Saint Kate of the Cupcake: The Dangers of Lust and Baking (20 page)

Ouch
.

“Really? Heroin is less harmful for your image than sex?” I asked quizzically.

Lindsay nodded sagely. I wasn’t unaware that it would be far more sensible and less likely to be career suicide to stay in my marriage, stop seeing Anders, and try to salvage whatever was left. But easier was not what I wanted. What I wanted was Anders and my career, and to not hurt Jack or the kids in the process. I wanted my cake and to eat it too, and to not gain any weight in the process. The likelihood of keeping things as they were now for the long-term was almost non-existent. It might have worked for a while, but the rational side of me knew that eventually I’d find myself in a world of trouble. It looked like that time was fast approaching. Lindsay was right; I was going to have to figure out what I wanted, but right now, I really didn’t know who I would be willing to give up.

“How serious are things with Anders?” Lindsay asked insistently. I understood that she was just doing her job, but I couldn’t open up to her about things I barely wanted to admit to myself.

“It’s not going to become anything serious. It’s just good old-fashioned lust with an immensely hot man who happens to be on TV,” I lied. Anders was more than that, but as a long-term partner, I just wasn’t sure.

“So, you’re going to stay with Jack?”

“I don’t know.” I rubbed my eyes tiredly. “We hardly speak and never sleep together anymore. I’m not sure what’s left, if anything. I think the main reason we stay together is inertia.”

“Inertia can be a powerful force.” She ground out her cigarette and picked up her burgundy Mulberry bag.
It almost tones in with her hair
, I thought absently.

“I’ll leave you with some homework. The first thing you need to work out is whether you want to make things work with Jack or if you’re going to move on. We need to prepare our strategy now to minimize the impact of these rumors. The more coherent we make our statements, the easier they are to sell. If you do decide to leave Jack, we need to give it some time before going public with Anders, if he’s going to be your new boyfriend. Given the investment he’s made in his playboy image, you’ll have to make sure he’s on board with it, or it could all blow up in our faces.”

“I don’t know about Anders in the long-term. He lives on another continent, and the odds aren’t good that it will work out anyway.” I knew it was a realistic assessment of the situation, but it was hard to think about, particularly as we were still in that stage of being so happy together, where you can’t imagine you’ll ever feel differently about each other.

“I can’t tell you what to do; I can only make things easier with the media and the public and minimize the impact on your career. Unfortunately for you, what you’re selling is yourself and your lifestyle, so if you make big changes to that, it’s going to affect sales. There’s no guarantee that if you leave Jack you won’t lose everything. I’ll do my best, and staying with Jack would make that much easier. If you decide you want to stay with him, I’ll arrange invitations to some touchy-feely premieres where you can be photographed looking happy together. If you decide that you want to leave him, I’ll change the invites to you on your own and start dropping hints to the paps about him not being there to support you, etcetera. They will pass it on ‘anonymously’ to the gossip writers, and then we can ease into a separation. Maybe I can arrange a professional shoot in a magazine to get you out there as a single woman. If lover-boy is going to be around, we can move him into a supportive, new partner role in a little bit. Jack just wasn’t able to keep up, etcetera.”

God, it sounded so clever and sensible, but horridly cold and heartless. This was Jack we were talking about, and she was treating him like he was a bug infestation.

“In the meantime,” she continued, “if you are followed by photographers,
be nice
. Stop, let them get the photo. Be polite. If you cover yourself and run, they’ll think you have something to hide, and they’ll chase you. If you’re an asshole, they’ll sell the worst photos they take, and you’ll be out there forever looking appalling and drug-fucked or whatever headline they choose to come out with. Trust me, there are always bad photographs with your eyes half-closed or while you’re talking, and only through their goodwill will those photos not see the light of day. No matter what they say or do, you need to keep a smile on your face.”

My stomach went into free-fall, and I barely recall showing Lindsay out. I could no longer stay with my head in the sand; I needed to make a choice. My thoughts just kept going around in circles. I couldn’t make a decision. The thought of leaving Jack scared the bejesus out of me. The upheaval to our lives would be huge, and it wasn’t like I hated him or didn’t want to be around him. He was a good, if distant, husband and a great father to our boys.

Then there were the financial and social implications. We’d have to sell the house, and with the extra costs, we might struggle to pay the boys’ school fees and support two households. My income would likely drop substantially, further eroding our already shaky financial position. If Jack lost his job due to the credit crunch, we could potentially be in real trouble. But if you took away the money side of the decision, I would probably leave him. Unfortunately, the money side of things wasn’t going to resolve itself. Taking a risk, I decided to tell Bats. I thought she would be supportive of any decision I made, but it turned out, strangely enough, she was still cheering for Team Marriage.

“Family life is an investment. You put a whole lot of time and effort and money into it, and I’m not just talking about the children, but also into your marriage. Without your marriage, there is no family.”

“Family is what you make it,” I shot back. “Should I be unhappy? It’s not like the boys are little anymore. They’re barely at home now anyway and will be there less and less when they’re off at university. How much difference will it make?”

“I think you’d be surprised. Are you unhappy with Jack? I’ve never heard you complain of anything but the lack of sex.”

“There is that, and the fact that we’re so distant from each other, but you’re right. There are some good things there too. We’ve just hit a wall.”

“Everyone hits a wall. What you do about it is entirely in your hands. Does Jack know?”

“No, I don’t think so. He’s not very observant, and he doesn’t listen to gossip.”

“Have you talked to him about your sex life?”

“I’ve tried, but he shuts me down. He doesn’t want to acknowledge there’s a problem.”

“Could he be having an affair?”

“No. I’d know about it. He’s too absent-minded to get away with it. I really think that he’s just not that interested in sex.”

“Do you still love him? Underneath it all, do you still like him as a person?”

I had to think about that one. I hesitated before answering. “Yes, I think so, but I have no idea what to do. I love Jack, but I think I might love Anders too. With Jack, I know what’s missing, and I’m not sure it can be fixed without both of us really trying, and I don’t think he’d be willing to acknowledge there is even a problem, let alone do anything about it. With Anders, anything is still possible because what we have is incomplete. We lack that everyday thing, the familiarity with each other. He might have annoying habits, but I don’t know of any.”

“So, Anders looks good because, at this stage, he could still be the perfect man.”

“Yes, but the unknown is also scary. What if I give everything up for him and it doesn’t work out? I would lose my husband, my work, everything.”

“If we were in one of those trippy feel-good movies, I’d urge you to trust your instincts, take a leap of faith.” She rolled her eyes.

“But we’re not,” I said doubtfully, wondering where she was going.

“No, that’s just stupid. Real life doesn’t work like that. You take a leap, and then you land on your face and everyone laughs at you. It’s called comedy.” She opened her arms. “Come here. Let me give you a hug.”

I put my head on her shoulder and breathed out heavily as her arms settled down around me.

“Stay with Jack. I’ll put out for you.”

I laughed despite myself when she gave me a kiss on the forehead.

“You’re a good friend. I know you’re right, but the problem is how to give up Anders when I really don’t want to.”

“Be sensible. I know you have it in you. You can’t give up everything you’ve spent years building on the off-chance it might work with this guy. If not for Jack and your kids, do it for yourself. You’ve just got everything taking off with your cookbooks and other ventures. Don’t throw it away on something as risky as this.”

They were wise words, and I knew what I had to do. I just really, really didn’t want to. I was like a pack-a-day smoker who was going to go cold-turkey with no nicotine patches to help me through it. I would just see him one last time. I couldn’t tell him over the phone. I was so nervous; I was shaking as I dialed his number.

“Hello?” he answered sleepily. God, in my anxiety I’d forgotten to check the time difference.

“I’m so sorry to wake you Anders. It’s Kate.”

“Katie!” he exclaimed, obviously not expecting me to call.

“I need to see you. Are you coming this way anytime soon?”

“Ah…no, but you sound upset. Is anything wrong?”

“I need to talk to you, face to face.”

“We’re not shooting this Friday. I could take the red-eye Thursday night and be there Friday morning. I’ll have to leave again Saturday morning.”

I nodded and then realized he couldn’t see that.

“That would be great. How about I meet you at the Mayfair?” It seemed fitting to end it where it had begun.

“Sure. How long can you stay? Shall I book the suite or just a room?”

“No, let me. I’ll arrange it all. It’s the least I can do after making you fly all the way here. See you Friday morning.” I hung up before he could say anything else.

Chapter Seventeen

I W
AITED
N
ERVOUSLY
O
N
T
HE
C
OUCH
for the sound of his key swiping the door. He finally opened it, and I fought not to run to him. He shrugged off his overnight bag and let it drop on the floor. He looked a bit puzzled and concerned as he saw me sitting on the couch.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He came and sat beside me.

“I’m so sorry, Anders,” I said, trying not to cry.

“What?”

“I can’t see you anymore.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” His voice rose, sounding strangled.

“The rumors are out there, and sooner or later Jack is going to find out. I love you, but I can’t give up everything—my family, my career, my home. What if we don’t work out?”

“We both want to be with each other. Why wouldn’t it work?” he insisted.

“We’re not risking the same things here. If our relationship doesn’t work, you just walk away. I will have lost everything.”

“I’ll have lost you.” He trailed his fingers down my face to catch the tears I hadn’t even noticed I’d shed. “Fuck,” he swore, “I love you, but I’m not going to force anyone to be with me. If you want to leave, then fine.” His voice broke, and he shook his head, his eyes hard and glassy. My heart broke to see him so upset and know that I caused it. Before I knew it, I was holding him in my arms, both of us crying uncontrollably. Then we started kissing. I tried to break away, but he pulled me back.

“No, if this is goodbye, I need to fuck you one last time. You owe me that,” he said harshly before crashing his mouth and body into mine, pinning me back down on the couch.

My body strained into his, just as eager for the contact. I had no idea how I was going to survive without this, without him. We tore at each other’s clothes, fumbling to remove the barriers between us, the desperate knowledge that this would be the last time, making it bittersweet. He pulled me onto his lap, slamming me down hard, piercing me until we were connected as completely as a man and a woman can be. I expected him to take me roughly, but instead he held me tightly, breathing hard into my neck, not moving at all. Puzzled I waited, but he stayed completely still, one arm around my hips, the other straight up my back with his fingers gripping my hair.

“Anders, are you okay?” I whispered.

“No,” he gasped. “Just give me a moment.” His body shuddered, and his cock jerked inside me. After long moments of just holding me with his whole body, he began to move gently, almost unwillingly. When we came together eventually, it was sad, beautiful, and an end in more ways than one.

I kissed him chastely goodbye as he held the door open, and he pulled me back against his chest to kiss me desperately, holding me tightly against him.

“Stay, Katie,” he ground out. “We could make it work; I know it. Just think about it for a week or so. I will wait for you, however long you need, if you just give me hope.”

I nodded, knowing I would do nothing but think about it and second-guess my decision. I smiled weakly at him, trying not to cry at the thought of him with someone else. I trailed my fingers along his chest as I moved away, keeping contact as long as possible. My smile faded as I looked down the corridor at a group of suited men who had obviously left a meeting in another suite.