Regrets Only (15 page)

“So,
would you want me to come up for a day?”

“Well,
you can stay for a few days, if you want,” Kate said. “It’s a very pretty
place.”

Suzanne
hesitated. Of course, there was nothing keeping her in Atlanta at the moment,
no reason she shouldn’t leave town. But something about being thrown into
Dylan’s world and being stuck there made her uneasy. Still, it seemed
ridiculous to refuse.

Before
she could answer, however, Kate jumped back in. “I’m so sorry. I told Dylan it
would be better for me to come to you in Atlanta, Miss Hamilton. Please don’t
feel obligated to come all the way to Tennessee. I’m sure you are busy.”

“Not
at all, Kate. I’d love to come. I was just…checking my calendar. Can someone
email me directions?”

“Dylan
said he can send a car for you, Miss Hamilton.”

“That’s
okay. I’ll drive myself. And Kate?”

“Yes,
ma’am?”

“Please,
call me Suzanne. ‘Miss Hamilton’ makes me feel about a hundred years old.”

The
tinkling laugh on the other end of the line sounded genuine, if a little marred
by transatlantic static. “Sure thing, Miss—um, Suzanne.”

 “I’ll
see you next week, Kate. Safe travels.”

#

She
returned downstairs to the condo, where she paced several miles around her
living room, until she summoned the courage to call William’s parents to ask
about him. Her heart pounded as she dialed, blood echoing in her ears while the
phone rang on the other end. It turned out to be anticlimactic, however, when
she got the Fitzgeralds’ answering machine and William Senior’s long, rich
drawl invoking her to leave a message.

She
did so, with a bit of hesitation, trying to sound as chipper as possible: “Hi,
Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald. It’s Suzanne Hamilton. I was just—I was just thinking
about William and wondering how he was doing. I thought I would call to say
hello. If you could just pass on the message at your convenience, that would be
great.”

She
left her number, thanked them, and hung up. She could only guess whether they
would relay the message, and if they did, whether he would call her back. Ten
years was a lot of water under the bridge, but Suzanne’s mother had gathered
over the years, through the club grapevine, that resentments were still going
strong.

By
Friday evening, Suzanne was seriously contemplating whether she might actually
go insane in her condo. After being cooped up alone all week, her desire for
human interaction was beginning to outweigh her fear. What was she going to do?
Stay locked in her apartment forever? She remembered years ago, she and Marci
had gone to see a scary movie, in which Sigourney Weaver played a woman with
severe agoraphobia who couldn’t leave her apartment. Even then, it had sounded
like the worst kind of hell to Suzanne. She didn’t even like wearing the same
pair of shoes for too long, and she had not left the building in five days.

She
had received an email from Yvette with directions to Dylan’s cabin in
Tennessee, along with a paragraph of dire warnings and legal ramifications if
she were to reveal its location to any member of the media. The email had
suggested she arrive around 3:00 on Tuesday afternoon to meet with Kate at 4:00.

“Dinners
at the cabin are informal,” Yvette had written. “I think you will find that
jeans and a comfortable blouse will be sufficient and appropriate. You may wish
to bring a sweater, considering evenings in the mountains can be chilly. Shorts
and t-shirts are acceptable for daytime wear. You’ll have a room in the
guesthouse. Please plan to stay until as late as Friday.”

Yvette
had missed her calling as a tour organizer, Suzanne thought. She suddenly had a
clear mental image of the mousy little woman hustling tourists on and off an
enormous bus, reminding them that they had two hours on their own before a
buffet lunch and a stop at the gift shop.

“A
few days” was longer than Suzanne anticipated staying at the “cabin,” which
apparently was large enough to have a guesthouse, and she thought about telling
Yvette this. Under what normal circumstances was a wedding planner required to
spend days on end with the family of the bride in Nowhere, Tennessee?

These
aren’t normal circumstances,
she
thought.
Be gracious. Maybe you can get the plans taken care of and sneak
out of there by late Wednesday.
She made a mental note to have Chad call
her a couple of times with pretend emergencies to give her an out if she needed
it. He’d called a few times to see how she was doing, sounding almost as
listless and lost as she was. Maybe Chad doing her a favor on a coffee break
from his new job would make them both feel better.

#

A
mixture of fear and relief washed over her when she heard a sudden, emphatic
knock at the door late in the afternoon. She took the phone with her to the
door and peered nervously through the peephole. Never in her life had she been
so happy to see the face on the other side.

“I
hope you don’t mind the intrusion,” Rebecca said in her usual haughty tone.
“But I know given your…er, circumstances, I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind.”

Normally
this kind of jab from Rebecca made Suzanne’s blood boil. After the past few
weeks, however, she was too beat down to be bothered by condescension. She
could accept an offer of friendship from wherever it came. “I don’t mind, Bec.
Come in. Please.”

Rebecca
looked surprised at this reception but smiled broadly as she entered. “Suzie,”
she said with intensity, gripping Suzanne’s hands. “How. Are. You?”

“I’m
okay, really,” Suzanne said. “Mostly just bored.”

“That’s
why I’m here,” Rebecca trilled. “I talked to Marci, and she mentioned your
little…tiff. I do hate seeing best friends fight so. I’d love to help get you
two back together. But you both have always been stubborn as mules.”

This
much was true. In part, Suzanne could tell, Rebecca was enjoying the fact that
the rift between her and Marci left a space for Rebecca to become more
important to both of them. She did seem a little sorry, though, for their
sadness. Suzanne wondered vaguely what Rebecca did with herself when there was
no drama to keep her busy meddling.

Come
to think of it, she was actually surprised Marci had confided in Rebecca, after
her attempt to claim Jake for herself a few years before. Marci must’ve been
pretty lonely, too.

“How
is she?” Suzanne asked.

“Okay,”
Rebecca said. “She seems like she has more energy this week. Not as tired as
the early part of the pregnancy. She misses her best friend, though.”

“Yeah,”
Suzanne said, looking at the floor. “I bet she’s giving Jake fits.”

“Probably,”
Rebecca muttered. “I don’t know.”

When
Suzanne glanced up, she saw that Rebecca had now looked away, feigning interest
in something in the kitchen. Her face was red and blotchy, an appearance
Suzanne recognized from her own countenance of late. For the first time ever,
it occurred to Suzanne that Rebecca might actually have been in
love
with Jake. It didn’t excuse her behavior, of course, but it did make Suzanne
sad for her.

“So
what brings you over today?” she asked cheerily, hoping that a subject change
would help them both.

“Marci
told me what happened. I thought you could use an evening out. Maybe a reason
to shower?” She glanced at Suzanne’s disheveled hair and sloppy clothes with an
attempt at a teasing smile.

Suzanne
had to admit she didn’t look her best. Normally meticulous in the extreme about
her appearance, she had been letting things slide since her self-imprisonment
began. Going out was certainly tempting, but…

“You
can’t hide here forever, Suzanne.” Rebecca’s tone was matter-of-fact and firm.
Motherly. “The Suzanne I know is many things, but a coward isn’t one of them.
I’ve never seen you let anyone bully you before, and I don’t see why this guy
should get the better of you.”

Immediately,
she knew Rebecca was right. She had not realized until that moment that she had
been hiding out, cowering in her pajamas and self-pity. This wasn’t like her.

“Give
me ten minutes,” she told Rebecca, and headed off to the shower.

#

They
went to the Mexican restaurant down the street. In her heart, Suzanne knew that
Manuel was not on the list of stalker suspects, but she wanted to face him
anyway. They had not seen each other much at all since they stopped hooking up
a few months ago—when he started dating his new girlfriend—and when she did go
into the restaurant, she always chose a time when it was crowded so he wouldn’t
feel pressure to make polite conversation. If he noticed her, he’d wave
politely and comp her drinks, but that was all the communication they had.

Tonight
she and Rebecca got a table close to the bar and Suzanne did not request a
change. The place was crowded, but Manuel gave her a nod as he poured tequila
shots. She smiled back as she and Rebecca took their seats.
No way it’s him
.
She was almost positive.

“So
you come here a lot?” Rebecca asked, not missing the silent exchange.

“Yeah,”
Suzanne said. “It’s close by. And the food’s good.”

“I
could see that,” Rebecca said lightly, with an appraising look at Manuel. He
was a good-looking guy, Suzanne conceded mentally. He was smart, and funny, and
their occasional hours together had been enjoyable, if a bit on the primal
side. A memory floated to the surface: following him, tipsy and giggling,
hand-in-hand, to the cramped office in the back of the restaurant. So why
hadn’t they ever actually dated? Something told her Manuel would have been open
to the idea, but he had never approached her with it.

The
two women ordered margaritas, chips, and dinner. Rebecca chattered happily
about her job as a flight attendant. She was always name-dropping about the
people—hip-hop artists, producers, actors—she met in first class on the
well-traveled route from Los Angeles to Atlanta. As distasteful as this was to
Suzanne, she listened, smiling and even gasping in awe when appropriate. It was
good to get out, whatever the reason, and it was nice to have something to
think about other than her wretched life.

They
were halfway through dinner when Manuel stopped by the table, surprising
Suzanne completely. “Hi, ladies. Everything all right?”

“Fantastic,”
Rebecca said. “This green chili sauce is heavenly.”

“Thanks,
it’s house-made,” he said to Rebecca. He turned with feigned casualness to
Suzanne. “Haven’t seen you around in a while, stranger.” He pushed a foot
gently at Suzanne’s chair, like an adolescent flirting in the school cafeteria.

“I
know, I’ve been…busy,” she finished lamely. “Did I hear correctly, though, that
you’re off the market? Dating someone special, are you?”

“Engaged,
actually,” he said, and appeared to be watching Suzanne for a response. She
held onto the big smile she’d plastered across her face, so he turned to Rebecca
conversationally. “Getting married in December.”

“Congratulations,”
Rebecca said. She raised an eyebrow at Suzanne, calling attention to the fact
that Suzanne should say the same.

“Oh!”
She came to herself. “Of course, congratulations, Manny. That’s wonderful.
Really.”

She
stood abruptly and wrapped the restaurant owner in a warm but awkward embrace.
The smell of him was familiar and oddly comforting. She found that while her
happiness for him was genuine, there was a twinge of sadness, too.
Sad for what?
she asked herself.
You’re going to miss having sex behind the bar of a
deserted Mexican restaurant at two in the morning?

“Thanks,”
Manuel said, guiding her gently back to her seat. “I’m very happy. It’s good to
get married.”

He
looked at Suzanne when he said this. She saw an intensity in his soft brown
eyes that she had never noticed. In the space of a heartbeat, she realized
three things: One, that Manuel had loved her once, and would’ve devoted himself
entirely to her if she had ever given him the chance. Two, that the door on
such an opportunity was solidly and irrevocably closed. He had moved on. And
three, that Manuel was absolutely not her stalker.

“Cross
that one off the list,” she muttered under her breath, after Manuel had
politely taken leave and informed them that their entire check was on the
house.

“The
list?” Rebecca asked.

“Nothing,”
said Suzanne dismissively. She filled each of their glasses to the rim from the
pitcher of margaritas. But Rebecca’s inquiring look remained. Suzanne shook her
head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Rebecca
lifted her glass in a salute, took a sizeable sip, and put it down again. “Try
me.”

#

They
staggered back to Suzanne’s apartment arm in arm, singing. Barely 10:30, it
felt like the end of a long night drinking and dancing.
We
are
getting old
, Suzanne thought.