Part 27 (1/2)
She sends me e-mail after e-mail, inquiring about our schedule openings and informing us Weston and Bridget have made alternate plans for the Friday and Sat.u.r.day, asking if a weeknight might be more manageable. I ignore most of her messages. I'm sure she isn't offended-she's just the go-between.
I'm trying to hurt him.
But I'm also trying to hold on to Gabe.
Each day I don't see Weston is another day closer to sanity, to a simpler life. Gone are the feelings of insecurity and guilt, the petty jealousies. I feel lighter, free. Maybe if I never get back to him, he'll get the picture and we will have said good-bye without actually saying good-bye.
But the thought of actually letting go seems impossible to me.
I lie poolside at Gwen's place. The girls are splas.h.i.+ng around in the pool. Chloe's a decent swimmer but Claire isn't-she's wearing her water wings, and I keep an eye on her while sipping an appletini. Gwen sure knows how to entertain-it's relatively easy with a fully stocked bar and pool. Pus.h.i.+ng thirty, Gwen has yet to have kids-she and Greg are enjoying their freedom too much-traveling often and playing golf almost every day. Today is one of those rare summer days I get her all to myself.
She lies back on the blue lounge chair, black braids falling to the side, her large sungla.s.ses pointing to the sky. She says she's working on her tan, and I laugh-her dark skin is in no need of a tan. My freckly, Irish white skin, on the other hand, is another story. I slather on more sunscreen at the thought. And I look over at the girls, wondering if I should touch them up a little too. But I don't worry too much about it-they've inherited Gabe's beautiful olive skin-every summer, I thank the Lord for that.
”So,” Gwen says. ”You and Weston haven't seen each other for a while.”
”Nope.” I simply say. Gwen knows the rules. She knows I'm not supposed to say too much about our dates. And it is just killing her.
”I'm making him sweat a little,” I add, giving her a mischievous look.
”I bet he doesn't like that.”
”No, I don't think he does,” I say, quite satisfied with myself.
I hear the old familiar Beyonce tune on my phone, and reach into my beach bag. I throw in a casual h.e.l.lo, not bothering to look who's on the other end of the line.
”Mirella,” he says.
My breath catches. I recognize his soft-spoken voice instantly. ”Hi,” is all I manage to say.
”How are you?” he asks, his words sound strained.
”Uh...good,” I stammer a little.
”I've missed you.” My heart does another flip flop, but still, I don't tell him I've missed him too. Even if I have.
”Where are we at, Mirella?” he asks. ”Why haven't you contacted us?”
”Well, you know,” I say casually. ”We've been busy.”
”Too busy to send one e-mail?”
”Why are you calling me anyway?” I say. ”I thought this was against the rules.”
At these words, Gwen perks up and takes off her sungla.s.ses, her mouth in the shape of an O.
”You've left me no choice,” he points out. ”I've missed you.”
”How was your trip?” I ask, my words clipped.
”It was quite nice, but I couldn't stop thinking about you.”
He's getting to me.
”Weston,” I say. ”You're breaking a few rules right now,” I remind him, still keeping an eye on Claire. Gwen is too engrossed in our conversation to pay any attention to the girls.
”I know,” he says. ”I miss you. I miss your touch.”
Now he's starting to arouse me. I should really end this conversation.
”Please, I need to see you,” he adds, his voice soft.
”Listen,” I start, my words business-like, ”I'll contact Kathryn shortly and maybe we can set up something for next weekend.”
”I'd like that,” he says, his words barely a whisper.
”Bye, Weston,” I say before hanging up.
”Holy cow,” Gwen squeals.
”I can't believe he called me,” I tell her, not able to restrain the smile on my face.
”Well, sweetie, it looks like you broke him,” she says, her toothy smile as wide as I've ever seen it. ”He begged, didn't he?”
A smile stretches across my face. ”He sure did.”
Chapter Fifteen.
I wanted you to suffer a little...
KATHRYN'S E-MAIL IS A LITTLE CRYPTIC.
Dear Mirella, All plans have been arranged for your date with Weston this next Sat.u.r.day. Edward will pick you up at 4:00 p.m. Dress however you would like, but please ensure you are wearing a white or beige strapless bra and very high heels (five inch minimum).
When you get to your destination, a girl in a red polka-dot dress will meet you.
Weston looks forward to seeing you.
Best, Kathryn P.S. Please forward your measurements: bust, waist, inseam (from waist to floor) and shoe size.
What the...?
I don't even want to ask.