He stood. “You’re making a mistake. He’s never going to love you the way I did.”
She wanted to say she didn’t need his kind of love in her life, but then remembered if all went well, Glen would be her brother-in-law, so best to keep things civil.
“Goodbye, Glen.”
He started to say something, then shook his head and walked out. Ali stayed in her chair, making sure she felt okay, then pushed all thoughts of Glen from her mind and went back to work.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Finola double-checked her appearance in the well-lit mirror in her temporary dressing room. Every hair was in place, the makeup was understated and the sleeveless dress had been tailored to fit her perfectly. She touched the bouquet of flowers Zennie and Ali had sent and smiled at the spray of balloons from Rochelle and the team back in LA. She was really doing this. In less than thirty minutes, she would be live on a national show.
She sat in her chair and closed her eyes before inhaling for a count of four. She held her breath as she counted to eight, then exhaled slowly.
When her breathing exercises were done, she walked out of the dressing room and found the sound guy to help her feed the microphone under the front of her dress and around to the rear of the armhole before he clipped the pack on the back of her belt. One of the producers, a young, thin guy in his early thirties, rushed over.
“You ready?” he asked, sounding anxious.
“It’s going to be fine.”
“If you say so. I wouldn’t have picked this topic in a million years, but it’s too late to change your mind now.”
She smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
Finola walked onto the set and faced the cameras. There were three and they were remotely controlled, which made it seem as if they were alive and moving however they wanted. She told herself not to be distracted, that she was going to be great, then smiled as she was given the count.
“Five, four, three—”
The two and one were done silently, then the red light went on.
“Good morning. I’m Finola Corrado, filling in this week, and welcome to our ten o’clock hour.” She focused on staying relaxed and reading from the teleprompter.
“In recent months, as many of you know, my personal life was in the news. My husband had an affair with a famous singer and I found myself being part of the story instead of reporting the story. This was a change for me, and not a very fun one.”
She paused to flash a rueful smile. “I was scared, I was angry and I was hurt. I spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself and maybe drinking a little too much wine. But then, as the wounds stopped bleeding quite so much, I started thinking. About my marriage and the other relationships in my life, about what it takes to make another person happy while staying true to ourselves.”
She paused. “If you’re hoping for salacious details about my personal life this week, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. But what I would like to talk about instead is what makes a good marriage and how marriages go wrong. Unless there’s abuse, no relationship failure is just one person’s fault. Even mine. I might not have cheated, but I wasn’t the wife I could have been. I’m hoping the guests I’ve invited to join us will be informative and interesting and that we’re all going to learn something. So let’s get started.”
She turned toward the sofa and chairs as her first guest walked out.
The hour passed in a blur. Finola kept to her notes when she could, but there were a couple of times everyone got off on a tangent. She went with the conversation, then returned them all to the point of the segment. Without audience feedback, she had no idea how the show was being received, but she told herself she knew what she was doing and to trust her gut. When the camera light went off at four minutes to the top of the hour, she felt as if she’d run five marathons.
The skinny producer was back. He stared at her in disbelief.
“That was incredible. Really honest and raw without being maudlin. The psychologist was perfect. I don’t, as a rule, like shrinks, but she knew her stuff. If the other shows are this good, you’ve got a winning series, Finola.”
“Thank you.”
She walked back to her temporary dressing room. People congratulated her, but as she didn’t know who they were the praise wasn’t all that meaningful. She missed her regular crew where she knew what they were thinking by the looks on their faces.
When she picked up her phone, she saw dozens of texts. She scrolled through them until she found one from Rochelle.
You kicked ass, lady! I’m incredibly proud of you and I had nothing to do with it. LOL. Miss you.
There were warm congratulations from her sisters and an unexpected text from Nigel.
Thanks for not making me the asshole.
Finola changed into jeans and a T-shirt. She planned to walk around the city for a couple of hours before returning to her hotel room to put the final touches on tomorrow’s show. The guests were confirmed, so all she had to do was review her notes.
She slipped on sunglasses and made her way outside. No one had any idea who she was and if they did, they didn’t care. She blended in with the pedestrians, heading north, toward the Peninsula Hotel.
The midday air was warming up rapidly. By five it would be close to eighty. The sky was blue and the hustle and bustle oddly comforting.
She’d come a long way, she thought. She’d been reduced to emotional rubble and she’d built herself back up, stronger this time. On the way, she’d lost her marriage and her innocence, but she’d learned a lot and she liked to think she was a better person for it. If only there had been an easier way. If only she could have read a self-help book instead. Except life didn’t work that way. Most people avoided the difficult and painful until it was forced upon them. Most people learned by going through the trial, not just reading about it. Most people didn’t realize the cost until it was too late.
* * *
Zennie told herself there was no reason to be nervous. Friends were allowed on the Sunday morning runs and she’d invited a friend. So while she hadn’t technically violated the rules, she still felt guilty.
Cassie arrived at the Woodley Park/Lake Balboa loop parking lot right after her.
“Hey,” Cassie called as she got out of her car. “I’m glad we’re meeting early. It’s going to get hot today and you know I hate sweating. How are you feeling?”
“Good.” Zennie hugged her. “The pregnancy thing might be getting easier.”
“I’m happy to hear that. Now what’s up?”
“What do you mean?”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “You’re obviously hiding something. It’s not gonna be that you’re pregnant, so what is it?”
“I invited Clark to join us.”
DeeDee drove up just then, giving Zennie a thirty-second reprieve that lasted until Cassie yelled, “Zennie invited a boy.”
“And in your delicate condition,” DeeDee said with a laugh. “Is this a new boy or an old boy?”
“That is the strangest question.”
“An old boy.” Cassie grinned. “Cla-ark.” She drew the name out in a singsong tone.
“The zoo guy? He broke up with you a couple of months ago, didn’t he?”
“Note to self,” Zennie muttered. “Say less to you two. Yes, we broke up, then he got in touch with me and suggested we hang out as friends. So we are. I’m also friends with C.J. and you never say anything about her.”
“You hanging out with a woman isn’t as interesting,” DeeDee said. “So is it serious?”
“We’re just friends.”
Cassie and DeeDee exchanged a look. “If you say so,” Cassie said as Clark pulled up.
“Be nice,” Zennie told her girlfriends. “Please, I beg you. Don’t say anything...”
“Embarrassing?” Cassie asked. “Or mention the fact that, while you and your two sisters all got dumped the same weekend, you’re the only one back together with the guy?”
Zennie groaned. “Yes, saying that would be a problem.”
Cassie and DeeDee shared a high five.
Zennie knew that however much they teased her, they wouldn’t embarrass her. They cared about her and would be there for her. Unlike Gina who had disappeared from her life. And although Zennie didn’t like to think about it, while her mother had come around, her father hadn’t. Oh, he’d said all the right things, but things between them were different.
The rejection hurt her, but she knew there was nothing to do about it. She’d confronted him and told him what she thought. What he did with that was up to him. Funny how getting pregnant had helped her see who she could trust and who she couldn’t.
Clark joined them, looking especially cute in shorts and a T-shirt. Zennie introduced him and they all shook hands.
“Just so we’re clear,” he said cheerfully, “I expect you all to leave me in the dust and I’m okay with that. Strong women don’t intimidate me.”
“Oooh, good answer,” Cassie said. “But we’re not really running that fast these days. Someone is in a delicate condition. We make allowances because we love her.”
Zennie knew her friend was just being herself, but somehow the words caught her off guard with their heartfelt support. She fought against tears, telling herself the stupid hormones would not control her life.