Page 2 of Indiscreet

I didn’t finish, and I didn’t have to. Astrid got up and gave me a hug. “It’ll be hard at first, but look at it this way: you know what you don’t want now.”

I sighed. I sure did, but tonight wasn’t about the woes of the end of my marriage. It was about celebrating. With that in mind, I stuffed the divorce paperwork in my bag and we prepared to leave.

Astrid and I put on our winter coats and beige infinity knit scarves, bundling up against the wintery wind. Our leather boots crunched the fresh snow and salt on the sidewalk as we made our way to Elation. We each ordered a steak au poivre and a Christmas-tini. When the drinks were delivered to our table, we raised them up for a toast. “To the next chapter of your life,” Astrid said with a smile, and then we clinked our glasses together.

I gulped down half of my drink and motioned for the hostess to get another one. Astrid ordered another too. By the time the food arrived, Astrid had shared every little thing her three-year-old son Jacob had done since I saw him the previous week, when he came to what was supposed to be our relaxing night, along with a long list of holiday parties her husband had to oversee for his corporate management company. Listening to her made it clear that my world had done a one-eighty.

Did I have anything left to share now that I wasn’t Patrick’s wife?

Realizing I had gone quiet, Astrid reached over and patted my arm. “I just can’t believe Patrick,” Astrid complained. “He’s made the biggest mistake of his life. I mean, with all he has on his plate with his campaign, to cheat on you—”

“Doesn’t matter now,” I interjected, speaking over her while putting on a smile. “I’m just happy it’s over.”

“Sorry.” She covered her mouth. “I didn’t mean to bring it up again. You know we’d love to have you over at our house for Christmas. It bothers me that you’ll be alone in that big house.”

I shook my head and smiled. I hadn’t been in “that big house” but for a few weeks. Between moving and work, I had spent barely any time there, so I had plenty of unpacking to do. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know, but it could be fun. We’ll decorate the tree, and maybe we can discuss some contacts in the area that might help Tim’s mayoral bid—”

“I’ll give you my contacts for Tim,” I replied lightly, but I was certain that part of my life was over. I’d help some, but Tim would need to do his own heavy lifting. I tried to remind her I was no longer in politics as gently as I could.

“That would be great,” she said. “We’re both excited about the possibility of his run, but we’re finding it’s not easy to navigate. The way you managed Patrick made it look so easy.” The tiredness around her eyes made it clear he wasn’t the only one who was stressed.

“It’s not, and fundraising is only the beginning,” I cautioned her again. It was beyond me why she would encourage her husband to get involved in politics after all the stress and pressure she saw in my life—the endless fundraising, soul-crushing ass-kissing, and God-awful obligatory smiling, not to mention all the constant networking. She’d become what I had been: a wife-workhorse. “Thank you for the invitation, but I’ll be fine. I’m done with politics. I won’t be getting involved in any of it.”

She looked at me, puzzled. “I didn’t mean it that way, Gia. I invited you because I thought it would be fun, but I understand. Thank you from both of us for the contacts.”

I beamed at her and sighed inwardly. She was sick of the campaigning already. “You’re very welcome.”

“Now for the good stuff,” she said, grinning as she pulled out her phone. “I got a list from Tim of all his single friends and acquaintances who we both know would love to meet you.”

“Hold that thought,” I said. I got up and went to the restroom around the bar. Her husband was nice, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her I didn’t want a Tim or a Tim-like man. Yes, he was loving, attentive, and a great dad, but he was too much like Patrick—always focused on how to increase his power and profile. I wanted a man who was comfortable and confident in himself, a man who put me first, a man who wanted me.

I washed my hands and fixed my hair before going back to join Astrid.

On my way back to our table, I spotted Liz Crenshaw coming through the entrance. We hadn’t seen her in a while so I walked closer to greet her but then stopped—she wasn’t alone. She was with an attractive twenty-something man. I was surprised and impressed, not only by his age, but by what he was doing. He grabbed her face and kissed her passionately. His hands moved down to her hips, and then lower. He was touching her in a way I’d never been touched in public before. It was raw, possessive, and passionate. I was enthralled.

Then another man came up to stand next to them. He was the tall, dark, and handsome type, striking in looks and well put together. He was dressed in a leather jacket, designer gray slacks, and a black button-down shirt opened at the collar. He was brooding, but magnificent. He tapped their shoulders and, for a moment, looked my way. I quickly turned my head, finally realizing how rude I’d been by staring. They parted, and I was about to move back to my table when Liz called out to me. “Gia Walsh!”

I turned and took the hug. “It’s Ruiz,” I reminded her.

“Oh. Congratulations,” she said, covering her mouth. Her lips were swollen, and she had a sappy grin on her face. “Sorry, but—”

“No apologies,” I cut her off. “Patrick was an asshole.”

“Amen,” she said.

I laughed. “Astrid’s here, want to come over and say hello? You can have dinner or share a dessert with us if you’re alone.”

She glanced behind her and the men were gone. “Yes, that sounds great. I was going to wait for my friend to finish his meeting at the bar, but it could be a while. We can all catch up.” She excused herself for a call and I heard her explain a change in plans to dine with us, then she followed me over to our table where she hugged Astrid. After Liz ordered a potato bisque and salad, Astrid asked her, “What are you planning for the holidays?”

Liz tossed her hair back. “Oh, the usual boring affair.”

I arched my brows. She didn’t mention her new lover, and for whatever reason, I didn’t either, at least not yet. “Same here. I’ll probably redecorate or something tedious.”

Liz laughed, arching her back in a way that made the V-neck of her tight cashmere sweater dip.

“What is going on with you?” Astrid asked. “You look different.”

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