David turned, then saw me and frowned. In this light his eyes looked dark and distinctly unhappy. “Ev.”
“Hi.”
Mal started to laugh. “That’s about the only word I’ve been able to get out of her. Seriously, man, does your wife even speak?”
“She speaks.” His tone of voice made it obvious he wished I wouldn’t, ever again. Or at least, not within his hearing.
I didn’t know what to say. Generally, I wasn’t after universal love and acceptance. Open hostility, however, was still kind of new to me.
The brunette tittered and rubbed her bountiful boobs against David’s arm as if she was marking him. Sadly for her, he didn’t seem to notice. She gave me a foul look, red mouth puckered. Charming. Though the fact that she saw me as competition was a huge boost to my ego. I stood taller and looked my husband in the eye.
Big mistake.
David’s dark hair had been tied back in a little ponytail with strands falling around his face. What should have reeked of scummy drug dealer worked on him. Of course it did. He could probably make a dirty back alleyway seem like the honeymoon suite. A gray T-shirt molded to his thick shoulders and faded blue jeans covered his long legs. His black army-style boots were crossed at the ankles, easy as you please, because he belonged here. I didn’t.
“You mind finding her a room?” David asked his friend.
Mal snorted. “Do I look like your fucking butler? You’ll show your own wife to a room. Don’t be an asshole.”
“She’s not my wife,” David growled.
“Every news channel in the country would disagree with you there.” Mal ruffled my hair with a big hand, making me feel all of eight years old. “Check you later, child bride. Nice to meet you.”
“Child bride?” I asked, feeling clueless.
Mal stopped and grinned. “You haven’t heard what they’re saying?”
I shook my head.
“Probably for the best.” With a last laugh he wandered off.
David disentangled himself from the brunette. Her plump lips pursed in displeasure but he wasn’t looking. “Come on.”
He put his hand out to usher me on and there, spread across the length of his forearm, was his tattoo.
Evelyn
I froze. Holy shit. The man sure had chosen a conspicuous place to put my name. I didn’t know how I felt about that.
“What?” His brows drew down and his forehead wrinkled. “Ah, yeah. Come on.”
“Hurry back, David,” cooed Bikini Girl, primping her hair. I had nothing against bikinis. I owned several despite my mom believing I was too big boned for such things. (I’d never actually worn them but that was beside the point.) No, what I minded were the sneers and snarly looks Bikini Girl shot me when she thought David wasn’t looking.
Little did she know he didn’t care.
With a hand to the small of my back he ushered me through the party toward the stairs. People called out and women preened but he never slowed. I got the distinct feeling he was embarrassed to be seen with me. Being with David, I sure caught some scrutiny. Any money, I didn’t fit the bill of a rock star’s wife. People stopped and stared. Someone called out, asking if he could introduce us. No comment from my husband as he hurried me through the crowd.
Hallways spread out in both directions up on the second floor. We went left, down to the end. He threw open a door and there my bag sat, waiting on a big king-size bed. Everything in the sumptuous room had been done in white: the bed, walls, and carpets. An antique white love seat sat in the corner. It was beautiful, pristine. Nothing like my small, cramped room back at the apartment I shared with Lauren, where between the double bed and my desk, you had just enough room to get the cupboard door open, no more. This place went on and on, a sea of perfection.
“I’d better not touch anything,” I mumbled, hands tucked into my back pockets.
“What?”
“It’s lovely.”
David looked around the room with nil interest. “Yeah.”
I wandered over to the windows. A luxurious pool sat below, well lit and surrounded by palm trees and perfect gardens. Two people were in the water, making out. The woman’s head fell back and her breasts bobbed on the surface. Oh, no, my mistake. They were having sex. I could feel the heat creep up my neck. I didn’t think I was a prude, but still. I turned away.
“Listen, some people are going to come to talk to you about the divorce papers. They’ll be here at ten,” he said, hovering in the doorway. His fingers tapped out a beat on the doorframe. He kept casting longing looks down the hall, clearly impatient to be gone.
“Some people?”
“My lawyer and my manager,” he told his feet. “They’re rushing things, so … it’ll all be, ah, dealt with as fast as it can.”
“Alright.”
David sucked in his cheeks and nodded. He had killer cheekbones. I’d seen men in fashion magazines that couldn’t have compared. But pretty or not, the frown never lifted. Not while I was around. It would have been nice to see him smile, just once.
“You need anything?” he asked.
“No. Thank you for all this. For flying me down here and letting me stay. It’s very kind of you.”
“No worries.” He took a step back and started closing the door after him. “Night.”
“David, shouldn’t we talk or something? About last night?”
He paused, half hidden behind the door. “Seriously, Ev. Why fucking bother?”
And he was gone.
Again.
No door slam this time. I counted that as a step forward in our relationship. Being surprised was stupid. But disappointment held me still, staring around the room, seeing nothing. It wasn’t that I suddenly wanted him to fall at my feet. But antipathy sucked.
Eventually I wandered back over to the window. The lovers were gone, the pool now empty. Another couple stumbled along the lit garden path, beneath the huge swaying palm trees. They headed toward what had to be the pool house. The man was David and Bikini Girl hung off him, swishing her long hair and swaying her hips, working it to the nth degree. They looked good together. They fit. David reached out and tugged on the tie of her bikini top, undoing the neat bow and baring her from the waist up. Bikini Girl laughed soundlessly, not bothering to cover herself.
I swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the rock in my throat. Jealousy felt every bit as bad as antipathy. And I had no damn right to be jealous.
At the door to the pool house David paused and looked back over his shoulder. His eyes met mine. Oh, shit. I ducked behind the curtain and idiotically held my breath. Caught spying—the shame of it. When I checked a moment later they were gone. Light peeked out from the sides of the curtains in the pool house. I should have brazened it out. I wished I had. It wasn’t like I was doing anything wrong.
The immaculate grandeur of the white room spread out before me. Inside and out I felt a mess. The reality of my situation had apparently sunk in, and what a clusterfuck it was. Lauren had been right on with the word choice.
“David can do what he wants.” My voice echoed through the room, startlingly loud even over the thumping of the music downstairs. I straightened my shoulders. Tomorrow I would meet with his people and the divorce would be sorted. “David can do what he wants and so can I.”
But what did I want to do? I had no idea. So I unpacked my few items of clothing, settling in for the night. I hung David’s T-shirt over a towel rail to finish drying. It was probably going to be needed for sleep wear. Organizing myself took five minutes, max. You could only refold a couple of tank tops so many ways before you just looked pathetic.
What now?
I hadn’t been invited to the party downstairs. No way did I want to think about what might be happening in the pool house. Doubtless David was giving Bikini Girl everything I’d wanted in Vegas. No sex for me. Instead, he had sent me to my room like a naughty child.
What a room it was. The adjoining bathroom had a tub larger than my bedroom back home. Plenty of space to splash around. It was tempting. But I never had been much good at getting sent to my room. On the few occasions it happened at home I used to climb out the window and sit outside with a book. As rebellions went it lacked a lot, but I’d been satisfied. There was a lot to be said for being a quiet achiever.
Screw staying in the room of splendor. I couldn’t do it.