16. Caroline Flesh-and-Blood Man
caroline: flesh-and-blood man
EMERSON WAS LYING ON MY bed in New York doing something that could only be described as whimpering.
And I was sympathetic. I truly, honestly was.
But I had spent the last two hours consoling her after her doctor’s appointment, and Kyle had been doing it for the two hours before that.
There came a point with my sister that you just had to sort of let her wear herself out and fall asleep.
She was basically the same at thirty-one as she’d been at two.
But honestly, I really needed her to snap out of it.
I had my date with Chase Aarons, the Chase Aarons, in two hours, and I needed to look hot.
No, hotter than hot. So hot that I was one hundred percent guaranteed to get on Page Six, where my ex-husband would definitely see me.
After being reminded how blasé he was about infidelity, I thought a taste of his own medicine might be nice.
I’d love for him to see how it feels for your spouse to be linked to a movie star.
Of course, it wouldn’t be quite the same since we weren’t married married like we had been when he’d been with Edie Fitzgerald. But still.
It occurred to me, as I flipped through rows and rows of dresses in my giant walk-in closet, that perhaps I shouldn’t care anymore, that maybe I should be free of him by now. But baby steps, right?
I got back into bed with my sister and hugged her to me. She nuzzled up to my shoulder. “How could I not have had a single viable egg in that whole batch? I’m only thirty-one. What is wrong with me?”
I kissed her forehead. “Sweetheart, nothing is wrong with you. Maybe it just isn’t meant to be. Carter is perfect, and you have such a busy schedule, and—”
I stopped when I noticed that she was staring daggers at me. Not the right thing to say. So I changed course. “Doctors are wrong all the time.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I know. But I really want another baby. I want Carter to have a sibling. I want her to have what you and I have. But how do you even begin to pick a donor egg? And it’s much more successful and less invasive to have the donor carry the baby.”
“Would that be weird?” I asked. “For someone to be carrying Kyle’s baby who wasn’t you?”
She shrugged. “Yes. Of course. But it’s the best chance of having our baby, and it’s not going to be my egg anyway, so skipping the whole birth thing feels kind of nice.”
“Just don’t tell anyone you had a surrogate and appear in post-hospital photos holding the baby in a crop top.”
That was the first thing that had made her laugh in hours. “I love it. Genius.”
“It’s all going to be okay,” I said. “This is brand-new information. You need to let it sink in, settle. You and Kyle need to talk, figure out what you really want. Then you’ll make a plan. It will all be fine. You’ll see.” I looked down at her. “Deep breath?”
She took a deep breath and finally, for the first time in two hours, sat up. “Okay. We need to get you ready for your date.”
She hadn’t even had to fall asleep to feel better.
And, believe me, I knew how she felt more than anyone.
I did fertility treatments and IVF, acupuncture and herbs, yoga and transcendental meditation for years after I had Vivi.
Nothing had worked. Preston had been the miracle baby that, years after I had given up hope, had appeared at perhaps the worst time—right when, unbeknownst to me, my husband had begun his affair.
None of that mattered now. He was the best thing that ever happened to me, no matter when he made his appearance.
And I hated to tell her, but infertility was definitely in our genes.
Mom and Dad had major issues conceiving Sloane and me, hence our sperm donor stepfather Jack.
And obviously Sloane’s two miscarriages had been really rough.
We were a family who had to work a little harder to get our babies.
And that was okay. We all had it pretty good otherwise, and, in the end, it all seemed to work out like it should. Things always did. They would now.
Emerson got up and scanned my closet. She reached her hand in. “This one,” she said.
It was one of my favorite dresses by far, a romantic floral print with buttons down the front. It was short but long-sleeved, perfect for the fall weather. Even still, I scrunched my nose. “Doesn’t it seem a little… I don’t know… covered up for a first date?”
“You mean, a first date with a movie star?”
I bumped my hip with hers. “I’m not scared of movie stars. My sister is one.”
She grinned and handed me the dress. “Trust me. Chase will love it. I know him really well. You’ll have him eating out of the palm of your hand.”
A little over two hours later, Chase was eating off a plate at the Polo Bar, not my hand, fortunately. We were both laughing in the dark, wood-paneled room, and as I took a sip of champagne and he put his fork down, he said, “Hey, have I told you how much I love that dress?”
Score one for Emerson Murphy. If I was being honest, I’d gone out with Chase solely because he was hot and famous and young, and it was great for my ego, which still needed a little TLC far too long after James’s affair.
But I was surprised by how much I genuinely liked him.
I had forgotten right away that he was famous and maybe I should be intimidated because he was just so normal.
“So, Chase, why acting?” He took my hand across the table, which I thought was so cute. I could forget, just for a second, that every person in this restaurant was looking at us, no doubt questioning who the hell the old lady with Chase Aarons was.
He shrugged, and I thought I was going to get some sort of pat answer.
But then he said, “My dad took off when I was young, and, as stupid as this sounds, I’ve spent my entire life wanting him to know what he missed out on by leaving my mom and me.
And being a big star, so big that even he would have to see me, wherever he was, has motivated me my entire life. ”
I knew I should have responded, but I was dead silent.
It wasn’t that I didn’t know what to say; it was that I felt such a connection with him in that moment.
Emerson would have said she got into acting because it fulfilled her, it was art.
And Sloane was, obviously, motivated by beauty in her work.
I didn’t have that. I’d never really understood it, which is why any artist I’d ever tried to date hadn’t panned out.
I was type A, a businesswoman with no creative outlets, so that was often a hurdle too big to cross.
Getting into acting for revenge? That I understood.
“Too honest for a first date? Sorry. It’s just the truth. I mean, I love it, don’t get me wrong. But you don’t seem like the kind of woman I need to impress with some flowery speech about living my truth or some bullshit.”
I laughed. “Not too honest at all. So perfectly honest that it left me speechless. I’d say it worked out for you, Chase.”
He nodded. “The paparazzi just think I’m nice, always posing for their pictures. But I’m not that nice. I just want my dad to see me splattered all over the magazines and the internet and eat his heart out.”
I was very serious. “Then I will do my best poses when we leave the restaurant.” I paused. “Truth be told, this will kill my ex.”
He squeezed my hand. “It’s so fun when you find a woman who’s the same kind of evil as you.”
I picked up my champagne glass. “Cheers to that.” I paused again. “So then, why me? I mean, I’m not going to make anyone jealous. I’m older than you. I’m not famous. I lend you no street cred whatsoever.”
He looked at me intently then. “Caroline, I think you might just be the most beautiful, most poised, most confident woman I have ever met. When I saw you walking onto my set, I thought my life would end if you didn’t agree to go out with me.
” He took his hand away and sat back in his chair, gazing at me in a way that should have felt uncomfortable.
“I save all the ego stuff for my work. When it comes to relationships, it’s all about this. ” He put his hand over his heart.
It should have been cheesy. But Chase just wasn’t. Not at all.
“So it wasn’t just that I didn’t know who you were and you wanted to teach me a lesson?” I teased.
“Oh, you knew who I was.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Everyone knows who you are. I bet that asshole dad of yours regrets leaving you every day.” I had no way of knowing whether that was true, obviously, but he lit up.
“What about your parents?”
Do I go there? Do I say it? “Well, my dad was killed in the second tower on 9/11.”
“Shit. Seriously?”
“Well, it would be kind of a sick thing to make up.”
“Man, Caroline, I’m sorry. I’ve known Emerson a long time, and I never knew that. I bet that will do some fun stuff to your mind.”
I shrugged. “Yeah. But my mom finally remarried, a man who, wait for it”—I put my hand up and he leaned in—“my sister Sloane and I recently found out is actually our biological father.”
His jaw dropped. “No way.”
I nodded.
“How has this not been a movie? Or a highly dramatic TV series? Emerson should pitch that shit. She could produce and star.”
I raised my eyebrow. I would definitely, definitely mention that to her. She should do that. She was smart as a whip. She would make a great producer.
The server approached our table and said, “Mr. Aarons, is there anything else we can do for you? I’d love to show you our dessert menu.”
“Give us just a second,” Chase said.
He looked at me across the table. “So, I have this really impressive apartment with a magnificent view of the skyline, and I just got the best gluten-free cheesecake that someone you know quite well suggested might be your favorite. I also have your favorite champagne, and I would like to wow you with how fancy I am.”
I laughed into my napkin, my head down. “I would love to see your apartment and eat your cheesecake, but Chase…” I shook my head. “I’m a thirty-something mother of two and this is our first date. I can imagine what you have thrown at you every moment, but I’m not that kind of girl.”
He stood up and took my hand. “I don’t expect anything from you. But I don’t want our night to end, and I wore these pants to impress you, but they’re too tight, and I need to take them off now.”
I laughed again and he pulled me to him, right there, in the middle of the restaurant. He put his hands on my face and said, “I want to make your ex-husband really, really jealous, but I can’t stand the idea of our first kiss being solely for the paparazzi.”
It took me a second to register what he was saying.
Our first kiss. I felt blood rush to my cheeks and my heart beat a little faster at the feel of his fingers on my face.
He looked into my eyes for a long moment before he leaned in and gave me the sweetest, most perfect first kiss.
Obviously, phones came out all over the restaurant.
In that moment, though, I felt lost in him.
It wasn’t until after that I realized we would likely be trending in a matter of hours. Bonus.
He took my hand and led me up the stairs as I said, “To be clear, you do have to wear pants for the dessert part of the evening.”
He nodded and stopped at the landing. “Also, to be clear, they will be sweatpants.”
“Fair enough.”
He took a deep breath, still holding my hand, and said, “Okay. Are you ready for this?”
I nodded. As we stepped outside onto the sidewalk, I kept a gleeful smile pinned to my face and Chase said, “When you write about this, please make sure to get the name of my breathtaking date—Caroline Murphy Beaumont—correct.”
With that, he dipped me impossibly deeply and laid a truly professional kiss on me.
I think I did a very elegant kicky thing with my leg.
As he practically pushed me into the back of his car, I felt dizzy and giddy with wine and flashbulbs and energy and Chase.
I was actually afraid of how much I liked him because, come on, sure he seemed sincere, but he was freaking Chase Aarons.
He could have any actress, supermodel, or it-girl he wanted. This wouldn’t end well for me.
But as I looked over at him and we both laughed, I realized that he wasn’t just famous. He was a real person, an actual flesh-and-blood man with plenty of scars to prove it. (Just none visible on his perfect, perfect body.)
“I know the night isn’t over,” he said. “But can we do this again? Like, um, maybe tomorrow?”
Tomorrow seemed a little soon, but it was James’s week with the kids, and I couldn’t think of anything I’d like to do quite as much as eat cheesecake with Chase Aarons. Not the movie star. The man.