“So when did you figure it all out?”
“My first year of college. I met this older girl.”
Zennie leaned forward. “She was what? Twenty?”
“Nineteen and very worldly. She’d been to France.”
“Oh la la.”
“I know. It was amazing. The first time she kissed me, I just knew. When we made love, it was perfection. She broke my heart and I was devastated, but at least I knew where I belonged.”
“Does your family know?”
“Yes, and while they’re not happy, they’re supportive, if that makes sense.”
Their server delivered their drinks. They toasted each other. C.J. drank her shot of tequila, then picked up her margarita.
“So, Mom says you’re a nurse.”
“I am. I work in the OR, mostly with cardiologists. It’s intense, but I love it. No two days are the same. We save lives—nothing beats that.”
C.J. looked crushed. “You’re right. I mean all I do is sell real estate.” She set down her drink. “What am I saying? I find people their homes. That’s important, too. Okay, you get to be the most special, but I’m right there, one rung down.”
“Half a rung,” Zennie told her. “Where’s your territory?”
“East Valley, mostly. I flirt with Burbank but you know that market is pretty specialized. Do you own your own place?”
“I wish, but no. I have a little studio close to the hospital.”
“You should buy something. It’s good to build equity. The rest of the country’s real estate market goes up and down but this is LA. We’re always going to be growing.” One eyebrow rose. “Unless you’re secretly waiting for a man to tell you it’s okay.”
“Ouch. Not that.” Zennie paused. “Okay, maybe that, but only because I wasn’t paying attention and wow is that stupid. What have I been waiting for?”
“I have no idea. Maybe you love your place.”
Zennie thought about her small apartment. It was where she lived but it wasn’t exactly what she’d envisioned for herself. At first she’d liked the convenience, but she supposed that in the back of her mind, she’d always assumed she would...
“I’ve been waiting for a man,” she said, shocking herself with the truth. “I didn’t even know. I’ve been brainwashed by societal pressures.”
“It happens to all of us. Awareness isn’t easy. So what other dreams have you put on hold?”
“Are you judging me?”
C.J. held up her hands again. “Not me, sister. Career-wise, I kick ass, but in my personal life, I jump into relationships way too fast. If someone wants a second date, I’m immediately planning our lives together. It’s awful. I hate being alone. It’s like a death sentence. So I’m a mess.” She flashed a smile. “But I look good.”
“You do. Okay, other dreams put on hold. I want to learn Italian and go to Italy. Not just for a week, but like for a month. I want to experience the rhythm of life there.”
“Excellent goal. So start today. Get one of those language apps and learn Italian. You could be ready to go by the fall.”
Zennie shook her head. “Not this fall.”
“Giving in to fear?”
“I’m hoping to be pregnant.”
C.J.’s brown eyes widened. She gulped her margarita, then waved over the server. “I’m so going to need another one of these, then I want to hear the story. You’re going to have a baby?”
“Not for me. For a friend.”
“That is way more than house-sitting a cat.”
Zennie laughed, then told her about Bernie and the surrogacy. “I haven’t told my mom yet, so please don’t say anything.”
“I won’t and for the record, I don’t hang out with your mom. Not that she isn’t lovely, but I have my own mother to guilt me into things. A baby. I don’t know that I would do that for a friend. You dazzle me.”
“Thanks. I get it’s a big deal, but Bernie’s been through so much and I know she’ll be a great mom. She teaches kindergarten, so she’s all prepared.”
“Amazing.” C.J. looked at her. “All right, I say let’s be friends.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good. I’m going to the restroom. When I get back, we’ll order dinner, then talk trash about our exes. How’s that?”
“Sounds perfect.”
C.J. got up and walked toward the back of the restaurant. Zennie pulled out her phone and texted her mother.
Not a lesbian, Mom. I thought we’d talked about this before.
Just checking. You might have changed your mind.
I haven’t, although C.J. is nice. We’re going to be friends, so the odds of grandchildren with her are slim.
You’re killing me, Zennie. Right now, I’m lying here dead.
Night, Mom.
Dead people can’t text.
Zennie was still chuckling when she put her phone away.
Chapter Twelve
Finola arrived home from the studio to find Nigel’s bleached and ruined clothes pulled from the pool and neatly folded on the back deck. She had no idea what the pool guy had thought when he’d seen them, but doubted he’d more than blinked. After all, this was Los Angeles and crazy things happened here, even in the valley.
She walked out of the kitchen, formulating her plan for the evening. She would start with a hot shower, then she would redo her makeup, get changed and leave. Traffic would be a mess, but if she got there early, then it was only a win for her.
She’d barely started up the stairs when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen, saw it was her stepfather and answered the call as she sank down onto a stair.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, yourself. Your mother told me what happened. I wanted to find out how you were doing.”
Finola sighed, ready for a little parental comforting. “It’s been awful, as you can imagine. What was Nigel thinking? I mean cheating is one thing, but with her? And telling me the way he did. I can’t even describe how hard that was.”
She felt her eyes fill with tears. “Oh, Dad, he was mean and she was a bitch and everyone’s going to know and it’s all ruined.”
She drew in a breath and waited for him to say something. There was only silence.
“Dad? Aren’t you going to say something?”
“I’m sorry you’re in pain.”
That was it? “I was looking for more sympathy.”
“I’m sure you were, but you have plenty of people to give you that. I want to make sure you’re asking the right questions.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why.”
“Why what?”
“Why it happened, Finola.” He spoke slowly, as if to a child.
“What do you mean, why it happened? Why did Nigel cheat? I have no idea. Why did he choose that bimbo child? Because he could. Because she’s young and beautiful. Did he think about me even once? Did he think about us or our marriage or what’s going to happen when it all hits the fan? I doubt it. I had nothing to do with what happened. I’m his wife. I have loved him and taken care of him.” She shifted the phone to her other ear. “I wanted us to get pregnant while we were in Hawaii. Now that’s never going to happen.”
Her stepfather sighed. “You need to ask why. Why did he do this? Why now? Why with her? And how much of it is your fault?”
“What?” She glared at the phone. “My fault? Mine? Are you insane? It’s not my fault. I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve been right here, living our life, while he’s been off fucking who knows who. He told me right before the show. Did Mom mention that? He told me five goddamn minutes before I was going to face his mistress on live television. I don’t care why he did it. I just want him punished.”
And back, a voice in her head whispered. Despite everything, she also wanted him back.
“No breakup is just one person’s fault,” Bill said quietly. “Very few are even eighty-twenty. There’s always shared blame.”
She felt fury rise up inside of her. “How nice. When did you get this insight? What is your blame in your failed marriage?”
“I knew from the start Mary Jo didn’t love me the way I loved her. I knew she thought she was trading her dreams for someone safe. I could never make your mother’s dreams come true, but I married her anyway. The real problems started when I stopped trying to make them come true. The work was too hard and I checked out emotionally a long time before we split up. That’s on me.”
She hadn’t expected her stepfather to be so honest. “Mom doesn’t make it easy all the time.”
“No, she doesn’t, but then neither do I. I don’t regret marrying her and I’m not saying we should have stayed together. But I will accept my share of the responsibility.”
“Neither of you cheated. You can’t know what that’s like.”
“You’re right, I can’t. But I do know that cheating is only part of it. The big question is still why, and until you can answer that, you’ll never be able to move on.” He coughed. “I’m sorry you’re going through this, I truly am. But how I feel isn’t important. Your feelings are the ones that matter. As long as you’re a victim, you’re losing.”