Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Know (240 page)

The music stopped suddenly and Andy's words rang out loudly, but only Sophie and Max turned to look.

‘I think I'm going to get some food,' Andy said.

‘Sounds good. I'm going to say good-bye. I just stopped by to meet everyone, but I have, uh, stuff to do.'

They both nodded, accepting his excuse, and kissed primly on the cheek. Andy managed to keep her mouth shut: if they could barely discuss the fact that she had a daughter without extreme discomfort, how on earth could she cavalierly announce that his girlfriend was cheating on him with her photography student?

Andy beelined for the dining room and was momentarily distracted by the awesome display in front of her. ‘Brunch' was no less elaborate than an after-wedding party at a Ritz-Carlton, right down to the frog-shaped ice sculpture. Silver platters on gas burners offered heaping piles of scrambled eggs, bacon, home fries, pancakes, and waffles. There were a half dozen types of cereal, complete with glass pitchers of skim, soy, and whole milk, and a fruit bar with slices of watermelon, bunches of grapes, bananas, kiwis, pineapples, grapefruit halves, cherries, cut melon, and berries. Set off to the side was a baby buffet, complete with miniature plates of fruit cut into tiny pieces, containers of YoBaby yogurt in every flavor with coordinating baby spoons, packets of Baby Mum-Mums, and bowl upon bowl of organic Puffs. To the right was a separate table with a bartender mixing mimosas, Bloody Marys, and Bellinis with fresh peach nectar. A woman in uniform handed her a plate and a bundle of silverware; her male counterpart asked if she'd like the chef to make her an omelet or a frittata. Only then did Andy realize the casual meet-the-
husbands
brunch was a catered affair.

‘Wow, this is pretty fantastic,' Max said, sidling up next to her and surveying the food. ‘We could probably get used to living like this, don't you think?'

Andy chose to ignore the second part of his comment. ‘Worth missing the beginning of the Jets game for?' Andy asked.

‘Almost.'

There was no more mention of Alex or Sophie. Andy wasn't sure if Max didn't want to talk about it or truly didn't care, but she wasn't going to bring it up. They took turns holding Clementine and eating, shamelessly stuffing themselves while making halfhearted attempts at conversation with the other parents. When Max gave her the ‘I'm ready' look thirty minutes later, Andy didn't argue.

At their apartment, Max kindly offered to put Clementine down for her second nap and stay home to watch the game if Andy wanted to run out for the manicure she'd been trying to fit in for a week. No matter that she'd actually gotten it the day before (men never notice these things); yes, she wanted to head out. In less than ten minutes, she was installed at a table at Café Grumpy and on the phone with Lily.

‘It was wrong not to tell him, wasn't it? I should have said something.'

‘Of course you shouldn't have said something!' Lily's voice had risen multiple octaves. ‘Why would you even think that?'

‘I've known Alex since college. He was my first love. I'll probably always love him. I've seen Sophie once a week for a few months now. I don't think she's a terrible person, believe it or not, but I certainly don't feel any loyalty to her.'

‘All of that is beside the point. It's just none of your business.'

‘What do you mean, it's none of my business?'

Baby Skye howled in the background. Lily asked her to hold on, muted the phone, and came back a minute later.

‘Just that whatever is or isn't going on with Alex and his girlfriend doesn't concern you. You're a married woman with your own child, and who's cheating on whom is not your problem.'

Andy sighed. ‘Would you want to know if Bodhi was having an affair? You're my friend, and I wouldn't hesitate to tell you.'

‘Yes, but the difference is I'm your
friend.
Alex is
not
your friend. He's your ex. And what does or doesn't go on in his bedroom is none of your business.'

‘You're a laugh riot, you know that, Lil?'

‘Sorry. I'm just telling you the truth.'

Andy asked after Bodhi, Bear, and Skye and hung up as quickly as possible. Emily didn't answer her cell phone, so Andy called Miles's number. Andy knew he'd accompanied Emily to Chicago to meet with a potential advertiser and would be continuing on to L.A. after Emily flew home.

Miles picked up on the first ring.

‘Hey, Miles. Sorry to bother you, but I can't find Emily. Do you know where she is?'

‘She's right here next to me. She said she's screening you. We're picking up the rental car now.'

‘Was the flight that bad?'

‘I'm just telling you what she said.'

‘Well, tell her Alex's girlfriend is actually in my mommies group and she's sleeping with her student who's barely out of college.'

Andy listened as Miles relayed the message. As she knew she would, Emily took the phone. Their tensions over Elias-Clark aside, Emily would eat this gossip right up.

‘Explain, please. You never mentioned Alex has a kid. Which, considering you're still clearly obsessed with him, is surprising information to omit.'

Andy didn't know whether to be more incensed at Emily's accusation or the fact that Miles was sitting there listening to it. ‘Can Miles hear you?'

‘No, I moved. Now start talking.'

‘He doesn't have a kid. His girlfriend's name is Sophie and, incidentally, she's gorgeous. It's her brother and his wife's baby, the cutest little girl named Lola. Anyway, since the sister-in-law works these hideous hours, Sophie brings Lola to the new-mommies group. I think she thought it was going to be more of a play group and less of a new mothers' support group, but she still'

‘I get it. And you know she's fucking her student how?'

‘She told me. Hell, she told all of us. Technically, she claims they're not actually sleeping together, but there has definitely been inappropriate'

‘So you're telling me you know this
for a fact,
directly from her mouth, and you didn't say a word to him?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, why not?'

‘What do you mean, why not?'

‘Don't you think it's relevant information for someone to have?'

‘Yes. I just wasn't sure it was any of my business.'

Emily yelped. ‘Not any of your business? Oh for Christ's sake, Andy, stop being such a good girl and pick up the phone. He'll thank you forever, I promise.'

‘I don't know. Do you really think'

‘Yes. I do. I'm hanging up now because I've got to drive two hours after my third flight in a week, and I'm ready to kill someone.'

‘Keep me in the loop,' Andy said, but Emily had already hung up.

Andy asked for a glass of ice water and stared into space. Should she call and tell him? What, exactly, would that look like? He'd be shocked, hurt, humiliated. Why should she be the one to deliver such devastating news? Or even worse, what if it wasn't actually news to him? Who was to say he didn't know already, hadn't stumbled upon the sordid affair himself or been on the receiving end of a tearful confession from Sophie? What if, even worse, they had some sort of open relationship agreement, and although Sophie felt guilty acting on it, she wasn't technically doing anything wrong? Then she'd surely be the meddling, creepily overinvolved ex-girlfriend, and any new strides she and Alex had made at getting reacquainted and possibly even learning to be friends again would be solidly, forever over.

It felt absolutely terrible and wrong on every level, but she would keep her mouth shut. She was getting good at that.

Max set a cup of coffee in front of Andy and returned to the pod machine to make one for himself.

Andy pushed it away and groaned.

‘Do you want some tea instead?'

‘No, nothing. My throat feels like razor blades.'

‘I thought this was supposed to be a twenty-four-hour thing? Isn't that what the doctor said?'

Andy nodded. ‘Yep. But Clem's lasted three full days and I'm going on my fourth. So I'm not sure I believe him.'

Max kissed the top of her head the way he would a puppy and clucked sympathetically. ‘Poor baby, you're burning up. Are you due for Tylenol?'

Andy wiped a bead of sweat from her upper lip. ‘Not for another hour,' she croaked. ‘I should change the outgoing messages on our home phone and my cell. The voice is sexy, no?'

‘You sound like you have the plague,' he said as he shoved some papers into his briefcase. ‘Is there anything else I can do before I leave?'

Andy tightened her bathrobe around her and then immediately loosened it again. ‘I don't think so. Isla should be here soon.' She swallowed hard and tried not to wince in pain. ‘I really should be trying to get to the office today. Emily called three times yesterday, always under the guise of asking how I'm doing, but I know she just wants to talk about Elias-Clark. We're having lunch tomorrow to make a decision, once and for all.'

In the four days since the Miranda dinner, Emily and Andy had both seemed to sense they were never going to see eye to eye on the idea of an Elias-Clark purchase. They were playing chicken now, each waiting for the other to blink …

And Andy knew which side her husband was on.

Max stopped what he was doing and turned to her. ‘Well, you're certainly not in any shape to go to the office, but I can understand why she wants to talk about it …'

Something in his voice made Andy look up. He'd been subtly asking her about it for weeks, expressing more interest than he ever did in her work, and recently it had become not so subtle, with Max constantly inquiring and, since the Miranda dinner, implying that Andy was being an idiot. He never said that, of course, but his favorite word recently was
shortsighted.

Andy remained quiet. She wanted to ask him how much of his support for selling had to do with Harrison Media, but she knew it wouldn't be a productive conversation.

‘It's quite an honor, an offer like that. Not to mention a damn fair price, too.'

‘So you've said.'
Like a thousand times already.

‘I just think it's the opportunity of a lifetime,' Max said. He didn't take his eyes off Andy.

She unwrapped a Ricola and popped it in her mouth. ‘Hmm, I can't imagine where I've heard that before.'

Her tone must have made it clear that the conversation was over because Max kissed Clementine, told Andy he loved her, and left. Another hot flash came over her, and not wanting to leave the baby alone in the high chair but feeling too lightheaded to move her, Andy slumped on the floor next to her daughter. Andy almost hugged Isla when she arrived a few minutes later and she could finally retreat back to her bedroom, put on clean pajamas, and settle in for a feverish but deep, dreamless sleep. She awoke to the sound of Stanley barking at the front door.

Andy stumbled back to the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes. The nap had helped; she felt better. ‘Who was it?' she asked Isla, who was warming a bottle.

‘A messenger, I guess. Here, he left this.' Isla handed her a manila envelope that read
Photographs: Do Not Bend!
along both sides.

‘Oh, yes. I forgot these were going to be ready today.' She pulled out a sheaf of eight-by-ten glossies from Olive's wedding. The note from Daniel read,
Hope you like them as much as we do. Planned to send to E but she's in Chicago all day. Can you please pass along to her? Let me know your thoughts.

Andy settled at the kitchen table with a cup of chamomile and spread the dozen photos out in front of her. Her smile grew as she looked from image to image: they were, in a word, spectacular.

She texted Emily.
Just got Olive pics. They're fantastic. Will be a huge hit. Love.

The reply came back instantly.
Fab! w/Rolex people now. Messenger them to my apt? Need for breakfast meeting tom. Xo

Andy texted back,
sure thing,
and opened her laptop to begin writing up the Olive nuptials. It was an easier task when she had actually attended the wedding, but Emily's notes were fairly comprehensive. Andy had e-mailed her a three-page list of things to make note of – or, even better, if she got the chance, ask
someone
– and Emily had done a more than decent job of filling in the blanks.

Isla brought Clem over for a kiss before they headed to Gymboree and a playdate, and after that the apartment was blessedly quiet – perfect for a solid three-hour work session, Andy's first in two days of being sick. By the time Isla and the baby returned, Andy felt nearly cured and, even better, had written three-
quarters
of the article. She pulled Clem from her stroller and covered her with kisses.

‘I'm feeling much better,' she told Isla, who looked at her dubiously.

‘Are you sure? Because I can stay later today if you need.'

‘No, really, I'm almost okay. I'll put her down for her nap now, and then it'll be dinnertime before you know it. Thanks for everything.'

Clementine slept for an hour and a half, awaking at three thirty with her delicious red cheeks and enormous, toothless grin. It was such a relief to see her healthy again; every time the poor child had vomited or cried, Andy could feel her own insides twisting in pain. She was about to call Agatha to order a messenger, but looking outside at the splendidly sunny October day, Andy decided a stroll to Emily's would make for a nice outing.

‘Do you want to come with Mommy on her first trip out of the apartment in thirty-six hours? Of course you do.'

Andy changed into jeans and a sweater and zipped her daughter into the stroller's lightweight baby burqa. The air felt brisk and refreshing, almost revitalizing, and Andy enjoyed making Clem giggle with silly faces as they walked. She stared at her daughter's smile and knew, more surely than she had known in the many months since they'd first received the offer, that she could not, under any circumstances, spend another year working for Miranda Priestly. It was horrid enough when she was young and single, but there was no way she could tolerate the ever-ringing phone, the relentless demands, the round-the-clock requests that would inevitably take her away from home, from Max, and especially from Clementine. She and Max were just starting to get a handle on life with a baby, and things between them were good – not perfect, but what marriage was? She was happy. They were excellent co-parents and true partners, and he was as attentive and loving a dad as she ever could have hoped for to her daughter. Even career-wise things were going smoothly: nowhere else could she imagine being lucky enough to keep such a flexible schedule, working more when they were slammed or closing an issue and scaling back when the production schedule slowed down. She was her own boss, and her best friend was her partner. And Emily was still her best friend, despite everything. They'd worked too hard and too long to pack it in and head right back to Elias-Clark – not when she was certain they'd be able to sell the magazine to another, saner publisher. It was going to be painful, but Andy knew what she had to say to Emily. It was time. As soon as they sat down to their lunch the following day, she would come right out and say it: the deal was off.