Page 2 of The Love Hoax
It has nothing to do with gender inequality and everything to do with Bill being married to the granddaughter of the firm’s founder. He’s skyrocketed to the top while knowing dangerously little about the intricacies of negligence law. I’ve saved his slimy behind on more than one occasion.
Nepotism lives on.
With rumors of his father-in-law’s impending retirement, Bill is also a notorious kiss-up, frequently cutting ethical corners, something I have never been able to do.
Doing the right thing even when it bucks the system has held me back in more ways than I care to ponder. Maybe even contributed to the demise of my marriage.
Holy matrimony, my derrière. There was nothing holy about how Marco treated our marriage.
Marco grew up in Italy, in a traditional family where the man ruled the household. When he migrated to the States, he had trouble shedding the long-held misogyny. He didn’t take well to sharing the throne. When the fiery attraction between us eventually fizzled—or more like, exploded—so did our marriage. By then, I’d birthed two babies.
I force thoughts of Marco away, take a seat behind my cherry wood desk and text both of my sons, reminding them of my upcoming trip to California. Daniel, my eldest, responds immediately with a thumbs up. I know I’ll be lucky to hear back from Jeffrey. He has inherited my independent—and impulsive—streak. I hope the last-minute plans he made with his father come to fruition. My ex isn’t known for reliability. When Daniel started high school, Marco moved back to Rome. The worst possible time.
I’m about to dig into my work when a text comes in from Roger.
Yikes.
I’ve gone out twice with the restaurateur, and he’s called me seventeen times since. We met when Caroline and I discovered Le Marais, the best restaurant in New York City, opened a few blocks from my office. Turns out Roger owns the place.
A bit on the short side, with an amiable disposition, Roger has magical abilities in the kitchen. But fair or not, I know what a passionate relationship is like, and while Roger is nice, he’s vanilla. I need jalapeño.
Not to mention that I’m lousy at the dating thing. I’ve been out of the pool too long. My fingers and toes have shriveled.
My ‘thanks, but I’m busy’ responses have had the opposite effect from what I intended, turning Roger into a borderline stalker. Problem is I don’t want to alienate him and get blacklisted from his heavenly restaurant.
I shoot out another polite text, hoping he’ll finally get the message. I put the phone away and get to work.
Chapter Three
Evie
Ihook my purse onto the back of the chair and peruse the menu. I would have loved to meet the ladies at Le Marais, but Roger did not get the message, leaving me no choice but to break up with him. If that’s even the term when you’ve met someone only twice. Still, my actions come at a steep price. I have essentially banned myself from the best restaurant in New York City.
Barbie, Sam, and Monique were already here when I arrived, each pausing the furious phone tapping to give me a hug and birthday wishes. Last to arrive, Caroline walks inside looking fit and exhausted. I stand, giving my friend a kiss on each cheek.
The habit started out as a joke fifteen odd years ago and since then has become a natural greeting. Of the five of us, Caroline and I are the closest.
The other three women offer a friendly wave.They are still adjusting to Caroline, the newest member of the club. It may take a while longer.
Caroline removes her dark sunglasses and settles into the chair across from me, taking in the bistro’s hip décor as if she’s landed on a new planet. She runs a manicured hand over her perfect blonde coif. Her plastic surgeon did an outstanding job with her eye lift.
“Hmm, interesting,” Caroline says, her gaze settling on the bun-and-beard-wearing guy dressed in a silk vest tending the well-stocked bar. “What are we getting, other than wine, of course?”
“How about strawberry mojitos?” Barbie suggests.
We all cheerfully murmur our agreement.
Barbie is gorgeous and looks exactly like her namesake, only the Japanese version. Glossy, stick-straight ebony hair and the body of a woman half her age, she built her company from scratch, claiming to never have the time to meet someone.
When a server comes over, Barbie orders the cocktails and Caroline adds, “I’ll have the chicken salad and my friend will have the salmon tartar.”
I take this in stride. Caroline is the only person on the planet allowed to order for me. She is the biggest and best foodie this side of the Mississippi.
“Did you confirm the hotel reservation?” I ask.
“Yep. All set. So is the car.”
Originally, all five of us were planning to go to Yosemite together but then the ladies began dropping like flies. Prior commitments, work, kids’ schedules. Which is honestly fine. I love all these ladies but they’re not exactly the hiking types.
