“That’s awfully big talk coming from a woman who had to know nothing could ever come of a relationship with the man she’s been with for the past two years. I mean really, Honey, did you honestly expect Francis to marry you?”
That one stings. The sharp pain quickly ebbs when I realize it came from a place of resentment. “And what exactly do you have, Muffy? I can call you that, no? Seeing as how we share something so intimate—or at least used to.”
“I have more than you could ever hope to dream of,” she says, slyly shifting her gaze toward the window just in case I needed clarification.
“Do you?”
She looks taken aback by that. No sharp retort at the ready to lob right back at me.
I decide to do her the favor of ending this. Frankly, for both our sakes. I stand up and give her a smile that I work hard at showing not too much pity.
I suddenly do feel bad for her.
No woman should marry a man she doesn’t love.
“Give Francis my regards. He doesn’t need to contact me to officially break up.” My eyes drop to the ring on her finger. “I’ve taken the hint. I’m already out of the apartment if he wants to sublet it. If there’s anything he wants returned to him, he should let me know. Otherwise, I’ll be getting rid of it all.”
She openly gapes at me.
“Thank you for the lovely tea…Maude,” I say, making it perfectly clear that I am no longer in the same universe as she is, let alone among her close circle of friends.
I turn and walk out, feeling her eyes burn a hole in my back as I go. It fuels the engine of satisfaction inside of me, telling me I’m doing the right thing.
More to the point, it finally opens my eyes.
Francis was the plastic-wrapped, store-bought, artificially flavored treat that I now know would never satisfy my happiness. His sugar rush was a fake high that I’m weaning myself from with surprising ease.
There’s a man out there who’s real, made with authentic ingredients.
Someone real.
Chapter Twenty-Four Honey
It’s finally Saturday night.
Giuseppe and I have of course texted and called all week, but it’s not the same as actually seeing each other in person. I even miss those brief exchanges before all of this started when we switched places in the elevator in the mornings.
At least he’s stuck to his word about not looking me up online. I’m sure I would have experienced some kind of reaction on his part if he had.
I put that thought aside to focus on the excitement of the upcoming evening.
This is the second Saturday I’ve had to cancel a performance for work, which is saying something. Especially for a gal who needs to start saving every penny.
But Giuseppe is worth it.
Unfortunately it means I’m left on my own to get ready for his firm’s gala since all my friends are getting on with the show in my absence. I’ve never wanted my girls—or even Jerome—by my side more than I do now.
Yes, I drove Esmerelda, Rose, and even sweet Annabelle crazy all week going back and forth between which dress to wear tonight.
“Just be yourself, Honey,” Rose said.
“He’s with you because you’re you,” Annabelle reassured me.
“Don’t you dare change for a man!” Esmerelda practically threatened.
But tonight is a performance.
So I’m wearing white.
It’s a long, simple, elegant strapless number that contrasts almost as well with my skin as my trademark pink does. I’ve pinned my bob up into a French twist and added cubic zirconia studs.
No more diamonds for Honey Dewberry.
I’ve been pacing in my strappy heels, only stopping when I threatened to work up a nice sheen of sweat. I’m usually not so nervous, especially when having to interact with people, even strangers. Especially strangers. I love surprising people with my talents and charm and wit.
That thought is almost enough to lift my spirits.
I come back down to Earth when I remember how important tonight is. For Giuseppe and me both.
I know he’s no longer trying to get Emily back, but it’s still an event for the firm he works at.
The one he himself is putting on a performance for.
I sigh and roll my eyes.
Performing is supposed to be fun for heaven’s sake! Why am I so worked up with anxiety?
I laugh to myself and force my body to relax.
It goes perfectly taut again when I hear the intercom.
“Giuseppe?” I say, breathless after rushing over to answer.
“Honey?” He responds in the same questioning manner but with a hint of humor.
I breathe out a laugh. “I’ll be right down.”
I grab my clutch and dash out.
When I open the front door of the building, he gets his first glimpse of me and I see the hesitation in his eyes.
“You’re not wearing pink.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed. I thought I would shake it up a bit tonight,” I say with a confident smile, even though my heart stutters with uncertainty for a few beats.
“No, no,” he says shaking his head. “You look stunning of course. Shall we?”
“We shall,” I say, taking his arm as he leads me down to the waiting Town Car.
Once settled inside, I twist to face him with a smile.
He looks so handsome in his tuxedo, complete with a bowtie. Dressed down or dressed up, the man is damn fine.
“It’s so strange going a week without passing you in the morning,” he says, staring at me.
“Yeah,” I say, happy that he’s had the same thoughts I have.
Of course I could have wiggled out a time to meet with him at some point this week. Maybe for lunch since my current barista job has flexible hours.
But that would have opened the Pandora’s box of him asking about my “acting career.”
I still feel guilty about circling the issue instead of bringing it out in the open as Rose suggested.
“Next
