Husband Stay (Husband #2) (18 page)

I was having a holiday in renovated 1920’s Art Deco
apartment building around the corner from the recording studio. Rosie’s company
owned it and used it for visiting musicians, so it had everything I might need,
from furniture and linen to a stocked pantry. She’d told me I was welcome to
stay even after the recording was finished, so Kamal had helped me move my
things there.

I hadn’t heard a peep from Jack, and was relieved that
he didn’t know where I lived anymore. So I had a relaxed stroll back to my apartment
down the tree-lined streets, enjoying the dappled sunlight on my face. In two
hours, Doug
The Dud
—stop thinking that!—would
meet me at a seafood bistro on Bondi Beach. He’d found
it on a restaurant review site and had remembered that I loved lobster.

Thoughtfulness was a good trait in a prospective
father—at least I told myself that when I was back in my apartment pulling out
a lime A-line sundress that fell just below the knee. It was one of my most
demure dresses, and I wasn’t sure why, but as I pulled out a pair of matching
lime sandals, I had to admit I was aiming for ‘friendly’ rather than ‘sexy’.
Which was weird. I wasn’t going out shopping with the girls. I was going on a
date.

My first since I’d left Danny. If you didn’t count
Jack.

Which of course I did, because at the slightest
provocation he slid into my thoughts as easily as he’d slid into my body. And
speaking of easy, it was all too easy to imagine him finding my sundress as
sexy as hell because he’d know exactly what was under it and how to manipulate
those various body parts into spectacular orgasms.

It was almost as if my mind was stuck on a loop of
think
about Jack—get aroused—don’t think about Jack—get cranky—think about Jack…

So I stripped off and put on the plastic sleeve the
chemist had sold me, so I didn’t need to fuss as much about water ruining my
cast. Then I got into the shower, only this time instead of rushing the
proceedings so I wouldn’t think of Jack—which only ended up making me more
sexually frustrated—I took my time soaping myself up, and then I pulled the
shower head down to rinse myself off and when the spurt of water teased my
clitoris, I let it.

In fact, I defiantly angled it in (as I’d read about
in women’s magazines) and leant back on the shower tiles with my eyes closed
and my head back, remembering in vivid detail the way Jack’s tongue had felt
there, and how the pleasure had seemed to dig into me like probing fingers.

My nipples ached as they tightened, and my legs
started shaking as the tendrils of an orgasm built, and I wantonly let myself
fantasise about Jack being there, kneeling in front of me in the shower, his
clever tongue driving me crazy until—

There!

A shuddering orgasm wracked my body and I opened my
eyes to watch my breasts bouncing around, exactly as Jack would have. That
warmed my cheeks even more, and somehow, instead of feeling empty or stupid for
my fantasies. I felt empowered.

When the glow of the orgasm settled, I realized this
was a way I could have Jack, and have my family too. If I could
compartmentalize him into sexual fantasies…although…I didn’t want to fall back
into the trap of faking orgasms.

So I would need to ensure that Doug—or whoever I ended
up with—was capable enough to allow me to orgasm with them, even if I had to
suffer the embarrassment of touching myself when I was with them. I could do
that. And then I didn’t need to fight my attraction to Jack anymore. I could simply
sideline it until I was actually going to have sex, and bring it out then.

It made perfect sense.

Except, an hour later as I sat in the café across from
Doug, I knew it wouldn’t work.

“…and they’re always late paying their bills,” Doug
said. “So that’s a real downside. But if you’ve got a buffer of money, you can
ride it out.”

I smiled—a fake smile to cover the fact that I was
actually bored, which was the last thing I would have expected, despite the
fact that Jill insisted on calling him
Doug the Dud
since they split up.
I’d always imagined he was more interesting, although usually it was Jill who’d
done most of the talking whenever I’d caught up with the two of them.

I’d certainly expected he’d try harder on a first
date. But he’d turned up in board shorts and a tee shirt, as if he’d just
walked off the beach. Worse, he had stubble. And I hated facial hair. He
appeared to be in holiday mode, and maybe that’s what his trip to Sydney was
about. But then, why be all coy with me over the phone?

“So,” I said, over-brightly. “There’s a lot involved
in the building industry.” I had to say something, but the last thing I wanted
was more detail.

Luckily, he chose that moment to pick up his menu, as
if the conversation was over. He actually looked relieved to be given a break,
and I suddenly realized that to him, our conversation might feel like a Spanish
Inquisition. But I’d only been trying to fill the empty silences by asking
questions. He hadn’t asked me a single thing.

“Lobster rolls.” He looked up and frowned. “Is that
like a salad roll, with lobster?”

 I shook my head. “You might need to ask. I’ve never
been here before.”

“Oh, I don’t like seafood. I was just wondering what
you’d eat.”

I stared at him from across the tiny white table,
trying to ignore the sound of chatty patrons and trendy waiters in their ocean
blue uniforms bustling around us, because I had a dilemma going on inside.

The Angela of a year ago would have been thrilled that
he’d remembered my solitary mention of liking lobster, and I would have easily
said
Anything with lobster is fine by me
, but the Angela I was right in
this minute didn’t actually feel like lobster. It was too rich and I didn’t
want to feel sluggish when I had a busy afternoon in the studio planned. I’d
rather have a light salad or soup.

Doug waited patiently while I licked my lips,
wondering what I’d do. In the end I just said, “I’ll check the menu myself and
see what I feel like.”

“Oh, okay.” He frowned again and looked back at his
menu, maybe realizing—as I did—that things were awkward between us.

I’d been ready for the fact that there might be no
chemistry, but the idea that we could have
nothing
in common apart from
our connection to Jill alarmed me. While pushing Jack away, I’d pulled Doug
close in my expectations, and it was suddenly blindingly clear that I shouldn’t
have.

I’d always
liked
Doug, but that liking had been
associated with Jill, how he was patient with her, how he’d played the peahen
to her showy peacock, and how I’d always expected him to be the father of her
children.

But now, seated
across from him, watching him frown at the menu, I could admit to myself that I
flat-out wasn’t attracted to him. At all.
Especially
not with facial
hair. But really, even if he shaved that off…no.

I’d been flattered
when Jill had told me he found me attractive. But there had been nothing
reciprocal. And there was certainly nothing happening now.

Watching him gnaw
on his lip while he tried to work out what to eat, actually made me feel
queasy, and before I could stop myself I’d pushed my chair back and stood.
“I’ll be back in a moment.”

I couldn’t even
bring myself to smile. I just darted off, and after quick directions from one
of the perky waitresses, I’d only just managed to make it to the bathroom
before I’d thrown up what was left of my croissant breakfast.

I flushed the
toilet and closed my eyes, trying to regroup, but I was forced to admit that
the idea of making love with Doug had just made me vomit. I’d been fine when I
arrived at the café. Well, not completely fine. I’d been vaguely queasy for a
day or so and had put that down to all the changes in my life. Missing regular
meals. Eating odd food. But still, vomiting was unusual for me. Was I anxious?
Could that have made me violently ill?

I went out into
the glisteningly clean washroom and rinsed and spat a few times, then washed my
hands and pressed them behind my neck, trying to cool myself down. It was
summer. A storm was brewing. Maybe the humidity had made me sick.

Or maybe it was
Doug.

When I got back to
the table, I smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that. Must have eaten
something bad.”

“Were you sick?”
His face screwed up as though I’d just repulsed him, and combined with his sticking-out
ears and seriously annoying facial hair, it was the tipping over point. I
suddenly realized I couldn’t do this.

“I’m so sorry,
Doug,” I lied, and stood again. “I’m just not well. Please, you have lunch.
I’ll grab a taxi and head home. It’s been good to see you.” Another big fat
lie.

I held out a hand
across the table so there could be no misconstruing the level of friendliness I
was allowing, and he shook it, but remained seated which offended the
old-fashioned manners I’d grown up with. When a lady left the table, the men
stood. In his defense, he looked completely taken-aback, and couldn’t even organize
a reply.

I waited a few
seconds longer, but he said nothing. Just sat there. So I left, and by the time
I reached the taxi rank I was shaking my head. How had I imagined this was a
good idea? It had turned out
terribly
, and I couldn’t work out if the
negative emotion pressing against my chest was embarrassment or anger. I’d been
so stupid. Doug had been my main option. I had no plan B. How had that
happened?

Was it rushing to
‘move on’ from Jack? Or had Louella’s insistence on dating Doug convinced me
that he was a viable option. After all, this date had been her idea. Damn her.

My phone rang in
the same moment as a taxi arrived at the rank, so I ignored it to jump in the
back and give directions, but when it was still ringing seconds later, I glanced
at the caller and decided to answer it.

“Jill.”

“
How’s my
favorite celebrity?”

There was no way I
could answer that honestly, so I just said, “A bit tired. I’ve been working pretty
hard at the studio and the new apartment is lovely, but…you know what it’s like
on a new bed?”

“I know what
it’s like for you. You never sleep properly. We house sitters acclimatize
quickly. But you’ll get used to it.”

“Of course I will.
And so…the wedding plans?”

“Blah. Finn
hired a wedding planner.”

“At this late stage?”
That distracted me.

“
Yeah. He’s
right. I’m mucking around. And I do want to marry him.”

“Is it Lizzie and
the baby?” I knew she’d never bring up the topic for fear that it would upset
me, but I was sure the impending birth of the child Finn had donated sperm for
would rattle her.

“
You know me so
well.”
She sighed.
“I
was
happy for her, but now that it’s
getting closer, I’m scared Finn will be all distracted by his baby—”

“
Lizzie’s
baby,” I corrected. “Don’t start feeling sorry for yourself. You know he’ll
just be the child’s uncle. It’s babies with you he’s interested in.”

Jill said nothing,
then, “
I know you’re right. But it’s harder than I thought it would be. Ange…can
I ask you a favor?”

“I’ll come with
you to the birth.” I knew Jill well enough to understand how hard that hospital
scene might be. “And if you look the slightest bit jealous, I’ll slap you
upside-the-head.”

She laughed,
clearly embarrassed.
“You know that’s what I need.”

“I do. And Jill…”
Some imp of honesty insisted I fess up. It wasn’t fair that she was the only
one showing her soft underbelly. “Louella talked me into dating Doug, and—”

“You can’t
bring him to the wedding! Finn would have a fit. Tell me you’re not—”

“I’m not,” I said
loudly, then when the cab driver glanced at me in the rear-view mirror, I
lowered my voice. “I just had lunch with him and it was…embarrassing. I’m not
attracted to him. At all.”

“Okay. So, welcome
to the club,”
she said softly, as if Finn was nearby.
“I didn’t call him
Doug the Dud for nothing. What were you thinking?”

“I want a father
for my children.”

“Oh honey.”
I
could hear the sympathy in her voice, but something had changed for me lately,
and I didn’t need ‘poor baby’ anymore.

“It’s okay.” I
shrugged. “One to cross off the list. Plenty more fish in the sea.”

“
True, and just
backtracking a bit. Did you say
Louella
talked you into dating Doug?”

There was an edge
to Jill’s voice that surprised me. Was she having a spat with Louella? Wouldn’t
be the first time. Still, I knew better than to lie. “She and I met for coffee
last week and she suggested I date him. I thought…she was just trying to help
me find a nice man.”

“
Interesting…”

In that moment I
remembered that Louella was getting a divorce because she’d fallen in love with
someone else. I didn’t normally gossip, but, “You don’t think Doug and
Louella…” I let the sentence trail, because now that the words were out it
seemed completely implausible. Untidy Doug with immaculately groomed Louella?

“
Not for a
second,”
Jill shot back, confirming my suspicions. But then she added, “
Although
I’m quite sure she has some agenda going on, pushing him at you.”

“I’m not sure she
pushed him,” I said automatically, until I remembered how insistent she’d been,
texting me Doug’s number and then phoning that night to ensure I’d rung him.
After I’d relayed this info to Jill, she was silent for a long time.

“
Something’s
going on,”
she said, but we both knew we’d never find out by asking Louella
outright. “
Do you know who her date is to the wedding? She hasn’t told me.
”

“Sorry.” I felt
like a bad friend then. I’d never thought to ask Louella while we’d been having
our high tea. The discussion had been more about her latest bathroom
renovations. I swear, she had that house remodeled almost annually. And my
cats. “Are you worried about her bringing Doug?”

“
No. And I don’t
even know why I’m thinking about this because I’ve got bigger problems. I found
out this morning that Brat girl is coming after all. That’s why I rang you.”

“Oh Jill!” I
couldn’t imagine anything worse for Jill than having her terrible little sister
Brittany turn up on what should be her happiest day. “Do you want me to ride
interference?”

“
No.”
She
tried to laugh but I could hear the strain in her voice. “
I’ll work it out.
But we might need to rejig the bridesmaid outfits. She won’t wear silver
shoes.”

“Oh, okay. Whatever
is easiest.” Was I going to be off the hook after all? It seemed petty to be
thinking about that when Jill had the drama queen of
all
drama queens
turning up to cause trouble. But I did hate upsetting my girls, and it couldn’t
look anything other than thoughtless to have lost my bridesmaid shoes.

Just then the cab
pulled into the curb and I registered where we were. “I’m home,” I told her.
“Can I call you tonight?”

“
Sure. You can
psychoanalyze me then. I’ll need it!”

She hung up and I
paid the driver and headed out of the baking afternoon sunshine into the
building’s cool foyer which looked like a set from The Great Gatsby. This time,
however, I was in a hurry. I needed to get back into white clothes and eat
something, assuming my queasy stomach would allow that.

“Missy Diva.”

I almost walked
straight into Kamal who was holding a large cardboard box.

“Hello.” I shook
my head, perplexed. Why was he here, unannounced?

“Your boyfriend
dropped this off.” He offered me the box, then must have remembered my cast.
“I’ll carry it for you. Let’s go upstairs.”

I didn’t move. “What
boyfriend?”

Please don’t
let it be Jack.

“Big guy. Came
around before, asking for you when you went to that tea house launch.”
Jack.
“You know,” Kamal raised a dark eyebrow. “The party where you met Noah Steele
and I wasn’t invited.”

I ignored his
sarcasm to concentrate on the shocking fact that Jack had turned up at my
previous residence, with a box. “Did he say he was my boyfriend?”

“He said he’d had
sex with you,
several times
.”