Читать книгу The Perfect Husband: A nail biting gripping psychological thriller - Buffy Andrews - Страница 15

Chapter 7

The coming days brought more flowers, more texts and more phone calls. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this happy. I was back to feeling human again and busy at work. I wasn’t going to complain, however. The housing market had been in a slump and I was enjoying the rebound. My bank account was, too.

I checked the time. It was already after six and I had to meet Jackie at Tony’s. Maybe I should just cancel. But that’d be the second Thursday night in a row, and I couldn’t do that to my best friend.

I picked up the files on my desk and stuffed them into my tote. I texted Jackie to tell her I was on my way. Twenty minutes later, I found her at our usual seats at the bar with her face in her phone.

Jackie sipped her drink. ‘Hey you!’

‘Sorry.’ I was out of breath from rushing. ‘I have buyers coming from out of town tomorrow, and I had to set some things up.’

‘Are you excited about this weekend?’

‘Totally! I can’t wait! But I won’t get there until Saturday afternoon. I have a hair appointment in the morning with Andre and I didn’t want to cancel it. You know how difficult it is getting an appointment with him, especially a Saturday appointment.’

Jackie scanned my head. ‘Your hair always looks gorgeous.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Are you doing anything different?’

‘No. Just getting it trimmed.’ I held out my hand and looked at my nails. ‘I could really use a manicure, too.’

Jackie swung out her legs so I could see her sandal-clad feet. ‘I just had a pedicure.’

I looked down at her toes peeking out of her sandals. ‘Oh! I love the magenta.’

She lowered her legs. ‘Me, too. I couldn’t decide between the cobalt blue, the chartreuse and this. I figured I’d start with this color and try the other two later.’

The bartender came over to take my order.

‘I’m in the mood for something different. How about an orange crush?’

‘Speaking of crush…’ Jackie winked. ‘How’s Eric?’

I laughed. ‘Great. It’s so weird how we can talk for hours and never run out of things to say.’

‘When am I going to meet him?’ Jackie asked.

‘We’ll see how this weekend goes.’

The bartender returned and slid my orange crush in front of me. I took a sip. ‘I like it.’ I turned to Jackie. ‘Want a taste?’

She took a sip. ‘Not bad. So, did you get the invite for our high school class reunion?’

I rolled my eyes. ‘It’s that time again?’

Jackie pumped her fist. ‘Thirty years, baby.’

‘Ugh! Don’t remind me.’

Jackie shook her finger at me. ‘You’d better go. After standing me up at the last reunion, you promised you’d go to this one.’

‘That’s because I was getting divorced and definitely not in the mood to mingle and act like my life was great.’

‘But you’re in a better place now, right?’ Jackie stared into my eyes.

‘Much better, thanks to Eric.’

‘Maybe he’d go with you.’

I scrunched my nose. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Eric wouldn’t know anyone. He’d probably feel uncomfortable, and I’d feel as though I had to entertain him. If I go, I want to be able to catch up with classmates I haven’t seen in forever and not worry about Eric having a good time.’

Jackie and I spent the rest of the evening chatting about high school classmates – those we’d like to see and those we wouldn’t.

‘Remember Eddie Nace?’ Jackie said. ‘Now he was hot. I used to daydream about running my hands through his long brown hair. He was almost too pretty to be a guy.’

I laughed. ‘There wasn’t a lot I liked about high school. Mom was drunk most of the time and I couldn’t wait to go to college to get away from her.’

‘You had Matt.’

‘True, I had Matt. And I felt terrible breaking up with him when I went to college, but we were better as friends than boyfriend and girlfriend.’

‘I hear he’s divorced,’ Jackie said.

‘Really? Who told you that?’

‘I ran into Liz the Loud Mouth at the grocery store the other day. We were talking about the reunion and different people. She mentioned it. Maybe he’ll be at the reunion.’

‘It would be nice to see him. Matt always seemed like a forever guy. I wonder what brought about the divorce.’

‘Maybe you’ll find out.’

I smiled. ‘Maybe.’

I didn’t realize how much fun Jackie and I were having reminiscing, until I saw the time. I told Eric I’d call him when I got home around nine and it was nine-thirty.

Driving home I realized how much Jackie and I had been through together. She was there growing up whenever my mom flew into one of her alcoholic rages and I needed a place to escape to. I was there when her children were born. We’d shared everything. There wasn’t anything I didn’t know about her and she didn’t know about me. I hoped that never changed.

I called Eric as soon as I walked into my apartment.

He sounded anxious, speaking at a rapid rate. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Uh, yeah. Why?’

‘I was worried.’

‘About what?’

‘You.’

‘Why were you worried about me?’

Eric cleared his throat. ‘You said you’d be home by nine. It’s going on ten.’

‘Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. Jackie and I were reliving our high school days and lost track of time. We have a reunion coming up.’

‘Reunions can be fun. You get to see people you haven’t seen in a while. I went to a couple.’

‘Did you enjoy them?’ I asked.

‘They weren’t as bad as I thought they’d be. I didn’t have a date so that made it a little awkward. I felt as if people were judging me for being single.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Guess it just bothered me a little. Do you need a date?’

‘I was planning to go alone.’

‘I’d go with you. I mean, if you want me to.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that to you. You wouldn’t know anyone, and I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.’

‘I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable,’ he insisted. ‘I’d enjoy meeting your friends.’

‘You would?’

‘Sure. I want to know everything there is to know about you, Shelly.’

‘Oh, okay. So, do you want to go?’

‘Are you asking me?’

‘Yes,’ I said in my most cheerful voice.

‘Then I’d love to go. When is it so I can get it on my calendar?’

I hung up the phone and realized I’d just invited Eric to my high school reunion. I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, it would be nice not to show up alone. On the other hand, it was just an extra thing to worry about.

Saturday morning, Andre was waiting for me when I walked into the salon. I sat down on his chair. He ran his long fingers through my hair. ‘You just want a trim?’

‘Yes. Nothing drastic.’

‘One of these days I’m going to talk you into doing something a little outside of the box.’ He fluffed my hair.

Andre was as out of the box as they came. I never knew what color his long hair would be when I came in. Today it was purple. He was tall and lean and feminine. Prettier than a lot of women. Prettier than me.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. It was the same hairstyle I’ve sported for decades. I found comfort in the familiar. I wasn’t one of those people who craved constant change. When I faced change, especially when it was forced on me like my divorce, I did so with trepidation. I guess it went back to what Jackie had said about me being a planner. I did better with change when I could plan for it. When it took me by surprise, I felt as though someone had pushed me out of the plane before I had the chance to make sure my parachute worked.

Andre washed my hair and began trimming. ‘So, anything new in your world?’

‘I went out on a date.’

Andre stopped cutting and I could see his eyes widen in his reflection in the mirror.

‘A date? For real?’

I smiled. ‘Yeah.’

He resumed trimming. ‘Wow. Didn’t expect that answer, but yay for you! So give me the details.’

‘Well, we met online.’

‘Online? I thought you didn’t do the online thing.’

‘I didn’t. Well, up until now. Jackie talked me into it. Most of the profiles made me want to vomit. They were so fake and phony. One guy posted a photo of his tongue hanging out. He looked like a dog in heat.’

Andre laughed. He’d been doing my hair for the past twenty years. We’d seen each other through life’s ups and downs. Besides Jackie, he probably knew more about me than anyone. He was there when Scott left me and I was there when he and his husband brought home their infant son.

‘I’m leaving to go visit Eric for the weekend when we’re finished here,’ I told him.

‘Are you nervous?’

‘A little.’

Andre laid the scissors down on the counter and picked up the hairdryer. ‘Don’t be nervous. Just be yourself and have fun.’ He fluffed my hair. ‘Now, how does that feel?’

‘Much better. Thanks!’

I listened to an audiobook while driving to Eric’s house. A Year of Second Chances was about a woman who’d found a list she’d written when she was seventeen. On it she’d scribbled all her hopes and dreams, a bucket list of sorts. She’d realized there was still time to accomplish those dreams and she set about doing just that. It occurred to me that I was about the same age as the character. God willing, I still had a lot of life left. I didn’t want to spend it alone. But did I have the courage to purposefully seek change? I wasn’t sure.

I crossed a bridge and drove into the city. Eric’s house was easy to find. It was a gorgeous Greek Revival row house located in an older section of the city that was crowded with historic homes. Eric had mentioned he’d bought the property about two years ago after his parents died and he came into a sizable inheritance. He hadn’t said how much he inherited and I didn’t ask, but I had the feeling it was substantial by some of the things he mentioned. The vacation house in the Caribbean being one of them.

Slowly I drove past; the green shutters popped against the crisp white house. I admired the intricate iron work along the parlor floor and entrance and the lush window boxes overflowing with perennials and greens.

Following his instructions, I turned right onto Locust Lane. It was narrow, and I breathed a sigh of relief there were no cars coming towards me. I turned right at the stop sign and drove about thirty feet before pulling into a space behind his house. I parked beside his black SUV. I texted him to let him know I’d arrived.

He was at my door in Superman seconds. As soon as I got out of the car he wrapped me in his arms and squeezed me tight. ‘How was the drive?’

‘Not bad. I listened to an audiobook.’

He stepped back and his eyes scanned my body. ‘Something’s different. Hmm. Your hair. You did something to your hair.’

I tossed my head, flinging my hair off my shoulders. ‘I was at Andre’s before coming here.’

Eric looked puzzled. ‘Andre?’

‘My hair stylist.’

‘Oh, yes. Of course. You mentioned that. You look amazing.’

‘Thanks.’ I looked up at the house. ‘Your house looks amazing.’

Eric grabbed my overnight bag from the back seat and took my hand. ‘Let me show you around.’

We walked up the sidewalk through his backyard. Even though the area was small, Eric had managed to turn it into a private oasis. A wooden fence surrounded the yard. A small pergola was tucked into the corner. The sidewalk was made from large pieces of slate. Dwarf shrubs and trees along with bold perennials packed the space.

I stopped before entering the back door and turned around. ‘I had no idea you had such a green thumb.’

Eric laughed. ‘There’s a lot about me you don’t know – yet!’

I followed him inside and he gave me the grand tour.

I looked around, drinking in every detail. ‘I love the high ceilings, built-ins and molding.’

‘Thanks. Most of the molding is original.’

We walked into the dining room, tiled in classic black and white marble. ‘Is this floor original?’ I asked. ‘It’s absolutely gorgeous!’

Eric smiled. ‘Yes. Original floor and original fireplace.’

I turned around in a circle. ‘Your dining room could be featured in a home decorating magazine. It’s gorgeous.’ I ran my hand over the cherry table and sideboard. ‘Are these pieces you bought?’

‘Yes. I like antiques, as you can see. The whole house is full of them.’

As I toured the house, I noticed that nothing was out of place. Even the books on the coffee table were neatly stacked, largest to smallest, each one placed exactly in the middle of the one beneath it.

My vocabulary was nothing but ooohs and aaahs. The upstairs was equally impressive, from the leaded stained-glass windows to the mirrored tiles in the bathroom.

‘Here’s the guest bedroom.’ Eric opened the door and I walked into the buttercup yellow bedroom.

I turned in a circle, my eyes jumping from the brass bed to the antique wooden armoire to the oak washstand with its harp style towel bar. ‘Everything is so beautiful.’

‘Please make yourself at home,’ Eric said. ‘My home is your home.’