Chapter 5
At Milhouse’s office, we went to the main desk and spoke to the receptionist.
‘Uh, is Mr Bartlett expecting you?’
‘No. Tell him it’s Kerry-Anne Daly.’
The receptionist spoke into the phone. He waited for a moment and then, ‘Yes, the lobby. Okay. Thank you.’ He looked back at me. ‘He’ll be down shortly, Ms Daly.’
I rejoined Tara, feeling nervous.
‘Deep breath. Remember: cool, calm, collected.’ Tara’s eyes flicked upwards for a second.
‘He’s here,’ she said, without moving her lips and then, like the discreet PA she was, slipped away, leaving me and Milhouse alone, standing behind a large indoor tree, one which needed a decent watering, but it drooped enough to give us some cover.
I had never dropped into his office like this, unannounced, and he eyed me warily. ‘Kerry-Anne…’ He attempted a smile. ‘Is this about the wedding?’
‘I hear you’ve been seeing someone else.’
For a fleeting moment, panic flickered across his face. ‘What do you mean?’
‘A buyer from Bloomingdale’s. You’ve been seeing someone else?’
His eyes widened and then he pulled at my sleeve to move me to the side of the lobby. ‘If this is what married life is going to be… accusations, jealousy… you know, I won’t stand for it.’
‘But it’s true, isn’t it?’
He shook his head, and then his eyes fell on Tara and something seemed to sink in. ‘The PA network?’
I nodded. He knew he was caught.
‘Look, it’s what men do,’ he said. ‘We don’t want to be trapped. I told you I didn’t want to be tied down. What do you want – a miserable husband who stays at home twenty-four-seven or one who is free to do what he wants and is happy?’
‘It can’t be that binary. I want a bit of both.’
‘Kerry-Anne, it’s your decision.’ He was talking in a low voice, his eyes directly on me. ‘You want to get married. I’ve agreed. And isn’t it better to have it out in the open so we know where we stand?’
His confidence was awesome. Even I was impressed.
‘Look, you’re so busy with your foundation,’ he went on. ‘You never stop. And this last year, you’ve been distracted and maybe I have needs and desires that I don’t want to bother you with.’
I kept smiling, remembering Tara’s cautionary words. Keep calm and all that.
‘Look, the ball’s in your court. Do you still want to be married or not?’
The thought of going back into the world again, with no wedding to distract me, was horrible. It was true, people did have affairs and maybe this would be okay and just another stipulation. And perhaps I should find some stipulations of my own, except I only had one: please love me forever.
Caitlin wouldn’t approve of this, I knew that, but Caitlin wasn’t here and, to be honest, I didn’t have that much going on apart from work. And I did want the distraction. And I also wanted children and a family, and Milhouse was probably my best chance. I had to be practical, and forget romance.
‘Good girl.’ He was smiling, as though he’d won something more than just his way. ‘I’ll speak to you later. We’ll go and see my parents, announce the wedding. You know Mom likes you, don’t you, more than she likes most people.’
‘And I like her.’
‘Dad not so much. But he doesn’t like anyone.’
‘Okay, well, thank you for explaining.’
‘You’re welcome. Call me and we’ll arrange to go and see the folks.’
I nodded, turning and walking away, Tara seamlessly falling into step as we pushed through the revolving door and out into the street. We hotfooted it along to the end of the block, where we stopped. I felt as though the life had drained out of me, as though in shock. ‘Brandy,’ I rasped. ‘Alcohol.’
‘The strongest you’re getting is a tea. You’ve had three coffees today.’
‘Two,’ I said.
‘One was a double shot.’
My shoulders sunk, defeated. And now no coffee?
‘Are you still marrying him?’ asked Tara.
‘Of course. It’s not the end of the world, is it? Affairs and all that? I believe it’s better to enter marriage with eyes wide open?’
Tara surveyed me. ‘Look, don’t take this the wrong, way, right? I think your problem is you go for the overconfident male, the ones who have been treated like little princes.’
I did like those kind of men. Who wanted someone who wasn’t super confident or didn’t know what they wanted or who didn’t make the dinner reservations and didn’t have strong opinions on politics? ‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘You’re like a moth to the overconfident male flame. You keep singeing your wings. You’re an incredible businesswoman, you’re an awesome person, you’re funny and clever and gorgeous, and yet you’re a little…’ Tara paused, as though trying to find the right word.
I braced myself.
‘…Na?ve when it comes to men. Your Prince Charmings keep turning into frogs. You are too easily swayed by someone with a nice line in schmooze. Stop auditioning men for the role of boyfriend and start interviewing for position of partner.’
‘You think it’s my choices which are the problem? So it’s me, not them?’
‘No, it’s them. But…’ Now she hesitated.
‘But it’s also me,’ I finished for her.
‘Yeah.’ She shrugged, apologetically. ‘Look, sorry. I wish I was wrong. You need to love yourself more than you love other people. You always put everyone first. Your entire foundation is about lifting up others, letting them shine…’
‘But I earn a percentage of their profits.’
‘Whatever. But you could be earning more. You need to know your worth. I know mine, which is why I pay for the best cosmetic dentistry in the city.’ She bared her teeth as proof.
They were impressive, even better than mine.
‘Why don’t you take some time off, to think about it?
’ she went on. ‘You’ve had a very challenging year… ’
‘Not really…’
She silenced me with a look. ‘Now, stop being so reasonable. Stop being so good and nice and throw a few things. Or shout. Or cry!’
‘I do cry. I cried at The Color Purple and Schindler’s List.’
‘Everyone cried at those so it doesn’t count. What about crying because you’re sad about life?’
‘But I’m not sad about life.’
‘You are. You lost your best friend.’
‘Why does everyone insist on mentioning her?’
‘You know you’re allowed to feel things, don’t you?’
‘But I get to keep going. Caitlin doesn’t. Tara, I’m fine. Let’s get back to work. But I am going to have another coffee. And I don’t care what you say.’