, but when he drank too much, it burned through his filter, and what he really thought came out. And Brad had some pretty low opinions of a lot of people. At this point in the evening, I used to put him to bed, though Hayley could hardly do that to her groom before we’d sat down for their prenuptial dinner.
“Hayley, Brad could use some water,” I said.
“Or a punch in the nuts,” Andrew growled.
“I remember!” Brad said, pointing. “That first party we had. The one on the boat. Remember, Carly? You wore a bikini even though all the other women wore dresses. You used to look hot in bikinis. And this one—” Brad frowned. “Or maybe it was his brother? Anyway, I think it might’ve been Andy. He said, ‘Where’s the bathroom?’ and ran off. Must’ve spent the whole cruise puking in the head.” He roared out a laugh.
“Brad, I’ll get you some coffee,” I said, my face burning. How had I stayed married to him as long as I did?
“I’ve got it. Sorry.” Hayley fixed an all-too-familiar pained smile on her face. “We’ll see you later. Once we’ve sobered up.” Showing more force than I thought possible in her slender arms, she dragged him toward the door into the main restaurant.
“Sorry about that,” I muttered.
Stepping in front of me, Andrew put his hands on my waist. “It wasn’t you who said those things. It was him. You’re a goddess. He’s a tool.”
I snorted. “I’m no goddess. I was spineless. How did I not see him for what he was?”
“Hey.” He waited until I met his heated gaze. “You loved him.” His throat worked on a swallow. “We forgive people we love. Your capacity for forgiveness is impressive. You’re here at his wedding, aren’t you?”
I chuckled and traced a circle around the button on his blue dress shirt. “That’s more out of pettiness than forgiveness, but I’ll take it.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Regardless, you’re a goddess. Don’t forget it. How about a drink?”
This close, Andrew’s clean, ocean scent curled around me, fuzzing my thoughts. As comforting as it was, I needed some distance. Otherwise, I’d treat this like an actual date, not a fake one. “A drink sounds great.”
Later, I was glad we’d softened the edges of the party with a couple glasses of Spanish wine. Audrey and Charles came in after everyone else was seated. Apparently, she didn’t mind the extra attention of a late arrival. They sat at a table in the far corner, and every time I looked up, she glared at me.
Andrew remained at my side, commenting on the delicious food, asking me about my friends, and questioning me about fashion. With his adorable distractions, Audrey’s disapproval faded into the background.
Until Brad stood, clinking his glass with a knife. “Hey, everyone. Hey! I wanna say something.” Everyone quieted, and he continued, “I gotta say, I’m glad Carly and me split.” He tipped his glass of scotch toward me. “We had a good run, didn’t we, Carl?”
Wincing, I grabbed a napkin to fan myself.
“If we hadn’t ended it, I never woulda ended up with Hayley.” He turned an adoring gaze on her. “And we wouldn’t be having a?—”
“Wedding!” Hayley popped up. “We wouldn’t be having a wedding this week. Cheers!” While everyone shouted, “Hear, hear,” she whispered in Brad’s ear. His ears pinked, then he slipped his hand from her side to her stomach.
I didn’t bother to speculate about what Brad might’ve said if Hayley hadn’t stopped him. A good run? That’s what he’d called our nineteen-year marriage? Then implied we’d mutually decided to end it? He’d shredded our relationship like tissue paper in the rain. After everything I’d given up for him—my career, my ambitions, my pride— that’s how he summed it up.
Andrew leaned close. “Are you okay?”
“No.” I gulped the rest of my wine.
“Want to get out of here?”
I’d intended to work the room for styling clients, but Brad had snipped my self-confidence like a wayward thread. Leaving sounded even better than drinking wine Brad had paid for. “Yes, but…”
“But?”
“Maybe we should leave separately?” I glanced at Audrey. She still glared at me. “Your mother…”
“She knows I’m your wedding date. She knows about our—” He cleared his throat. “I don’t see how leaving together will change anything. Though I need to say hello. Family duty and all that. I assume you’d rather skip that?”
“Definitely.” I wasn’t up for talking to Audrey, not after Brad’s toast.
“I’ll meet you at the exit in five.”
As I made my way to the front of the restaurant, I felt empty. Brad had scraped everything out of me—my equanimity, my accomplishments, my confidence—with his dismissive words.
A good run.
Twenty years of my life given to a man who summed it up in three words.
Rage bubbled up from the emptiness inside me. But not all of it was directed at Brad. No, I owned some of it too. I’d given him the best years of my life then let him create our narrative. I’d never let a man do that to me again. I’d never let myself be controlled or be the accommodating one who gave up anything for a man.
Never again.
Andrew and I were silent on the taxi ride back to our hotel. And when we got to our suite, I walked right into my room and closed the door, my mind churning over Brad’s words.
I stared into my eyes as I washed off my makeup. I’d flown halfway around the world to prove to Brad—to everyone—that I was over him, that we could move past the divorce and be friendly and supportive of each other. Clearly, it didn’t go both ways. Brad was definitely over me, but friendly and supportive? Not when he was drunk.
Why had I come?
I fluffed the pillow, then eased my head onto it. Nineteen years of marriage to someone who didn’t appreciate what I’d done for him. Now, I’d shown up at his wedding with a younger man, looking sad and ridiculous to everyone, including my former rival, Audrey Jones Hayes.
Who was also my date’s mother.
Fucking hell.
I’d never get to sleep. I’d look old, haggard, and dried-out at my ex’s wedding. Everyone would understand why Brad needed a young, dewy upgrade. Throwing off the covers, I stomped out of the bedroom to the living room’s mini fridge for a bottle of mineral water.
As I lifted it to my lips, Andrew appeared at his door in plaid pajama pants and a T-shirt that clung in all the right places. He might need help with dress clothes, but his casualwear game was flawless. I’d been so distracted by his clingy shirt at the soccer field that I’d let him talk me into keeping up this farce. And now he tempted me again. I’d treated his body like an amusement park in Monterey. What I wouldn’t give for a season pass.
I shook my head to rattle out the inappropriate thought.
“Sorry I woke you up,” I muttered.
He squinted. We hadn’t shut the drapes, and Barcelona was still lit up for a night of Christmas revelry.
“Can’t sleep?” he rumbled.
“No, but it’s fine.”
“Fine?”
“It happens to me a lot. Now that I’m…now that I’m older.”
He scratched his chest. “Want to come in here? I’m really good at sleeping. Maybe it’ll rub off on you.”
“You think sleep is contagious?”
He shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”
I remembered the last time I’d taken comfort in him. I had slept well after. But I was not going to sleep with Andrew Jones, neither euphemistically nor literally. Especially not out of his sense of pity.
“No, I?—”
“Don’t worry. I won’t try anything.”
That was worse. Andrew didn’t find me sexy enough to want to touch me? Welcome to crone life. It had to be a hashtag.
“Come on.” He beckoned me toward him.
I sighed. “If I can’t sleep, I’m coming back out here. I don’t want to keep you up too.”
“Nothing can keep me up. Promise.”
I followed him into the bedroom. The sheets were rumpled like he hadn’t been sleeping as well as he’d claimed. He pulled them back and gestured to the bed so I could choose a side. I sat on the side closest to the door, and he circled to the other.
He waited until I lay down, stiff and straight as a valet stand. He slid in beside me and swept the comforter up to cover us both.
I stared at the ceiling. He hadn’t closed the curtains completely, and a little light came in from the city outside. I could make out a fire sprinkler. I wondered if?—
“This isn’t going to work if you lie there like it’s your job to go to sleep,” Andrew grumbled.
He wrapped his arm around my waist and tugged me toward him, turning me on my side and nudging his knees behind mine. His chest expanded into my back on a long, slow breath.
“This isn’t going to work,” I whispered.
“Try it. Breathe with me.”
I rolled my eyes. But the next time he inhaled, I did too. He exhaled, his breath hot on my neck. All of him was warm, from his chest to the arm flung over my waist to his feet, cushioning my chilly toes. My scalp prickled. What if I had a hot flash? What if he woke up covered in sweat that wasn’t his?
“Breathe,” he murmured in my ear.
If he woke up soaked, it was his own damn fault.
I breathed. In. Out. In. Out.
I let my heavy lids blink shut.
In. Out.
The next thing I heard was birds singing. When I opened my eyes, daylight flooded in.
Andrew Jones was still curled around me.
God damn it. I’d had my best sleep in years, and the warmth in my chest wasn’t from a hot flash or from his hand on my stomach. No, I felt peaceful. Secure. Cherished. The same sensations that had terrified me that early morning in Monterey.
Again, my fake date had inspired some inconveniently real feelings.
This time, I had nowhere to run.