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He tips my chin. “I’ll make it up to you when I return. I promise.”
I’ve heard those words, too, and each time they lose meaning. But I never want him to leave feeling like I’m mad at him, so I smile.
“Be safe.”
“Always am.”
He grabs his travel bag and leaves five minutes later.
I wait until he’s gone before I allow a few tears to fall. We can’t keep going on like this. We can’t.
After my pity party, I make my way to the living room, curling up in my pink chair. It’s kind of depressing that I’ve settled into a routine where I sit here for a few hours a day and stare out of the window.
Donna stops by at one point and asks, “Do you need anything?”
“I’m good, but thanks for asking.”
I think she’s going to say something else, but she shakes her head and leaves.
Alessandro has been gone for about an hour when the phone next to me rings.
“Mrs. Moretti, this is Bart downstairs. I’m just letting you know that your friends are on their way up. Mrs. Blanc knew the passcode.”
Aimée is here? Well, this isn’t going to be good. I don’t even have time to change, and Aimée is definitely the type that’s going to judge me for being in jeans and a t-shirt with my favorite rock band on the front.
I bite back a groan. “Thank you, Bart.”
I’m standing when the elevator doors open and Aimée and another woman step off. Aimée is beautiful and wears a tailored pantsuit, but the brunette next to her is stunning. Like, looking at the sun and hurting your eyes kind of pretty. She’s a curvy girl, just a bit smaller than me, and wears a black and white polka dot skirt with a black top. Her smile is genuinely friendly, and I smile back at her.
Aimée says, “Darling, we’re so sorry to barge in uninvited, but when Charles told me that Les was going out of town, I knew we couldn’t leave you here all alone.” She turns to the other woman. “Isn’t that right, Greer?”
Ah. So this is the infamous Greer. For some reason, I expected someone who looked more like Aimée and less like me. Maybe Alessandro’s type is curvy girls. The thought makes me smile.
Greer nods. “I’m sure Les wouldn’t want it any other way.” She holds out her hand. “Greer Blanc. A pleasure to meet you.”
I shake her hand and ask, “Are you related to Charles, then?”
I mean, if Aimée can use my husband’s first name, then I can use hers. I don’t miss her scowl.
Greer says, “We’re first cousins.”
Well, that explains a lot, like how she knows Alessandro. I try to gauge her age. She’s not as old as Alessandro, Aimée, or Blanc, that’s for certain, but I think she’s older than me. Maybe in her early thirties?
“Let’s sit. I can have Cheffy bring us some refreshments.”
“Cheffy?” Aimée snorts. “I’m sure Chef has never been called that in his life.”
Greer says, “I think it’s a sweet nickname. Lord knows the man won’t tell anyone his real name.”
Both women follow me to the living room and sit on the couch next to each other. I sit in the chair by the window, crossing my ankles.
“Do either of you have a drink preference?”
Aimée taps Greer’s arm. “What was that drink the Chef used to make for you?”
Greer’s laugh rings out like bells. “Heavens to Betsy. I haven’t thought of that in ages. He probably doesn’t even remember what was in it.”
At that moment, Donna arrives. She looks between Greer and me.
