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I’m busy over the next few days, fielding phone calls from everyone but Trevor. I want him to call, needing an apology, but knowing that if I can’t get an apology even a good-bye would help. All the losses in my life make me crave closure, but as the days pass and I hear nothing, I realize I’m not going to. Trevor’s not going to call. He’s gone.
I’m done, too, I remind myself as I do a half dozen interviews with rival magazines and shows— Yes, Trevor was fun, but it’s better he’s with a woman his own age. And no, I wasn’t devastated when it ended; this was mutual and a long time coming. But the rejection gnaws at me and I’m grateful to be busy. In fact, I’m so busy smiling and feigning personal and professional joy that I totally forget Shey’s arriving from New York to spend the weekend with me until Thursday afternoon’s call from her.
I’m at my desk just about to turn off my computer and I have to listen to her voice mail twice before I realize tomorrow’s Friday. She’s here tomorrow.
I can’t believe I forgot Shey was coming. We originally were supposed to convene in Seattle for Zach’s baptism, but the date was changed. Instead Shey rebooked her flight to head to L.A. to spend a girls’ weekend with me.
And now she’ll be here tomorrow and I’m craving a girls’ weekend as well. A good one. Decadent, relaxing, fun.
I instant message Madison, who ducks into my office to see what’s up. “Can you see if you can get me a reservation for a two-bedroom suite at the Parker in Palm Springs for two nights?” I ask her. “The hotel also pulls up as Le Parker Méredien. I’d love the Gene Autry guesthouse but don’t know if that’s available.”
“New romance?” she asks, waggling her eyebrows.
“With my best friend.”
“Oh, fun. I’ll get right on it.”
Madison dances her way back to my office ten minutes later with a reservation confirmation. “You got the Gene Autry residence and they love you.” She places the printed confirmation in front of me. “No, seriously, they looooove you and have promised to spoil you rotten. Daily morning coffee service. Spa treatments. Dinner at Mister Parker’s. I wish I was going.”
“If that’s what you want for Christmas…?” I answer, slipping the confirmation into my briefcase.
“Really?”
“Unless you have a better idea.”
“I’ll do Palm Springs!”
“Smart girl.”
* * *
I’m practically singing my way through Friday morning’s taping. I’m so excited about the weekend with Shey and thrilled to be leaving the city for a girls’ getaway in Palm Springs. I was so jealous when I heard that Marta and Shey had their own getaway in the San Juan Islands a few years ago. I haven’t done anything like that with either of them since I started at America Tonight—my fault, not theirs, as it’s my schedule making things difficult.
We’re done taping by noon, and I’m in my car and rushing to the airport. I’m just five minutes away when I get the text from Shey saying her plane has landed and she’ll be heading toward the curb as soon as they reach the gate.
I’m circling Arrivals in my Jag when I spot Shey emerging from the terminal. Nearly six feet tall and a gorgeous, willowy blonde, she’d be hard to miss, too.
I pull up to the curb, shift into park, and jump out to greet her with a hug and a laugh. I feel like a midget hugging her, but then I am barely five three.
“Are you shrinking, Tiana?” Shey teases me as she gives me a squeeze.
Oh, my God, it’s good to see her. Her voice, her warmth, her Texas twang. “I was just asking myself the same thing,” I answer, opening the trunk to put her luggage in the back. “How was the flight?”
“Uneventful.”
“The best kind of flight.”
“How’s life?” Shey asks as we climb into the car and close the doors.
“Could be better, but you know I love a good challenge.”
“You’ve certainly been in the news a lot.”
“Not by choice,” I mutter as I pull away from the curb.
“This new guy of yours, Trevor Campbell, he’s gone? Out of the picture?”
“Yep.”
“What happened?”
“Not entirely sure, but I think he started sleeping with his co-star.”
“Is that what he said?”
I glance at her. “He hasn’t returned my calls in a week.”
“But he appeared on ET—”
“Spouting lies.” I shrug indifferently, but then my brave face crumples and I feel the sting of rejection all over again. He never did call. Never did care. “To be honest, I feel like a fool. I guess it wasn’t much of a relationship, and I should be relieved it’s over. I guess I’m relieved— ” I break off, gulp a breath. “Sort of. No, not really, because now I have to start dating all over again.”
Shey arches an elegant brow. “Why do you hate dating so much?”
“Because the whole Tiana Tomlinson identity trips men up.”
“How?”
I wave a hand as I change lanes and prepare to enter the freeway. “I think they fall for the package and don’t realize there’s a real me beneath all the hair and makeup and celebrity appearances, a me who’s considerably different than the TV persona.”
“Are you different?”
I shoot her an accusing glance. “Of course I’m different. You know I’m different— ”
“Not if you’re dating actors like Trevor Campbell for six months! Did you really think he’d fall in love, settle down, and be ready to start making babies before your biological clock runs down?”
I’m staring straight ahead, concentrating on the 405’s bumper-to-bumper traffic, but I also hear every word she’s saying.
“T, you need someone your age or older, someone settled, someone mature, someone not in the business.” Her tone softens. “But if you don’t want the marriage and kids, then admit it, and just be done with it. But that’s not what I hear from you. I hear you still want a family…?”
I know she’s looking at me, and I just tighten my grip on the steering wheel. Of course I want a family. It’s normal for a woman to want a family. But most women aren’t widowed at thirty, either.
Shey leans toward me, taps the back of my hand where it clenches the wheel. “You know, if Keith hadn’t died, you’d be a reporter in a small city, juggling assignments between making cookies and driving kids to music, dance, and sporting events.”
I see the I-10 intersection ahead, knowing I want to go east.
&nbs
p; “You’d already started collecting baby clothes, remember?” she adds.
“One outfit and one blanket, not exactly an entire layette.”
“But you know what I’m saying. Having a baby was a top priority once Keith returned— ”
“But he didn’t, and I haven’t met anyone close to Keith, so the baby blanket and onesie are long gone and my focus has been on work.”
“Okay. We’ll drop the subject… for now.” She grins and slides her seat back to give her more legroom. “I do have some big news, though. Well, it’s actually not my news. It’s about Marta.”
I glance at her again. “Yeah?”
Shey’s grinning. “Do you know why Zach’s baptism was postponed from this weekend until the end of the month? Marta’s pregnant.”
“What?”
Shey’s grin grows. “Marta’s just hit her second trimester, but she’s still really sick.”
“Zach’s not even a year old yet.”
Shey just laughs her throaty laugh and tucks a wave of thick blonde hair behind her ear. “But that’s not all. She’s carrying twins.”
I let out a screech, and Shey laughs again. “Eva let the news slide when I called the house last night. Marta doesn’t know we know yet.”
“We’ve got to go see her. I know the baptism has been postponed until the twenty-eighth, but we should just surprise her— ” I break off, bite my lip as I realize this is Marta we’re talking about. “She doesn’t want anyone to see her sick, does she.”
Shey shakes her head. “Apparently she can’t keep any food down and she’s lost a lot of weight— ”
“Not that she needed to lose any,” I interrupt.
“Eva says Luke’s been worried about her, but according to the doctor the pregnancy’s fine.”
“Wow.” Marta pregnant with twins. Incredible. Just two years ago she and Eva were an island, and now Marta’s married and a mom to little Zach and expecting two more.
Shey casts a sympathetic glance my way. “I promise, if you want it, your turn will come, Tits.”
I force a smile. “I know.” But I don’t know, not anymore. Shey’s right about Trevor, though. Trevor would have never married me or had children with me, nor would any of the last few men I dated. But those are the men I date. I’m not attracted to the kind, salt-of-the-earth men— and those men do still exist. I just avoid them. Just like I avoid being hurt.
