If, if, if.
My stomach did a somersault.
That was it. I needed to find out if there was a current wife. That would put an end to all of it--the guilt for letting him down, the grieving for what might have been.
At last I would then be able to put Shane, and his complicated life, and our complicated relationship, behind me and move on.
Chapter 6
“What the f**k? Ohmygod. I knew it! I knew that jerk was no good.”
I wished I’d been able to avoid telling Jill this latest rumor. I didn’t want to hear the I-told-you-sos. But she had connections. She was the only one I knew who did. She would be able to get to the bottom of things. Plus I trusted her to tell me, one way or the other, whether he was married or not. She had her reasons for refusing to tell me what she’d found out about his first wife’s death, but she wouldn’t keep this from me.
Jill and I were at Jill’s favorite restaurant. She liked it because every waiter in the place was hot. I liked it because they served a killer vegi lasagna. At the moment we were waiting for our hottie waiter, Paolo, to bring our drinks and salads.
“It’s a rumor,” I reminded her as I unfolded my napkin and smoothed it over my lap. “The girl who told me couldn’t even remember where she’d heard it.”
“That’s okay. We have people. We can get to the bottom of it.”
“Supposedly he was married in Europe somewhere.”
“No problem.” Jill dug her phone out of her purse and started poking at it. “I know exactly who I’m going to use on this case.”
“Jill, please don’t spend a lot of money—“
Jill waved away my plea. “Don’t worry about that. First, I won’t have to spend a lot to get information. We have computers and people who know how to use them. Really well. And second, finding out the truth would be worth any price, no matter the cost.” Finished with whatever she was doing, she dropped her phone back in her purse.
Paolo hurried over, doled out our drinks and salads then ran off again. The restaurant was packed, every table full. We wouldn’t be seeing him again for a while.
Jill looked sad to see him scampering away so quickly. After heaving a slightly exaggerated sigh, she said, “I’m guessing this latest bit is making it a little easier dealing with the breakup.”
The unofficial taking-a-temporary-breather semi-breakup.
We hadn’t officially broken up. I hadn’t heard from Shane since that night in my condo. He hadn’t called. Didn’t speak to me at work. Nothing. So, officially we were…in limbo. But it was easier, less painful, to let Jill believe we’d broken up. “A little easier, I guess.”
She sipped her Bellini, served in a champagne flute. “Mmm, is that good.” She licked her lips. “Do you want to go out again this weekend? Maybe hit a club or two like old times?”
Clubbing. Again? Ugh. “I don’t know if I’m ready for anything like that yet,” I said as I stirred my alcohol-free strawberry iced tea. Tonight I needed to stay sober. If I drank, I would lose my resolve. I might actually tell Jill what had happened between Shane and me. That would be bad. “It hasn’t been that long since we’d been to a club, and the last time…I don’t need to remind you of how awful that was.”
“Was it really that bad?”
“Yes.”
Jill scowled. “Sorry. I was trying to be helpful. Russell is cute. And a doctor. A successful doctor.”
“I know you were trying to help. Which is why we’re still friends. But in the future, please stick with what you do best—lawyering. And leave the matchmaking to Patti Stanger.”
Jill laughed as she stabbed at her salad, doused in ranch dressing. “Okay. No more matchmaking for me. Until you’re ready—“
“No matchmaking,” I interrupted. “At all. Period. None.”
She scrunched up her face. “Was I really so bad at it?”
“Do I need to answer that question?”
“Wow. You’re brutal.”
“Just being honest. I wouldn’t suggest a career change.”
“No worries. I wasn’t planning one. At least not until we find out what’s up with your ex-boyfriend. I really, really want to know the truth.” Jill lifted her glass. “How about a toast? To learning the truth?”
“To learning the truth,” I echoed, tapping my glass against hers.
* * * * *
After dinner, Jill did her best to try to convince me to go out for drinks. She was meeting up with some of her people from work, one of them the guy she was going to have dig up the dirt on Shane. I declined. Not only didn’t I want to be sitting around with a bunch of lawyers, listening to them talk shop, but I didn’t want to be there when she told her assistant about Shane. I knew she’d be using some choice words in describing him. As much as I suspected he probably deserved to be described in that manner (especially if he was married), I couldn’t really stomach hearing it. Not yet.
I went home.
I clicked on the TV. Surfed through all three channels I was able to get without cable. Then I decided to poke around on my cellphone a little bit. I had unlimited internet on my cellphone. It was agonizingly slow--like, watching a slug run a marathon slow. But it was better than nothing. I opened a blank web page, put the cursor in the little box and typed Shane’s name.
Instantly, my screen was full of links to articles about Shane. One dated last Friday caught my eye. He was dressed in a suit and tie, standing next to none other than Alexis.
The article’s headline: Has America’s favorite billionaire bachelor found his match at last?
Oh God. Here we go again. Will it ever end?
It’s just speculation. More silly rumors. That was Friday night. The same day the article was published, he was standing in my condo, yelling at me about talking to another man.
Rumor. Speculation. That was all it was.
My finger hovered over the screen.
I wanted to click the link.
No, I didn’t.
Yes, yes I did.
No.
I shut the browser.
No.
To keep from opening the window again, I powered down my phone, plugged it into the charger, and went to the kitchen for a bedtime snack.
The writing was on the wall. Whether he was still legally married to some woman somewhere in Europe, about to be married to that bitch here in the US, or still the non-communicative jerk who made me look like a fool for just talking to another man, we were through. Over. Done. The sooner I accepted that fact, the better.