“Turner, we’re not right for each other. I don’t want to marry you, I’m sorry.”
“Well,” he puffs. “Don’t I get a say in this?”
I look at him from between my fingers.
“No, actually,” I sigh and stand up. “I have to go pack.”
I head inside.
“Why?” he calls after me. “Why can’t we work it out?”
I pause looking over my shoulder.
“There’s nothing to work out. I can’t give you something that I don’t have.
Chapter Eighteen
Eight hours later, I am sitting in business class, sipping on a coke and drumming my fingers impatiently on the beverage tray in front of me.
Caleb and the Scarlet Beast are in Rome. Yes, that’s what I said, Rome. The Bahamas weren’t good enough for her and neither was Marco Island; both of which were listed as top baby making locations on her computer’s Internet history. Instead, she opted for The De La Ville Inter-Continental hotel where her favorite actress Susan Sarandon became pregnant. How do I know such a personal detail? Because, along with breaking into her home with my psychotic best friend, I also hacked into her email account and read a correspondence between her mother and herself.
“Is this your first time to Rome?”
I look over and see a pair of very green eyes looking at me from the seat next door.
“Um, yes,” I clip my words so that I sound as rude as possible and look back out the window. Yucky—chit chattery. I am in no mood to converse. I am on the most important mission of my life.
“You’re going to love it. It’s the best place in the world.”
“Yea, to make babies,” I mumble.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Oh, nothing,” I say. “I’m going there on business, so it’s all work and no fun for me,” I laugh shrilly and pretend to dig around in my purse for something.
“Too bad. You should at least make time to see the Coliseum—absolutely amazing.” I look over at him now because that’s actually not a bad idea. Holy crap! I’m going to Rome! I’m now officially excited. In all the commotion of booking a ticket, throwing things in a suitcase and breaking up with Turner, it completely escaped me.
“Maybe I will,” I say, smiling at him. He wasn’t bad looking. Actually, he was roguishly handsome with coal black hair, caramel skin, and a chiseled jaw. He had one of those distinctly Jewish noses. I suddenly feel self-conscious about my pasty complexion.
“Noah Stein,” he offers me his hand and I take it. “Olivia Kaspen.”
“Olivia Kaspen,” he repeats, “That’s a very poetic name.”
“Well, that’s about the strangest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
I pull a face and he smiles.
“What do you do for a living?” I ask, trying to sound pleasant. Oh, my gosh—I just broke up with Turner—oh-my-gosh!
“I own my own business. You?”
“Lawyer,” I say. I look down and see that my hands are shaking.
“I have to go to the ladies room, do you mind?” He shakes his head and scoots out into the aisle so that I can get past. I almost knock a little girl and a stewardess over as I stumble toward the signs for the lavatory.
Once inside, I collapse in front of the toilet and throw up.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
My entire life has changed in the last few hours and I’m just now realizing it. Turner, poor Turner, but not really, because he dated me for Superbowl tickets. But he loved me, right? Did I love him? No. It was the right thing to do, breaking up with him. It was the only thing to do. I rinse my mouth in the sink and lean back against the wall. This was insanity; rushing off to Italy, chasing after my ex-boyfriend- all on a whim. What would my mother say? I stifle a sob and bite my lip. Alone in Rome; I didn’t even speak Italian, for Pete’s sake. This was bad. This was really, really bad.
I go back to my seat and Noah graciously lets me in without a word about my swollen face. After taking a few large swigs of my flat soda, I slide two fingers underneath my eyes to clear up any smudgy mascara and turn to Noah, frowning.
“I’m not going to Rome on business,” I say, and he doesn’t look surprised. Why should he? He doesn’t know that I’m a perpetual liar.
“Oh,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “Ok.”
I take a deep breath. It feels exhilarating to tell the truth.
“I’m going to find Caleb Drake and when I do, I have to tell him the truth about everything. I am so scared.”
He looks at me with new interest. I’ve transitioned from being a pretty girl, to a woman of intrigue.
“What type of truth is it?”
“A messy one. There’s going to be a lot of clean-up,” I sigh.
“I’d like to hear about it.”
I shift under his gaze. He has the intensity of a nuclear weapon in those two green orbs.
“It’s a long story.”
“Well,” he says raising his hands and looking around the cabin. “It’s going to be a long flight.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you on one condition,” I say, pulling my legs up to my chest and holding them there. Noah looks at my knees and then my face like he can’t quite grasp why a grown woman is sitting like a little girl. “You have to tell me the worst thing you’ve ever done.”
“The worst thing I’ve ever done?” he looks off into some distant memory and grimaces.
“When I was in the ninth grade, there was this girl in my class whom we called Felicity Fattness. As a prank I snuck into her backyard and stole a pair of her underwear off the line and then hung them on the schools front door with a sign that said, Felicity Fattness Wears Parachute Panties. When she saw it, she burst into tears, tripped over her school bag and had to be rushed to the emergency room to have five stitches put into her chin. I felt horrible—still do actually.”
“That was mean,” I say, nodding.
“Yeah, she’s a total babe now. I saw her at my high school reunion and asked her out on a date. She laughed at me, said I’d already seen her panties once and it wouldn’t be happening again.”
I laugh—a real laugh, so that my whole body shakes. Noah joins me. I am still smiling, when I realize that I have another boy scout on my hands.
“So, Felicity? That’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
“I stole a magnet from the dollar store once.”
“Oh boy,” I say. “I’m not sure you’re ready for my story.”
“Try me.”
I look at his face and remember how Caleb once told me that you could judge someone’s personality by their appearance. If this is true, I decide that I can trust Noah because he has the kindest eye’s I have ever seen.
“I fell in love underneath a tree,” I began.
Twelve hours later
It is raining in Rome and I am standing outside of the De La Ville Inter-Continental Hotel, hiding underneath a goofy yellow poncho that is barely shielding me from the pouring rain. I don’t know why I am here right at this moment, as nothing can be accomplished with me looking like a drenched rat. But, I feel the need to see his window and to look at the view his own eyes had been enjoying all morning. Their hotel is small but opulent and it sits majestically on top of the Spanish Steps. I can imagine that you can see the whole city from their little balcony. How romantic. I sigh and continue watching. There is movement behind the window and then a familiar red head emerges and crowds under the awning with a glowing cigarette in her hand. Didn’t she know that nicotine negatively affected fertility?
“Keep smoking,” I whisper, narrowing my eyes. A second later the door pops open again and looking like a Roman god, Caleb emerges to join her. He is shirtless and his hair is damp from a shower, he most likely just took. I pretend that my heart is not doing the electric slide and wipe two fingers underneath my eyes to clear away the mascara that is pooling there. Don’t you touch him, don’t—she reaches out a hand and runs it along his chest seductively. Caleb catches it at the waistline of his pants and laughs.
I look away when he pulls her towards him and wraps his arms around her. My heart begins to ache, a feeling I have been best friends with for the last nine years. I stomp my foot on the pavement agitated and an animal wail emerges from my mouth. I am so freaking sick of loving him.
“Okay Olivia, they are about to put the fertility thing to the test. I have to stop Leah’s spawn from happening,” I sing this to myself while pulling my cell phone from my pocket. The call was going to cost me a fortune, but who cares right? You can’t put a price on love.
Dialing the De La Ville’s number, I stuff myself underneath the overhang of a perfume shop and wait impatiently until I hear the short burst of ringing.
“Buona Sera, De La Ville Inter-Continental. Non ci sono titoli che contengano la parola?” a female voice answers.
“Um…hi…do you speak English?”
“Si. How can I help you?”
“I am trying to reach a guest of your hotel. Mr. Caleb Drake—it’s urgent and I was wondering if you could page him immediately and have him return my call.” I hear her typing something into the computer.
“And your name?” Uh oh! What was his secretary’s name again? It rhymed with Pina Colada…
“Rena Vovada,” I breathe. “I’m calling from his office, tell him it’s important that he calls back right away. Thank you so much.” And I hang up before she has the chance to ask me anymore questions. With the task done, I scurry back into the rain where I have a view of their balcony. Caleb and Leah are still there. She is stubbing out her cigarette with one hand and allowing him to pull her back into the room with the other. I see his head jerk towards the inside of their suite and then their hands breaks lose as he disappears through the door. I imagine that I can hear the distant trill of their room phone.
Good. That would buy me at least a half an hour. Hopefully enough time to kill the mood. Satisfied, I head back to the Montecito Rio, the hotel I had booked myself into earlier. It wasn’t as flashy as the De La Ville, but it was charming nonetheless and I didn’t care a thing for Susan Sarandon.
My shoes are soaked and sloshing water when I traipse into the lobby. The girl behind the counter glares at me and picks up the phone to call maintenance.
“You are Miss Kaspen, no?” She calls after me as I head towards the elevators. I hesitate before turning around.
“Yes.”
“I have a message here for you,” she extends a piece of paper my way and I grip it gingerly between two of my driest fingers.
“From whom?” I was almost too scared to ask, but when she replies, “a Noah Stein,” I feel a calm wash over my anxiety. Noah, the complete stranger that I spilt my guts to, it was nice that he called. It made me feel like being in Rome was no big deal. I had friends here.
I take my note and my still dripping poncho up to my room and climb into the shower without bothering to read the message. Everything including my new buddy Noah was on hold until I was warm and dry.
When I finally emerge, I curl up on the miniscule bed and unfold the wet paper.
Dinner at eight
Tavernetta
You have to eat…
I smile. I did have to eat and why not with someone that I really liked. I pick up the phone and dial the cell number that Noah handed me in the airport before we parted.
“For emergencies only,” he said winking at me. “Don’t abuse my secret cell number.”
I hesitated only for a second before taking it. I was alone in Rome. I might need him.
“Noah, it’s Olivia,” I say into the receiver.
“I don’t want to talk to you unless you’re telling me that you’re coming.”
“I am,” I laugh.
“Good. The restaurant’s a little bit dressy, are you equipped?”
“Let’s see, I came here to convince the love of my life that he needs to be with me again…I have four “take me back and love me dresses.” Which one would you like?”
“The black one…”
“Okay,” I sigh. “I’ll see you at eight.”
I hang up feeling giddy with excitement. This was it. I was taking control of my life again. Tonight I would eat dinner and relax. Tomorrow I would find Caleb and tell him everything. The Cherry Tart had no idea what was coming. Hurricane Olivia was about to rip through Rome and stir things up.
As I get ready for dinner, I think about the last straw that broke our relationship. The way my heart pounded as I stood outside of Caleb’s office, knowing that the person I loved more than anything was betraying me at that very moment. I considered walking away, pretending that there was someone else in his office with the flirtatious girl. Then I thought of my father, and the way his cheating had hurt my mother more than the cancer ever could. I had to see. Not just him, but her. Who was the girl that had the power to break us apart?
The Past
This was going to be super bad. Hurtful. Life altering. The door slid open noiselessly, so noiselessly in fact that neither Caleb nor his collaborator knew that it was open and that there was a very stunned audience standing in its wake.
“Caleb,” I said in a dry voice, because at this point, the life was already sucked out of me.
Their two heads snapped apart and he took a jerky step back. I eyed the way her dress was hiked up her thigh with a sinking feeling in my stomach. This was reality—her, him, and my life falling apart. There was no way he could explain this away and there was no possibility of me believing him even if he tried.