He nodded, his eyes understanding. “The invitation’s open-ended, so you can call me any time you change your mind. Ten years from now, whenever.”
She managed a smile. “Sure. Thank you.”
Amandine went home, her mind churning, her eyes burning with unshed tears. How could her day go from such bright optimism to this? She couldn’t seem to process anything. Should she confront Gavin? What would she say? What should she say?
The house was empty. She’d asked Luna to leave early since they were going to eat out.
Her feet moved automatically, leading her upstairs to the dark bedroom. She flicked the light switch on and blinked. The sight of new flowers on the nightstand punched her in the gut, stealing her breath.
They were yellow roses—Catherine’s favorite.
Chapter Four
AMANDINE DROVE STRAIGHT to Brooke’s apartment. Staying at the mansion was not an option. The cloying scent of yellow roses was suffocating.
She pulled into a guest parking spot, killed the engine and went up the walk to Brooke’s apartment building. It wasn’t the nicest apartment complex around, but it was familiar enough. Amandine had lived there, on the ninth floor like Brooke, until she’d married Gavin.
Amandine punched in 9-0-4 on the intercom and waited.
A small red light lit on the panel. “Yeah?” came Brooke’s no-nonsense voice, reserved to discourage any door-to-door salespeople.
“It’s me.”
The door unlocked with a harsh, metallic click. Amandine shook her head as she took in the cracked floor and dirty walls. The building’s location made up for the lack of amenities, but jeez. It had gone downhill since she’d moved out, and the management apparently hadn’t done a thing to upgrade the place since then. How much could a fresh coat of paint cost? At least one of the lobby’s naked bulbs was still on to keep the area lit. She took the elevator up, hugging herself.
Brooke’s apartment door was ajar. “Come on in,” she called out from the inside as though she’d sensed Amandine’s presence, something she always seemed to be able to do.
Amandine slipped in and closed the door. “Sorry to barge in after giving you the rest of the day off.”
“It’s all right. Have a seat,” Brooke said from the open kitchen.
After taking off her shoes, Amandine settled on a crimson couch and tucked her feet under her.
Brooke’s apartment was as bold as her personality. A dizzying palette of magenta, teal, gold and daffodil yellow covered every inch of the standard rental’s white walls and pale brown carpet in the form of prints, hangings and rugs. A sharp envy pricked Amandine. She loved color too, but she hadn’t dared modify Gavin’s mansion. A team of high-priced interior decorators had worked on it, and Amandine didn’t think he’d appreciate her undoing the expensive pro job.
Brooke padded out on bare feet with two steaming mugs of herbal tea. Her crimson, gold and black toenails looked stunning. Amandine hadn’t seen the new pedicure earlier that day.
Handing Amandine a mug, Brooke took an armchair near the couch. “Drink,” she commanded. “It’s good for morning sickness. Sandy used to have it all the time when she was pregnant.”
She hadn’t experienced any nausea yet, but the mug warmed her cold fingers. Amandine hunched a bit over the tea, inhaling its steam.
“Why aren’t you at La Mer?”
“Catherine’s not married.”
Brooke’s thickly m
ascaraed eyelashes fluttered like butterfly’s wings for a moment. “Well, that’s not the answer I was expecting. What the heck happened? She file for divorce?”
“No. She was never married.”
“What are you talking about? She got married in front of everyone. You were her maid of honor, remember?”
“Yes.” Amandine rubbed her forehead in misery. “But it turns out Jacob wasn’t free to marry her.”
Brooke was staring at her now.
Amandine closed her eyes, trying to marshal her thoughts into some kind of order. “It turns out Jacob was already married. Well, still is married to some str—woman he met in Las Vegas.” The word was actually hard to say; she couldn’t imagine any Lloyd marrying a stripper. “Apparently he didn’t divorce her before marrying Catherine.”