Page 51 of Cinderella Screwed Me Over
I leaned back in my seat and sighed. “I’m not sure if anything’s going on between us anymore. I’m…I’m not sure what we’re doing.” He hadn’t called, and I was starting to think our whatever was already over. Which sucked, not only because I now felt the need to avoid Blue, but also because I really had enjoyed spending time with him.
Moving on.“Let’s go see what we’ve got to work with.”
Ms. Covington ushered Nadine and me inside. The place looked like no one lived there, the walls and floors completely bare. Still, the bare bones were beautiful: vaulted ceilings, a staircase that twisted up to the top floor, and giant windows facing the mountains.
“I just told them to get rid of all of it,” Barbara said as she gave us the tour. “Let him deal with that stuffy old furniture. I know this little place we should go for lunch, and then I’ll swing you by my friend’s house and show you some of the things she’s done that I love.”
We followed Barbara to her three-car garage and got into her BMW 7-series. The entire drive, Barbara talked. About redecorating; about starting over; about how her husband was already looking for a new, younger model. “You see, in my first marriage, I was a fool for the man. He had no money, but I thought our love would be enough. When our daughter was two, I found out he’d been unfaithful. After that, I knew I needed a way to support myself and my daughter…”
And on she went about her other husbands all through lunch, and all while we toured her friend’s place. She hadn’t loved husband number two, but he was wealthy; three she’d had lukewarm feelings for—he was even wealthier; and number four was a fairy-tale beginning, including being flown to other countries.
By the time I’d heard all about her many men, I felt like I never wanted to deal with one again. If I was pessimistic, Barbara was the eternal pessimist. Yet she managed to find optimism in her pessimism. Her philosophy seemed to be: “If life hands you husbands who don’t work out, make millionaire-ade.”
At the end of the day, as Nadine and I drove away from Barbara’s, I said, “Take it back.”
Nadine furrowed her brow. “Take what back?”
“That I’m anything like Barbara. That’s not my philosophy on love. It’s so depressing.”
“Your philosophy is pretty depressing, too. At least she makes money off it.”
“You’re jumping on the gold-digger idea now?”
Nadine laughed. “No. I don’t really think she’s as happy and chipper as she claims. She just talks like that to make it seem like she’s in control. No one wants to feel like they don’t have power.” She pulled onto the freeway. “It’s like those people who claim they’re anti-marriage because they really want to get married, but no one’s asked them.”
I groaned. “This is getting worse and worse.”
“I’m not talking about you,” Nadine said. “You had your chance to get married and you turned it down. Twice.”
“Not twice.”
“I bet he would’ve asked if you would’ve—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I let out a long breath. “All those stories Barbara told, that’s why I don’t want to get married. I’m wondering if she had them all fooled. They all thought she loved them, but she just loved their money.”
“Now we get to love their money, too. This project’s going to be hard, but we’ll be getting fat commissions.”
My phone rang. I dug it out and looked at the display. It was Jake.
I’d wanted to talk to him so badly for three days, but after spending the afternoon with Barbara, I was grouchy and back to feeling like relationships were all crap.If I talk to him right now, there’s a good chance I’ll screw up everything.
Not willing to risk it, I sent the call to voice mail. Nadine’s comment about my missed chances at marriage dug at me, my heart squeezing as I thought about how I’d let hope seep in, only to be crushed again.
No hope was sad, but having it was dangerous. I suppose the real question was would I be better or worse off in the end?
Chapter Sixteen
As I drove back to Barbara’s house on Thursday morning, I stuck in my earpiece and called Jake. All he’d said in his message last night was, “Give me a call,” so I decided to follow his instructions and see what happened.
“What time should I pick you up for dinner?”
I glanced at my phone to make sure I’d called Jake—yep. “I think you’re confused. This is Darby.”
“I know who it is. So what time works for you?”
“You just sounded like you’d already made plans, and I thought you must not realize it was me.”
“I did already make plans,” Jake said. “All you have to do is say yes.”
