I lifted a shoulder in response and said, “I’m Luca.”
“Whitney.”
“Whitney,” I repeated softly. “It’s nice to meet you. Would you join me for a drink?”
Her cheeks pinkened prettily and when her head tilted slightly, I knew I was about to be rejected.
“I’m flattered, Luca. Truly. But I’m actually here with some new friends and I need to get back.”
“Maybe another time,” I said, hoping she’d respond in kind, but she simply gave me one last smile before turning and walking away.
After pressing the button for Wicked Game, I headed toward the exit, glancing her way when I walked past and lifting my chin in acknowledgement before leaving the restaurant.
I’d see Whitney again. And next time, I hoped she’d give me a shot.
Three
Whitney
“Did that guy just hit on you?” Summer asked when I rejoined the table. “Cause he’s seriously hot. You should totally go for it.”
I let out a derisive snort as I settled back onto the stool.
“He’s like … an infant. Way too young for me.”
“Sometimes younger can be fun,” Margo said with a smirk. “So enthusiastic.”
I shook my head and picked up my fresh drink, grinning as I made out Chris Isaak’s voice.
“I’m not interested in being a cougar. Hell, I can’t imagine getting naked with anyone let alone a much younger, gorgeous guy like Luca.”
“Luca, is that his name? Sexy,” Summer said, leaning over on her stool so she could look around me toward the door I’d seen him walk out of.
I was nodding absently in response when Margo snapped her fingers and snagged my attention.
“Hey,” she said, her tone sharp. “You are one sexy, gorgeous person yourself and young Mr. Luca would be lucky if you granted him the gift of your naked body. Don’t talk down about yourself and don’t sell yourself short by living your life with conditions, labels, or worrying about other people’s narrowminded opinions. I mean, as long as it’s not illegal, go for it … and, even then there can be some wiggle room.”
Summer was watching Margo with such admiration I thought she was going to stand up and cheer.
“I agree with all that,” I began honestly. “It took a while, but I’m finally embracing my newfound independence and enjoying being one-hundred percent in control of my life. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t have insecurities.”
“We all do, Whit … is it okay if I call you, Whit?” Summer asked. When I nodded, she continued, “It’s only normal. How long were you and your husband together?”
“Marcus and I were together for twenty-five years, married for twenty,” I replied.
“Wow,” she whispered.
Yeah, I figured that was almost as long as she’d been alive.
“Insecurities are understandable but, Whitney, Luca approached you,” Margo said, pointing her toothpick at me to emphasize the you. One drink had turned into a few and a round of tapas. “He was obviously attracted and went out of his way to talk to you. Often, our insecurities are unfounded. The things we get hung up on, men couldn’t care less about. He would have happily taken you home with him right now if you’d given him even the slightest indication you were interested.”
Summer, Margo’s new number one fan, nodded enthusiastically in agreement.
I held up my hand to stave off any more commentary.
“My body is like a road map of my life with Marcus,” I explained. “Stretch marks from both my pregnancies, a scar on my ankle from going four-wheeling while we were dating, a couple more on my back from mole removals and a cancer scare. I was never self-conscious of my body with him because he lived through it all with me, but with a stranger? To be that vulnerable and open myself up to possible judgement … I just don’t think I can do it.”
Everyone was quiet for a moment and I was sure they were picking up what I was putting down. Then Summer blurted out, “I have hemorrhoids.”
I blinked and Margo snorted as she covered her mouth and tried not to laugh.
“I’m sorry?” I asked, sure I’d heard incorrectly.
I mean, that wasn’t something you blurted out over mushroom tarts, was it?
“Hemorrhoids. I’ve had them since I was a teenager and they just never go away,” she replied nonchalantly.
“Have you tried cream?” I asked, the mom in me coming out.
“I’m allergic to hydrocortisone, so I can’t use it.”
“What about witch hazel or essential oils?”
I was big on home remedies.
“No, do you think that will work?” she asked.
“It won’t hurt to try. Give me your email and I’ll send you some links.”
I picked up my phone, opened the contacts, and handed it to her.
“I have inverted nipples,” Margo announced.
Our heads swung toward her.
She shrugged and said, “Guys seem to view it as more of a challenge than anything else.”
“Have they always been inverted?” I asked, leaning in and lowering my voice. “Because if it’s recent there could be a larger issue.”
“I’ve seen my doctor and everything’s fine. I could get it corrected with a plastic surgeon, but I’m not sure I want surgery, at least not at this point.”
I wasn’t sure why her answer gave me such relief, I barely knew her. Yet, the fact she had gone to her doctor and there was no underlying issue did make me feel relieved. We’d only known each other a short time, but I found myself really enjoying both Margo and Summer.
They were completely different than my usual friends, most of whom were no longer on speaking terms with me. Since I didn’t have the fancy address, social calendar, or handsome husband, it seemed they no longer had time for me. In fact, I’d heard though the grapevine that a few of them were now doubles partners with Marcus and his new wife. The woman they all knew he was cheating on me with.
“Anyway, I only shared, and I’m sure Summer did too, to prove we all have things about ourselves which embarrass us, but we don’t let it stop us from having fun and indulging in the opposite sex. I can guarantee, no man would take a look at your stretch marks and walk out of the bedroom. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even notice them. By that point all of his blood’s rushed to his dick and he only has one goal in mind … and believe me, nothing short of a terrorist attack is deterring him from that goal.”
“Preach,” Summer said, raising her glass to toast Margo before downing the rest of the contents.
I laughed, feeling much lighter than I had earlier in the evening and actually happy I’d left my condo rather than ignoring my therapist’s advice and binging something on Netflix. Again.
“I hate to say it, but I have to go. I actually have a job interview in the morning … the first one in seventeen years, and it wouldn’t do to show up with a hangover,” I said, pulling some money out of my wallet for the bill. “We should really do this again.”
Funnily enough, I meant it.
“Yes,” Summer practically shouted. “Whitney has my info; give me your phone, Margo, and I’ll give it to you as well. Then you both text me so I’ll have your numbers and I can plan the next meeting of the club.”
Seems she’s really adamant about calling this a club.
Margo obliged and handed over her phone.
“So what are you both thinking, same day and time next week? Make it a weekly get-together?” Summer asked.
“That works for me,” Margo replied. “If something comes up at work, I’ll just let you both know.”
“And it should work for me as well. Thursdays my kids are with their father and the job I’m interviewing for doesn’t involve late nights except during tax season, so even if I get it we should be good.”
“Perfect,” Summer said as she handed Margo back her phone. “I’m so happy you knocked me down, Margo.”
Margo chuckled and said, “Me, too.”
Fou
r
Luca
“TGIF, am I right?”
I lifted my chin as I walked by the intern standing by the coffee machine, intent on getting settled in my office before my nine-a.m. meeting.
“Good morning, Mr. Russo.”
“Morning, Pam,” I replied, giving my assistant an absent smile as I strode past her desk, which was positioned outside my office. “Any calls?”
“I left them on your desk.”
“Thanks.”
I walked inside, leaving the door open as I always did unless I was in a meeting and picked up the messages as I sat.
When my phone rang I pressed speaker and said, “Luca Russo.”
“Morning, sweetheart.”
“Hey, Ma, what’s up?” I asked as I separated my messages into respond immediately and it can wait piles.
“Your father told me you’d be joining us on Sunday. I wanted to let you know your brother and sister are coming, along with Sara and Nigel, and Giada is in town, so I called to see if she had any plans and as it turns out she’s free.”
I didn’t bother trying to stifle my groan.
“Ma, Giada and I broke up eight years ago. Can you give it a rest?”
“Luca, there’s no reason why you can’t still be friendly with Giada. After all, you were inseparable all during high school. She’s like one of the family.”
Yeah, right. My ma was endlessly matchmaking. She wanted nothing more than to see me settled with kids like my brother and sister.
“As long as you don’t get it into your head there’s anything more between Giada and I than friendship…”
“Of course not, dear. Anyway, I’ll be making my lasagna, so be sure to come hungry.”
“Always, Ma,” I assured her.
Nothing in this world was better than my ma’s lasagna. Hopefully there’d be some left so I could take it home, but I doubted it.
“Have a good day. See you Sunday.”
“Okay, love you.”
“Love you, too, Luca.”
I hung up and quickly put the call behind me as I got down to work. It was a full day of meetings, so by the time my father popped his head in to ask me a question I was surprised to see it was already four o’clock.
“Got a minute?”
“Of course,” I replied, leaning back in my chair.
Even if he hadn’t been the boss, I’d always have time for my father.
“I told Michaelson I’d drop these off since I was coming this way.”
He handed me a few blue folders, but when he remained standing rather than taking a seat, I placed the folders on the table and gave him my full attention.
“I’m going to take a vacation next month and I’d like you to handle some of my clients while I’m away.”
“A vacation?” This was the first I’ve heard of it. In fact, I don’t think my father had ever taken a vacation.
“I’m finally taking your mother on that trip to Italy I’ve been promising since before you were born. She deserves it, and … it’s time.”
“Wow,” I exclaimed, honestly shocked. “Does she know yet?”
My dad shook his head and said, “I’m going to tell her Sunday at dinner.”
“She’s gonna lose her mind.”
He grinned and said, “I hope so. And this vacation time will give me a chance to test the waters of being away and, maybe, if things go the way I think they will, you’ll keep the clients permanently.”
“What are you saying? Are you thinking about retiring?”
“Not completely. At least, not yet. But, taking a step back … yeah. You’re ready to take my place, son. You may be young, hell, you’re a lot younger than I was when I started this firm, but like you always say, age is just a number. You were made for the position.”
Utterly floored, I stood and rounded my desk to pull him into an embrace.
“Thanks, Dad, that means a lot. And Ma’s gonna be thrilled. She’ll have you in dance lessons before you know it,” I said with a laugh.
He groaned, but when I stepped back he was smiling.
“She’s been threatening me with those lessons for thirty years. Fifty bucks says it only takes one lesson for her to realize she hates it.”
“I’ll take that bet.”
“All right, I’ll leave you to it. Make some time on Monday and I’ll sit down with you and go over those clients.”
“Will do,” I said as I resumed my position.
“Oh, did Michaelson say what he needed?” I asked, holding up the folders.
“Those are the applicants he liked from his interviews today.”
“Got it, thanks.”
Michaelson was our HR guy, so he did our initial interviews, but the final decision was made by one of the senior managers. We each took turns and this time I was up.
Once I’d looked through the files, I picked up the phone to give him a call.
“Hey, Mick, it’s Luca. Quick question. This applicant, Spaulding, the one you have earmarked for the associate position, did you get a load of her credentials?” I asked.
“Yeah. Her degree is from a great school and her experience with Smith and Smythe is a plus, but she’s been out of the game for almost seventeen years,” he replied.
“Right, but with a little time to brush up on standards and GAAP, I bet she could slide right into a senior associate slot. Why don’t you give Smith and Smythe a call and see if you can speak with someone who worked with her, then use your best judgement.”
“Will do,” Michaelson said. “I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, Mick,” I said, before hanging up the phone and getting back to work.
Five
Whitney
I whistled as I made French toast, happier than I’d been in a really long time.
As I flipped the buttery, cinnamon goodness onto a plate, my oldest child, Stella, came shuffling into the kitchen mid-yawn.
“Mm,” she moaned, sniffing the air. “What are we celebrating?”
“I got the job,” I cried, waving the spatula around enthusiastically. “And I already got a promotion, if you can believe it.”
Stella scrunched up her nose as she sat on one of the stools at the island.
“How’s that possible?”
“Well, Mr. Michaelson, the man who interviewed me for the associate position, called this morning and said after going back over my resume and talking to his boss, they decided to bring me in as a senior associate. It’ll be more responsibility, and a bit more of a learning curve, but it also means more money, so … yay!”
“That’s great, Mom,” she said as she poured a generous amount of syrup all over her toast. “Congrats.”
“Thanks,” I said, spinning happily as I plated up the next batch, which I’d cover and save in the microwave for later.
My son, Silas, always slept in late on Saturdays. While Stella was a morning person, Silas was a night owl. It seemed like the older he got, the less I saw him during daylight hours. Especially on the weekends.
“Any big plans today?” I asked Stella, looking longingly at her French toast as I spooned fat-free yogurt into my mouth.
I’d been dieting since Marcus left and was down twenty-five pounds. When I’d found out the woman, well, girl, he’d left me for was twenty-two and had a waistline the same size as our sixteen-year-old daughter’s, I’d felt the need for some self-care.
Being a starter wife, which the Urban Dictionary defined as the woman a man marries while in training for his trade, who is there for him, has his children, runs his home and contributes in every way while his career is being established, and then when he has made it career-wise, he ditches her for a younger version who coos over and worships him, was not for the faint of heart.
“Cara and I are meeting at the library in an hour, and I have work tonight.”
“Oh, shoot, I was hoping we could have a family movie night. What time do you get off?” I asked.
Stella stood up and rounded the islan
d to rinse off her plate and put it in the dishwasher.
“Not ‘til like eleven, sorry,” she said with a half shrug.
“That’s okay, maybe Silas will be up for it,” I said, my tone hopeful. Now that my kids were teenagers, getting to spend time with them was not as easy as it used to be. When they were younger they’d seemed to always be vying for my time and attention, now it was the other way around. And splitting my time with their father didn’t make things any easier.
“I think Si said something about going to Geo’s tonight,” Stella informed me.
“Oh, okay. Well, maybe tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” Stella said as she walked out of the kitchen, before calling back, “Thanks for breakfast.”
“You’re welcome,” I muttered and began cleaning the kitchen.
I’d had to get used to being alone a lot since Marcus had left, which was weird, since it seemed like I hadn’t had a minute to myself in twenty-five years. It took some getting used to and I found I didn’t like it much. Which was why getting a job was so important to me. Not just for the money, which I could definitely use, but to get myself out of the house and around people again.
Meeting Margo and Summer was a bonus I hadn’t expected.
With my new friends on my mind, I picked up my phone and opened up the group text Summer had started the day before.
Mexican sounds great, had been my reply to her question about our next Thursday night dinner.
Now I wrote, I got the job!
I was about to put my phone back on the counter when it started ringing in my hand.
I turned it over to see my ex-husband’s name on the read out and groaned. Why does he feel the need to call me? I mean seriously, he could talk to the children directly and leave me out of it. And if it’s something he needed to say, why couldn’t he just text?
I shook it off, cleared my throat, and accepted the call.
“Hello?”
“Whitney, I need to talk to you about next weekend,” Marcus said, without so much as a Hi back.
Starter Wife (The Jilted Wives Club Book 1) Page 2
