“Don’t be a baby, Graham. Just because we broke up doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
“We didn’t just break up. We got divorced. And I don’t want to be friends with the woman who cheated on me.”
She started to slink toward me but when I took a step back she stopped.
“Fine,” she said. “Whatever. I just need the room for a few minutes.”
“Your new boyfriend can’t get you a better hotel room to shoot in?”
Her bright demeanor faltered for a moment before she righted the ship and slid her smile back in place.
“We’re having a few issues at the moment. Nothing that can’t be worked out as soon as he stops pouting,” she said, smoothing the skirt of what looked to be some sort of outlandish tennis outfit. She was always repurposing clothing. It was part of what had made her so popular on social media. “He’s back in L.A. I had to come out here for another client.” She took a step in my direction again. “Actually, if you want, we could go get dinner tonight. It’s my only night free.”
I stared at her, wondering what was wrong with her that she would actually think I’d be interested in sharing a meal with her after I’d just told her point blank that I didn’t want to be friends.
“Nah, I’m good. Me and B have a hot date tonight,” I said, stepping around her as I headed for the kitchen. “You know where your office used to be. Please be quick. I need to leave soon.”
I heard her stomp up the staircase and then the clatter of her moving furniture around, the walls and ceiling shuddering.
“Christ,” I said to Brontë. “She’s a goddamn cyclone.”
I had hoped to get in a few minutes of work before I left, but I was on edge now, the appearance of Nadia putting a pall over the atmosphere of the house, my anxiety level somewhere around my ears. I reached under the table and gave Brontë a pet, taking deep breaths and checking the time. I’d give her three more minutes and then I was going up.
I found Nadia sitting in her old office chair, which she’d unearthed from the pile of taupe throw blankets and set in front of the window. Leaning in the doorway, I watched as she didn’t even pause her video at my appearance in the background. She just kept talking, preening, selling.
When she was done, she clicked the stop button with one of her cream-painted talons and spun to face me.
“You gonna reshoot that?” I asked.
“Nah. It was a perfect take. I’ll just edit you out.”
“Great. I have to go so… you have to go.”
She hopped out of the chair and strode toward me. Slowing as she passed me, she reached up and put a hand on my arm.
“You look good,” she said, her voice lowered. “Sure you have to go? I have a few minutes. We could…” Her eyes moved to the staircase leading to the master bedroom.
“Jesus. What?” I said, backing away from her. “I definitely have to go.” I gestured to the staircase leading to the downstairs. “After you.”
Her laugh echoed off the walls as she headed to the lower floor. “You were always such a prude, Graham. Have a little fun once in a while!”
“Don’t you have a serious boyfriend?”
“Yep,” she said, turning to face me in the bright entryway of my home that she’d ruined. “And having a little extracurricular action on the side is what makes our relationship more fun.”
“Does he know that?”
But she didn’t answer. At that moment both of our phones chirped with alerts. I pulled mine from my pocket a second after she swiped a manicured finger across the face of hers. I was still trying to make sense of what I was reading when she exclaimed and held up her phone toward me.
“You’re dating Lior Flynn?” she asked, her baby blues wide with shock.
I was actually more surprised by her shock than by the picture of me, Lior, and Marley none of us had noticed being taken when we were at lunch. But little shocked Nadia. One of her best traits (her only one?) was that she took everything in stride, always able to spin something bad into something less bad and even great.
As I was about to answer her, more or less, three things happened in quick succession. First my text alert went off. Lior.
“I’m here!” she said, including a picture of the flower shop on the corner we’d agreed to meet at.
Then Nadia screamed because Brontë, who’d entered the foyer without me seeing, had peed on the floor… and also Nadia’s shoe. Which caused the beautiful chaos demon to jump into me, loosening my grip on my phone, which then landed in the puddle of urine.
