“So did Jarret.”
“Do you hear yourself? Hello? Come join me here in the present. You’re not the same person you were during your marriage. You’re not stranded alone in a strange city, and Nick is nothing like Jarret, thank God. Where are you now? How much time do we have to talk?”
“I’m passing under the Hollywood Freeway on Victory. We have about ten minutes to locate my common sense.”
“No problem. Tell me how you feel.” Robin delivered my formula, solve-all psychology phrase with compassion in her voice.
“You love throwing that line at me.”
“What can I say? I learned it from you. Talk.”
I let go, venting my fears, suspicions, and insecurities in emotion-chocked spurts. Call-waiting beeped. I ignored it. Robin listened to me without interruption until I repeated how much I trusted Nick.
“Maybe you’re afraid of how much he cares for you,” she said. “You do trust him. You know he wouldn’t cheat on you. You’ll probably end up marrying the guy and you’re terrified. Heck, you bought a house to avoid moving in with him.”
“Not true. My house is an investment.”
“You and Nick could have bought a house together.”
“Our relationship was too new, Robin. I wasn’t ready.”
“Are you ready now?”
“Not if he has another woman on the side.”
“And if he doesn’t?” When I didn’t answer, she said, “Listen, I realize you’re afraid. Jarret stomped on your heart in the worst possible way. You trusted him and he cheated on you. So what? Ancient history. Forget about it and move on. Nick is amazing.”
“Spoken like a woman with second chances on her mind,” I said. “Anything you want to tell me about you and Dave?”
“Don’t change the subject. Let’s finish talking about you. It stinks that you heard Isabella’s message right before your meeting with black-hearted Pratt. Are you ready for her?”
“Ready enough. Oliver will be with me,” I said. “Robin, Izzy ended her call to Nick with ‘Love you’.”
“Big deal. I tell the barista I love him when he has my morning latte waiting for me every day at the Coffee Bean. I love Nick, too. Just not the way you do. And I will continue to love Nick until we have to off him for mistreating you—which will be never. Don’t assume the worst. You forget Dave and Nick talk every day. If something iffy were up, Dave would tell me.”
“He would? How did you crack through his code of silence so soon?”
“Brownies and lingerie. Not necessarily in that order. Very effective.”
I stopped for the red light at Van Nuys Boulevard, smiling. I knew whatever happened, Robin would be there for me. “Okay. I’m calmer now. Breakdown is on official delay until after I talk to Nick.”
“It could be worse. He could up and propose. Then what would you do?”
“Thank you. You now have managed to thoroughly distract me again. If Nick asks, you’ll be the second person to hear my answer.”
“I’ll expect an update on the Isabella call tonight at the party. Dave and I are going gift shopping for your dad this afternoon. What did you get him?”
“A baseball autographed by the Cubs—Jarret got it for me. I don’t like being indebted to him, but I know how much Dad will love the ball. Besides, I don’t have time to squeeze in a shopping trip between my arrest and breakup.”
“Don’t even joke about that. Where is my objective friend? What did you do with her?” Robin said. “Accept the ball. Please. Jarret owes you after getting you involved in his mess.”
The intersection light turned green. “I have to go. You’re the best, Robin.”
A block west of the boulevard, I turned into the driveway next to Oliver’s office building and parked in the empty lot. I checked my phone. One unanswered call from Nick, no message. A small red dot on the e-mail app signaled one new message. I opened the inbox and read:
Sorry I missed your call. Got your message—we can talk later. Be strong with Carla. I love you. Nick.
I tucked the phone in my purse with a sigh. Later.
Oliver pulled into the lot in a dusty black Prius and parked in the space next to mine. He lowered his passenger window, waving a cigar at me. “Let’s go.”
“Let me get this straight,” I said, watching him snuff the tip in the ashtray as I got in. “You drive a low-emission car but pollute the interior—the air you breathe—with cigar smoke?”
“Go figure.” He brushed ashes off his legs and the coat of his tan suit, then shifted the car into gear. “Anything I should know since the last time we talked, Liz Cooper?”
“I had dinner with Jarret last night.”
“What’s with you? I told you not to go. Can’t you stay away from the guy?”