I imagine kissing him. “Very much.”
“So about the other night . . .” I start to explain that I’m sorry for rushing him out of the apartment, for not opening up to him about what was wrong.
He puts his finger up to my lips. “Let’s just enjoy this evening.”
Relieved, I take his hand in mine. As we ride in silence to the party, I think about how great it was to see Audrey, Sophie, and Charlotte yesterday—even though they didn’t see me.
To say I stalked them is fair. I’d swiped a pair of Jackie O–like sunglasses from the wardrobe department and headed down to my house, hoping to catch a glimpse of the girls as they arrived home from school. Sure, it probably would’ve been easier to swallow my pride and just face Casey. But I wasn’t ready. And I also wasn’t sure I was prepared to be so close to my own life again. Spying on my family from a production assistant’s car I borrowed, parked slightly down the block, was as close as I was willing to get. Even though I missed them terribly, I had compartmentalized those feelings, finding them as hard to face as Casey. I wasn’t sure what was happening with Charlie, but I was having feelings for him that a wife shouldn’t be having for a man other than her husband. That much I knew for sure.
What I didn’t bank on was also seeing John and Casey. I’d done a double take when John stepped out of the car and grabbed Charlotte from her car seat. It was only four o’clock. What was he doing home? I couldn’t remember the last time he’d left work that early. Audrey and Sophie pulled up behind them with Casey. I watched as the family united and John handed Casey the baby—my baby. As they walked into the house, John put his hand on her ass (well, my ass) and Casey put her hand over it for a few seconds before flirtatiously swatting it away as John kissed her head. What was going on? I didn’t want to think about it. Casey would never betray me like that, would she? If you’d asked me a few weeks ago, I would have said, Never. Now, especially after the way I had acted in New York, I wasn’t so sure.
What I did know for sure was that after seeing that public display of affection between my best friend and my husband, it would be easier to hold Charlie’s hand. Who cares if John didn’t actually know that Casey wasn’t his real wife? Casey sure as hell did.
? ? ?
But I push the image of John’s hand on Casey’s ass out of my head as Charlie and I pull up to the party. If there was ever a time I needed a game face, it was now. The entrance to the building is lined with photographers and camera crews and I feel my heart start to beat faster. I exit the limo very carefully, having seen way too many inappropriate pictures of Britney Spears’ hoo-ha in the tabloids.
The night is a whirlwind of ass kissing and painful small talk. At least there are some major celebrity sightings. Everyone from Heidi Klum to Victoria Beckham is there. Finally, Charlie and I steal away for some fresh air. As we head out onto the patio, I inhale deeply and take a drink of my champagne.
“Socializing is hard work.” I rest my head on his shoulder and look up at the lights scattered across the Hollywood hills.
“I’d think you’d be used to it by now.” Charlie laughs, loosening his bow tie.
“I’ll never be used to it.” I sigh, thinking again of how much work Casey’s seemingly all-glamorous life is turning out to be. The hours spent in hair and makeup, the endless production meetings, the pettiness.
“Well, if you keep kicking butt at work, I think there might only be more of this kind of thing, not less.” He turns serious for a moment. “Thought any more about what you’re going to say to the executives?”
“About New York?”
“No, about your hair—of course, New York.”
“I think I’m just going to wait and see what they say. I’m trying to live in the moment.”
“Like this moment?” Charlie brushes my hair away from my face. Is this it? Is he going to kiss me? Am I going to stop him?
He leans in and I don’t feel myself moving away. I don’t want to move away.
“There you are!” I spin around and nearly run into a woman with fiery red hair coming at me like a rocket. She’s followed by two men I recognize from New York.
“Speak of the devil!” Charlie says a little too loudly, nervously tightening his bow tie, getting back to business. “We were just talking about you.”
“Oh, you were, were you?” The redhead extends her hand and I notice that her nail polish is the exact same color as her hair. “I’m Ava Greenwood, president of programming for Gossip Network. And you already know Mark and Jenson.”