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Call Lydia. GC.
The emptiness of the hotel suite spreads through me with finality. I guess sex is not a path to my fiancé’s heart and soul. It’s one thing that my love is unrequited, but dealing with the loss of respect weighs me down like a lead ball. How long can I remain above the water?
I take a long shower, get dressed and pack my things. As I yank my carry-on from the bed, I glimpse the navy hem of my engagement dress.
I kick it under the bed. Fuck it. I won’t play the victim in my own life. Yes, the circumstances would be easier if my heart wasn’t the unwanted collateral of this stupid deal. Still, there are lots of positive things I sold my morals for, and I need to focus on that.
Putting my buds in, I dial Lydia’s number and walk to the window. The city below bustles. People, events, appointments, meetings, it all seems to flow undisturbed by the loneliness coursing through my veins.
“Good morning, Ms. Ward. My sincere congratulations. Gio apologizes, but he had to leave to take care of business in Vancouver. He’ll be back at the end of the week, but wanted to make sure you got everything you need. I have booked the movers tentatively for tomorrow morning. Is that okay?”
Lydia doesn’t let slip what she might think about her boss’s sudden engagement. She’s professional and cordial enough to almost fool me that things are normal.
Normal? What a fucked-up concept. Gio didn’t bother to mention his business trip, but not having him around might be a good thing. It will give me the opportunity to reconcile my new reality. One where I’m no longer lacking money, even though I lack way more.
“Move?” How did I not think about that before? The week leading to the party has been like emotional whiplash, and not once did I think about the living arrangements.
I knew we would, at some point, live in the same residence, but after last night, the gravity has only now truly descended.
“Well…” Lydia sounds perplexed. “Youaremoving into the house?”
“Of course, sorry. I don’t really have much. I can be packed by tomorrow morning.” I bite my bottom lip. My eyes drop to my engagement ring. I didn’t realize I’ve been playing with it mindlessly.
It feels like a shackle on my finger. A permanent reminder of my failure.
“Great. I’ll have a moving van at your place by ten.”
I want to scream no. I want to stop the speeding train of my life before it derails. Or even better, I want to rewind time and do everything differently. I need to talk to Gio. I need to explain to him. I need to make him listen.
“Would that work, Ms. Ward?” Lydia is expecting my involvement in all of this. Jesus.
“Please call me Mila. Yes, ten is fine, a small van. I really have very little. When did you say Gio gets back?”
“I don’t know yet, but he’ll be back by Friday morning for sure. He asked me to make lunch reservations. I will email you the details, along with your schedule for the next two weeks and later events that are already confirmed.”
“Okay. Thank you.” He asked her to book lunch for us.
“Gio requested I cover the basics with you, so you’re more comfortable to get ready for each occasion.”
He wanted my comfort? I hang to that sliver of information like it’s a lifeline. I know it’s irrational. I know Lydia might have chosen those words. I know it’s nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it’s a drop of water after a week in the desert. A drop of honey to coat my wounded heart.
“Okay, Lydia. Why don’t you send me the schedule, and I’ll respond with any questions.”
“Sure, we can do that. I’ll email you the contact information for our concierge as well. And for the gala in May, choose a designer now, so everything can be ready.”
I wasn’t prepared for this life. Not in my wildest dreams. I experienced luxuries with Gio and with my clients. I experienced things beyond my reach thanks to those connections, but wow, I am completely incompetent at delivering at this level.
“Concierge?”
Lydia clears her throat, but continues with her level voice. I search for a patronizing tone, but there is none. “Yes, think of it as a personal assistant. They take care of your reservations, appointments, shopping, anything you need. Call them with any task at any time and they will take care of you. We have a retainer, so don’t hold back.”
She talks aboutusas if she’s part of the household. I guess she is. Between Lydia, the concierge service, the housekeeper and all the other keepers, Gio’s household runs like a well-oiled machine. All his needs and desires fulfilled. An irrational sense of uselessness hits me.
“Provide them with the list of your favorite stylist, spa, etc., so they have it handy and can take care of your appointments. If you feel comfortable, give them access to your calendar.”
“I don’t have a stylist.” Why do I choose to raise that point?
“That’s okay. They can recommend someone, but I think Mrs. Cassinetti might give you more personal recommendations.”
