Yep, she knew well before the words had been spoken, she'd fallen fast and hard for Wesley Caraway. At first it was the idea of him—the boy she admired from afar all those years ago. She had to dissuade herself of the adolescent image she'd created and replace it with the man he was in reality. A man who would let her warn her cold feet on his legs. A man who laughed at her jokes. A man who wasn't afraid to sing to his daughters and do the voices when he read them stories. It was a big surprise that seeing him in all his dad glory would be attractive. Usually it made her puke. But in her defense, her only exposure was in the stores. "Mommy said no cookies right now. If you ask again you'll get a time out." Why did they have to use that high octave patronizing voice and refer to themselves in the third person? Her sister never used that voice, in fact she talked to her toddlers like they were grad students. That was just as weird. Her point being, Wes made parenting seem genuine and cool. If someone had asked her a year ago if she'd be fantasizing about a dude and his dad skills, she would have said, like hell. Yet, here she was.
Why couldn't she stop thinking about him? It was driving her insane. She was so naive to think time would make her fall less in love with him. But then again, this was her first time to feel this way. Maybe she should call him and ask how he was doing it, because obviously she was a distant memory. Men were assholes. In love one minute, in someone else's pants another. Then her mind went there...he and Mila together. She hated when this happened, which was more often than what would be deemed healthy. Was he doing that special thing he did with his fingers? Did she scream his name while having the best sex of her life?
Oh god, kill her now...like stabbing, electrocution, dismemberment...anything was better than this gnawing pain in the pit of her stomach.
Even drinks with friends had lost it's appeal. Pajama happy hour at Marin's had always been her favorite.
"Tess, you okay? Emma asked gently.
"What? Oh, sorry, stuck in my head there for a minute. What were you saying?" Tess poked her straw into her glass of ice, stirring her still full drink around.
"She was telling us why it sucks being single," Marin informed her.
"Oh, yeah? You need a pen and paper for that?" Tess teased, feeling sad right after. She had been getting used to having a plus one. Just when she thought she was over the worst of it she'd have a day like this one.
"It doesn't suck being single, as in woe is me, I need a man...it sucks because since I don't have a family, everyone seems to think that means I have an abundance of time on my hands...Like, work, for example. 'Emma, you can go to that conference in Afghanistan, right? Little Robby has a soccer game this weekend...Emma, you can work late, right? My wife will kill me if I miss dinner again.' I don't mind helping people out and I love my job. I make a shit ton of money, but that doesn't mean I want to go to a freaking trade show about the breakthroughs of erectile disfunction in Cleveland."
Tess and Marin snorted a laugh. "I get that, too. I always get the 'you can take on the extra story, right, Tess?'"
"I'm surrounded by workaholics at my firm, so no one seems to give a crap about kids or spouses," Marin admitted.
Emma sipped her white wine, her brown eyes looking thoughtful. "You know what's great about being single?"
"Yes, remind me, please," Tess begged.
"Being able to wear your period panties any damn time you want." Tess laughed.
"That's a good one...and you can go wherever you want, when you want, without getting hassled about not spending enough time with them. Blah, blah, blah."
"Marin, that's the problem with dating chicks," Emma answered.
"You know what I like about being single?" Tess asked. "Nothing. Right now, I can't think of a damn thing." Okay great, now she was crying again. She felt the cushion depress and arms wrapped around her.
"It will get better," Marin promised.
"Does it?" She wiped her nose and looked back and forth to her friends.
"Yes. I'm not saying you'll fall out of love with him or anything, that part never goes away, but the pain subsides...eventually," Marin offered. Tess knew it would take time, but none of it mattered. She took a deep breath and her shoulders shuddered.
"Don't look to me for advice. I stay away from love for a reason, for this reason right here. I don't need that kind of headache. A free meal? Sure. Sex. Hell, yes. The rest, no gracias."
"But being in love is the best feeling in the world. It outweighs the pain by far," Marin said.
Tess gave her a look. "Spoken by someone who's not going through a traumatic heartbreak, like, as we speak."
Emma touched Tess on the arm. "Would you take it back? I mean if you could."
"You mean would I give up having been with him, to avoid this feeling? Right now, I'd have to say yes." She may not feel like it tomorrow, but at that moment, she would've removed her own brain and torn out the memories of Wesley Caraway with her bare hands.
"Emma one day your going to meet someone and he's goan rock yo world," Marin said, sounding like Wanda from In Living Color. Earning her another tease from Emma about being old enough to remember that show. "Comic genius, you infant."
"You know what this pity party needs?" Tess piped up. "Hard liquor...and Beyoncé."
After that, the tears were only from laughter. Especially when Emma fell off the coffee table as she did her Beyoncé bootie bounce after three shots. "No one's ready for that jelly," Tess teased. She was laughing so hard she fell to the ground.
"Whatevs, I've got sick moves...You're just jealous, you and your duck face dance."
"Duck face dance? What the hell is that?" Tess asked.
"You do those stupid duck face lips when you dance."
"I do? Nuh-uh!"
"Yes, you do, and it's ridiculous." Emma did her imitation. "Why do white girls do that?"
"White girls are not the only ones who do it...never mind, we are...I don't mean to! My mouth just does that automatically." Tess and Marin looked at each other and both did their duck lips, bopping their heads.
"And don't get all Latina on us, Emma. I've heard you talk medical. You sound like a prim professor," Marin teased.
"Shut it, gringa! I have a Master's in MicroBiology, so I could be a professor at the finest community college," she pointed out.
"It's like the interviewing Nelson Mandela, Oprah, versus the interviewing Queen Latifah, Oprah," Tess said. "Emma can turn her ethnicity on and off at will."
"It shows I can be myself around you guys. I can be any version of myself at anytime."
"Well, I'd hope so, we are your best friends," Marin said.
They still sat on the floor, limbs askew. "Guys, thanks for everything. You've made me feel much better. I just need you guys to stay with me every minute of every day until I get over this."
"You can stay here as long as you need to," Marin offered.
Tess hugged her. "Thanks, I'll be okay, but the night's still young. How about we order some pizza and watch girl power movies until we fall into a carb coma?"
"You're on! I'll order from the place down the street."
"Oooh, yes! They have the best crust. Order one with lots of porky toppings," Emma requested.
Marin nodded. "You got it. Tess, I'll get one with veggies."
"Perfect. I like meat, but I can only handle so much swine. No bell peppers, please, they make me gag."
"I know, don't worry." Marin walked into her kitchen while Tess and Emma sunk into the couch and scrolled through the pay-per-views. They bickered and wrestled with the remote. Tess gave Emma a titty twister, and regained remote control. Emma cursed and attempted to push Tess off the couch. Marin said the pizza was on the way, and teased how she couldn't leave them alone for a second.
Tess smiled—sometimes all a girl needed was her friends.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
One of the biggest patrons of the arts in town was Mr. And Mrs. Frank Bower, who had graciously opened their palatial home one fall evening, in order to feature some
of the city's up and coming artists. Tess enjoyed art, but she wouldn't have attended one of these things had it not been for Marin. Her firm was one of the sponsors, and when she'd invited Tess, she'd accepted. She thought why not kill two birds with one stone, and pitched the coverage of the event for their society section, as she was idea-light for their upcoming issue. Her boss thought it was a great idea. So, she was here on business rather than pleasure, although the second glass of rosé she nursed was very pleasurable.
It also gave her an excuse to buy a brand new outfit. She loved the soft flowing material of the eggshell pantsuit she'd chosen. The top was a sleeveless halter, the pant legs tapered at the ankle. Her shoulders were tan, her hair wavy, and her makeup minimal. She felt pretty, she almost wished she had a date. Not that she had anyone in mind to bring. There was this guy in her complex who'd been sniffing about. He just moved in and didn't know many people. He told her all about it one day when she'd introduced herself. He was carrying a box and couldn't open the door. She'd offered to help, which apparently in man speak meant that she wanted to sleep with him. Hence the sniffing around and multiple invitations to try his killer steaks. Eye roll. He was nice enough and cute enough, but she wasn't interested. Maybe she wasn't ready yet, or maybe she just wasn't into him. Option two was in the lead.
Who needed a date, anyway? She had wine, art, and Marin...who was nowhere to be found. Probably off schmoozing and securing million dollar deals. It was fine, perfect in fact. She needed to peruse, take mental notes of who was in attendance and the art on display. She snickered at some of the outfits, wishing she was doing a fashion police segment.
And the Fash-hole award goes to the woman dressed as a Hershey's Kiss. Not many body types could pull off metallic silver.
She made her way around the first floor, where the majority of the art was displayed, paintings mostly. Oils and mixed-media pieces. It was when she went out onto the terrace, she noticed some free standing sculptures. There was one that looked like a paper măche project she did in fifth grade, but whatever. If she'd learned one thing about the art world, it was that it was certainly subjective. If your name got a buzz, then one could put three stripes on a canvas and sell it for ten thousand dollars.
One of the sculptures though, made her double back. A mother holding a baby. Something about it captivated her. It must have been the tortured features on the mother's face, not adoration, which one would usually associate with a mother and child piece. The baby's face had no features, only blank space. She stood in front of it for some time, her head tilting from one side to the other. She made note of the title for her article—Regret. There was no mention of the artist, but she had to find out. She took out her Exilim EX350 from her clutch—her tiny camera that took amazing pictures. She snapped some shots vowing to get a name to go with the picture she was now sure would make the spread.
Tess tracked Marin down, waiting patiently for her to finish her conversation about dividend something or other and Q4 this and that. When she finished, she smiled in Tess's direction, waving her over.
"Are you enjoying yourself? Sorry I haven't been able to hang out much." Marin looked like a model in her floor length navy blue maxi dress, her hair sleek and lips deep ruby.
"It's okay. I know you have a lot of hands the shake and wet dreams to crush, although girl on girl is all the rage, I hear," Tess teased. "Seriously, you look gorgeous."
Her cheeks tinted at the compliment. "Thank you. Speaking of work, did you get enough for your article?"
"I think so. That's why I came over, actually. Who did the sculpture outside on the terrace...the one of the mother and child?"
"I'm not sure, but I can find out. I met her tonight, but don't remember her name...oh, but there she is, you can ask her yourself." Tess followed Marin's glance to a woman talking to an older couple. Tess felt the blood drain from her face.
"Tess, what's wrong? You look like you're going to faint."
"Marin...that's Mila," Tess whisper shouted, pulling her to into an adjacent hallway.
"That's it...Mila. I knew it started with an M." When Marin saw the panic on Tess,'s face, her eyes grew wide with recognition. "Wait, that Mila?"
"Yes, that Mila! How could you not know?" she accused, even though she knew she was being unreasonable
"How was I supposed to know? She goes by Mila Jacobs. I didn't know she was Wes's Mila...I'm sorry."
Wes's Mila? She could throw up right on the planted ficus they stood beside. "Don't apologize...of course you didn't know. At least she's here alone. She's here alone, right?"
"She came alone."
Tess released a breath. "Good. I don't think I could take seeing them together quite yet, or ever." Marin gave her a solemn nod and they walked as far away from the sculptress as humanly possible.
After she'd taken a few more pictures, she chatted up a few of the artists to round out her article. This would only be a two pager, so she had more than enough. Tess had been anxious to leave the minute she realized Mila was there, but she was a professional and had a job to do. Now it was done and she was going to get the hell out of there. She gave Marin a hug, thanking her again for the invitation. They promised to get together later in the week.
Tess made one last stop, but when she heard a voice over her shoulder, she knew her final exit would be delayed.
"Hello, Tess."
Damn. She just had to hit the ladies one more time...curse her acorn sized bladder.
She gave her eyes a hearty roll, then calmed her features—a transformation that would have made her mother proud. She turned and replied, "Mila, good to see you." False. "Your sculptures are amazing." True.
Mila shrugged, like the compliment embarrassed her, and Tess was loathe to admit it, but she looked resplendent—the silky black material of her dress clung to her frame and puddled on the floor. Her dark hair was in a messy bunch on the side of her neck, the spaghetti straps of her dress exposing her toned, tanned arms.
"Thank you...How are you?"
It was friendly, and although Tess would never classify them as friends, they had spent considerable amounts of time together. Mila was tolerable, if you liked the sweet, won't you take care of me with my doe eyes and fragile frame, types. Which she did not.
"I'm fine, very fine. Like, really, really good." Internal eye roll.
"Oh, I'm glad to hear that. You haven't been around, so I was worried."
Haven't been around? Puh-lease, she knew good and well why she hadn't been around, but she kept her face and voice calm. "You're surprised I've stayed away?"
"Yes, I was. I asked where you were, but Wes refused to give me any details." She thanked someone who walked by and praised her work, then retuned her attention toward Tess. "Look, I know my coming back has disrupted things, and for that I'm sorry, but what I won't apologize for is being part of my kids's lives again."
"I didn't ask for an apology, Mila. It's not my place, anyway. That's between you, Wes, and the girls."
"Fair enough...It's just that, I need them, and they need me. I know I wasn't around when I should have been, but I just wasn't in a good place. It was like I was in a sand pit. The more I tried to gain footing, the more I slid under."
Again Tess fought the urge to comfort her. The broken woman who inadvertently ruined Tess's life. Maybe ruined was a strong word, but with how she'd been feeling lately, it was pretty damn close.
"How are the girls?"
Her face lifted and lit. "Oh, they're so good...they're so amazing! Kate is so funny, and Ella is so smart. I love them so much."
"Yes, they are pretty amazing," Tess agreed, keeping the annoyance out of her voice. It wasn't that she begrudged Mila her daughters, or her enjoyment of them...or even her overuse of the word so. It was more the sperm donor in the scenario she felt particularly territorial over, and Mila's mere presence was an affront to her and what she'd lost.
Mila put her small hand on Tess's arm, the pads of her fingers rough from hours of working with
them. "I know I've missed a lot, but I'm determined not to miss another second, you know?"
Tess nodded, pulling her arm back. "I'm glad you have each other."
"Aren't you going to ask about Wes?" Her face curious.
Was she making fun of her? Baiting her? It hadn't sounded malicious. Did the fact that Mila had hid her feelings make her duplicitous, or cunning? Tess had no idea. Whether merited or not, she felt slapped in the face and she bit back a retort by clamping onto the skin inside her cheek.
"Wow, he was right. Your face does show everything you're thinking." They'd talked about her? Her blood boiled, and the burn was immediate. Mila must have noticed. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that...like we sit around talking about you in a bad way. He just talks about you a lot, that's all."
This was the weirdest conversation of all time.
"Uh, okay?" What the hell did that mean? It hurt to even think about her name passing his lips, especially when uttered in the arms of Mila. She could picture their post-coital bliss. "Oh that Tess, she was so amusing, for a time. Her, and her emotional face." A fit of laughter would follow as Mila rolled on top of him for another round.
She was shaken from her daymare when Mila added, "He's really sad, you know?"
Funny, to Tess it seemed like he had the world by the balls. "Sad? About what?"
Mila gave her a strange look. "About you, of course." And the conversation kept getting weirder.
Spinster? Page 22
