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I smile at him. “Too much champagne. I’ll be right back.”
Rising to my feet, I make a restrained beeline for the first doorway and find the ladies’ room pretty easily. My heels click on the polished tile as I head to one of the empty stalls and fight oodles of satin to be able to use the toilet. When I’m done, there’s a woman standing at the long vanity, reapplying her mascara. As I approach the sink, she catches my gaze in the mirror. Her eyes then linger on the infinity symbol hanging around my neck.
Turning, she faces me. “Hey, you’re here with Evan Kohl, aren’t you?”
Mention of Kohl sets me off balance a little. I take in the woman with new eyes—slender, beautiful with long brown hair, high cheekbones and blue eyes. She looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place her.
“I am,” I say with a smile. I pump soap into my palm, rub my hands together and place them under the faucet. “Why do you ask?”
The woman places her tube of mascara into a red sequined clutch she’s carrying and focuses her full attention on me. “I dated him once. A couple years ago. He really fucked me up.”
I blink at her, stunned that she would just delve into such a heavy topic in the middle of a public bathroom. And with a complete stranger.
“I’m sorry.” What else can I say?
She shrugs her slender shoulders. “It’s fine. I got over it.” She smiles shakily. “Eventually. Though it did take several grand in therapy and a shit-ton of vodka.”
My mind is buzzing with a thousand questions—who is this woman? Who was she to Kohl? And what did he do to fuck her up so badly? Does this have anything do with what Grace and Jess were talking about at the spa? I could just duck out of the room if she wasn’t standing between me and the only exit. This is beyond awkward.
I take a step to the side, a clear signal that I want to leave. “I’m glad you’re doing better,” I say.
She steps directly in front of me, deliberately blocking me again, and I feel a moment of panic. Suddenly, I’m suspicious that she saw me get up from the table and followed me in here. Who retouches mascara unless they’ve been crying?
She smiles, clearly trying to set me at ease. “I only mean to warn you—like I wish someone had done for me. Evan is not a good man. He’s sexy as hell, but he’ll rip your heart to shreds without remorse.”
I frown. “What do you mean?” I can’t help it. She’s baited me.
“Two of his exes were shipped off to rehab for addiction, one is now in a mental hospital. I think she’s got paranoia or depression or something.”
“Addiction and depression are common enough,” I respond. “Especially if they’re in the entertainment business. It seems a little unfair to blame Evan for all that.”
“His fiancée killed herself last fall.”
The words are said so abruptly, I’m convinced she’s actively trying to throw me off balance. And she succeeds. Fuck. I don’t know what shocks me more—the fact that he was engaged and didn’t tell me, or the fact that the woman killed herself less than a year ago. Both have me reeling.
“I Googled him months ago. There was nothing about a fiancée killing herself.” The gossip sites would have reported that, guaranteed. Sex and death sell, and there’s no way they’d pass that up—even if it were only half true.
When I lift a disbelieving brow, she says, “Don’t believe me? Just ask him. He told me the first week we were dating.” With a smug smile, she opens the door and steps out, leaving me in the bathroom alone with that little bomb.
He’d confided in her the first fucking week they’d dated, and months later, he’s still said nothing to me? I’m such an idiot. I’d naively believed we’d shared something special—something neither of us had experienced with anyone else.
I glance up at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed and my eyes are watery. I look like I’m about to cry. Maybe I am. The truth is, I don’t know how I’m feeling. I just feel numb.
I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths, then walk out of the bathroom and back to my table. When I sit down, Kohl’s hand finds my thigh and he squeezes. It’s an intimate gesture, one that speaks of the familiarity we’ve shared over the last few weeks. But after that run-in with his ex, I wonder just how deep that familiarity goes. Is this all just physical? Had I imagined the deeper connection?
When I don’t respond to him, he turns to look at me. I can see him from the corner of my eye, daring me to continue ignoring him. I just keep my gaze trained on the stage, listening to some old guy drone on about how thankful the museum is for everyone’s patronage. I don’t hear any of it. All I can think about are that woman’s words to me, her brutal warning: He’ll rip your heart to shreds.
Chapter 31
Termination Notice
I’m relieved when the end of the night arrives and Kohl ushers me into the town car. As soon as the car door shuts behind us, he turns his focus on me.
“What’s the matter?”
I don’t want to get into this with him right now—not when I’m feeling so fragile. But I know he won’t allow me to shrug him off.
“I ran into one of your exes in the bathroom,” I say. “She told me about your fiancée and all the other women.”
