I couldn’t stop staring at her, thinking, that’s Finn’s baby inside her belly. I was jealous as hell, but not high up and angry-jealous. This was low down, sick-jealous that someone else would get to cuddle and bathe and play with a child who had his eyebrows and his smile. My jealousy was wrong in every possible way, but I knew then and there that I wanted his baby.
So much.
What I didn’t want was for Lizzie’s baby to come first, for Finn to be comparing her child to mine, and I definitely didn’t want to share him with—or lose him to—another woman. Despite all that, the longing I felt for him was a hundred times worse than it had been.
I put the phone down but, unfortunately, Lizzie’s image was engraved on my brain, so I didn’t sleep for hours. I just lay there in the dark, thinking about the fact that I might never have children. I’ would make sure Fritha’s shop went ahead, but I didn’t want to be involved, and I certainly never wanted to meet this girl, this Lizzie. She wasn’t a slut. She was wholesomeness personified, and when I thought about the two of them together with their baby, I wanted to hate him, but whenever the image of him in that beautifully tailored suit came into my mind, I ached. And I had no idea how I’d get past that.
The next day, however, provided an unwelcomed distraction. Brittany on the phone.
“Hey sis, I’m in Spain.”
“What!” I rattled my coffee cup onto the breakfast bar.
“We’re walking the el caminito del ray. It’s the most dangerous footpath in the world. How cool is that?”
We? My brain couldn’t catch up. “Bangkok. What happened to—”
“Jase sprung me.”
“What? Who?”
“Jason,” she said impatiently. “He paid for my boobs, remember?”
I gripped the kitchen chair in front of me so hard my fingers hurt. “No. I don’t remember because you didn’t tell me.”
“Anyway. He paid the hospital and got my passport back, and now we’re in Spain.”
As if I should be happy. I sucked in an unsteady breath and said, “Is this the person who paid for a cheap boob job, and then left you in the lurch when you got infected?”
Fucker.
“He didn’t ‘leave me in the lurch’. He went off to get money from his dad, apparently. Then he came back. And anyway, I thought you’d want to know where I am, but if you’re just going to be shitty with me, I shouldn’t have bothered.”
I stood in the sunlit, marble kitchen of someone else’s home—a man I was fucking so I could pay her bills—and said nothing, because I was suddenly very empty. A part of me knew I should be angry, I should be saying You have no idea what I’ve done for you, but another part of me knew she’s just hang up on me, and then I wouldn’t hear from her for another six months. Even if she was in trouble. And I couldn’t bear the thought of her being stranded or sick or lost and thinking I wouldn’t care.
So in the end I just said, “That’s great,” with no enthusiasm whatsoever. “Have fun. Say hello to Jason for me.”
“Will do! See ‘ya.”
Then she was gone and I was staring at my hand on the back of the chair, wondering what the point of it all was—what the point of anything was. I stayed like that for probably ten minutes, not even thinking, just numb. Then I went back to my computer and finished the secretarial assignment I’d been doing, because I honestly didn’t know what else to do.
The week dragged on as I grew more melancholy, and it became harder to keep up the happy and bright banter with Sasha. I was spending hours in their gym, just running on the treadmill, and the mirror told me I was losing weight. I didn’t want to drink—a bad sign for me—and I didn’t want to call a girlfriend.
Some part of me felt as if I’d got myself into this situation and I simply had to get myself out. One fuck at a time. But it must have shown, because when the job was over and I was saying goodbye, Sasha told me to seek psychiatric help for my depression. He’d had a friend who suicided, and he saw the signs in me.
I didn’t have the energy to disagree.
Instead I went straight to Missy Lou’s house and threw myself on her mercy—small though that was—for the remaining few days before her soiree weekend. She fed me alcohol, whether I wanted it or not, and didn’t care whether I ate, which was helpful because I had little appetite. Plus, she didn’t ask questions. I suspected that was so I wouldn’t ask about her problems. Whatever, it made life easier.
The only highlight in those dark days as I tried to re-establish my mojo was an unexpected email from Simon. I’d been trying not to think about him, and when I did, it was only to hope that I hadn’t damaged him irrevocably with the butt-fucking. So his upbeat email came as a complete surprise.
Dear Jill Sitter
I thought you’d like to know that your skills weren’t wasted on me. I’ve got a new girlfriend and she’s totally hot. I wanted to get into her pants the moment I met her, but I didn’t have the guts to ask her out. When you liked what we did, and especially when I realized you’d come every night, I figured I had something to offer. So I asked her out. We’ve been dating for a few weeks, and yesterday we fucked. It was totally awesome, and she thinks I’m a sex god.
I’d like to brag about that, but it’s all down to you. I just did what you taught me that you liked, and she loved it.
Thank you.
Really
Simon
His email caused a momentary break in the clouds to let in some much-needed sunlight, but I couldn’t stop myself circling back to the bad news: that my sister was a thoughtless bitch, and the only man I was ever likely to fall crazy in love with was having a baby with someone else. When I remembered that, I was right back to square one.
I didn’t book any more husband sitting jobs. I had enough self-love to realize I needed a break, so I started looking for a housesit with cats. Something relaxing and easy that would allow me to do secretarial work for a few weeks while I settled my emotions down.
I sent Sieu the twelve grand from Sasha’s husband sit to get things started, and Fritha me sent excited texts with photos of the shop fit-out she was planning, which looked even more bohemian and amazing than the designs Sieu had shown me. But I made it clear in my replies to Fritha that I didn’t want to be involved. My last one was: Just make me money, honey. I don’t care how.
She would get that joke.
Of course, Ange and Missy Lou had no idea about my adulterous exploits, and that was another reason to have a break for a while. But underlying everything was a blood-sucking ennui that just maybe was bordering on depression. I preferred to think of it as sad-with-benefits. Alcohol being the primary one.
In any case, the ‘catch up’ weekend rolled around and I was none the wiser about Missy Lou’s motives in getting us all together. She just kept saying “It’s time.” If I’d cared more, I would have pursued it, but I didn’t. So I looked forward to the only good thing about it that I could imagine—Doug complimenting Ange and making her feel good about herself—and maybe putting a rocket under Donny’s chubby ass.
I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Fritha, much as I loved her. She’d be bubbling with excitement about the shop, and it would be impossible to hide the fact that I couldn’t care less. I wanted to be happy that she was happy, but some rebellious ‘victim’ part of me felt that her happiness was coming at my expense.
Which was utter bullshit. Everything about my situation was down to my own choices. However, despite my self-pity, I did feel a glimmer of satisfaction that I’d done things to make my friends happier. I’d helped Ange feel sexy again. I’d created Fritha’s dream work environment. And I’d agreed to attend Missy Lou’s soiree weekend, despite having no clue what it was about.
I could see she needed me, so I determined that I would co-host with her, and that would give me an excuse to hide in the kitchen when the blahs got too bad. By Friday at seven pm—the designated time for guests to arrive—Louella and I were decked out in full length gowns from her o
versized dressing room. Mine was old gold Hollywood glamour with bare arms and beading all the way from neck to hips, with the heaviest gold satin falling from there to my ankles. I was taller than Missy Lou, so the dress was short on me and I went for gold sandals, much to her disapproval. However I did put my hair up into a simple coil, and with Missy Lou’s heavy eyeliner in place, I had to admit I looked glamorous.
Hers was silver: a classic Grace Kelly strapless satin sheath with a chiffon overskirt. Missy Lou normally wore her hair down, but tonight it was swept into a classic upstyle. I’d never seen her looking more elegant, or more fragile. We sat on the back terrace with its hundreds of fairy lights overlooking Sydney Harbor, drinking Pimm’s. It wasn’t my favorite, but I was determined to be accommodating. If necessary, I could hit the whisky later.
Marcus, who’d arrived home late from work, much to Missy Lou’s disapproval, joined us only seconds before the doorbell rang. They sent me to get it, presumably so they could row in private.
Unfortunately for me, it was Doug.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Something Old, Something New
Dear old Doug stood on the doorstep with his goofy smile and his one-size-too-big ears, wearing an ill-fitting grey suit with a pink shirt and tie. I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone look more awkward, and it immediately made me feel better.
“Jinx, you look stunning,” he said, taking in my golden gown, but he held back from a hug, and because you don’t shake hands with people you’ve fucked, we were stuck with a close-quarters hand-wave greeting.
I tried to shake off the awkwardness. “Louella’s wardrobe,” I said, then nodded at him. “You look like you’ve been trying on suits at a thrift shop and bought the cheapest one.”
His eyes widened momentarily. Then he burst out laughing. “Okay. I’m crap at fashion.”
“Tell me about it.” I was glad I’d managed to break the ice. I gestured for him to enter. “Lucky no one’s judging here. Or at least, not judging our apparel.”
He came in and closed the door behind himself. “What are they judging?”
I shook my head. “Happily families? I don’t know.” We stared at each other a moment before I forced myself to say, “I know why you were invited, Doug. Marcus is matchmaking. But why did you come?” I wanted to add surely you don’t imagine we’ll get back together? But I remembered Angela’s opinion about that and held my tongue. Maybe I was being egotistical.
It took him a minute to answer. “I’ve been lonely,” he said at last and glanced away. Then he met my eyes again. “You always had better friends than me.”
“I know.”
“I missed them. And of course I miss you.”
Somehow, that wasn’t awkward. It was honest, and it softened me enough to say, “Yeah. It’s been weird for me too. But…I’m moving forward.”
“Me too.” He nodded. “This isn’t a step backward for me. I want it to be closure.”
That made me frown. “In what way?”
Unfortunately, I didn’t get to hear his reply because Marcus came up behind me and said, “Doug! My man!” in that booming over-enthusiastic voice he affected when he was being ‘the host’.
Doug smiled apologetically at me and stepped forward to shake Marcus’s hand, looking genuinely pleased to see him. If there had been any sexual awkwardness between them in the past, they hid it well.
Missy Lou cruised up behind Marcus and said, “Douglas. Thank you for coming.”
Doug went quiet. Men were always intimidated by Missy Lou. But he stepped forward for the obligatory cheek-kiss, before saying, “Thanks for inviting me Louella. That was gracious. I’m not part of your circle—”
“Nonsense,” Marcus cut in, as if he’d heard enough chatter. “Let’s get a drink, eh?” He nodded toward the terrace where Louella’s housekeeper had set up the bar before she’d left.
Doug smiled apologetically at Missy Lou and me, then he let himself be led.
When the boys were gone I said, “That wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it would be.”
Louella had followed them with her gaze, which was completely unreadable. “I’m glad it’s easy for you.”
I didn’t miss the inflection, or the fact that the glass in her hand was empty. It had been full when I’d left her two minutes ago. I could draw my own conclusions about who was having trouble with Doug’s visit.
I decided she needed a distraction, so I grabbed her hand. “Let’s heat the food. I’m sure someone will eat it.”
She nodded absently and followed me into the kitchen, but we’d barely begun to pull trays of expensive appetizers out of her huge refrigerator when the doorbell rang again.
“I’ve got it,” I said, and left her to sort out what to serve first.
It was either Fritha and whatever hippy friend she’d dragged along, or Ange and Donny—who I had to remember to call Danny. I’d done well so far, but….
I tucked stray strand of hair behind my ear and opened the door.
On Finn.
My stomach went into a tailspin, but he was frowning. “You’ve lost weight.”
He looked amazing in a simple charcoal suit. His white shirt and tie showed off his glorious tan, and every lustful thought I’d imagined was worn away by boring sex came rushing back. I wanted to run my fingers into that honey hair and kiss him until someone put a hose on us. And I wanted to tell him I would never love anyone the way I loved him. It was beyond aching.
I couldn’t even manage to say his name.
We just stared at each other until Fritha stepped into view beside him in a fluttering rainbow bridesmaid dress and took his arm. “Jinx. Look who I brought.”
As quickly as heat had overtaken me, icy fingers of horror closed over my exposed heart. I blinked at her, telling myself this wasn’t happening. Only, it was. My bestie, and the man I adored, together.
“Frith,” I whispered, unable to stop my gazing returning to Finn, probably with anguish written all over my face. Strangely, the hot jealousy was gone. In its place was a fatalistic acceptance that life was going to shit over me and I couldn’t stop it. I’d pushed him away. She’d let him in.
It was easy to see who deserved him.
Before I could comment on their coupledom, she let him go and launched herself at me so I gave her an autopilot hug, one hand patting her bony shoulder-blade while my gaze devoured Finn, wishing I could turn back time and somehow have not fucked this up.
Fritha pulled out of the hug and shook me until I transferred my gaze to her. I noted for the first time that she’d created some five-second version of an updo with a plastic silver tiara poked into the front. It was spilling red ringlets down her back. “I brought Finn because you’re too much of a fuckwit to admit you belong together.” She grinned, and then danced off barefoot to find Missy Lou.
Did that mean…they weren’t an item?
Finn stayed in the doorway, starting to look uncomfortable.
I realized I was holding my breath and I let it out in a rush. “You’re not with Fritha?”
He shook his head. “We’ve had that discussion.”
“Then…” He glanced past me to the inside of the house and I suddenly realized I was being rude. I immediately stepped back and said, “Come in,” telling myself that as co-hostess it was my job to make everyone feel comfortable, no matter who they were or why they’d come. But now that I had my mouth working, I couldn’t help saying, “Why did you come?”
“Not because you’re a fuckwit,” he said softly. Then he smiled that slow, sexy smile that completely undid me. “Frith asked me to, and…I was prepared to risk complete rejection just to see you again. Even if it’s only for five minutes before you throw me out.”
“Finn.” Missy Lou came up behind me and touched my arm, saying softly to me, “Why are you leaving guests in the doorway?” She stepped forward and took Finn’s arm, all silver chiffon and gracious smiles. “This way,” she said to him. “I’ll introduce you to my husband Marcus.”
&n
bsp; I could only shut the door and trail behind them, unable to stop myself loving the way he walked, the breadth of his shoulders and way his suit pants hugged that gorgeous ass. It wasn’t until we reached the terrace and I stepped in behind them that my gaze landed on Doug and I snapped out of my sensual haze.
Fuck.
Missy Lou was making introductions, and I side-stepped so I could see everyone’s faces. Doug seemed happy to shake Finn’s hand when he was introduced as Fritha’s friend. But Finn’s reaction to hearing Doug’s name was a sharp contrast. I couldn’t miss the sudden stiffness in his shoulders, or the fact that he let Doug’s hand go as quickly as was polite.
“The Doug, I presume,” he said, and leveled an icy glance at me.
Bless Doug, he didn’t get it. He just smiled his goofy smile. “Finn and Fritha. That’s cute.” As if they were a couple. He’d always been clueless when it came to social niceties.
Missy Lou stepped into the gap, moving Finn on to introduce him to Marcus who Fritha had cornered at the bar, no doubt with an order for some bizarre cocktail. My earlier maneuvering left me with Doug, which wasn’t what I wanted.
He stepped over to me. “They make a nice pair.” He looked genuinely pleased for Fritha. “Although I’d always expected her to be with someone more…alternative.”
I stepped closer and lowered my voice. “They’re just friends, Doug.”
“Oh.” He seemed nonplussed, and some protective urge made me say, “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. We’re all friends here, remember.”
He surprised me by winking, “No judging, I remember.”
I turned in time to see Finn glaring at me, and I deliberately took a step away from Doug. An embarrassing silence settled between us until the doorbell rang, and I said, “I’ve got it!” before anyone else could move. I left Doug to find his own conversations, and picked up the hem of my dress and scampered for the door, wondering if I should grab my keys on the way and just keep going. That would solve a lot of problems, only, when the door opened I found Angel on the front porch, alone, looking sadder than I’d ever seen her.
Husband Sit (Husband #1) Page 27
