“Here,” she hands me the photocopies of the letters from Turner. “Look, it’s time to do something. And I’m not talking about your usual routine of sneaky and dishonest. This time you need to tell him the truth and come clean about everything.”
“Like what? What’s left to come clean about? He already knows the big stuff.”
“Like, telling him that Leah ran you off when you left Florida and that she tried to bribe you with money…how about that?”
“That’s not going to make a difference. He already knows she’s as rotten as I am. He freaking loves immoral girls.”
“What about confronting him about his feelings for you? He found you again, even after he knew what you did when he had amnesia. He’s still in love with you, Olivia. You just have to convince him of that.”
I think about how he showed up to my condo the night before Leah’s sentencing. He was always showing up wasn’t he? Showing up at the music store, showing up at the grocery store, showing up in my office. Damn it. Cammie was right, there had to be something to that.
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay,” she agrees. “Now turn that computer on, we have to find out where they went.”
Two hours later, I walk through the door of my condo. The windows are open and the salty sea air hits my face. I take it in in great gulps and start searching for my rat fiancée. I remind myself to be calm, to act like a lady, but when I see him sunbathing on my oversized patio I swear at him loudly, so that he spins around almost dropping his water.
“Here,” I pull the ring from my finger and toss it at him. It goes careening across the tile and spins to a stop at his feet. “I’m going on a trip. When I get back, BE GONE.”
He jumps up looking confused. He is looking left to right like the answer for my erratic behavior can be found there.
“Wha—?”
I take in his salmon colored swim trunks, his Gucci sun glasses, the way he moves like a robot, and I inwardly cringe. What was I thinking?
I wasn’t! I was stuffing something in my heart. Cammie was right!
“You know Leah! All these months of me defending her in court and you never said a word!”
Turner’s face goes white, despite his ridiculous tan. He flaps his hands around like he can’t decide whether to surrender or point at me.
“You dated me for Superbowl tickets!” I am yelling now.
“Yes, but—”
“Shut up! Just shut up.”
I collapse onto a lawn chair and put my head in my hands. I feel like I am ninety years old.
“Turner, we’re not right for each other. I don’t want to marry you, I’m sorry.”
“Well,” he puffs. “Don’t I get a say in this?”
I look at him from between my fingers.
“No, actually,” I sigh and stand up. “I have to go pack.”
I head inside.
“Why?” he calls after me. “Why can’t we work it out?”
I pause looking over my shoulder.
“There’s nothing to work out. I can’t give you something that I don’t have.
Chapter Eighteen
Eight hours later, I am sitting in business class, sipping on a coke and drumming my fingers impatiently on the beverage tray in front of me.
Caleb and the Scarlet Beast are in Rome. Yes, that’s what I said,
Rome
. The Bahamas weren’t good enough for her and neither was Marco Island; both of which were listed as top baby making locations on her computer’s Internet history. Instead, she opted for The De La Ville Inter-Continental hotel where her favorite actress Susan Sarandon became pregnant. How do I know such a personal detail? Because, along with breaking into her home with my psychotic best friend, I also hacked into her email account and read a correspondence between her mother and herself.
“Is this your first time to Rome?”
I look over and see a pair of very green eyes looking at me from the seat next door.
“Um, yes,” I clip my words so that I sound as rude as possible and look back out the window.
Yucky—chit chattery.
I am in no mood to converse. I am on the most important mission of my life.
“You’re going to love it. It’s the best place in the world.”
“Yea, to make babies,” I mumble.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Oh, nothing,” I say. “I’m going there on business, so it’s all work and no fun for me,” I laugh shrilly and pretend to dig around in my purse for something.
“Too bad. You should at least make time to see the Coliseum—absolutely amazing.” I look over at him now because that’s actually not a bad idea. Holy crap! I’m going to Rome! I’m now officially excited. In all the commotion of booking a ticket, throwing things in a suitcase and breaking up with Turner, it completely escaped me.
“Maybe I will,” I say, smiling at him. He wasn’t bad looking. Actually, he was roguishly handsome with coal black hair, caramel skin, and a chiseled jaw. He had one of those distinctly Jewish noses. I suddenly feel self-conscious about my pasty complexion.
“Noah Stein,” he offers me his hand and I take it. “Olivia Kaspen.”
“Olivia Kaspen,” he repeats, “That’s a very poetic name.”
“Well, that’s about the strangest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
I pull a face and he smiles.
“What do you do for a living?” I ask, trying to sound pleasant.
Oh, my gosh—I just broke up with Turner—oh-my-gosh!
“I own my own business. You?”
“Lawyer,” I say. I look down and see that my hands are shaking.
“I have to go to the ladies room, do you mind?” He shakes his head and scoots out into the aisle so that I can get past. I almost knock a little girl and a stewardess over as I stumble toward the signs for the lavatory.
Once inside, I collapse in front of the toilet and throw up.
Shit, shit, shit, shit
.
My entire life has changed in the last few hours and I’m just now realizing it. Turner, poor Turner, but not really, because he dated me for Superbowl tickets. But he loved me, right? Did I love him? No. It was the right thing to do, breaking up with him. It was the only thing to do. I rinse my mouth in the sink and lean back against the wall. This was insanity; rushing off to Italy, chasing after my ex-boyfriend- all on a whim. What would my mother say? I stifle a sob and bite my lip. Alone in Rome; I didn’t even speak Italian, for Pete’s sake. This was bad. This was really, really bad.
I go back to my seat and Noah graciously lets me in without a word about my swollen face. After taking a few large swigs of my flat soda, I slide two fingers underneath my eyes to clear up any smudgy mascara and turn to Noah, frowning.
“I’m not going to Rome on business,” I say, and he doesn’t look surprised. Why should he? He doesn’t know that I’m a perpetual liar.
“Oh,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “Ok.”
I take a deep breath. It feels exhilarating to tell the truth.
“I’m going to find Caleb Drake and when I do, I have to tell him the truth about everything. I am so scared.”
He looks at me with new interest. I’ve transitioned from being a pretty girl, to a woman of intrigue.
“What type of truth is it?”
“A messy one. There’s going to be a lot of clean-up,” I sigh.
“I’d like to hear about it.”
I shift under his gaze. He has the intensity of a nuclear weapon in those two green orbs.
“It’s a long story.”
“Well,” he says raising his hands and looking around the cabin. “It’s going to be a long flight.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you on one condition,” I say, pulling my legs up to my chest and holding them there. Noah looks at my knees and then my face like he can’t quite grasp why a grown woman is sitting like a little girl. “You have to tell me the worst thing you’ve ever done.”
“The worst thing I’ve ever done?” he looks off into some distant memory and grimaces.
“When I was in the ninth grade, there was this girl in my class whom we called Felicity Fattness. As a prank I snuck into her backyard and stole a pair of her underwear off the line and then hung them on the schools front door with a sign that said, Felicity Fattness Wears Parachute Panties. When she saw it, she burst into tears, tripped over her school bag and had to be rushed to the emergency room to have five stitches put into her chin. I felt horrible—still do actually.”
“That was mean,” I say, nodding.
“Yeah, she’s a total babe now. I saw her at my high school reunion and asked her out on a date. She laughed at me, said I’d already seen her panties once and it wouldn’t be happening again.”
I laugh—a real laugh, so that my whole body shakes. Noah joins me. I am still smiling, when I realize that I have another boy scout on my hands.
“So, Felicity? That’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
“I stole a magnet from the dollar store once.”
“Oh boy,” I say. “I’m not sure you’re ready for my story.”
“Try me.”
I look at his face and remember how Caleb once told me that you could judge someone’s personality by their appearance. If this is true, I decide that I can trust Noah because he has the kindest eye’s I have ever seen.
“I fell in love underneath a tree,” I began.
Twelve hours later
It is raining in Rome and I am standing outside of the De La Ville Inter-Continental Hotel, hiding underneath a goofy yellow poncho that is barely shielding me from the pouring rain. I don’t know why I am here right at this moment, as nothing can be accomplished with me looking like a drenched rat. But, I feel the need to see his window and to look at the view his own eyes had been enjoying all morning. Their hotel is small but opulent and it sits majestically on top of the Spanish Steps. I can imagine that you can see the whole city from their little balcony. How romantic. I sigh and continue watching. There is movement behind the window and then a familiar red head emerges and crowds under the awning with a glowing cigarette in her hand. Didn’t she know that nicotine negatively affected fertility?
“Keep smoking,” I whisper, narrowing my eyes. A second later the door pops open again and looking like a Roman god, Caleb emerges to join her. He is shirtless and his hair is damp from a shower, he most likely just took. I pretend that my heart is not doing the electric slide and wipe two fingers underneath my eyes to clear away the mascara that is pooling there.
Don’t you touch him, don’t—s
he reaches out a hand and runs it along his chest seductively. Caleb catches it at the waistline of his pants and laughs.
I look away when he pulls her towards him and wraps his arms around her. My heart begins to ache, a feeling I have been best friends with for the last nine years. I stomp my foot on the pavement agitated and an animal wail emerges from my mouth. I am so freaking sick of loving him.
“Okay Olivia, they are about to put the fertility thing to the test. I have to stop Leah’s spawn from happening,” I sing this to myself while pulling my cell phone from my pocket. The call was going to cost me a fortune, but who cares right? You can’t put a price on love.
Dialing the De La Ville’s number, I stuff myself underneath the overhang of a perfume shop and wait impatiently until I hear the short burst of ringing.
“Buona Sera, De La Ville Inter-Continental. Non ci sono titoli che contengano la parola?” a female voice answers.
“Um…hi…do you speak English?”
“Si. How can I help you?”
“I am trying to reach a guest of your hotel. Mr. Caleb Drake—it’s urgent and I was wondering if you could page him immediately and have him return my call.” I hear her typing something into the computer.
“And your name?”
Uh oh!
What was his secretary’s name again? It rhymed with Pina Colada…
“Rena Vovada,” I breathe. “I’m calling from his office, tell him it’s important that he calls back right away. Thank you so much.” And I hang up before she has the chance to ask me anymore questions. With the task done, I scurry back into the rain where I have a view of their balcony. Caleb and Leah are still there. She is stubbing out her cigarette with one hand and allowing him to pull her back into the room with the other. I see his head jerk towards the inside of their suite and then their hands breaks lose as he disappears through the door. I imagine that I can hear the distant trill of their room phone.
Good. That would buy me at least a half an hour. Hopefully enough time to kill the mood. Satisfied, I head back to the Montecito Rio, the hotel I had booked myself into earlier. It wasn’t as flashy as the De La Ville, but it was charming nonetheless and I didn’t care a thing for Susan Sarandon.
My shoes are soaked and sloshing water when I traipse into the lobby. The girl behind the counter glares at me and picks up the phone to call maintenance.
“You are Miss Kaspen, no?” She calls after me as I head towards the elevators. I hesitate before turning around.
“Yes.”