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“Why not? Although I can’t imagine she’s heard a thing. Isabel is screwed up in a lot of ways, but I don’t believe she’d marry Howard if she knew any of that stuff, no matter what superhero franchise he’d offered her.”
“She’s truly never said anything to you about Howard being a creep?”
I shake my head. “Not in the way you mean. Sure, she’s always laughed about how obsessed he was with her, right from the minute he met her at her first big audition. She called him a ‘stalker,’ but she laughed about it.”
Georgina furrows her brow. “Isabel met Howard at an audition?”
“Yeah. It was her big break. He happened to be at the audition, by chance. Usually, that’s below his paygrade. But he happened to be there, and when he saw her, he immediately demanded the director give her the part.”
Georgina squints. “Did that audition happen before or after CeeCee’s fiftieth birthday party?”
“About a year after. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. I’d convinced myself Isabel met Howard at CeeCee’s birthday party. I had this whole storyline in my head about that. But I guess not.”
“No. She met him at an audition. Howard wasn’t even at CeeCee’s party.”
“Yes, he was. I saw him in a group photo from the party. Hang on.” Georgina leaves and comes back with a color copy of the article, which she places before me on the kitchen table. “See?” She points to Howard’s face. “That’s definitely him. Plus, CeeCee confirmed he crashed her party and she was livid about it.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. I had no idea. I didn’t even know who he was that night, so I never would have noticed him. But I can’t imagine Isabel didn’t know who Howard was at the time. She was always savvy when it came to...”
I trail off, as my brain starts connecting dots. Suddenly, I remember that twenty-minute gap during the party when Isabel disappeared on me, and later told me she’d been in line for the toilet. Was she talking to Howard then? Did she contact him after the party, and stay in touch with him during that entire next year, working him, hustling her ass off, until he finally agreed to give her that first big break? And did she do all of this, while I was paying her fucking rent because I didn’t want her working for Francesca anymore?
Georgina sits in my lap and looks at the smiling group photo that includes Howard. “Maybe Isabel was in the same boat as you. Too young and naïve to realize she was in the presence of a hugely successful movie producer.” She runs her fingers through my hair. “Or maybe she was just too damned smitten with her gorgeous date for the evening to notice—”
“No, she noticed,” I say, my jaw tight. “Trust me, she knew exactly who he was that night. Isabel is, and always has been, the most ambitious person I know. She’s always wanted to be a star, come hell or high water.” Again, my brain catalogs the countless times I felt like Isabel was lying to me, early on. The times I felt like what she was telling me didn’t add up. But since I was regularly lying to her, too—about my father, mother, childhood, lack of funds—I always let it go.
“Are you okay?” Georgina says.
“I’m fine.” I stroke her arm and exhale. “I think it’s a great idea for you to keep your lunch date with Isabel tomorrow, and for me to tag along. We’ll tell her about us, and, after that, I definitely think you should ask her any goddamned thing you want about her beloved fiancé.”
Chapter 32
Reed
I wake up and look at Georgina’s sleeping face next to me. Hello, wife. The thought pops into my head, without me consciously putting it there. Which means the thumping urge I felt last night to make Georgina my wife hasn’t abated in the slightest. In fact, it feels even stronger inside my veins this morning. Which means... hot damn. I need a ring.
I grab my phone off the nightstand and send a quick email to Owen, asking him to set up a private showing with a high-end jeweler this week. After a few gifs expressing excitement and shock, he asks me my budget, to which I reply, “Something between a Bugatti Chiron and a Lamborghini Veneno.” Owen replies to that bit of news with two gifs from Disney’s Aladdin. One of the Genie, granting a wish. Another of Aladdin tossing up a pile of gold coins. And I send him a gif of Leonardo DiCaprio from Titanic, where he’s shouting that he’s king of the world.
Next up, I send CeeCee a text, telling her I’ve decided to pour every proverbial drop of me into Georgina’s wine goblet, and asking her to join me ring shopping this week. As I’m reading her enthusiastic reply, a photo of Hazel Hennessy, looking happy in a bathtub, flashes across my screen, along with a message from Henn:
