Читать книгу California Girls - Susan Mallery, Susan Mallery - Страница 12

When Ali opened her eyes Saturday morning, her first concern was to question whether or not she had to throw up. Thanks to the wine and the tequila chaser, much of last night was a blur. Zennie had been sweet and supportive, but she’d never been more than a single glass of wine kind of girl, which meant the two empty bottles of wine were mostly Ali’s doing.

She shifted on the sofa, assessing her situation. She felt awful—her head pounded, her stomach hurt and her heart was little more than a torn and damp tissue, but she didn’t think she was going to vomit.

“Yay, me,” she whispered before pushing herself into a sitting position.

She winced at the bright sunlight filling her living room. Her headache cranked up two levels. Why couldn’t she live somewhere that it rained all the time, like Seattle? Rain would suit her mood better.

She leaned back against the sofa and tried to summon some small measure of energy. She needed to pee and she should probably brush her teeth. After that, a shower would be good. Once she’d done all the normal stuff, she was going to have to face where she was in her shattered life and deal with the detritus that was her broken engagement.

Glen was gone. That much she remembered from the previous night. Zennie had been sympathetic and caring but at no time had she tried to convince Ali that it was going to work out. Sending Daniel to do Glen’s dirty work kind of said it all. Glen was past done with her. There was no going back, no turning this into a funny story to tell the grandkids.

“Not my first breakup,” she reminded herself, speaking aloud, then winced at how loud she sounded. Or maybe that was just the hangover. No, not her first, but by far her worst, because she’d allowed herself to believe Glen really loved her.

She wouldn’t think about that, she thought as she stood and waited for the room to stop spinning. Once again she assessed her need to throw up and found that, despite the thudding in her head, she wasn’t feeling that awful. Maybe the pizza, ice cream, Bundt cake combo had mitigated the wine.

She took a couple of steps, only to trip over a half-open pizza box. Once she got her balance back, she looked around and saw there were dishes everywhere, along with a second pizza box and remnants of the cake. She vaguely recalled her sister wanting to clean up, but Ali had insisted she was going to party on, even after her sister left. Zennie had offered to stay, but Ali had been feeling drunk enough to think she would be just fine on her own.

At least she’d survived the first night, she told herself, then nearly fell over when someone knocked on the front door.

“Stop,” she said, hurrying over and opening the door. “Just stop making that—” She blinked against the blazing sunlight, then blinked again because she had to be seeing things.

“What you doing here?”

“Checking up on you,” Daniel said, stepping past her and into the apartment. “How was your night?”

“What?” She stared at him, trying to figure out why he was so much more in focus than everything else in the room.

He’d obviously showered. His clothes were different from the ones he’d worn the previous afternoon, but maybe not. He looked a lot fresher than she felt, but his beard was confusing. The three-day growth thing never changed, and how did that happen? And how was it so perfect all the time? Every hair exactly the right length. Did guys take a class on how to do that, or maybe use a special razor or clippers?

She felt herself smiling. Yeah, it had to be clippers, like those dog clippers that measured how long you wanted the cut to be. Not that she could imagine Daniel using dog clippers, but still, the thought was amusing.

“I might still have a little alcohol in my system,” she murmured more to herself than him.

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” He handed her a large to-go cup. “I made this for you.”

She took it but didn’t drink. “What is it?”

“A smoothie. Coconut water, red ginseng, prickly pear and ginger. Do you need to throw up?”

“I might now.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t even know what prickly pear is.”

“Everything in there will help with your hangover. Drink it and go take a shower. When you’re done with that, we’ll see if you want to eat.” He held up a grocery bag. “I brought breakfast.”

“You need to talk in shorter sentences,” she told him before taking a sip. The smoothie wasn’t half-bad. It mostly tasted of chocolate and maybe a little of coconut, which made sense because of the coconut water. Except coconut water didn’t really taste like—

“What were we talking about?” she asked.

He smiled at her. Now that got her attention. She wasn’t sure she’d seen Daniel smile before, at least not because of something she’d said or done. He was usually stern-faced and disapproving. As if she smelled bad, which she didn’t, except possibly this morning and hey, that wasn’t her fault.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

His smile? That seemed like a really personal question. Oh, wait. “The smoothie? It’s good.”

“Drink it down. You’ll feel better.” He glanced around. “So you and your sister did okay last night?”

“It was fine. I mean horrible because of Glen, but Zennie was very sweet. I cried and got drunk and called him names and she offered to take out his liver.”

Daniel raised his eyebrows. “That’s very specific.”

“Zennie’s an OR nurse. I’m not saying she’d do a great job, but it’s not like we’d want him alive at the end of the surgery so hey.” She drank more of her smoothie, only to remember Daniel was Glen’s brother.

“You know I’m kidding about his liver, right?”

“Yes. And even if you weren’t, under the circumstances, you get to be pissy.”

“Damn straight. What a jerk. It’s not fair. I loved him. I was going to marry him. Why can’t he be more like Nigel? That’s my sister Finola’s husband. Nigel is wonderful. So handsome and successful. He’s a plastic surgeon, not some stupid engineer who designs sewers. I hate him. Glen not Nigel.”

“I got that.” Daniel put his hands on her shoulders and turned her. “Shower, then breakfast. After that, we’ll come up with a plan for the day.”

“Okeydokey.”

She drank a little more of the smoothie, then walked into the bathroom. She flipped on the light, closed the door, then turned and saw herself in the mirror. And then she screamed.

“Oh, my God!”

“You okay?” Daniel asked from the other side of the door.

“Mortified. Why didn’t you say something?”

“About what?”

She heard the humor in his voice. “Go away.”

“Going away.”

The sound of his chuckles faded a little. She flipped on the fan so she couldn’t hear them at all, then assessed the damage.

She had a serious case of bed head, with half her hair sticking up, all gross and matted. There were chocolate smudges on her cheeks, pizza stains on her shirt and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy.

Kill me now, she thought as she stripped out of her clothes and turned on the shower. Because getting dumped less than two months before the wedding wasn’t hideous enough? She had to wake up looking like she’d barely survived a frat party?

Thirty minutes later, she was ready to face the world. Sort of. She was hoping Daniel had left, but didn’t think her luck was that good. Still, she’d showered, washed and dried her hair. She’d both flossed and brushed her teeth and put on clean clothes. She’d also finished the smoothie, which had been surprisingly restorative. Except for a very slight headache, she didn’t feel half-bad. Not counting the breakup, of course. There was always that.

She walked into her living room to find it transformed. Gone were the pizza boxes, the empty bottles of wine and the dishes. Her coffee table was wiped clean and the remnants of what had been her phone sat in a little plastic bag next to her engagement ring.

She flushed with embarrassment as she realized her apartment had looked just as bad as she had. Because, hey, there could never be enough humiliation for one person, right?

Daniel stood in the kitchen, slicing mushrooms. For such a macho guy, he looked perfectly at ease. There was a carton of eggs on the counter, along with a package of bacon. She smelled coffee and her whole being perked up.

“You didn’t have to stay,” she began as she headed for the coffee. “Seriously, you’ve done enough.” She waved the empty drink container. “This worked great. Thank you, but I’m sure you have plans for the day.”

And while they were on the subject, she wasn’t totally sure how long she would be holding things together. She was fine now but at some point the pain was going to slap her upside the head again and then she would be sobbing and blubbering like a fool, all over a man who hadn’t had the balls to dump her face-to-face.

“I do have plans,” he said, putting down the knife. “First, I’m going to make you breakfast. Then we’re going to get you a new phone.”

She glanced at the little bag filled with phone bits. “Probably a necessary thing. Mine now has a Humpty Dumpty–like quality and I have no king’s horses or men.”

He flashed her a grin. “You’re feeling better.”

“It was the ginseng.”

“Or the prickly pear.”

She grimaced. “Let’s not talk about that.”

“Not a problem. After we get you a new phone I thought we’d come up with a game plan.”

“For what?”

“Canceling the wedding.”

Her mouth dropped open. Well, crap. She had to cancel the wedding. As in undo all that had been done. There were venues and food and...

“I just mailed out the invitations,” she said.

“I got mine Thursday.”

“We already have gifts from the save-the-date cards. I have to tell everyone. That’s nice.” She poured herself coffee. “Hey, world, Glen changed his mind and no longer wants to marry me. Sorry there won’t be a party.”

Daniel finished cracking the egg he held, then wiped his hands on a towel and walked over to stand next to her. He put his large, manly hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes.

“My brother is a jerk and a fool. He’s making a mistake, but I hope that by the time he figures that out, you are so over him, you can only laugh at his patheticness. You are sweet and pretty and funny and kind and he never deserved you.”

She knew he was just being nice, but still. Wow. The words, the intense gaze, the closeness.

“You’re really good at the whole consoling thing,” she told him. “You should consider it as a part-time gig. You could make a fortune.”

He smiled. “I’m happy with my current job, but I appreciate the compliment.”

He went back to his egg cracking and she was left with the reality of having to cancel a wedding. Glen hadn’t even bothered to dump her himself, no way he was going to help.

“Don’t take this wrong, but I hate him.”

“Right now I hate him, too.” He looked at her. “I downloaded some articles on what to do in what order. I brought them over.”

He pointed to a plain folder sitting by her handbag on the small table next to the front door.

She thought about all the work she’d done to get married and how much more work it was going to be to undo it all. She thought about how she’d been so happy before and how she wasn’t happy now. Everything was different. No, she corrected herself. Everything was exactly the same. That was what had been lost. The promise of something better, with Glen. Now all she had was who and what she’d always been. Talk about sucky.

She looked at Daniel, then at the food. She thought of the hope she’d had, how she’d wanted to be a part of something, to make a family. With Glen, of course. He’d been the center of her...

Her eyes began to burn and not from lack of sleep. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.

Daniel turned toward her. “Ali?”

“I can’t do this. I can’t be the perky post-breakup girl who has it all together and I don’t know you well enough to have a meltdown in front of you. No offense.”

He wiped his hands on a dish towel. “None taken.”

“I just need to process this. I’ll get a new phone and distract myself for a few hours. I want to just keep breathing.” She nodded at the folder. “I really appreciate you bringing me information on how to cancel my wedding, but I’m going to put that off until tomorrow.” She tried to smile and failed. “You’re being really sweet and I appreciate it, but I—”

“You need some time alone. I get it.”

He crossed to her, put his hands on her shoulders and lightly kissed her cheek. “Breakfast is on me. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“It’s guilt, right? You feel guilty because of what Glen did.”

“Yes.”

“I can live with that.”

She walked him to the door. When he was gone, she closed her eyes and tried to come up with a plan. She needed a new phone. That was number one. After she’d gotten that, she would go to the movies. There had to be some kids’ movie that would distract her. Or a nice horror flick that would terrify the sad out of her. Or maybe both. Later, she would sob her heart out and tomorrow she would get her act together. For today though, she was going to wallow. She’d survived the first night. Now there was only the rest of her life to get through.

* * *

Zennie spent Saturday doing the usual errand stuff that kept her life running smoothly, but even as she checked things off her list, she couldn’t escape the feeling of a dark cloud hanging over her. She felt awful for her sister—no one deserved to be dumped like that, ever. Glen was a total jackass and Zennie hoped he came to a slow and painful end. Not that bad things happening to Glen would make Ali feel better. Only time would do that, but Zennie felt there had to be something to be done or said. Not that she had a clue. She wasn’t exactly a touchy-feely kind of person and of the sisters, Ali and Finola were the ones who were the closest. They shared a bond that had never extended to Zennie. Maybe it was because there was a large age gap between the oldest and youngest—seven years. Finola had helped raise Ali while Zennie had been much closer to their father.

Zennie almost texted Finola a couple of times Saturday morning, then told herself Ali was right. Finola and Nigel needed their week away. Not to be overly insensitive, but Ali would still be brokenhearted in a week when Finola returned.

After her three o’clock hot yoga class, Zennie went back to her apartment and got in the shower. She had a date with Clark that night—her own fault. She should have canceled. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a nice guy—he absolutely was—but he wasn’t anyone she saw herself with in the long term. Not that she ever did. She’d never been the girl who’d played with dolls and had done pretend weddings. She’d rarely played with dolls at all. She hadn’t ever imagined what it would be like to grow up, fall in love and get married. She just wasn’t wired that way. The whole two-by-two thing was great for other people but less interesting for herself.

She stood in front of her tiny closet and thought longingly of an evening spent home alone, binge-watching the new season of The Crown, but it would be rude to cancel this late, so she had to suck it up.

She pulled on her go-to black capris and a black tank top, then chose one of her three loose, flowy tops that worked in most social situations. She slid on flat sandals before returning to the bathroom where she suffered through the indignity of applying mascara and a little lip gloss. Honestly, men didn’t put on makeup before they went out—why did she have to? It was barbaric. Like preparing herself to be sold at some concubine marketplace.

The overly dramatic image made her smile. Zennie pulled her small bag out of her tote and headed for the door. The restaurant Clark had suggested was close enough for her to walk. As she wasn’t going to be driving, maybe an extra glass of wine would make the date more bearable.

Zennie arrived at the trendy Italian restaurant right on time. Clark was already there, speaking to the hostess. Zennie took a second to study him, to see if she could figure out why he wasn’t working for her.

He was good-looking enough. She’d never been all that into appearances, but he was certainly in the “Yes, this is nice” category. He was about six feet tall, with curly dark hair and dark eyes. He wore glasses and always had a faintly earnest expression on his face. He was intelligent, dedicated to his work and a good listener. She should have been excited about their date instead of impatient for it to be over. Which meant what? If there was nothing wrong with Clark, then she had to be the problem, but then she’d always been the problem.

He turned and saw her. His eyes lit up as he smiled broadly. “Zennie, right on time. How are you?”

He took her hand in his and leaned in to kiss her. Despite telling herself not to, she turned her head at the last second and his lips grazed her cheek.

“I’m good,” she said. “Thanks for the dinner invitation. I’m looking forward to it.”

He straightened and she saw some of the light had faded from his eyes. As if her not kissing him on the mouth had hurt his feelings. She wanted to roll her eyes and scream. What was wrong with everyone? Why did everything have to be about love and sex and pair bonding? Now she had to make him feel better or the evening would be a disaster. Better to make things right and get it over with. Then she could go home and watch The Crown.

“Sorry,” she said, linking her arm with his and leaning into him. “It’s been a crazy day. Ali got dumped. She’s devastated and I don’t know how to help.”

Clark’s whole body changed. He relaxed as he reached over and hugged her.

“She was engaged, right?”

Before Zennie could answer, the hostess appeared to take them to their table.

Once they were seated in a quiet corner, Clark leaned toward her. “What happened?”

“Nothing good. Apparently Glen didn’t even dump her face-to-face. He had his brother do it. They’re seven weeks from getting married and he does this? What’s wrong with him? Ali never had much confidence to begin with and now this happens. I’m not sure how she’s going to recover.”

She felt guilty using her sister’s tragedy to get through her evening and told herself she would be extra nice all week to realign her karma.

“She and Finola are so close. I wish she was here, but Ali didn’t want to tell her right before Finola was supposed to leave on vacation.”

“Finola is the one who’s on TV?”

She nodded. “She and her husband don’t get away very often, so Ali didn’t want to mess with that. I just wish I knew what to say. Maybe I should take up boxing so I can beat him up.”

Clark smiled. “You’d humiliate him on multiple levels. I respect that.”

Their server arrived and took their drink orders. When he left, Clark asked, “Is it hard having a famous person in the family?”

“I don’t ever think of Finola as famous. She’s just on TV. But I suppose she gets recognized, at least locally. Sometimes, when we’re out shopping or something, someone comes up and wants to talk to her, but not that often. I guess it could be because we’re all together. Finola has said people approach her all the time.”

“Would you like that?” he asked.

“God, no. It would make me insane.”

“Me, too. I prefer small groups of people I know well, rather than large crowds of strangers.”

“Same here, although family can be challenging. My mother has decided to downsize. She’s still living in the house where we all grew up so it’s been about thirty years since the last move. When my parents divorced nearly a decade ago, Dad took almost nothing. Partially, I’d guess, by design but mostly because he was going to be living on a boat.” She smiled. “No room for power tools there.”

“Barely room for a screwdriver,” he joked.

“I know. So Mom plans to relocate to a much smaller place by the beach and she expects us to go through everything in the house and figure out what we want, what she should give away and what she should keep. It’s going to be a nightmare.”

Their server arrived with their drinks.

“Family’s nice,” Clark said. “Even when they’re being a pain.”

She realized she’d spent the past twenty minutes doing all the talking.

“You never talk about yours,” she said, once again feeling guilty. Apparently it was the theme for the evening.

“I don’t have any. None that’s close.” He shrugged. “I lost my parents when I was a kid. I was raised by distant relatives who did their best, but had never wanted children. They did the right thing, which I appreciate, but I knew I was in the way.”

“That’s terrible.” No one should grow up feeling unwanted.

“It’s okay. I got through it. In a way, what happened shaped who I am today. I wanted to get out of the house and we lived close to the Memphis zoo. I went there almost every day. It’s where I got interested in primates. I started volunteering and knew I wanted to spend my life studying them.”

He took a sip of his vodka and tonic. “Having direction helped. I never really fit in at school so the zoo became my refuge. After a couple of years, I knew that I wanted to save orangutans. When I went to college, I already had a leg up on everyone else, thanks to my work with the zoo. I went back every summer and volunteered. When I graduated, I already had some experience, which helped me get a job. And here we are.”

Zennie had known that Clark worked at the LA Zoo, but she hadn’t known his history. Probably because she’d never asked. She’d never even tried to get to know him, she realized. Which begged the question—why had she gone out with him in the first place?

“Zennie, this is our fourth date,” he said suddenly.

Her stomach immediately tightened. What did that mean? What was magical about the fourth date? She so rarely got that far in a relationship that she didn’t have a lot of experience past dates one and two.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “You’re right, it is.”

He looked from her to his drink and back. “Don’t take this wrong, but I get the impression you’re just not that into me.” His mouth curved up slightly. “Ignore the movie reference.”

She honestly didn’t know what to say. While he was nice and all, she wasn’t the kind of person to get all giddy about a guy. But how to say that without making it sound like she was blowing him off?

“I like you a lot,” he continued. “I think you’re great. Smart and interesting and pretty. But this can’t be one-sided.” His dark gaze met hers. “Don’t get mad, but is it possible you’re a lesbian?”

She sagged back in her chair and glared at him. “No, I’m not. Jeez, why do people ask me that? Is it the short hair? You know that’s a cliché, right? I’m not gay.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. The problem isn’t men, it’s me. I’m just not good at relationships. I don’t get the appeal. I have a great life. I have friends and my family and my work. So why do I need more? Why do I need to be paired up? I just don’t have that in me. As for the lesbian thing, I’ve thought about that a lot and I’m honestly not interested in women sexually. I went to college, I could have experimented and I didn’t. It’s not about wanting to be with a woman.”

“I’d wondered.”

“Now you know.” She leaned forward. “Not everyone has to pair up every single second. I get there’s a biological element to it, but that was established back when everyone died before they were thirty. I don’t think it’s necessary these days, but we still do it and maybe I don’t want to. I don’t think that means there’s anything wrong with me.”

“I don’t either.” His voice was annoyingly mild. “Have you had sex?”

She wanted to pound her head against the table. “Yes, I’ve had sex. With a man, before you ask. Really? You think a penis is going to make this better?”

“I just wondered.”

“It was fine. Nice, but a lot of things are nice.”

She waited for a smart-ass comment that the guy must have been doing it wrong and that he could save her or change her or convince her.

But instead he said, “It sounds like you’ve figured out exactly what you don’t want and I’m on that list.”

“What? Clark, no. That’s not what I meant.”

“Zennie, I started this by suggesting you’re really not that into me, and nothing you’ve said has changed my mind. I think you’re terrific and I wish this had worked out. I’m really sorry because I’m going to miss you, but I don’t think you could say the same thing about me, could you?”

Instead of waiting for an answer, he put two twenties on the table. “To cover the bill,” he said, before he stood. He hesitated only a second, then walked out of the restaurant.

Zennie sat there, not sure what had just happened. Obviously she wouldn’t be hearing from Clark again. Normally she was the one ending things, but he’d beaten her to it. She was okay with that, she told herself. It wasn’t as if she was in love with him. They barely knew each other. Now she could return to her regularly scheduled life.

As she got up and started for the door, she realized that in the space of twenty-four hours, both she and her sister had been dumped. Not that what had happened to her was anything when compared with what Ali was going through. Still, they were both now single. Their mother would be less than pleased, that was for sure. Her dream of grandchildren was fading by the second. Poor Finola—it was going to all be up to her. At least they could count on one of their relationships staying strong, no matter what.