Mad Love 2

by Colet Abedi

  Mad Love 2

  by

  Colet Abedi

  “The great question that has never been answered and which I have not yet been able to answer. . . is, "What does a woman want?" —Sigmund Freud

  COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Colet Abedi

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alibi Books.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

  Photograph: Isaac Matthew White Photography

  Book design: Afshin Toussi

  Acknowledgments

  This book is dedicated to my father, Hedayat Abedi. My hero. The man who taught me to dream. The man who taught me that I could be anything I wanted. That the sky was the limit. That this country, America, was a land of opportunity and we were blessed to be here and to become anything we wanted. Daddy, I don’t know how to thank you. You left your home when you were so young and dreamt of something greater and you accomplished it. And not only that, you taught your daughters to do the same. Papa, you used to say that we were your universe and your hopes . . . well, you are mine. I can’t believe I have to wait to see you again. To hug you. To embrace you. To just hold your hand. . .. Which was everything. Everything.

  I love you, dad. I miss you more every day. Thank you for being the best father. Ever.

  To my agent, Lisa Gallagher. You walked through hell with me and actually came out with a smile. That is a miracle in itself. Thank you for believing in me. Championing me. And most fun, cussing people out with me. . ..

  To Jane Cavolina. My editor. But more importantly, my friend. Not only are you a beautiful soul but you’re an incredible critic. Your opinion is invaluable to me. I don’t know what I’d do without your talent and support. Thank you for sticking around through everything. For listening to me cry like a baby and for just being there. Everything happens for a reason and I know you’re my reason from Mad Love.

  My husband. I love you. I don’t know what I’d do without you or where I would be. Thank you for supporting me. For believing in me. For pushing me. For holding me through my endless tears. I love you more than words can say. You’re my soul mate and my love. What a year we’ve had.

  Mommy and Jasmine. We are united in grief and love forever. Not just that, you’re my core family now. I love you both and would do anything for you. Thank you for your support and love. I know Papa is holding our hands and guiding us along in this next chapter of our lives. But even so, I really wish he was here. I love you guys.

  Ellajoon. You were very upset that you didn’t get a thanks in book one and I ask that you forgive me for that. You are my angel. My daughter. My love. My khaleh. My beautiful niece with a heart of gold. You are the light in our life. You are our gift. You are my love forever and ever. You are always first and never, ever forgotten, my love. My biggest wish is that you find your very own Mad Love. He just has to pass through the Auntie test first . . .

  Giuliana and Bill. Together you’re a force, individually incredible energy and beautiful friends/family. Bill, thank you for pushing me. For telling me not to give up when I thought the world was so dark. You are a wonderful man and I’m blessed to count you as my friend. Jules, what can I say? We’ve been through it all together. And you’ve always been there as my bestest friend and biggest supporter. You never hesitate when I ask and you always push me to believe in myself. I love you forever, sister from another mister. #bffsforever. Where would we be if we hadn’t met at that fax machine?

  Annalynne. Cover model. Book critic. Past life family member . I love you. You’re an incredible, loyal friend. I am so lucky to have you in my life. I honestly can’t imagine it without you in it. Your kindness and endless generosity is something I admire so much. I believe you when you say the best is coming. #nothingrealcanbethreatened

  Nicky. Aussie lady. We’ve been through it. Oh boy, have we. Thank you for taking me to steam, for caring about my health, for letting me cry like a baby. Bringing me wine. Letting me drink wine . And for never ever judging. Your heart is gold, lady. GOLD. I love you. Isn’t life funny? Thank God we met . . .

  Ariana, Andrea, Christina, Tanna, Brenda—my biggest book critics! And my loves. You ladies are Mad Lovers and the ones I trusted to read my book and tell me your honest opinion. Not only that . . . you’re my family. Forever and ever. Always. I love you guys.

  Giannina. My friend. Mentor. I love and thank you for all of your support and belief in me—in everything I do. You’ve taught me true strength and I learn more from you everyday. #QueenofHearts XXX

  Jorge Serrano. Not only do you do the best sex hair there is but you’re incredibly kind, giving, loving, and have the most beautiful heart I know. I love you.

  Carlton. My soul sister. I love you. You’re my protector. For realz. I know I have nothing to worry about with you on my side. You and David are the best and thank you for letting me use your amazing fireplace. #ChurchofGebbia

  Cathea. How long has it been? You are and will always be my get out of jail call . Literally. Your friendship means the world to me. You are so loyal and wonderful. And you’re always there if I need you. I love you, beautiful lady.

  Lauren. Thank you for being such an amazing friend to me. You shared my grief and checked in every day. And you let me know it was okay for me to be sad. I will never ever forget it. I love you.

  Erik and Orie. Ummm . . . you are Sophie’s BFFs. Drinking partners. Eating partners. Laughing partners. What more can I say? Love you guys.

  Rana, Sally, Noonoosh—the Persian posse. Utah. Barbies. The H Rock. OPP. France 2000. Munich. DSV. Bathtub shots. Wine. Martinis. Food. Lots of food. Everything in between. I love you, girls.

  Nina, Sahar, Nedda, Bahman, Shawn, Uncle Massoud, Minajoon, Uncle Mojee, Marlene, Mamanjoon, Bubajoon, Manjehjoon, Firoozehoon, Irajjoon, Babak, Mahnazjoon . . . family. We are lucky to have each other. This year has taught me that more than anything. You’re my glue. Forever.

  JD, Megan, Male Model, Arash, Bob, John, Mary, Matt, Amy, Angel, Esme, Amanda, Laya, Mona, Shirin, Trace, Lily, Majeed, Rizzotti, Staci, Mark, Matt A.—friends. You all mean so much to me and bring me such joy. My life wouldn’t be complete without all of you in it.

  To my incredible fan base . . . Mad Lovers Worldwide—Kristen Cambensy, Kerry Ann, Kerry-Lee, Elaine, Alicia, Nic, Logan, all the FAE fans who became Mad Love ones, NWA Gossip Girl, Nina Literary Gossip, Jacyln, LA_Fandom, Romance Addict Book Blog, Nazarea Andrews, Inkslinger PR, and the rest! You guys waited so patiently and were so supportive and loving. I can’t ask for a better team on my side. This book would be nothing without you.

  My wish is that everyone finds their very own Mad Love . . .

  Note to the Reader:

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents

  either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Any and all product names referenced within this book are the copyright and/or trademarks of their respective owners. None of these owners have sponsored, authorized, endorsed or approved this book in any way. The author and publisher specifically disclaim all responsibility for any liability, loss, or risk, personal or otherwise, which
is incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly in relation to this book.

  For my father, Hedy Abedi.

  I know you’re the brightest star in heaven.

  I love you, daddy.

  1

  “Alright, Sophie, in a moment I’m going to count to three. And when I do I want you to take a deep breath in and then slowly exhale,” Dr. Goldstein, my hypnotherapist, says to me in a soothing voice. “And when you release your breath, you will let go of all your pain. All your anxiety. And you will forget you ever knew Clayton Astor Sinclair.”

  I take in a shaky breath and prepare myself.

  “One.”

  My eyes flutter like a butterfly and before I can stop myself I see a flash of Clayton pulling me into his arms.

  “Two.”

  His lips crush mine with savage intensity.

  “Three.”

  His tongue moves into my mouth to take full ownership and—

  Dr. Goldstein snaps his fingers.

  “Uh-hum,” Dr. Goldstein coughs loudly. “I said, three.”

  It takes me a moment to remember where I am and more important, why I’m here. And when that happens the memories hit me hard.

  When I open my eyes I’m pretty sure my cheeks are on fire.

  “How do you feel, Sophie?” Dr. Goldstein asks me with a raised brow.

  I think about lying to him, but wonder if he’s a mind reader, too. He’s the hypnotherapist that Erik recommended to get rid of bad habits. People usually saw him for smoking, alcohol addiction, or binge eating. Not to forget sex with a man they met in the Maldives.

  “Good.” I hope I sound convincing.

  Dr. Goldstein brushes a hand through his silver hair and stands up to walk behind his large glass desk. I sit up from the couch I’ve been lying down on and smooth out my grey sweat pants. I watch Dr. Goldstein pace. His office could be the poster child for minimalist perfection. The walls are winter white, with three large, framed, iconic Ansel Adams photos. A simple black leather sofa with a single metal chair for the doctor are placed in front of his enormous desk. It is sparse, but strangely comforting in a nonthreatening kind of way.

  I watch as Dr. Goldstein moves to stand in front of the window that overlooks Santa Monica pier. He crosses his arms and stares down at me from behind his thick dark frames. The look reminds of the kind my dad would have when he was disappointed in something I’d done. A feeling of dread washes over me as he frowns at the view.

  “Honesty is a requirement in this office,” he says. “Without honesty how do we know this is helping?”

  I think about his words before I reluctantly answer.

  “Well,” I begin slowly, “I guess when you told me to forget Clayton, I saw a flash of his face. Then I thought of his arms around me and kissing him, then—” my voice starts to get choked up, the tears, those damn tears of mine, are dangerously close to falling. Again.

  Dr. Goldstein waves his hand in the air.

  “I get it. You see Clayton even though I keep telling you to stop seeing him. Same way you’ve been seeing him for the past three weeks.” He turns away from the window and sits down at his desk. He leans back in his chair and twirls his silver mustache between his fingers as he stares at me.

  It feels like an eternity.

  “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but since you’ve been coming here three times a week with no improvement whatsoever, I’m going to have to say that I think you’re a classic case study.”

  Classic case study?

  I wonder what mental issue he’s about to diagnose me with.

  “Tell me, Dr. Goldstein,” I say softly, ready to hear his conclusion and learn how to forget Clayton forever. “I can handle whatever you’re going to tell me as long as there is medication for it.”

  I think Dr. Goldstein rolls his eyes but I can’t be sure because my eyes are blurry from the tears that I’m determined not to shed. Not anymore.

  “There is no medication for what you have, Sophie! You don’t want to forget the damn guy.” He throws his hands up in the air when he says the last bit.

  But I’m trying. I really am.

  The last person I want to be with is a serial philanderer, always focused on the next conquest. Someone I can never trust and will always wonder about.

  But the problem is that I’ve not been able to forget him. Not yet. The man who introduced me to passion. Who introduced me to love. The most perfect man in every way— Okay, except for one glaring flaw. Okay, more than glaring, try epic flaw— Oh whatever, Sophie! You’re the one who fell for him!

  Clayton. The Cheater.

  My plane ride home from Singapore four weeks ago was like something out of a nightmare. Between the wine and the tears, I was sure I drove Erik and Orie crazy. The two of them were staring at me like I needed to be admitted to a mental institution. We were in first class and I didn’t even notice the luxury, I just cried my heart out and drank an obscene amount of red wine.

  Erik, my dear beautiful best friend, tried his hardest to talk me out of the hole of darkness I had buried myself in.

  “Get a goddamn grip! You need to be strong! You’re a woman now in every sense of the word. This is real life, Sophie.”

  Real life? Was this my only choice?

  “What Erik is trying to say,” Orie chimed in with his usual gentle demeanor, “is that unfortunately this is part of the ups and downs of life. Of relationships.”

  I turned my gaze away from Orie and stared blindly out the plane window.

  “Sophie,” Orie continued, “I think the best way for you to handle this is to pretend like it’s a death. You can never go back because it’s gone. He’s gone. For good. It’s done. It’s over. It’s dead—”

  “I think she gets it,” Erik interrupted. “But Orie’s right. If you look at this like a death you can give yourself real closure. Like, pretend a shark ate him in the Maldives. Or, I don’t know . . . something just as gruesome and painful because that’s exactly what the bastard deserves.”

  But he wasn’t dead, he was alive and well at the resort. And probably zeroing in on his next victim. Moving her to the villa next to his. Getting ready to wine and dine—

  “Jesus. Look at your face,” Erik said as he grabbed my hand. “It’s not going to be easy. But we’re going to be right here next to you the whole way. You will get over him. I promise you. You will. And one day, we’ll look back on this and laugh. The way I’m silently laughing at you right now.”

  Erik put a small mirror in front of my face and I gasped in horror at how frightening I looked because the wine had stained my teeth and lips.

  “You look like death becomes her,” he said, trying his hardest not to smile.

  He did finally manage to get a giggle out of me. But it didn’t last long.

  And that feels like ages ago.

  I’m all cried out now. Exhausted. Trying not to think about him even though I can’t stop dreaming about him. Hoping that I wake up and the pain will at least be a bit less. Something that I can deal with. Not this horrible feeling that no one will ever be as perfect as him. But there is no way I can be with a man who is unfaithful. No way. I remember a girl at school whose father always had affairs. It was awful and the worst part was, after her mother had spend twenty years putting up with his shit, he ended up leaving her in the end. No way I would let myself go down that road.

  When I got home from the trip I locked myself up in my apartment and refused to see anyone for two days. My parents tried to force their way over but I avoided them by claiming I had a horrible flu and just wanted to sleep. I got a two-day reprieve and then made myself go to their house, or else I knew they’d have the police breaking down my door. Thankfully my tan hid the fact that I was such a mess inside.

  I managed to get through dinner without crying and even forced myself to eat a few bites. Luckily, no one had noticed my lack of appetite. After, I sat on the couch in the family room a
nd stared blindly at the TV. My dad was watching CNN and my mom was in the kitchen cleaning up the dishes from dinner. We had opted to stay in so we could catch up. I was grateful because I was able to wear what had become my uniform since I returned: sweatpants and sweatshirt, with my hair tied up in a bun. My parents were dressed casually as well, but they were wearing nice tracksuits that didn’t have old stains on them. My dad looked relaxed, sitting back on the cozy white sofa with a glass of wine in his hand. His silver hair was brushed back from his handsome face and I could tell he was enjoying the broadcast. I felt good when my dad was at ease. At least there was something in the world that could still make me happy.

  Dad had occasionally broken the silence by asking me a question about my vacation. My answers were abrupt and I’m sure he could tell that I didn’t want to talk about it. So he had stayed silent for most of the evening. I was happy for that because it gave me the opportunity to obsess about Clayton and analyze every single moment we had together.

  “God what a frightening thought,” my father said out loud.

  “Uh huh,” I replied automatically as I relived the moments on the Remington’s yacht when I first met Amelia Von Peters, the model.

  “Just awful,” he went on.

  “Sure is,” I nodded blankly as I realized I should have known from the looks Amelia gave Clayton that something was going on.

  “To think we had the alien mothership in our backyard this entire time and didn’t know it.”

  “Yeah.”