Monarch Beach (23 page)

For the rest of the week we started in the bedroom. He would strip off my clothes, folding them neatly on the floor, before he undressed. Then he would lay me on the bed and lick my breasts, suck my fingers, cover my stomach with kisses. Only when I was dizzy with wanting him would he open my legs and slide into me. After we were both spent, we thought about eating.

We didn’t talk about Andre or Max or his children. We didn’t discuss what was going to happen at the end of the summer. But we did talk about movies, books, travel, the economy, the Internet, iPads, cars, pets, and roses. We talked and we ate and eventually we would clear away our picnic of fruit and wine and ham sandwiches, and make love again before he drove me home.

*   *   *

On Friday night, I lay on my own bed, feeling well satisfied but very confused. I watched the sun melt into a pink ball and wondered if I could just go on like this forever. School started in two weeks. I had missed several calls from Andre and Stephanie. My mother was so pleased with herself for making her decision to stay that she didn’t grill me about how I was spending my days or what my plans were. Max’s conversation was limited to the surfing vernacular he learned during the day.

I closed my eyes and let myself imagine what it would be like if Max and I stayed in Laguna Beach. We wouldn’t live at the hotel, and it was too soon to move in with Edward. But what if I rented a small house on the beach, and Max could surf every afternoon after school? I would join the PTA and maybe help Edward and Sam out at the restaurant.

My phone buzzed. It was Stephanie. “Hello,” I answered.

“Are you on the lam?” she asked.

“What?” I replied.

“I’ve been calling you for five days. I send you to Laguna Beach with a new summer wardrobe and you disappear. What’s going on?” she demanded.

“My mother has decided to stay at the St. Regis indefinitely. And Edward asked me to stay here, too. He said he’s falling in love with me,” I said.

“Can I interpret your radio silence to mean you’ve been having sex with him for the last week?” Stephanie asked.

“Yes,” I admitted guiltily.

“Is he good in bed?” she asked.

“Why do you want to know?” I laughed.

“Because if he’s mediocre you’re okay, but if he’s really good you have a problem.”

I thought about it. “Andre was so handsome, just looking at him was a sexual experience. But having sex was all about him. Edward makes me feel like I’m starring in my own porn movie. I didn’t know you could have so many orgasms!” I sighed.

“So you do have a problem. I might have to come down and inspect him myself.” She laughed.

“Can I really uproot Max just so I can see what happens with me and Edward?” I asked.

“It’s not like you’d be moving to a farm in Kansas. Laguna Beach is a lovely place to grow up. And you’d be near your mother. What do you have in Ross? Besides me of course.”

“All Max’s friends, his school, his dad.” I ticked them off on my finger.

“Have you heard from Andre?”

“He’s been calling. The last time I talked to him he swore he’s been faithful all summer and we should come home,” I said.

“I wouldn’t make any decisions based on that,” Stephanie murmured.

“I wasn’t going to,” I said. “I’ve got two weeks, what should I do?”

“You haven’t said how you feel about Edward, besides that he would direct a good skin flick.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about Edward. I’m happy when I’m with him. He’s funny, and he takes charge of things.”

“Like a father?” Stephanie mused.

“Cut the psychobabble. You need to stop watching
Dr. Phil
.”

“I want to hear all the sex details. Glenn’s out of town again and I haven’t had sex in days,” Stephanie said.

“How is that going to help me make a decision?” I complained.

“It won’t. But if I can’t watch
Dr. Phil,
I need some distraction.”

“Thanks for the help,” I muttered.

“It’ll come to you. Just don’t make any decisions for at least an hour after orgasm. It might color your judgment.”

*   *   *

I hung up and tried again to picture moving to Laguna Beach. I would have to find Max a new karate studio, a new pediatrician, a new dentist. He wouldn’t know a single child at school.

I imagined him running along the beach with a dog, a black Labrador or a beagle. He’d bang into the kitchen after a long day surfing, and I’d feed him stacks of turkey sandwiches and gallons of milk. Edward would come over in the evenings and we’d sit on the deck, eating nachos and guacamole. Maybe we’d all go skiing in Bear Valley, or take the ferry to Catalina Island.

If we stayed in Ross, I’d never meet another man. By the time Max became a teenager he’d be sick of me. He would spend all his time at his friends’ houses because if he brought them home, I’d be hovering around offering them snacks, and butting in on their conversations.

Andre would probably have some young babe installed in his house, and I’d see her at the post office every day. She’d cross the commons in tiny miniskirts and stiletto heels and the other mothers would whisper: “Poor Amanda, so sad.”

I rubbed my eyes. My phone rang again. It was Andre.

“Hello,” I answered.

“Amanda! I have wonderful news.”

“Okay,” I said.

“I got the restaurant covered this weekend and I’m flying down tomorrow afternoon to be with you and Max,” he announced.

“We’ll be home in two weeks! You don’t have to come now,” I protested.

“I need to talk to you,
ma cherie,
away from Ross.” His voice dropped into a slow, sexy drawl.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” I said. I felt a pain creep into the back of my neck.

“You will, when you hear what I have to say.
À bientôt, ma cherie
.” He hung up.

I put down my phone. What could Andre possibly have to say to me that he hadn’t made clear with his bevy of bachelorettes? I reached over and poured myself a brandy from the decanter on my bedside table. All that thinking had given me a headache.

I got up and went into the living room to put Max to bed. He lay on the sofa, Wii stick in hand, eyes glued to the screen. I sat down next to him and ran my fingers through his hair. I had to make a good decision for Max, not one based on sexual fantasies or my allergic reaction to Andre’s mistresses. I lay my head on Max’s forehead, wishing I was his age and had someone to make the decision for me.

Chapter Nine

I spent the next morning at the gym. I did thirty minutes on the treadmill, twenty minutes in the sauna, half an hour on the ballet bar, and capped it off with fifteen minutes of stomach crunches. By lunchtime I was sore and hungry, but still hyperventilating at the thought of seeing Andre again. I ordered my favorite goat cheese and fennel salad at the spa café. When the waitress placed it in front of me, I suddenly felt sick, and sent it back to the kitchen.

I left the gym and walked along the golf course. Andre had left a message he would be at the hotel by six p.m. I would say a quick hello, and send him and Max off to have dinner. Then I would hide in the Tranquillity Room until he brought Max home. I hadn’t thought about where Andre would sleep. The thought of Andre staying at the St. Regis, even though there were 350 rooms, made me ill.

After three laps around the golf course, I felt better. I pictured Edward’s crooked smile, I remembered his body on top of mine, I thought about how his fingers probed and pushed me. I walked over the bluff of the ninth tee and saw the ocean glistening like a giant infinity pool. I was not going to let Andre’s presence disturb me.

My phone rang and I was relieved to see it was Edward.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he said.

“Hi,” I replied.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

“I thought you might have had enough of me,” I laughed.

“I’m just beginning to get enough of you,” he countered, “but I’m calling to ask a favor.”

“Shoot,” I said.

“Sam came up with an Early Bird Special for tonight that’s a sellout. Do you think you could come help Gemma for a couple of hours? The crowd should be gone by eight p.m. We could cut out early and have a feast at my house. I promise to get you home by midnight.”

“I can’t come at six. Andre is flying down to see Max. I could be there by seven,” I replied.

“Why do you have to be there? Just have your mother meet him.” Edward’s voice had an edge to it.

“I can’t just let Max go with Andre without saying hello,” I replied.

“Why not?” Edward asked tersely.

“Max hasn’t seen him all summer.”

“Max is eight years old. You don’t have to pack Andre a diaper bag or give him a feeding schedule. Just tell your mother what time you want Max home. I’d really like you at the restaurant,” Edward said firmly.

“It wouldn’t be right,” I said lamely.

“What’s going on, Amanda? Do you want to see Andre?” He had that stern tone I had only heard once before.

“I don’t want to see him at all,” I replied truthfully. “I just think I should.”

“When you figure out why you
should
see him, let me know. I’ll be at work.” He hung up.

I flipped the phone shut and shoved it in my pocket. This was our first fight. I walked back across the golf course feeling miserable and alone.

I sat down on a bench and closed my eyes. I wished I were sitting on the bench at Phoenix Lake with Max, throwing bread crumbs to the ducks. I wished I could rewind my life to pre-Ursula days. But that wasn’t possible, because Andre had been cheating our whole marriage. I had to move forward.

*   *   *

Max was ecstatic that Andre was coming. He insisted on laying his surfboard down in the suite’s foyer so it would be the first thing Andre saw when he walked in. He wore boardshorts and a surfing T-shirt and lined up ten bars of surf wax for Andre to inspect. I purposely allowed myself only fifteen minutes to get ready. I slipped on a Donna Karan bodysuit and skirt and Tory Burch flats. I brushed my hair, put in my butterfly earrings, and flipped opened
Vogue
.

The doorbell rang at six fifteen, and even before Max opened it I felt like I was riding up in an elevator and had left my stomach on the ground floor. Andre walked in wearing silk shorts, a navy blue shirt opened to the third button, and leather sandals. His skin was tan, and his hair was shiny black and curled around his chin. He looked like he had stepped away from the Cannes film festival.

“Amanda,
mon amour
.” He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me on the lips. “These are for you.” He set down his bag, pulled out three wrapped boxes, and gave one to me, one to Max, and one to my mother.

“Andre, we don’t want any presents,” I said tersely.

“I haven’t seen my family in almost three months. I should have a whole bag of presents.”

“Cool, Dad!” Max unwrapped a Lego sailboat. I left my box unopened on the side table.

“Max, you’ve grown six inches! Grace, you look lovely, and my wife”—Andre took my hands in his—“is more beautiful than ever.”

I pulled my hands away and grabbed my bag. “You two have a great dinner, I have to go.”

“We must eat dinner together.” Andre grabbed my hand and held it tightly. “You, too, Grace. My treat,” he said to my mother.

“Thank you, Andre, it’s lovely to see you,” my mother said as she sat on the sofa, nursing her cocktail, “but I’ve already ordered room service.”

“Amanda, come. What is the best restaurant in the hotel?”

“I can’t, I have plans.” I shook my head.

“Plans?” Andre asked.

“I’m helping a friend,” I said, stumbling.

“Max, tell your mother she has to have dinner with us,” Andre said.

“Please, Mom. Dad hasn’t been here all summer!” Max begged.

“I really can’t,” I stammered, pulling away.

“Tell your friend you’ll help later. Max, lead the way.” Andre opened the door. “Grace, we will catch up after dinner. Thank you for taking good care of my wife and son,” Andre called to my mother.

I found myself in the elevator with Andre and Max. I studied a chip on my nail while Max jabbered to Andre about surfing.

“And where did you get this new surfboard?” Andre asked Max.

“A friend of Mom’s,” Max answered innocently.

“You have made a lot of friends this summer.” Andre stood close to me. “You’ll have to tell me about them.”

We got out of the elevator and Andre put his arm around me. I pulled away but he held me tighter and whispered in my ear, “Your body is so hard.”

“Stop it,” I hissed back.

“Max,” Andre said, turning to Max, who was a few steps ahead of us. “Your mother and I are going to have a drink and watch the sunset before dinner.”

“I have to go,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Max, show me where we can have a drink,” Andre insisted.

“Let’s go to the pool bar. They have awesome shakes!” Max led the way.

Max was so happy to see Andre, I thought his smile would crack open his face. I felt myself deflating like a beach ball. If I left, Max would be heartbroken. One strong drink and I might be able to make it through dinner. I sat down at the bar and ordered a scotch and soda.

“You look gorgeous, coming here was a good idea.” Andre put his hand over mine.

“Stop touching me,” I said quietly.

“I lead a monk’s life. All I do is work at the restaurant, walk home, and go to bed. I can’t wait for you and Max to come home.”

“I’m only having dinner with you for Max. We are getting a divorce and we’re going to have to tell him.”

Andre looked puzzled. “Why would we get a divorce? I adore you, we have the most beautiful son,” he said, stroking my hand, “and you still love me.”

“I don’t love you,” I replied in a low voice.

“You may say that”—Andre touched my face—“but your body says differently.”

Max climbed up to the bar with his milkshake. “Hey, Dad, want to play Frisbee?” Max asked.

“Sure, I need to talk to your mother for a minute,” Andre replied.

“I’ll go borrow one from Kids’ Club.” Max set off across the Grand Lawn, leaving me alone with Andre. I took a swig of scotch.