Susanna found her voice. “It’s okay. He wants me to go.”
“I’m so sorry, Miss. It’s been a pleasure,” he said and tipped his hat to her as he opened the big door. “Need a cab?”
“Thank you.” Crash had no problem flagging down a taxi for her, and he loaded the suitcase in the trunk. After the door closed, she opened the window all the way, hoping the fresh air would dispel the choking feeling in her chest. She watched as Crash and the building disappeared behind her. Tears flooded her eyes. She hid her face with her hands and sobbed.
* * * *
Quinn awoke about noon, disoriented and extremely hung over. He dragged himself out of bed to splash water on his face. Grabbing ibuprofen, he staggered into the kitchen and reheated a mug of coffee. Slurping down the medicine with a big gulp, he rubbed his eyes and looked around.
“Susanna?” But all he received was silence. He walked from room to room, searching for her, but the apartment was empty. He yanked open the closet door and the dresser drawers in her room, but only the things he bought her remained. Looking up, he saw the suitcase was gone from the shelf. The basketball he gave her sat on the bed. He touched the outside, and then palmed the ball. Must have hurt more to leave this basketball than all the fancy dresses put together.
The cleaning service knocked on his door, forcing him out on the terrace while they went over the apartment. He sat on a chair, propping his legs up on the coffee table, and sipped his coffee. The fuzzy events from the night before slowly became clearer.
While he ran his hands over his stubbly face, the fact that Susanna was gone finally sank in. Good riddance, traitor. He wondered why that thought didn’t make him feel better. The self-righteousness of the night before slowly seeped out of his heart. He was alone, without hope for the book or Susanna to console him and help him move on. Something lingered.
A slight chill rocketed through his body. It wasn’t due to the air, which was hot and muggy. His foggy brain couldn’t get a handle on what had happened because he swore he had spent the night with her.
As the cleaning crew finished up, someone knocked on the terrace door. When he opened it, the man in charge handed him a small book. “Thought you might want this. Didn’t want to see it go missing.” Quinn took Susanna’s small sketchbook from his hand. The man left quietly, closing the door behind him.
Hope grew in Quinn’s heart as he ran his thumb over the book. She has to come back for this. But his smile faded as he recalled their earlier conversation about the book. She must have left it on purpose. Prove to me she wasn’t double dealing. She could have taken it and sold it to Celebs R Us.
While her gesture to show her loyalty warmed a small portion of his heart, he realized it meant she wasn’t coming back. His good mood faded to foul. I need her. Where is she? He dialed her number but it went straight to voicemail.
In desperation, he dialed Annie. A cool, female voice answered the phone.
“Annie?”
“What do you want?”
“I want to talk to Susanna.” He began to pace.
“She’s not in. And…she doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“Wait! Don’t hang up. Wait. I said some harsh things last night…”
“I heard.”
“I should have been more…more rational.”
“Look, Quinn. Susie knows how you feel. She doesn’t disagree. She gets it. You want her gone. It’s over. Move on.”
She hung up the phone before he could say, “no, it’s not over.” It wasn’t over for him. His heart was breaking. Pain seared his chest. You ass. What did you do last night? He sat there wracking his brain, trying to remember what he said to her, but he could only recall snatches of their conversation.
Did I dump her? Asshole! Now it’s too late. But she broke my trust. She’s responsible for me losing the book. How can I still love her? He was confused. Every inch of him hurt. He shut his blinds and crawled back in bed. Sleep was his refuge until he could pull himself together and formulate a plan.
He awoke at five o’clock. Now his stomach was nagging at him along with his heart. He turned on the shower, hoping the hot water would revive him. Chaz! Chaz can help me. Wish Susie was in here with me. He finished his lonely shower, threw on his terry robe, and picked up his phone to call Chaz Duncan, his best friend and fellow movie star.
“Chaz. I need you buddy. Can you stop by?”
“What’s up?”
“Woman trouble.”
“I’m on my way.”
The two men sat in the living room, cooled by air conditioning. Chaz brought Quinn up-to-date on his new marriage and honeymoon, or at least as much as he could discuss before Quinn hit him with the problem.
“Let me get this straight. You’re in love with this wonderful girl who sold you out?”
“Sort of.” Quinn popped the top off two bottles of beer and handed one to Chaz.
“Kick her to the curb, man. Come on. If we don’t have trust, we have nothing.” Chaz took a swig of his beer.
“But it was an honest mistake. She didn’t know the guy was a producer.”
“If she’d kept her mouth shut, this wouldn’t have happened. You and I have to have people close to us who shut the fuck up.”
“I know that. She didn’t spill anything else.” Quinn raised the bottle to his lips.
“What’s so great about this chick, besides her bra size?”
“Looks? On a scale of one to ten she’s an eleven.”
“Okay, okay, I get it. What else?” Chaz sat back and took another swig.
“She can cook. Takes care of people. Hell, she took great care of Annemarie’s baby. Never complained, whined, or tried to get me to buy her stuff. In fact, the only stuff she demanded was for the kid. She even left the clothes I got for her when she took off.”
Chaz raised his eyebrows. “Truly amazing! Did you clone Meg?” Quinn smiled.
“Guess Meg’s not the only amazing woman in New York.” He gazed out the window. “Susie would make a great mom.”
“So now you want a mother?” Chaz’s eyes grew wide.
“For my kids. Hell, I want to have kids someday, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Meg’ll be a great mom.” Chaz looked down at his hands. “You’re looking to get married?” He took a drink.
“I didn’t think so, but I’ve had enough dating to last a lifetime. She walked in the door and…I don’t know.”
“You went nuts?”
“Yeah. Bout sums it up.” Quinn took a long draught of his beer.
“Go get her. I don’t see the problem here.”
“I said some things last night…” Quinn ran his hand through his hair.
“Like what?” Chaz’s eyes narrowed.
“Two words come to mind…Jezebel and traitor.” Quinn winced.
“Shit, man! That’s harsh…really harsh.” Chaz frowned.
“She’s not talking to me…not taking my calls.” Quinn hung his head.
“No wonder.”
“I was drunk.” Quinn shrugged.
“That explains everything…drunk and insulting. How could she resist?” He cocked an eyebrow at his friend.
“Don’t rub it in.” He scratched his chin.
“You want her back?” Chaz put down his bottle of beer.
“I want to talk to her. It’s hard without her. I…I was hasty. Didn’t think it through.”
“Hard to be rational when you’re blasted.” Chaz nodded.
“I need to…apologize. I’ve lost the book and now her.” Quinn pushed to his feet.
“Grovel might be the word you’re looking for. Or maybe beg?”
Quinn punched his friend in the arm and smiled. “Leave it to you to cheer me up.”
“Hey, I didn’t get you into this mess.” Chaz raised his palms to Quinn.
“I know. I need help.” He started pacing.
“You need a fuckin’ miracle, my friend.” Chaz downed the last of his beer.
Quinn’s pho
ne rang. He grabbed it and started talking.
“Quinn Roberts?” It was a strange, male voice on the other end.
“Yes?” Silence. “You son of a bitch.” Quinn said in a low growl.
* * * *
Susanna left her suitcase at Annie’s house then headed to Riverside Park. She missed the basketball as she needed a workout, but Quinn gave it to her, so she had left it behind. The sadness in her heart changed to anger as she strode down the path to the courts. Her eyes scanned the benches and sure enough, there he was. Max Webster, sitting alone and sipping iced tea. Her hands balled into fists. Can I hit him? Maybe not. Don’t want to go to jail.
Words came together in her head. The same words Quinn used…almost. Traitor, betrayer. Her body stiffened as she approached him, her fists clenching and releasing as her mouth set in a grim line. He turned his head just as she arrived.
“Susanna! I was just talking about you!”
“You two-timing, two-faced, double-dealing traitor. Betrayer!”
“What are you talking about?”
“You stole that book out from under Quinn. You took my words, my words told to you in confidence! And…and betrayed me. You bought that book before he could, knowing he wanted it. He’s upset, angry…no, furious with me. Our relationship is over. And it’s your fault! I trusted you…” tears clouded her eyes. No, dammit, don’t cry!
“I trusted you…” she continued, “and you stabbed me in the back. Judas! Deceiver!” She shouted at him. “You’re rotten to the core. I regret the day I met you. You’re nothing but a thief…and you’ve destroyed my life. Killed the love I had with Quinn! I love him, and he hates me. Our love is gone. My heart is broken, and it’s all your fault!”
Susanna sensed her control was slipping but was powerless to stop the words cascading from her mouth. Emotion rose inside her like a giant tidal wave, building her anger until it threatened to go over the top more with each epithet, each accusation.
Max stood up during her diatribe, stuttering, trying to get her attention, until she lost it completely and slapped him hard across the face. The loud crack hung heavy in the humid air. Susanna gasped, drawing her hand to her mouth, horrified at what she had done. Tears, no longer held back, flooded down her face in torrents. Max covered his red cheek with his hand, anger flashed in his eyes.
“It’s business. You’ve overreacted,” he said in a quiet, but heated voice before he turned and walked away.
Susanna stood, sobbing into a handkerchief for a minute or two before she regained her composure and returned to her sister’s house. Annie was home, getting ready to pick up the children from school. Susanna fell into her sister’s arms, on the verge of hysteria. Annie held her and soothed her, laying her down on her bed. When it was time for her to hit the sack with her husband, Jonathan, her sister moved back to the sofa.
* * * *
Susanna was jumped on by Felix, Annie’s youngest child, at six in the morning, followed by Emmie and Jordan. The loving aunt wrapped the children in her arms and gave them hugs.
“Mommy said you’re sad, and I should hug you,” Felix said.
“Mommy’s right.” Susanna tried to smile.
After helping Annie send the kids off to school, Susanna checked her phone. There was a text from her lawyer. She opened it.
Estate is finished. Wired $750 thousand into your account. Hope this will give you
some security and a chance to fulfill a few dreams. That was your dad’s wish.
She was shocked! Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars? Slowly, the realization that she didn’t have to look for a job right away lifted her spirits. I can do what I want. She smiled. Thanks, Pop.
Maybe a small trip would be good. Susanna needed time. Time away, time away from Quinn. Time to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. Maybe art school. École nationale supériere des beaux-arts in Paris?
Chapter Fourteen
With all her packing almost done, Susanna headed for the art store. She bought a pad and some new pencils and strolled over to Central Park, looking for something to draw. She needed a breather. Her cell phone rang several times. She ignored the calls from Quinn. She feared the sting of his anger, or worse, his disappointment. He’d already stated he didn’t love her, wanted her gone. She was too humiliated, too embarrassed, and too ashamed to face him anyway. The betrayal sat between them, creating a gulf as wide as the Atlantic Ocean.
She sat back, opened a bottle of iced tea, and looked around. Right next to her was a lovely, small, delicate tree. She set to work sketching the twisting trunk and the symmetrical leaves. Drawing was soothing, took her mind off her troubles. Consumed by her task, she didn’t hear a man approaching. When he cleared his throat, she looked up. It was Quinn.
“Took me long enough to find you.”
Her pulse raced, and she could hear her heart beating in her ears. Her palms began to sweat, and her breath quickened. Silence fell between them.
“I’m leaving tomorrow to film. I’ll be gone for several months, but I couldn’t leave without telling you this.”
She put up her hand. “Please! I think you said everything the other night. I heard you. You were right, but I don’t need to hear it again.” The sting of tears at the back of her eyes warned her.
“I know. I was hasty…out of line.”
“You were correct. Everything you said was the truth. Let’s not go over it again.”
“Of course. No. I’m sorry.”
“What’s done is done. Okay? Can’t we forget it and move on?” She tried to look away, but the way his hair flopped over his forehead, and his boyish grin charmed her, threw her off guard. She couldn’t look away.
“First, you left this behind,” he extended his hand, which held her sketchbook.
“I didn’t leave it. I gave it to you, so you wouldn’t worry I was selling those pictures to the media.” She glanced up enough to see a sigh of relief escape his lips.
“One page is missing.”
She stiffened. “I thought you wouldn’t mind if I kept one picture for myself…as a memento. But if you want it back, I’ll mail it to you before I leave.” She sensed the heat building in her cheeks and tried to look away.
“Leave?”
“I’m going to study art, in Paris.” She swallowed, ignoring the heat growing inside simply by being near him. She fidgeted with her pencil, twirling it between her fingers, her gaze cast down. If you look at him, you’ll cry. No crying!
“Paris? How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. What’s it matter? We’re done.”
“Are we?”
She nodded stiffly. “Besides, you’re going on location. Be gone a long time. You’ll find someone new there, I’m sure.”
“I’m not. I…don’t know if I can mend this…”
“You can’t. So don’t try. Time away will do us both good.”
“Think so?” He shot a questioning look at her.
“You go your way and do…your thing, and I’ll go mine.”
“But when the film wraps?”
“If I’m back by then…we’ll see.” She shrugged.
“Will you see me when I get back?”
“You’ll have to ask me then.” She packed up her supplies. He’s not going to leave and let me draw.
“When do you leave?” He asked.
“Tomorrow.” She lowered her gaze to avoid his eyes.
“Going with anyone?”
“Nope. On my own.”
“Please don’t fall in love with a Frenchman, or any man, before you come back,” he whispered.
How could I? My heart belongs to you. Words failed her as tears filled her eyes. She turned away, blinking heavily, heading north. He grabbed her elbow.
“Promise? I promise,” he said.
“No promises.” Don’t promise me, Quinn. Don’t break my heart a second time.
“Dinner. When you get back. Just dinner?”
“Okay, okay. Dinner.”
She attempted a smile but failed. Leave before you fall into his arms, sobbing. “Good luck with the movie. I know you’ll be great.” She touched his shoulder for a second before moving away from him quickly.
“But wait! I forgot to tell you…”
She raised her palm. “It’ll have to wait.” Her pace quickened. She tried not to look back, but when she got to the exit from the park, she turned and he was still standing there, watching her. A sigh escaped her mouth before she resumed her path up Central Park West, disappearing into the rush hour crowd returning home.
* * * *
January 20, New York City
Susanna awoke to a winter sun peeking in-between her shade and curtains, bringing no warmth. Her studio apartment sublet on Central Park West was small, but it was all the space she needed. Her portfolio was half-full of drawings and watercolors she created in her class at École national supériere, and the rest from work she did in this small apartment. She had returned from Paris in time for Christmas with Annie, Jonathan, and their kids.
The holidays were a melancholy time for her. She thought about Quinn all the time. In fact, in the months since they had separated, she thought of nothing else when she wasn’t drawing or painting. Accepting a few dates in Paris had been a pleasant diversion, but she had no desire for any other man and consequently found none of them fascinating or terribly attractive. Quinn still owned her heart, and her disappointment at not being able to move on drove her back to New York City before she’d planned, rather than remain for another semester in Paris.
She had hoped to hear from Quinn but didn’t know when his film would wrap. If he didn’t contact her, maybe she’d be better off. What would I say to him now? Sipping her first cup of coffee, she made her plan for the day when her cell phone went off. A text message was coming in.
Back in New York this morning. Can you do dinner tonight?
Quinn
Hmm, no “love Quinn,” just “Quinn.” Don’t be a bitch. Accept. Go. Get this either moving forward or over with. She returned the text.
Red Carpet Romance Page 19
