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“Do you like New York?”
“I’ve only been twice. I thought Jobe had the jet in Italy?”
“He arrived home today,” she says as though she has all the answers.
“Oh, it’s too expensive with the jet and the price of fuel.” I sound dumb, but I don’t see the need when he could be home the following weekend. Surprising Franklin might not be the smartest idea if he doesn’t want to see me.
“Please. It’s for Franklin. He’ll appreciate it.”
Sophia hasn’t read the business-like texts he’s sent. He could have another woman there to relieve any other tension. Hands in my lap, I collect the end of the white tablecloth and twist it in my fingers.
“The Malibu house will be fine. Leave instructions with Jobe. Go see Franklin.”
“If I do, I’ll book my own flight.” I withhold the urge to mention the gas emissions from jets.
We are interrupted when the server places a tiered plate of biscuits and cupcakes on the table before us. The sides include salmon, cream cheese and dill, and caviar. He places another plate of lobster salad and shaves black truffle over the top.
“Thank you.” I give Sophia a gratuitous smile.
“No, Penelope. Thank you.”
* * *
I declineSophia’s invitation to take the jet to see Franklin, choosing to tie up the loose ends on the renovation instead.
Besides, I don’t want to turn up only to be a burden when he is busy with work. The lower floor is complete, as is his bedroom and ensuite. The retractable ceiling and skylights are finished, and I have amazed myself at the brilliant idea of lying in his bed and staring up at the stars.
Today, Hugh and I are collecting the last of the artwork sculptures and floor rugs from local artisans. Zara is waiting at the house for the delivery of the balcony chairs. The spare bedrooms are receiving the final paint, then the last two bedrooms can be decorated.
I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m excited to surprise Franklin with the finished product, even if I don’t know where things stand between us. I’m excited, yet sadness has settled on me. When he was here, I had an excuse to see him. With no reason to visit his home, I’m afraid I won’t see him.
And that hurts bad.
Why do my emotions have to complicate everything?
Why couldn’t I fall for a partner and not a part-time lover?
“Next project…” Hugh says, interrupting my daydream, “… is my wedding.” He wiggles his shoulders a little. “Four months, baby.”
“That has come around fast.”
“Yeah, Sienna is set on an early autumn wedding with the colored foliage. Will you need a plus one?”
“Maybe.” I side-bump him with my hip, then open my cell to see if there are any messages from Franklin. “Maybe not.”
* * *
Two weeks later…
As I claspmy sapphire drop necklace, handed down from my grandmother, I stare into the mirror. My dress is long, black, and snug. The black-tie event stipulated the guests wear black, making shopping for a gown considerably easier.
All morning, I sat in a chair for my hair to be styled perfectly before having makeup professionally applied. It’s the same beauty salon I visited last year before attending the Interior Decorator Awards with Hugh, so fancy is not a new thing. It doesn’t mean I’m comfortable in my skin, even though the mirror reflects beauty I don’t recognize.
My cell buzzes with a message from Zara.
I’m parked out front.
Coming.
