Last Night at Chateau Marmont
Page 90

“Yeah,” Brooke said, suddenly overcome with the urge to cry. She’d been crying intermittently for over a week now, and anything—or nothing—could set it off. Now it was the sight of a couple about her age sharing an order of French toast. They were mock-fighting over every piece, each pretending to spear a bite before the other could get a fork on it. Then they’d laugh and exchange that look. The one that said, No one else in the world exists. The one that Julian now gave to strangers in hotel rooms.
And there it was again. The mental picture of Julian and Janelle, wrapped in a naked embrace, kissing passionately. Gently sucking on that girl’s lower lip, exactly the same way he would with—
“You okay?” Nola asked, reaching across the table to put her hand over Brooke’s.
She tried to suppress the tears, but she couldn’t. Almost instantly, hot, fat droplets were coursing down her cheeks, and although she didn’t sob or gasp for breath or shake, Brooke felt like she might never be able to stop. “I’m sorry,” she said miserably, wiping them away as subtly as she could manage with her napkin.
Nola nudged Brooke’s Bloody Mary closer. “Another sip. There you go. This is to be expected, sweetheart. Let it out.”
“I’m sorry, it’s so humiliating,” Brooke whispered. She glanced around and was relieved that no one seemed to be looking at her.
“You’re upset. It’s only natural,” Nola said, softer than Brooke could ever remember her speaking. “Have you talked to him recently?”
Brooke blew her nose as delicately as she could manage, immediately feeling guilty for doing so in the restaurant’s cloth napkin. “We spoke the night before last. He was in Orlando, doing something for Disney World, I think, and he’s getting ready to go to England for a week. A paid performance and some kind of huge music festival? I’m not sure.”
Nola’s mouth tightened.
“I’m the one who told him we needed time, Nol. I asked him to leave that night and said we needed some space to figure things out. He’s only gone because I insisted,” Brooke said, wondering why she was still defending Julian.
“So when will you see each other next? Is he deigning to come home after England?”
Brooke ignored the implication. “He’s coming back to New York after England, yes, but he’s not coming home. I told him he needed to stay somewhere else until we figure out what’s going on with us.”
The waiter came over to take their order and thankfully didn’t pay them a moment’s notice. When he left again, Nola said, “So what did you guys talk about? Did you make any progress?”
Brooke popped a sugar cube into her mouth and savored the feeling of it melting on her tongue. “Did we make any progress? No, I wouldn’t say that. We had a fight about Trent’s wedding.”
“What about it?”
“He thinks we should cancel at the last minute out of respect for Trent and Fern. Thinks we’ll ‘overshadow’ their big day with all of our drama. He just doesn’t want to deal with seeing his entire family and every person he grew up with. Which I understand in theory, but it is something he needs to get over. It’s his first cousin’s wedding.”
“So what’s the outcome?”
Brooke sighed. “I know he called Trent and talked about it, but I don’t know. My guess is he won’t go.”
“Well, at the very least it’s good news for you. I’m sure it’s the last thing on earth you want right now.”
“Oh, I’m going. Alone, if I have to.”
“Come on, Brooke. That’s ridiculous. Why put yourself through that?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do, and I just don’t think you can cancel on your own family’s wedding the week before for no good reason. Julian and I wouldn’t even know each other today if it weren’t for Trent, so I think I need to suck it up.”
Nola stirred some milk into her refreshed coffee. “I don’t know whether that’s brave or admirable or just fucking stupid. All of the above, I suspect.”
The urge to cry struck again—this time prompted by the idea of attending Trent’s wedding alone—but she forced the thought from her mind. “Can we talk about something else? You, maybe? I could use some distraction.”
“Hmm, let’s see.” Nola grinned. Clearly she’d been waiting for an opening.
“What?” Brooke asked. “Or should I ask ‘who’?”
“I’m going to Turks and Caicos next week for a long weekend.”
“Turks and Caicos? Since when? Don’t tell me you’re going for work. My god, I am so in the wrong industry.”
“Not for work. For fun. For sex. I’m going with Andrew.”
“Oh, he’s Andrew now? How grown-up. Does that mean it’s serious?”
“No, Drew and I are finished. Andrew is the cab guy.”
“Stop it.”
“What? I’m serious.”
“You’re dating the guy you screwed after meeting in the back of a cab?”
“What’s so weird about that?”
“Nothing’s so weird about it, it’s just incredible! You’re the only woman on the planet who could pull it off. Those guys don’t call the next day. . . .”
Nola gave a sly smile. “I gave him good reason to call the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that, too.”
“You like him, don’t you? Oh my god, you do. You’re blushing. I can’t believe you’re blushing over a boy. Be still, my heart.”
“All right, all right, I like him. Big deal. I’m into it. For now. And I’m very into Turks and Caicos.”
They were interrupted again by the waiter, this time bearing their chopped Chinese chicken salads. Nola nose-dived at her food, but Brooke merely pushed hers around on the plate.
“Okay, so tell me how this came about. Were you lying in bed one night and he said, ‘Let’s go away together?’”
“Sort of. He actually owns a place there. A villa at the Aman. Takes his son there pretty regularly.”
“Nola! You bitch! You didn’t tell me any of this!”
Nola feigned innocence. “Any of what?”
“The fact that you have a boyfriend and he has a villa and a son?”