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“Yeah, maybe. I told her you were fine, but I didn’t encourage her.”
“You’re too nice for your own good, Nate. That was over weeks ago...or are you mentioning it because you’re thinking about asking Kelly out yourself?”
There was an awkward moment. “No, not at all. I’ve been rather busy with Amanda since you charged me with her care.”
Rex shook his head. “I didn’t mean it to be a life sentence, man.”
“My mistake.” Nate paused. “Actually, it’s okay. She needs someone.”
“And you’re the man?”
“Maybe.” It was tentatively offered. “As I said, I always liked her.”
“Watch your back. She can be mean.”
“Fuck off.”
Tersely delivered, the response made Rex shake his head. Nate was a goner. “Happily.”
“Whatever. Look, I really don’t need your opinion.”
“I didn’t give you my opinion. I gave you a heartfelt warning. Believe me, my opinion would have been a whole lot harder to hear. You’re my buddy. I care what happens to you.”
Nate sighed, clearly losing his patience. “She’s damaged, for sure, but...well, she might be worth mending.”
Damaged. Rex thought about that theory after they leveled up again and said their goodbyes. It wasn’t a term he associated with people, but he remembered his mother using it. She’d been talking about his dad at the time, of course. “Damaged people do damage to others,” she’d said. “They can’t help themselves. It’s what they’ve learned to do.”
Rex had argued, thinking it an angry lash back from a woman who’d been wronged. It was also too much of a generalization to earn his agreement. Thinking about it now, however, he could see the sense in it. At least, to some extent. His father had done damage to pretty much everyone around him. Either directly or indirectly. Charles Carruthers had hurt all of them, beginning with Bea Swanitch, Rex’s mother.
She’d had every right to leave him when she found out about his mistress. It had been harsh for her. She’d loved Charles deeply, but she rebuilt her life. Returning to her family and friends in South London, his mother rejoined the life she’d had before. She’d come from an arts background and found her way there again. Nowadays she lived with her partner—a Swedish architect who Rex got on with well—and she managed a small art gallery near Sloane Square.
Rex tapped his lips thoughtfully.
Maybe his own mother would be a better source of information than his dad’s buddy. Would she open up about the mistress? She’d refused to speak to him about his dad for years, but Charles Carruthers was gone.
And I need to know.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“COME IN,” CARMEN called out when there was a knock at her office door.
Estelle was there with two of the girls from marketing, Priya and Suzanne. “We’re heading down to the Asian buffet for lunch, want to join us?”
Carmen gestured at the take-out bag on her desk. “I’d love to, but I had food delivered. I’ve got something specific I want to take care of.”
“We’ll bring you a fortune cookie.”
Carmen waved. She needed more than a fortune cookie to help sort her head out. The task she’d set for herself was to go through every photo she could find on the internet of Rex with another woman, every bit of gossip and evidence of his philandering nature. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know about it already. She was simply going to drum it into her head, forever, because it was so easy to forget when subjected to his seductive charms.
Plus he was keeping something from her. Playing house wasn’t all there was. He wanted her by his side, but he didn’t want to take her to his home. On Sunday morning he’d taken her to her place to pick up some of the things she’d need for the week, and he’d peered around, curious about where she lived and her belongings. But he hadn’t taken her to his place. He said he’d go during the week. Was there another woman’s things there, or evidence of his past lovers?
After the situation with Amanda and what followed, she knew she had to face up to it. This was a temporary arrangement, and the sooner she got used to the idea that he’d be with other women in the blink of an eye, the better it would be for her. Somehow, her guard had slipped. She was entertaining foolish fantasies about him, when what she really wanted to do was be levelheaded and just enjoy it while it lasted.
In order to help her fix that goal in mind, she entered Google searches on his name and business, scanning photos that went back over the past decade. Most recently was the Australian model, Kelly Brown. Touted as the next Elle Macpherson, leggy blonde Kelly had lasted several weeks with Rex, months even. It hurt, stupidly so, but Carmen forced herself to look at the glamorous photos of them together at racing events and after-show parties at Paris fashion week.
The farther she went back, the more a pattern emerged.
Rex only entertained short, intense affairs.
