Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 130022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
That had been one of several conversations we’d had about Bea.
What he said was never overt, like, she’s a bitch, she treats me like shit, Wyn, ditch her. But then again, unless one of his friends was inappropriate in ways that Remy absolutely needed to know, I would not hold my tongue that they annoyed me, but I wouldn’t say, they’ve gotta go.
“Yes,” I admitted to Fiona. “I just blew it off because it was Bea. She could just be…mean. And I thought mostly she was dealing not in good ways with the fact her husband had left her. But I’m seeing now that she should have done that without taking it out on other people. At least not for ten years and counting.”
“Still, not a lot to hang walking out on your wife and family on,” she pointed out.
I was her stylist. I was also her friend. If we were in the same space and it was possible, we got together.
I was in LA more than she was in Phoenix, so I’d been to her home a couple of times and we’d both shared. Fiona, not as much as me, and I got that. She was who she was, and to be sure she was protected, I’d have to be much deeper in her life, and she’d have to know me a lot better for her to share meaningfully.
But she knew about Remy.
“On Sunday he alluded to failing me about something…” I shook my head. “I don’t know, he didn’t fully explain it but…” God! “It obviously really bothered him.”
“You don’t know?”
“No. Because he didn’t fail me.”
“But he thinks he did.”
The waiter thankfully arrived with my drink, and he barely put it down before I picked it up.
“We’ll order in a second,” Fiona said quietly.
“Of course, Ms. Remington,” he murmured and moved away.
I sipped.
“So?” she asked me.
“Yes, oh yes.” I put my drink down. “He thinks he did.”
“Are you not curious?”
“If I’d allow myself to think about it, I wouldn’t be able to function, because that would be all I could do. Think about it.”
“You could ask him, Wyn,” she pointed out.
“I let him go on Wednesday.”
“Pardon?”
“I finally came to terms we were done. I did this last Wednesday.”
She stared at me a second.
And then she started laughing.
I wasn’t sure it was funny.
She was still chuckling when she again reached to her glass and murmured, “The shit we do to guard our hearts.”
“He left me, Fiona, and eventually moved a woman in with him.”
She sipped, but didn’t put her drink down when she replied, “He did. You were divorced when he did. She’s gone. That was then. This is now. You just let him go and you’re hanging on to that like it means something and missing what it really means. You’ve been divorced for years, and you just let him go, and he wants to work things out and what are you doing, Wyn? Holding back a man you love because…why…exactly?”
“He walked out,” I said shortly. “And divorced me. I wanted to talk about it then. I wanted to work it out then. He didn’t allow either.”
She swung her glass toward me. “So you didn’t get what you wanted, girl. Who cares? Again, that was then, and this is now.”
“So I snap to when Remy decides we’re worth fighting for?”
“Hell yes.”
My head jerked back in shock.
She lifted one long, elegant finger from her glass.
“Now, I said that, but what I did not say was that you should let him off the hook for doing something so entirely fucked up without engaging his damned wife in the process. I’m telling you to sit down and listen to what the man has to say. And then you can decide if it’s worth fighting for.”
Ugh!
“God, you suck. You’re just supposed to be beautiful and talented and demanding and vain. Not wise. It’s upsetting and annoying,” I groused, grabbing my drink and maybe spilling a little of it.
But that didn’t stop me from drinking it and then more of it because she was laughing.
I put my glass down and pinned her with my gaze. “Okay, what are you doing in Phoenix?”
I emphasized my words to share that we were no longer talking about me.
“I’m moving here.”
Another head jerk.
Then a big smile.
“Really?” I asked.
She nodded. “I’m just…done with LA. I need a break. Phoenix is close. No snow. No natural disasters. And maybe I can go to the grocery store without someone taking a photo of me.”
“Fiona, we don’t have famous people wandering about willy-nilly like LA, but as much as I’d love having you close, please don’t hang your hopes on that happening. You know Imogen Swan lives in Phoenix. There are pictures of her published all the time, and in some of them, she’s grocery shopping.”
“Well then, I just need a break. And I need to know if my real estate agent is giving me the proper advice. She’s recommending Paradise Valley or Cave Creek. And all I know is Scottsdale. And no shade on Scottsdale, but I’m not sure I’m a Scottsdale gal.”