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My heart pangs.
Why am I torturing myself? She’s engaged now, for God’s sake! And Reed explicitly told me he and Isabel have become more like siblings than ex-lovers. But, see, that’s the thing. The idea of them being like siblings simply doesn’t ring true to me. How could Isabel get fucked by Reed the way I’ve gotten fucked, and then, somehow, magically, desire nothing more from his hot body than a brotherly peck on the cheek? I don’t care how badly Isabel might have gotten hurt by Reed at some point in their relationship—how big an asshole Reed might have been to her in the end. I can’t imagine she’d turn down the chance to fuck Reed senseless again, regardless, if the opportunity presented itself...
If Reed cheated on Isabel, then, yes, maybe I could imagine her never wanting him to lay another pinky on her. That’s how I feel about Shawn. Physically ill at the thought of him touching me. But that’s not what happened between those two, or they sure as hell wouldn’t be “like siblings” now. And, anyway, Reed says he’s not a cheater, and I believe him. But if things between them really did simply peter out, if things really did just “run their course,” as Reed said, then I can’t imagine Isabel being completely over Reed. Unless, of course, she’s now so madly in love with her new fiancé, she can’t imagine wanting anyone else, ever again, even someone as swoon-worthy and smoking hot as Reed.
Which brings me to the next name on the list. Howard Devlin. The guy Reed told me is Isabel’s fiancé. As I recall, Reed said Howard Devlin is a big shot billionaire movie producer and studio owner. Which made me retort, “Oh, then he’s the Reed Rivers of the movie industry?”
I input Howard’s name into Google, excited to see how this guy matches up to Reed, and when I see his photo, I gasp. Howard Devlin looks like Isabel’s pervy grandpa! Gaping like a fish on a river bank, I read the guy’s Wikipedia page and quickly learn he’s sixty-five years old—thirty-four years older than Isabel!
Holy hell. I know I’m the one who always says “age is just a number.” But, damn. I’m having a hard time believing a woman as young and vibrant and successful as Isabel said yes to spending the rest of her life boning that guy. Although, I suppose Isabel only said yes to spending the rest of Howard’s life boning him. Which, when you’re talking about your pervy grandpa, maybe isn’t all that big a commitment.
Okay, I’m being a total bitch right now, and I need to stop. Looks aren’t everything. And age really is a number. For all I know, Howard Devlin is a lovely, kind, generous man who’s a tiger in bed. A guy who treats Isabel like his queen. Plus, who the hell do I think I am to judge any woman for being in a relationship with a wealthy, powerful, older man? Come on, Georgie. A girl who lives in a glass house—or, in my case, a house with a whole lot of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Hollywood Hills—shouldn’t throw stones.
I read a bit more on Howard Devlin and suddenly realize I’ve seen his face before. But where? I pause. Stare at the wall. And, then... Oh, yes! In that photo spread from CeeCee’s fiftieth birthday party!
I pull out my color copy of the article and scan the photos... and sure enough, Howard is standing in a group shot with a slew of music and movie stars. Wow. How crazy is that? Isabel and Howard were both at that party ten years ago. Is that where they first met? Or is this a case of future spouses crossing within inches of each other, never realizing it? Isabel wasn’t a successful actress back then. Not even close. Plus, Reed was at that party, too. So, it wouldn’t surprise me if Isabel and Howard never said two words to each other that night.
On the other hand though, Isabel had to have had acting ambitions back then. Did she spot Howard, a famous movie producer, and try to charm him, or was she too young and inexperienced to recognize him at a party attended by far more recognizable faces?
And what about Howard? Did he spot Isabel that night, from afar, perhaps when she was talking to a young, gorgeous stud in an Armani tux, and think to himself, One day, that woman will be my wife?
Okay, my imagination is running wild now. But, regardless, I make a mental note to ask Isabel about that party. I doubt there’s any sort of “written in the stars” or “love at first sight” angle there in regards to Isabel and Howard, but, still, I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least poke around to find out.
