Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Know (117 page)

Emmy had spent a full week anticipating her stay at the Costes. One hour after arrival she was awed by its coolness; two hours later she was intimidated; three hours after that she was ready to check out. The Costes might be the best place in town to be seen, but it seemed impossible that anyone actually
stayed
there. Either she had gotten really, really old or the Costes had a major attitude problem. The hallways were so dark that she'd taken to running her hands along the corridor walls to keep from walking into them. The music from the lounge reverberated through the rooms, and the noisy bustle of models sipping skim lattes and various nationalities of modelizers slurping Bordeaux in the central courtyard bounced off every window. Her charming claw-foot tub had no curtain, so the floor flooded when she turned on the handheld showerhead. There was no electrical outlet in the bathroom (probably because everyone brought their own stylist), so Emmy had been forced to dry her hair, sans mirror, at the desk. So far she'd been patronized, ignored, and mocked by the hotel staff. And yet, irritatingly enough, she couldn't shake the feeling that she should feel honored to stay there.

So she sat as unobtrusively as she could manage in the lounge, reading e-mails on her laptop and savoring an espresso (a flawless one, she grudgingly conceded). Her sister wrote that she and Kevin were planning to come to New York for the Fourth of July, and asked if she'd be in town. She had just written back to say that they could have her studio and she'd stay at Adriana's when her new company-provided international cell phone rang.

‘This is Emmy Solomon,' she said as professionally as possible.

‘Emmy? Is that you?'

‘Leigh? How did you get this number?'

‘I called your office here and said it was an emergency. I hope you don't mind?'

‘Sweetie, is everything okay? It's two in the morning there.'

‘Yeah, everything's fine, I just wanted you to hear it from me before the word got out over e-mail. I'm engaged!'

‘Engaged? Oh my god! Leigh, congratulations! I had no idea you guys were even thinking about it. This is so exciting! Tell me everything.' Emmy saw a uniformed staffer shoot her a nasty look, but she glared right back.

‘I, uh, guess I wasn't really expecting it, either,' Leigh said. ‘It just sort of came out of nowhere.'

‘Well, how did he do it?'

Leigh described what was supposed to be a simple anniversary dinner, how haggish she'd looked and felt, and what each of them had ordered at Daniel in measured, factual detail. By the time she got to the dessert-time proposal, Emmy had started interrupting in a desperate attempt to get to the good stuff.

‘I don't care how
you
looked – what does the ring look like? And let me remind you that now is not the time for modesty.'

‘It's huge.'

‘How huge?'

‘Very huge.'

‘Leigh!'

‘Just under four.'

‘Just under four! Carats? Four
carats
?'

‘I'm worried it's too big. How can I wear something like that to work? I work in
book
publishing.' Leigh sighed.

Emmy wanted to scream. ‘I won't even dignify it with a response. Did you tell Adriana that you think it's … I can't even bring myself to say it.'

‘Yes. She told me if I think it's too big I don't deserve it.'

‘I'll second that. Now stop being a goddamn idiot and tell me more. Have you set a date yet? When do you think you'll move into his place?'

The silence on the line was so complete that Emmy thought they'd been disconnected. ‘Leigh? Can you hear me?'

‘Yeah, sorry about that. We haven't even come close to picking a date yet – I don't know, next summer, I guess? The summer after?'

‘Leigh! You're thirty years old and not getting any younger. You think we're going to let you be engaged for two
years
? If I were you, I'd have that boy at the altar in five months. What are you waiting for?'

‘I'm not
waiting
for anything,' Leigh said, sounding peeved. ‘I just don't see what the big rush is all about. We just met, for chrissake.'

‘You met a year ago, Leigh, and as you've pointed out yourself on numerous occasions, he fits every checklist of everything you've been looking for in a man. And more. You'd be insane not to lock this up at the earliest possible date. At the very least, you need to get yourself situated in his apartment. Stake your claim.'

‘Emmy, you're being ridiculous. “Stake my claim”? Are you kidding? You know how I feel about living together before marriage.'

Emmy shrieked a little and then, remembering where she was, slapped a hand over her mouth. ‘Don't tell me you're actually going to abide by that absurd idea? My god, Leigh, you sound like some religious freak!'

‘Oh, Emmy, save it. You know it has nothing to do with any religious or moral reason. It's just the way I want it. It's a little old-fashioned. So what?'

‘Does Russell know?'

‘He certainly knows how I feel in general.'

‘But he doesn't know that now, even though you're engaged to be married, you're not going to move in with him?'

‘We haven't gotten there yet. I'm sure he'll be totally understanding.'

‘Good god, Leigh. You know you're going to have to live with him at some point, don't you? Even though he's a boy and he's gross in the bathroom and might want the TV on sometimes when you don't? You have thought about this, haven't you?'

Leigh sighed and said, ‘I know. In theory that all sounds okay, but in reality … I'm just used to living alone. I
like
living alone. The noise, and the stuff all over the place, and the always having to talk even when you just want to sit on the couch and zone out … it's terrifying.'

Slightly relieved that Leigh had, at the very least, opened up about her fear of cohabiting, Emmy eased a little. ‘I know, sweetie. It's scary for everyone. Hell, Duncan and I dated for five years and never made it official. But you love him and he loves you and the two of you will figure it out. If you want to wait until you're legal, well, who am I to tell you what—'

‘I'm not in love with him, Emmy.' Leigh's voice was unwavering and their connection was crystal clear, but Emmy was certain she hadn't heard correctly.

‘What did you say? I can't hear a goddamn thing here.'

Leigh was silent on the other end.

‘Leigh? Are you there? What did you just say?'

‘Don't make me say it again,' Leigh whispered, her throat catching on the last word.

‘Sweetheart, what do you mean? You two seem so happy together! You've never uttered a negative word about Russell, only told us over and over how sweet and kind and thoughtful he is,' Emmy coaxed.

‘None of that changes the fact that sometimes I'm bored to tears when I'm with him. I know I shouldn't be, but it doesn't change the fact that I am. We don't have anything in common! He loves sports; I love reading. He wants to go out and network and meet people, and I just want to hole up at home. He's not the least bit interested in current events or the arts – just football, weight training, nutrition, stats. His college injury. I'm not denying that he's a terrific guy, Em, but I'm not sure he's terrific for me.'

Emmy liked to think of herself as fairly intuitive, but she hadn't sensed this for a second.
Nerves
, she thought to herself. Nothing more than Leigh's inability to accept that she deserved a great guy and had actually found one. Everyone knew that crazy passion or great love affairs cooled after the first few months, maybe a year. What mattered was finding someone who would be a good partner for the long haul. Who would stay by your side, be a good husband, a good father. And if Russell wasn't that guy, she didn't know who was. She began to explain exactly this to Leigh but she was interrupted by the scowling hotel employee, who tapped her roughly on the shoulder. ‘Madam? Kindly remove your shoes from the furniture.'

‘Who's that?' Leigh asked.

‘Excuse me?' Emmy peered at the man; she was momentarily intimidated, but that quickly shifted to irritation.

‘I requested that you please remove your shoes from the chair.
We don't sit like that here.
' The man stood rooted to his spot and peered at Emmy.

‘Emmy, what's going on? Who is that?'

Emmy, usually uncomfortable with any type of confrontation, felt a wave of anger course through her. She forgot all about Leigh and glared at the man. ‘
We
don't
sit
like that here? Did you really just say that to me?'

Leigh laughed. ‘Tell him how it is.'

Emmy made a point of speaking loudly into the phone. ‘I'm sitting in the lounge because it's too goddamn dark to read in my own room – just sitting, mind you – and I have one of my legs tucked under me. And you want to know the type of shoes I'm putting all over the furniture? Ballet slippers. Like, not ballet-style flats but actual sole-less ballet slippers. I'm a
guest
of this hotel, and he has the nerve to
reprimand
me like a
child
?' She flashed her eyes upward to meet the man's. He shook his head as if to say
Ignorant American
and turned – pirouetted, really – away.

‘Got to love French hospitality,' Leigh said. ‘Am I to assume that you haven't snagged yourself a lover yet?'

‘Nice try. Don't think you're changing the subject that easily.'

‘Em, I really appreciate your listening, but I don't want to talk about it anymore, okay? I'm sure everything will work out.'

Now that's the spirit!
Emmy thought. Leigh just needed a little time to work through her thoughts, to realize what was important. It was a mere case of overthinking, and Leigh would see she was just being silly. ‘Okay. Back to the ring. Tell me more.'

‘It's really beautiful,' Leigh said softly. ‘So classic. I don't know how he knew I liked that – I'm not even sure I knew I liked that. We never went shopping or looking; we never even talked about it.'

‘That's Russell for you. What shape is it?'

‘A larger emerald-cut stone in the middle flanked by two smaller emerald-cuts on the side of a very thin platinum band.'

Emmy whistled. ‘Sounds gorgeous. Did you really not have any idea?'

There was a long pause. For a moment Emmy again thought that they'd gotten disconnected, but then she heard Leigh breathing heavily.

‘Are you okay, honey? Leigh?'

More breathing, this time in shorter, more shallow bursts.

‘Oh, I'm fine. Just a little racing heart. Must be all the excitement, you know?'

Emmy pressed her cell phone to her ear, desperately wanting to hear just a little of the giggly, girly enthusiasm of someone who had just gotten engaged, but Emmy knew better. Leigh wasn't a giggly, girly girl: She was funny, she was sensible, she was loyal, and she was neurotic; giggly just wasn't her thing. Maybe Leigh was also feeling a little uncomfortable describing her ring when everyone had expected Emmy to be the first. Emmy flashed back to the dinner a few months earlier when she'd excitedly told Leigh and Adriana that Duncan had asked for her ring size. Not necessarily the most romantic gesture, she remembered thinking, but it definitely indicated good things. She felt her face redden at the memory of her excitement and decided she'd save Leigh from feeling any more pity for her.

‘So what'd you get him for your anniversary?' Emmy asked with extra, perhaps excessive, cheer.

Another long pause. It sounded like Leigh was trying to moderate her breathing with measured breaths.

‘Leigh?'

‘Sorry, I'm, uh, I'm fine. Just a little … uh, I got him a laptop bag. An orange one.' She took another deep breath and coughed. ‘From Barneys.'

Emmy tried to mask her surprise. ‘Russell finally got a laptop? I never thought I'd see the day. How did you finally convince him?'

‘He still doesn't have a laptop,' Leigh sighed. ‘Oh, Emmy, I'm the worst person ever!'

‘Honey, what's wrong? I'm so confused. Are you planning on buying him a laptop? That's cute! You couldn't have known he was going to propose that night. Don't worry about it. Russell is the last person to get upset over something like that.'

There was another long pause, and when Leigh finally spoke, Emmy could tell she was crying. ‘I got him an orange laptop bag because I was too lazy to pick out something personal,' she said, her voice filled with anger and regret. ‘I called the store and gave them my credit card number and that's what they sent over. A laptop bag! For someone who doesn't own a laptop. In orange.' There was a sniffle. ‘Russell hates bright colors.'

‘Leigh, sweetheart, don't be so hard on yourself. Russell loves you so much that he asked you to spend the rest of your life with him. Don't let some dumb present get in the way of that. I bet he didn't mind at all, did he?'

‘He laughed it off, but I could tell he was hurt.'

‘He's a big boy, Leigh. He can handle a little gift mix-up.' Both girls knew that wasn't what had happened, but they let it slide. ‘So tell me, was everyone else excited?'

Leigh dutifully described her mother's reaction, and Adriana's, and Russell's family's, interjecting jokes and amusing observations in all the right places. It wasn't until the girls hung up, promising to talk in more depth the next day, that Emmy let herself feel a twinge of concern. Could there really be a problem with Leigh and Russell? Was it possible Leigh really was having serious doubts?
Absolutely not
, Emmy decided.
Just a case of nerves. Excitement and shock and nothing more sinister.
She felt confident in her analysis of the situation and certain that everything would smooth itself out as soon as the excitement settled down a bit. Turning back to her computer, Emmy braced herself to order another coffee from the hostile waiter.