Husband Stay (Husband #2) (14 page)

“I think you should
go out with Doug.”

I put my teacup carefully
back onto its saucer and stared across the table at Louella with her blond
Grace Kelly bob and classic pearls. “Doug?” I parroted back, struggling to not
display my disquiet at the idea. First, Jill, asking me if I was considering
her ex as an option, and now Louella.

If I was
superstitious, I’d say
I’ve had enough of men with D names
. Fifteen
years with Danny had been enough. But that was illogical, and no reason to
dismiss Doug out of hand. Although, Jill’s description of her ex as
Doug the
Dud
was stuck in my mind, much as I tried to push it out.

“He likes you.” Louella
shrugged her elegant shoulders encased in a Chanel tweed jacket. “He’s a decent
man who will no doubt want children. As you do.”

That was true
enough, and I didn’t want to sound as if I disliked Doug. He was a nice man,
but goofy rather than gorgeous—which of course led me to thinking about Jack.
Again. In the end, all I could manage was a lame, “He’s Jill’s ex-boyfriend.”

Louella merely
raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and took a sip of her tea, waiting me out,
but I decided to ignore her goading. Instead, I glanced around the outrageously
expensive hotel she’d chosen for our high tea—making me rush into town to meet
her at 9am instead of a respectable noon as I’d planned.

The room was all
marble and gold trim, with sparkling chandeliers and acres of crisp white
tablecloths populated by Wedgewood crockery—like an overgrown tea party. It was
eighty dollars a head, and Louella had offered to pay my entry, as she’d chosen
the venue. But I had pride, even if I didn’t have the bank balance to match it.

I could only hope
that Jack’s insurance payout came quickly. And that led me back, naturally, to
Jack and the whole issue of him awakening my libido and not being the right man
to stick around and —

“Doug,” Louella
said again, thankfully cutting short my endless internal chatter about Jack.
“You should call him.”

“Me? Call him?”

My mother would
have a fit. You didn’t call men to date them. You waited until they called you.

“He’s not a mind
reader,” Louella said, unnecessarily.

“I know that. But even
if I was interested, what if he said no? What if he laughed at the idea?”

I couldn’t imagine
how mortified I’d be.

She raised both
eyebrows this time. “Then you would be embarrassed and feel rejected but you would
survive. Men do it all the time.”

I knew that. I’d
just never done it myself. Danny had pursued me. I’d never asked a man on a
date in my life. And damn it, I wasn’t going to. I stubbornly shook my head.

“Angela,” she said
patiently, “You’re not getting any younger.” She gave my yellow floral chiffon
dress a thorough inspection, making me wish I was wearing the thick yellow
jacket I’d brought with me for the agent interview. I wasn’t fashionably slim
like Louella, and nor did I have a wardrobe of designer clothes.

I could tell her I
was already seeing someone, but she might call me on the lie and invite ‘us’ to
dinner. Or I could just tell her to mind her own business—which of course I
wouldn’t, because she was only suggesting the idea because she knew I wanted
children with a good father. And Doug would be that. Reluctantly, I had to
agree with her there.

I came back to the
only excuse I had. “Jill wouldn’t like it.”

Louella’s perfect
bow lips quirked down in disapproval. “It would be awkward, yes. But she
wouldn’t begrudge you. She has Finn and they’ll likely have children.” I
frowned some more, so she added, “You have to think of yourself.”

“I know.”

Sometimes talking
to Louella was as bad as talking to my mother.

“Doug,” she said
again, still staring me down. “I’m sure you’d have his phone number.”

“Probably.” We all
had each other’s partners’ numbers in case of emergency, and my phone was full
of old numbers, so his would certainly be there—not that I was committing to
this. At all.

So it was a relief
when the conversation went back to my two cats and how they were faring with
Danny who still lived in “our” house until it sold. That distracted me enough
to forget Doug temporarily.

After Louella had
gone, however, I was in the hotel bathroom touching up my lipstick before the
agent meeting when she texted me Doug’s phone number—just in case I didn’t have
it—along with a message:
I’ll check in with you tonight to see what he said.

I stared at her
message for the longest time, wondering why I was so resistant. Doug was a
lovely man, who had put up with a lot from Jill, and when she’d broken up with
him, I’d been cross with her for throwing away great father material.

Was I about to do
the same thing?

I needed to
consider this rationally, and not be swayed by Jack’s sexual charisma. He would
be gone tomorrow and my life would go on. I needed to think about my future. As
a mother. With a husband. And why not Doug?

My arguments with
Louella had been shallow, especially the
he should call me
comment,
because she was right, he wasn’t a mind reader. He’d never know I was
interested in him unless I rang, so I should do that.

Granted, it might
be embarrassing, but after what Jack had put me through on the plane, I knew my
tolerance was higher than I’d let on to Louella. If I kept the call short and
breezy… I might end up with a date, which I might like. Over time that might
lead to a relationship and he might propose.

Doug might end up
being the father of my children. Did I want that?

Jack flashed into
my mind, standing in his kitchen naked, pouring my coffee, getting me all
steamed up, which would be completely inappropriate in front of children. Doug
would never do that. He would be completely reliable when it came to decorum.

Jack’s reckless
daring, on the other hand, might have been momentarily thrilling, but I didn’t
want to live with that day-to-day, and I especially didn’t want to be
constantly wondering what new thing he might do to embarrass me or our
children.

So Doug would be a
good choice. Because the Jacks of the world might offer great sex, but that
could never be more important than family. I knew that in my heart. I also knew
that Louella wanted me happy, so before I could stop myself, I clicked on the
phone number she’d sent me and pressed the phone to my ear. Ten rings later it
answered.

“
Angela.”
Doug sounded surprised to hear from me, and it was probably reckless of me to
call him out of the blue. I should have texted. But…if I was honest with
myself, I wouldn’t have known what to say. Phoning was better. I could make it
up as I went along.

I hoped.

“Hey Doug.” I
tried to sound breezy, turning away from the mirror so I didn’t have to watch
myself talk to him. “Just thought I’d check in with you and make sure
everything was okay. After that weekend at Louella’s…”

He laughed at that.
“
Yeah. It was embarrassing.
” But completely not his fault that he’d had
to confront Jill’s new boyfriend, when it was obvious he’d come to Sydney
hoping for closure on their relationship.

I rushed on with,
“But you’re okay about everything? Jill and Finn?”

“
Sure. I want
the best for her. And if he’s the best…
” There was an awkward moment before
he added,
“He’s certainly got more money than me.
”

I laughed at that,
but not convincingly, because we both knew that money didn’t matter to Jill.
She hadn’t left Doug because he was a tradesman. She’d left him because she’d been
bored.

But I didn’t let
that daunt me, because I had other priorities, and Doug didn’t seem boring to
me. Plus, I knew he found me attractive. Jill had told me previously, and the
dreadful weekend at Louella’s when all the secrets had come out, Doug had drunkenly
admitted to me that he wanted to sleep with me.

Not that he’d
remember that. He was well and truly sozzled by that point. Still, it gave me
hope that he might be interested enough to date me. I needed some clarity on
his relationships status however, so my next question was, “Have you found
anyone special?”

I held my breath
waiting for the answer, which seemed to take longer than it should.

“
I haven’t
dated since Jill left.”

Relief washed through
me but I kept that out of my voice, and instead aimed for polite interest. “That’s
been almost a year.”

“
I know.”
Pause.
“I wasn’t ready before, but now that I know she’s moved on, I probably
should.”

“Is there anyone
you’re interested in?”

The moment the
words were out, I wanted them back. He was highly unlikely to say
You
actually
, unless he knew I was interested and available. Doug seemed shy
that way. And the last thing I wanted was him saying he fancied the girl at the
supermarket. That would completely curtail my plans.

But he merely
said, “
Nah, I haven’t thought of that. And I wouldn’t know how to look.
Seems like everyone links up on the computer, but I don’t even use mine, ‘cept
for invoicing and such.”

“Well, I’m in the
same boat,” I said, still keeping the conversation light. “I’m not going to let
what Danny did put me off men.”
Or Jack for that matter.
“But I’m
nervous as hell. Everyone has ‘coffee dates’ nowadays and it sounds like a job
interview to me!”

Doug laughed, as
I’d hoped he would, and I was just about to steer the conversation toward
asking him if he’d help settle my nerves with a trial run, when he said, “
I’m
in Sydney next weekend. Do you want to have lunch and…talk about this stuff?
”

I tried to inject
some surprise into my voice. “Are you? That would be great!” As if the idea
would never have occurred to me. When he’d faltered mid-sentence, I’d thought
he was going to say
have lunch and…see if we’re a good match.
But he
didn’t, so maybe I was sexually attractive to him, but not his type.

Whatever, I was
confident Doug wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of guy. He was relationship
material, and he’d be an awesome father. The fact that we already liked each
other was a great start.

I should have felt
elated about that, but my internal swirl of anxiety told me I was trying too
hard to convince myself.

“
Saturday?”

I struggled back
into the conversation. “Perfect. I can pretend to be your date and we’ll
practice flirting with each other. But you have to tell me if anything I do is
lame.”

He laughed at
that, sounding nervous.
“Flirting. Not sure I’m any good at that.”

“Then we’ll stick
with compliments. Sincerity is under-rated. Women love it.”

“
Okay. I can do
compliments. Especially with you, Angela.”

Despite my
previously light tone, I found myself blushing as I pressed the phone tighter
to my ear. The moment grew awkward until I managed, “Thanks. That’s sweet.”

There was silence
for another few breaths, and then he hung up.

In my ear.

I turned back to
the mirror in the hotel ladies room, frowning at myself as I wondered what that
could mean. Was he so nervous he couldn’t talk? Or was I putting tickets on
myself. Maybe I’d pushed him too far.

The phone rang
again and I swiped it without looking at the caller ID.

“Doug?”

Pause—long pause.
And then a growl, “
Who’s Doug?
”

Jack!

My pulse jump-started
and I suddenly felt flustered. Which was ridiculous. Jack had no claim on me.
But as I clutched the phone to my ear, I acknowledged that he’d sounded
surprised, as if he was my husband and he’d just found out I was talking to
another man. That growl had definitely sounded possessive. And I was shocked at
the knowledge that it excited me—the idea that a man could be jealous over me.

“
Angela?
”
Not Angel Baby or Ange. Definitely serious.

“Jack,” I replied
calmly, struggling to slow my pulse. “My lunch meeting was brought forward so
I’m in town already, and I’m off to another appointment now. It would suit me
to meet you earlier if that’s possible, around midday.”

There was silence
at the other end of the phone as he assimilated the fact that I wasn’t
explaining who Doug was, because—surprise—it was none of his business. But I
could hear him breathing, loudly. At last he said, “
Noon is fine.
”

“In the lobby
then.”

“
Fine.
” But
he sounded far from fine, and as I ended the call, it made me reassess his
apparent disinterest on the phone the night before. But did that change
anything for me? I doubted it. If anything, his changeability only made him
seem more unreliable, and that wasn’t what I wanted.

Doug was still the
best choice. So I put both men out of my mind, straightened my yellow jacket
which was tight in the sleeve where it covered my cast, and let myself out of
the ladies’ room. I had an interview with an agent to get through, and the last
thing I needed was to be distracted by thoughts of Jack.

“Angela. Come in.”

Rosie Tatts
ushered me into her office, her ultra-thin frame draped in a stunning sixties
apricot mini-dress with a bow on the high waist and a matching jacket. Her
ridiculously high heels were two tones lighter apricot, edging into fawn. She
looked impossibly glamorous from her boy-cropped lilac hair and nose piercing,
to the matching mauve tattoo of a boxing kangaroo on her ankle.

She saw me staring
at it and said, “Reminds the LA guys not to fuck with me.” Then she grinned a
mega-watt smile and showed me to a cream chaise lounge across from a wingback
chair that she angled herself into. A table with coffee and tea fixings sat
between us.

The desk, where
I’d imagined we’d do business, was on the other side of her huge office. The
building was in Pyrmont overlooking Sydney Harbor, and I couldn’t imagine how
much real estate like this would cost. She was clearly a ‘big fish’ as Finn had
surmised.

I sat stiffly on
the chaise opposite her and straightened my yellow jacket.

“Drink?” She
poured herself a thick espresso from the retro looking coffee pot.

My stomach was so
nervous I doubted I’d be able to swallow. I shook my head, straightening the
skirt of my yellow floral dress. It was a comfortable temperature in Rosie’s
office, so my jacket was making me sweat, especially around my cast where the
sleeve was tight. But I wasn’t taking it off and displaying my ‘curvy’ figure
to this pencil-slim glamazon. So I just smiled awkwardly and waited for her to
speak, because I didn’t have any idea how to begin.

Finally, when
she’d had a sip and put her cup down on the table, she leant back and said,
“I’ve seen the videos of your performance in Belandera, and had a chat with Noah.”

That would be Noah
Steele
.

Sweet Shiva.
Imagine being so familiar with him that you called him for a chat? I swallowed
thickly and nodded for her to continue.

“And of course,”
she went on, waving a hand toward me, “I love the whole package. You’re
stunning looking—” That caught me by surprise. “—and you sing like…an angel. Of
course you’ve heard that before.”

An image of Jack,
naked in bed beside me, flashed into my mind and I determinedly pushed it back
out. “I have.” I shrugged.

We smiled at each
other.

“Clichés can work
for us,” she went on. “So with your connections, your talent and your looks,
I’m obviously interested in representing you.” I was about to jump in and say
I
don’t really know Noah Steele
, when she added, “However, I’d like to hear
you sing first.”

“Oh. Of course.”
Thankfully I sounded calm, but I totally hadn’t expected that, and it pushed
every other thought out of my mind.

“Not that I’m
saying the video was edited, or that Noah was lying.” Her mouth quirked, as if
she was sharing an in-joke. “But I want to make up my own mind.”

“Of course,” I
said again, but what else could I say? Except maybe,
I’m completely
unprepared. And nervous.
“What would you like me to sing?”

She smiled a slow,
mysterious smile. “Your favorite song.”

“My favorite
song,” I parroted back.
My favorite song. What was my favorite song?

“Yeah,” she leant
back in her wingback chair. “What song do you love to sing most in the world?”

“Okay.” I stood
and brushed down my skirt, then I realized I couldn’t stand over the top of
her, so I pointed to the window and she nodded.

I walked over and
stood in front of it so I was backlit, then on impulse I took my jacket off,
struggling with the cast for a few seconds before I had it free and laid over
the back of a chair. I felt instantly cooler, and to hell with the curves.
She’d either think they were okay or she wouldn’t.

The song I wanted
to sing was a flat-out crazy
choice. If I wanted to be represented, I
should pick something popular that she’d immediately visualize as part of an
album.

But… I didn’t.

I loved this song
because I sang it to my nieces as a lullaby, and really, I wanted to live or
die here with something authentic to me. Despite all the money worries and the
nerves, it really came down to that.

So I smiled, just
the way I did to those adorable little mischief-makers when I had them all
sleepy and tucked up in bed, and then I started. “
Amazing grace….
”

Rosie’s eyes
opened a little wider and I knew she was thinking
tough song
but I just
kept right on singing
.

A door opened
behind her and soon there were a handful of people watching me. She didn’t
turn. She just kept nodding like a slow metronome. But her smile, that had
started small, was growing.

I adored the song,
and I gave it everything I had, soaring into the highs and working the lows
until I tailed down to the final line, feeling more than a little emotional.

Even before I’d
stopped, however, Rosie stood and started clapping. Her staff behind her burst
into wild applause with whistling and
woohoo
delight.

I was grinning
like an idiot when Rosie gestured to my seat and I was happy to resume it with
my jacket across my lap. I felt like laughing and crying all at once, and I
wished then that I did have a drink so I had something to distract myself with.
But I settled on swallowing a few times.

Rosie waved at the
staff and said, “Get out of here so I can sign her.”

They left with a
few catcalls and
You better!

She pretended to
be impatient to see them gone, but she was still smiling when she turned back
to face me and said, “Impressive. And awesome. My mind is officially blown. No
wonder Noah wanted to sing in behind you. You’d make anyone sound good.”

Then she leant
back and folded her hands in her lap, composing her face into a completely
unreadable mask. “But that’s praise enough for the moment. You know you’re
good.” She nodded, and I nodded back. “Do you write music?”

“No.”

“But you like
blues. You sang Renee Geyer for Noah, and Amazing Grace can skate right into
that genre. Jazz?”

“I love Jazz—”

“And it loves you.
Your voice has jazz written all over it.” She was really starting to sound
enthusiastic. “If you’re going to sing covers, I’d like to look at some
classics like
Summertime, Unforgettable, Georgia
.”

I wanted to sigh.
“That sounds perfect.” I’d grown up listening to my dad’s Ella Fitzgerald and Frank
Sinatra records. He’d always encouraged me to sing along. It would be magical
to create an album of songs he already liked.

“That’s good,”
Rosie said, and made notes on her tablet. “We can refine that into a
distinctive area for you.” Then she took a breath and looked up. “So this is
where you tell me what you’re looking for in an agent. What sort of career do
you want?”

“A successful
one,” I said, and she grinned. “But I want to get married again, and have
children this time. Soon. So I’d like to be able to combine a career and
mothering.”

She pressed an
icon on her tablet and then handed it over. It displayed a portrait of a man
who looked ten years older than her, holding a baby, with two toddlers beside
him. “My husband,” she said. “He runs the house.”

“You have children?”
I don’t know why it was a shock. She was probably in her thirties, like me. But
I’d never imagined her as a mother. She was too hip. “Do you miss them when
you’re away?”

She nodded. “But
Dave is amazing with them. He’s a scriptwriter, so he fits parenting in around his
work.”

“And you’re the
breadwinner?”

It was probably a
rude question, but she nodded readily enough. “For now. When the girls are
older it might be different.”

I handed the
tablet back. “I’m not sure I’d find a man as accommodating at that.”

“Well, he wasn’t
to start with.” She gave me a wry smile, but it got me wondering about Doug and
the fact that he’d probably be a great stay-at-home dad. Maybe I could be the
breadwinner and…

Maybe I shouldn’t
get ahead of myself. We hadn’t even had our pretend date yet.

“So, you want
fulltime singing now,” she clarified, “and part time when you’re a mother?”

“That would be
great.”

“Okay. If you’re
happy to sign with me, I can get started on some promotion, leveraging your
connection to Noah.”

I suddenly
remembered the videos of us singing together and knew I had to ask. “The
comments under the videos of me on
YouTube.
Have you seen them?”

She shook her
head. “Let me look at them now.” She flicked a few icons on her tablet. Then
she was leaning back into her chair, nodding, her face screwed up in what I
hoped was distaste. “Fuckers.” She flicked a few more times and then put the
tablet back down. “Okay. There are some particularly ugly suggestions in that
lot.”

I couldn’t help
raising both eyebrows. I would have called
I’d like to fuck you with a
jackhammer
a little more than ugly. Still, “You’ve probably seen things
like that before.”

She nodded. “Have
a look at any amateur Kylie Minogue clip. Or better yet, Christina Aguilera.
For some reason she really brings the creeps out of the woodwork.”

“So it comes with
the territory?”

I wanted her to
say no, but instead, she shrugged. “When you become public property, trolls
will have a go at you. However, we do have some control. With official video
clips we can delete offensive comments.”

I hadn’t realized
that. “Then my friend Jill can just delete those comments off?”

“Sure.”

Okay.
That
made me feel better straight away.

“Live appearances
are different,” she went on briskly. “But I’ve got a solid team on security.
They’d have you covered from pick up to delivery home, even if you go partying
afterwards—”

“I don’t… I’m not
a party girl. And…I’m not sure about live appearances.” I wanted to say
I’m
scared of live appearances after what you’ve just said
, but I held that in.

“You don’t like
live performance?” She wasn’t frowning, but her expression was carefully blank.
“I thought you were already singing at a club in town.”

“A tiny club.”

“Okay.” She nodded.
“I can see those video comments have unnerved you, but we can work around that.
Television appearances to start, with video clips and singles straight to
sale.”

“Like an indie
singer?”

I hadn’t realized
that was an option.

Rosie smiled.
“Agencies are starting to manage their clients across unconventional platforms.
The indie path might work for you. You’ve already got a YouTube audience. If we
can capitalize on that quickly, we might be able to build you from the ground
up.”

“So no big public
appearances?”

“Not to start. I
would love to get you on a few of the talk shows.”

I nodded, but I
was remembering my mother complaining about my vanity, and I couldn’t help
visualizing her watching me on television with an ugly sneer on her face. I suddenly
wondered how all these changes would affect our relationship, assuming we still
had one.

Silence stretched
on for a few uncomfortable seconds before Rosie said, “I don’t want to jinx
myself, because I’m already in bed with this, Angel. But do you need twenty-four
hours to think about it?”

“Yes.” I felt my
shoulders relaxing immediately.

She stood and held
out a hand. “Don’t keep me waiting longer than that, okay? I really want us to
work together.”

“Me too. It’s just
happening so quickly.”

“Often does,” she
acknowledged, then she led me to the door, but stopped with her hand on the
doorknob. “Ring me if you have any questions.”

I nodded.

She tilted her
head to one side and considered me for a couple of seconds before saying, “Is
there a reason you haven’t mentioned money?”

I had a second of
wondering how truthful I should be, then I realized I trusted her, so it was
probably sensible to just blurt out the embarrassing truth. “I’m not a business
woman’s bootlace, I’m afraid. All I know about the industry is what Bernie paid
me to sing in his club.”