There are too many entries to read them all right now, so I skip to the last one. Bell—who is Bell?
Bell,
I cheated on Harold. I had sex in a public ladies’ room with a British man who made me come with his tongue.
“Ew. No, no, no!” I slam the journal shut, wrap the leather strap around it, and slip it under the folded lingerie at the back of the drawer then fit it back into the dresser. There are more words to the final entry, but my stomach can’t bear to read them all right now—or ever.
Karma. There she goes again, punishing me for my wrong doings.
My ability to think vanishes. I grab the first outfit that matches and wait for Nellie, perching myself on the cream bench at the end of her canopy bed with spindle wood posts carved in intricate detail. I shake my head, looking over at the fireplace. Her bedroom is three times the size of my flat.
“Oh!”
My head whips around. “Good morning!”
Nellie tightens the sash on her plush white dressing gown and adjusts the towel wrapped around her head. “I didn’t know you were here. You should have said something.”
“I didn’t want to disrupt your bath. Here.” I hold up the gray trousers and white blouse.
“Maybe I should wear a dress today. Will we be seeing your father?”
No. Never again will you see Oscar or his tongue. A grimace attempts to consume my face in spite of my effort to appear neutral on this disturbing situation.
“I’m afraid he’s left.”
“Left? To go where?”
This lady has not cared about a single thing other than coupons, secondhand-clothes shopping, and talking about dead people as if they’re still alive. Now—now she’s interested?
“Just away. I’m not sure.”
Oh. My. God. Are those tears in her eyes? She’s married and mentally not right. Why? Why is she fighting back tears over sex in the loo with a man who is no good for her? Nolan thought she’d be devastated if Harold left her. This is the face of a devastated woman, but not because her husband left her. Oscar Stone. That wanker has worked his magic again.
“Actually, I think he said something about doing some sightseeing before he leaves. It’s possible he could pop by again in a week or so.”
Relief evaporates her tears and a huge smile grows across her face. I should never have introduced them. Never. Ever. Ever.
“Do you work out?” She tugs the towel from her head and dries her matted hair some more.
“Sorry?”
“Jogging? Pilates? Swimming?”
“Um… I used to run quite a bit. Now I enjoy walking and sometimes yoga and meditation.”
Nellie frowns. “I think I’m going to need a bit more than that to whip this saggy body back into shape.”
“You look perfect. You’re not a bit over weight.”
“Thank you, sweetie, but I really need to firm things up. I didn’t realize how loose everything was until…”
No, no, no… Why is she blushing? Stop blushing. Stop implying things that make me nauseous.
“So, how did you and Harold meet?” He’s a total arsebadger, and I really don’t care, but I can’t sit idle while this whole thing turns into a clusterfuck under my supervision. The house, the money, everything is Nellie’s. If she doesn’t love him, then cut the weasel off at his bollocks and send him packing.
The frown reappears. “My Debutante Ball. He was one of my two escorts. Carlton was bred just for me.” She rolls her eyes.
I’ve never seen her roll her eyes.
