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“In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s over,” he says. There’s a hint of sadness in his voice that I guess even he doesn’t realize is there.
“Why is that?” I noticed the way she stared at him when we walked out of the villa together.
“She, um… It doesn’t matter,” he says, avoiding my face again.
“It’s ok, you don’t have to tell me.”
A few seconds pass then he turns towards me and his face is different somehow. “No, I… It might be a good thing that you know.”
I uncurl my legs to return the full attention he’d given me earlier and I don’t miss the way his eyes dip to my bare legs as the towel slips away.
“She um, she doesn’t trust me with you.”
My eyes almost pop out of my head right there. “With me? That’s insane! Why?”
For a moment, he looks as though I’ve slapped him, as though I think there’s no way in the world the two of us would be attracted to each other, but he composes himself quickly. “I don’t know. You’re famous, you’re talented, you’re attractive…” I feel the blush deepen at my collarbone, so much so, I put a hand to my chest. Isaac follows it with his eyes. “She can’t understand that a man can be around you and not, you know… want to be with you.”
I choke out a small, nervous laugh. “I’m flattered she thinks that.”
“Well, anyway, that’s kind of why it’s over. She doesn’t trust me around you.”
I want to ask him if he trusts himself around me, but he’s already said, in not so many words, the idea alone is a load of rubbish. Instead, I simply offer my apologies.
He throws his head back and laughs, instantly lightening the dark mood that has been descending slowly. “It’s hardly your fault, Aurelia. I mean, she’s a married woman. She has no claim over me and I have none over her.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Not at all. I’m not the ‘relationship’ type,” he says, making quote marks with his fingers. “I don’t see myself ever settling down.”
“Is that why you’ve gotten involved with a married woman? Because she doesn’t want commitment from you?” I know my questions are way too personal, but I suddenly want to know.
His smile broadens. “You a shrink now?”
“I guess I am,” I smile back.
“Then, maybe. I don’t know.” He chews his lip then eyes me sideways again. “She isn’t the first married woman I’ve been involved with.”
“She isn’t?” My heart is racing and it takes all my effort to keep my voice from quivering. The fact he’s opening up to me at all makes me feel strangely warm.
“No. It’s kind of, my thing. I’m not proud of it.”
“So, why do it?”
“I guess you’re right. I don’t want to commit, and these women don’t want that from me.”
I want to ask if he cares about potentially breaking up families but I get the distinct impression the women are as invested as he is, possibly the husbands too. It seems to be a convenient arrangement all round.
“Well, I suppose, as long as no one gets hurt,” I shrug, surprising myself. I’ve always been resolutely against cheating, but I’ve never come across this type of cheating before, where everybody seems to be on board with it. It’s weird and it’s not for me, but that doesn’t mean it’s not for other people.
I eventually go back to my suite to shower, feeling as though a weight has been lifted. Not only has Isaac agreed to get me what I think I need, but we’ve shared something of ourselves with each other. We’re each that little bit more invested in making this arrangement work. I come straight out of the shower, curl up on my bed and fall fast asleep.
* * *
The doorbell ringsand when I open it, Tawny is waiting to take me to meet Barbie and Fitz. I’ve been looking forward to this since Isaac first told me about them. Apparently Barbie is a huge fan. We head out to the waiting buggy and see Seleste in the back with baby Safia.
“They are dying to see Saffy,” she explains. “When Tawny told me she was taking you guys, I had to come along. I love Barbie and Fitz.”
“Everyoneloves Barbie and Fitz,” Tawny grins.
Safia gurgles when I climb in beside her mom. “She’s gorgeous,” I coo.
“Looks can be deceiving,” Seleste says in her thick Cuban accent. “She is not so cute when she’s screaming for milk at three-thirty in the morning, or refusing to sleep unless one of us is holding her.”
I tickle the baby’s head and she gurgles again. “It won’t last,” I say, speaking from some experience having lived with baby twin sisters the last two years. “Enjoy the cuddles while you can.”
“I will,” Seleste smiles, pulling faces at her daughter.
“Ok, you ready?” Tawny asks, looking over her shoulder.
“You bet,” I grin, and the buggy begin ambling along the drive towards Reef Street. It’s only when I glance back towards the Hemingway villa and see Paris Navitsky watching us out of the window that I’m reminded just how big a boulder I’ve thrown into Isaac D’Amico’s life.
