Complications (6 page)

She had no idea who he was until Eric came by to escort her into dinner, then leaned over to whisper, “Congratulations. You’ve just impressed the president of Deutsche Bank.”

That night on the way home, he made good on his promise to fuck her in the back of the limo—although, to her relief, he didn’t roll down the windows. One more kinky fantasy realized.

But she enjoyed her quiet times with Eric most, and she was starting to think Eric did too. Once spring rolled around, they went out for long walks in the park on Sunday afternoons, sometimes heading over to the Metropolitan to wander through the galleries. She was amazed to discover how much Eric knew about Impressionist and Cubist art; he had a story for every piece, and she couldn’t help noticing how much pleasure it gave him to share it with her.

“You missed your calling,” she said to him one Sunday after they’d returned to the penthouse for coffee. “You should’ve been a professor, or a curator.”

“If my mother’d had her way, that’s the direction I would’ve taken. She never wanted me running the company. She said it would swallow me whole, like it did my father. And she was right.” He glanced at his watch. “I should call down to have James bring the limo around for you, unless you’d like to stay for dinner.”

She was tempted, but dinner would lead to other, more naked activities, which usually left her running late for work the next morning. “I’d better not,” she replied with genuine regret. “In fact, I should tell you now, I’m going to have to skip next weekend. Holly and I have a hot date with the real estate classifieds.”

“Still no luck finding a new place?”

“Being stuck at the office all day makes it difficult. Every time I’ve gone to check out a place, it’s already been rented. Holly’s asked her super if we could move to a two-bedroom unit in her building, but there’s about fifty people ahead of us on the waiting list.”

“I know a few real estate agents. I could give them a call tomorrow, see if they have any listings.”

“That’s very sweet of you, but there’s no way I could afford their commission.”

“I’d be happy to cover it.”

“No,” she replied firmly, reaching over to grasp his hand. “You’ve done more than enough for me already.”

He fell silent for a moment, sipping at his coffee. “There’s a rather obvious solution. You could move in with me.”

Laughter bubbled to her lips, but she managed to smother it. “What about your senatorial campaign? I doubt your potential constituents will look more kindly on you living in sin with a woman than with a man.”

“If we were married, that wouldn’t be a problem.”

What?
Was he
serious
? “Eric, I’m not marrying you just to have a place to live!”

“Think about it, Ally. It makes sense.” He scooted closer, though she wasn’t sure whether to relax or bolt for the door. His hand smoothing down her back didn’t make her tremble any less. “You spend every weekend here anyway. We get along better than Barbara and I ever did. We already know we’re sexually compatible. I can help you with your career, and vice versa. We could build a good life together.”

When he explained it like that, it didn’t sound so bad—except for one thing. “I don’t hear any heartfelt declarations of love.”

“Were you really expecting any?”

No. Still, it would’ve been nice if you’d made the effort.
But she didn’t say that. Couldn’t even bring herself to look at him.

“You’d like it better if lied to you? I witnessed too many lies in my parents’ marriage—or omitted truths, which amounts to the same thing. I suspect it was what Barbara and I didn’t say to each other that destroyed our marriage. We hardly spoke after the first few months anyway, except in public.” He got up and went to the bar to pour himself a scotch. “I’m not heading down that road again. If we can’t be honest with each other, we shouldn’t be together, married or not.”

She sat studying the dreggy depths of her coffee cup while the clock over the bar ticked away like a bomb counting down. Eric was right; it did make sense, when he laid it all out like a grocery list. And she wasn’t exactly fighting off other offers. She’d had two serious relationships in the past decade, neither of them resulting in a proposal. Maybe this was the best she could hope for.

It wasn’t like Eric’s proposal was a fate worse than death—quite the opposite, in fact. He was an honorable, decent man, an absolutely devastating lover, and he’d just promised never to lie to her. At least neither of them harbored unrealistic expectations. Still, it was a lot to absorb.

“I’d like to think about it for a few days,” she said at last.

He nodded. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

* * *

Ally didn’t get much sleep the next few nights with all the choices whirling in her brain. More than once she came close to accepting Eric’s offer, until this tiny, annoying voice echoed in the depths of her consciousness, telling her she was crazy for even considering such a thing. Talking it out with Holly only left her more conflicted. What she needed was the straight dope from someone who’d been there.

Barbara’s number was unlisted, but luckily, having access to a major news network’s info database proved advantageous. Ally tracked down the number, then sat staring at the scribbled digits on her notepad, drumming her pencil on the desk. At last she screwed up the courage to pick up the phone.

She’d half expected to get voicemail, but a crisp, low-pitched voice answered instead. “I, I’d like to speak to Barbara Courtland,” she stammered, fighting the urge to hang up.

“Speaking. And it’s Thornton, not Courtland. I’ve gone back to my maiden name—which you’d know, if you’d done your research. You do realize it says MSNBC on the caller ID, don’t you?” There came an exasperated huff of breath before she added, “You’re wasting your time. I don’t give interviews.”

“That’s not why I’m calling. You probably don’t remember me, but my name is Allison Taylor. We met a couple of times while you were married to—”

“Of course I remember you. You’re one of Eric’s friends from college.” Barbara’s tone softened. “Or should I say, you’re Eric’s current…friend.”

Ally let out a nervous laugh. “God, does
everyone
know?”

“When your photo’s splashed all over the
New York Times
society page, it’s safe to say the mystery’s over.” To her relief, Barbara laughed too. “What can I do for you, Allison?”

“I was hoping we could talk in person. There are a few things I’d like to ask you about.” She sucked in a breath. “Eric proposed to me a few days ago, and I’m a bit…”

“Confused? If it’s any consolation, I felt the same way when he asked me.” A tiny pause. “I’d be glad to meet with you, though I doubt there’s anything significant I could add to what Eric’s already told you.”

“It’s not information I lack, so much as perspective. And I’d really like to get yours.”

“Let me check my book.” There was a rustle of turning pages, and then, “I have some free time this afternoon around three. I’m only a few blocks away, so how about we meet at that café on the ground floor of your building?”

A bit late in the day, but if she took a half-hour lunch, she could swing it. “I’ll see you then.”

Ally got there a few minutes early, snagged a table on the sunny terrace and ordered two iced teas. She spied Barbara coming toward her halfway down the block, strolling at a leisurely pace, the afternoon breeze ruffling her khaki linen slacks and plain white silk blouse. She smiled and waved when she saw Ally, pushing up her wide-framed designer sunglasses to rest atop her head.

“How are you, Allison?” She smiled warmly, shaking Ally’s proffered hand before sitting down. Her hair was longer now than Ally remembered, hanging to her shoulders in dark waves. Add in sea-green eyes and lush lips, and she could’ve been Nick’s sister. Well, Eric certainly had a preferred type. Ally—suddenly feeling very blonde and average—tamped down a twinge of discomfort.

“Thanks for coming,” she replied, pasting on a smile. “I was afraid my phone call might’ve freaked you out.”

“Not at all, though I should apologize for snapping at you. I get so many calls from reporters, and subtlety is completely lost on them.” Their waiter swung by to deliver their iced teas, then scurried away. “What would you like to know?”

Too damn many questions—intrusive, personal questions. She was a reporter, damn it, so why was she squirming in her seat? Only way to start was to jump right in. “I’m wondering why you married him when you knew he was in love with someone else.”

“Well, I won’t lie to you. The kind of life Eric offers is very attractive.” Barbara stirred some sweetener into her tea and took a small sip, every movement poised and elegant. “It’s nice going to bed every night knowing your bills are paid and you’ll never have to worry about the rent. And the Courtland name opens a lot of doors. I loved being able to walk into my favorite restaurant and have a table already waiting for me. When I went out shopping, the clerks fell all over themselves trying to serve me. That kind of status can be rather addictive.”

“Then it was all just about the money?”

“Yes and no. The money’s a lovely perk, but it wasn’t the only one. As I’m sure you’re aware, Eric can be quite charming and persuasive when the mood strikes him. He caught me at a vulnerable moment in my life. I’d just gotten out of a long relationship with someone I loved deeply, but our affair had come to a rather unpleasant end. So when Eric offered me the security of marriage without any messy emotional entanglements, it didn’t sound like such an awful idea. I was actually a bit relieved that his affections were already engaged elsewhere.”

“But…” Heat flooded Ally’s cheeks. As if asking these questions wasn’t already hard enough. “It wasn’t purely convenience, was it? Eric told me the two of you slept together.”

Barbara nodded. “We had a fairly normal sex life at the beginning, until I couldn’t cope with it anymore. It was too difficult, being that intimate with someone who didn’t love me. And yes, I know that makes me a hypocrite, but sometimes these things don’t become evident until they happen.”

“I guess I don’t have to ask why you divorced him.”

“I hung on as long as I could, because I felt I owed it to Eric to at least pretend to make it work, but two years in purgatory was all I could stand. In the end, I simply walked out. I didn’t even tell him first. If I had, I knew he would’ve talked me out of it.”

Ally stared into her glass, her chest growing tight. She’d steeled herself for the truth, but hadn’t realized how badly hearing it would hurt. “Thank you for being honest.”

“Look, I don’t want to leave you with the wrong impression. Eric’s not a callous or cruel man. He never mistreated me. However, he does have a tendency to become focused on his work to the exclusion of all else. It’s good that you have a job of your own, otherwise you’d be spending a lot of time alone.”

Lucky me.
Then something that should have dawned on her weeks ago came crashing down like the proverbial anvil. “Those parties and galas and business soirées Eric dragged me to—that was all an audition, wasn’t it? He was testing me.”

Barbara laughed. “He did the same thing with me. Eric’s very particular about the people he lets into his life, but I’m sure you already know that.”

I suppose I should find that flattering. So why don’t I?

The silence crackled, until Barbara leaned across the table to grasp Ally’s hand. “Allison, obviously we don’t know each other well, but I get the impression we’re quite different. The first time I saw a picture of you with Eric in the paper, I was jealous. Eric never smiled at me like that when we were out in public together. He never put his arm around me or held my hand. And it’s evident to me how much you care about him. You two seem good for each other. There’s no reason to assume your marriage will end up like mine.” She reached for her glass of tea. “Providing you can accept his relationship with Nick, because that’s not going away, no matter who Eric’s married to.”

“Actually, it already has. Nick broke it off with Eric last September. He married a girl he works with at the
Herald
over the Christmas holidays.”

Barbara’s eyes popped wide. “Oh my fucking God.”

“That’s what I said.”

On that note, they both burst out laughing.

They chatted a few more minutes, until Ally had to get back to work. Barbara walked her to the elevator and handed her a business card with a different phone number on it. “That’s my cell. Feel free to call anytime. We Courtland wives have to stick together,” she added with a wink.

Ally smiled shakily. “I still haven’t made up my mind about that.”

“You’re probably thinking what a mistake it’d be to marry him. I think you’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t.”

“Do you regret it? Because if you don’t mind me saying, it sounds like you do.”

“I regret not giving it a real chance. Maybe if I’d waited until I was over all the pain from my previous relationship, I wouldn’t have been so afraid to commit. But I don’t blame Eric for that. He did the best he could. I was the one who wasn’t ready.”

Ally headed back upstairs and spent the rest of the afternoon staring at her computer screen, still mulling her conversation with Barbara. At last she finished some research she’d been doing for one of the segment producers, shut down her computer and bolted for the door.

She ended up strap-hanging all the way home on the subway, and stumbled through the door to find Holly heating up her dinner in the microwave—some low-fat frozen thing in a small plastic dish that smelled like meat…well, sort of. Ally entertained brief wistful memories of succulent chateaubriand and tried not to vomit.

She made herself a green salad out of some half-wilted iceberg lettuce, sprinkled it with vinegar and oil and sat down at the kitchen table, promptly zoning out. She wasn’t even aware Holly was talking to her until her roommate snapped her fingers in front of her face. “You in there somewhere, or shall I have you declared legally brain-dead?”

“Sorry.” She smiled sheepishly. “It’s been a weird day.”