Chasing Harry Winston. Lauren WeisbergerЧитать онлайн книгу.
was a pause while Izzie considered her words. ‘Well, I’m not sure that it’s exactly like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘We’re talking in circles, Em.’
‘Then be straight with me.’
‘I’m just saying that this isn’t completely and totally out of left field,’ Izzie said softly.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘It’s just when you say that everything collapses at the first sign of, uh, another girl, I’m not exactly sure that would be completely accurate. Not that accurate matters, of course. He’s an idiot and a fool regardless, and so not even remotely in your league.’
‘Okay, fine, so it wasn’t exactly the first sign. Everyone deserves a second chance.’
‘That’s true. But a sixth or a seventh?’
‘Wow. Don’t hold back now, Izzie. Seriously, tell me what you really think.’
‘I know it sounds harsh, Em, but it’s true.’
Together with Leigh and Adriana, Izzie had supported Emmy through more of Duncan’s ‘mistakes,’ ‘poor judgment calls,’ ‘oversights,’ ‘accidents,’ ‘slip-ups,’ and (everyone’s favorite) ‘relapses’ than anyone cared to remember. Emmy knew her sister and friends hated Duncan for putting her through the wringer; their disapproval was palpable and, after the first year, very vocal. But what they didn’t understand, couldn’t possibly understand, was the feeling she got when his eyes found hers at a crowded party. Or when he invited her into the shower and scrubbed her with cucumber-scented sea salt, or got into the cab first so she wouldn’t have to slide across the backseat, or knew to order her tuna rolls with spicy sauce but without crunch. Every relationship comprised such minutiae, of course, but Izzie and the girls simply couldn’t know what it felt like when Duncan turned his fleeting attention toward you and actually focused, even if only for a few moments. It made all the other drama seem like insignificant noise, which is exactly what Duncan always assured her it was: innocent flirtation, nothing more.
What bullshit!
She got angry just thinking about it now. How on earth had she accepted his rationale that passing out on some girl’s couch was understandable – hell, it was downright reasonable – when one drank as much whiskey as he did? What could she possibly have been thinking when she invited Duncan back to her bed without ascertaining an acceptable explanation for the rather disturbing message she’d overheard on his voice mail from ‘an old family friend’? And let’s not even mention that whole debacle that required an emergency trip to the gynecologist where, thankfully, everything was fine except for her doctor’s opinion that Duncan’s ‘nothing little bump’ was most likely a recent acquisition and not, as Duncan insisted, a flare-up from the old college days.
The sound of Izzie’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
‘And I’m not just saying this because I’m your sister, which I am, or because I’m obligated to – which I absolutely am – but because I sincerely believe it: Duncan is never going to change and you two would not, could not – not now or ever – be happy together.’
The simplicity of it almost took her breath away. Izzie, younger than Emmy by twenty months and a near physical clone, once again proved to be infinitely calmer, wiser, and more mature. How long had Izzie felt this way? And why, through all the girls’ endless conversations about Izzie’s once-boyfriend-now-husband Kevin or their parents or Duncan, had Izzie never stated so clearly this most basic truth?
‘Just because you’ve never heard it before doesn’t mean I haven’t said it. Emmy, we’ve all said it. Been saying it. It’s like you went temporarily insane for five years.’
‘You’re a real sweetheart. I bet everyone wishes they had a sister like you.’
‘Please. You and I both know that you’re a serial monogamist and you have trouble defining yourself outside a relationship. Sound familiar? Because if you ask me, it sounds an awful lot like Mom.’
‘Thank you for that stellar armchair insight. Perhaps you can enlighten me as to how all of this is affecting Otis? I’m sure breakups can be devastating on parrots, too. Come to think of it, I should probably consider getting him some counseling. God, I’ve been so self-centered. The bird is suffering!’ Although Izzie was now an ob/gyn resident at University of Miami Hospital, she’d briefly flirted with psychiatry and rarely refrained from analyzing anything – plant, person, or animal – in her path.
‘Joke all you want, Em. You’ve always dealt with everything by making fun of it, and I’m not saying that’s the worst approach. I would just urge you to spend a little time alone. Focus on yourself – do what you want, when you want, without having to consider anyone else’s agenda.’
‘If you even start on that bullshit about two halves not making a whole or something, I’m going to puke.’
‘You know I’m right. Take some time just for you. Re-center your notion of self. Rediscover who you are.’
‘In other words, be single.’ Easy for her to advise from the arms of her loving husband, Emmy thought.
‘Does it really sound so dreadful? You’ve had back-to-back relationships since you were eighteen.’ What she didn’t say was obvious: And that hasn’t exactly worked out.
Emmy sighed and glanced at the clock. ‘I know, I know. I appreciate the advice, Izzie, really I do, but I’ve got to run. Leigh and Adriana are taking me out for the big you’re-better-off-without-him dinner tonight and I have to get ready. Talk to you tomorrow?’
‘I’ll call your cell later tonight from the hospital, sometime after midnight when things slow down. Have a few drinks tonight, okay? Go clubbing. Kiss a stranger. Just please don’t meet your next boyfriend.’
‘I’ll try,’ Emmy promised. Just then, Otis screeched the same word four times in a row.
‘What’s he saying?’ Izzie asked.
‘Panties. He keeps saying panties.’
‘Should I even ask?’
‘No, you most definitely should not.’
For the very first time since Leigh had moved into her building, Adriana beat Leigh to the lobby. She did so out of necessity: Adriana had returned from a relaxing day at the salon – date with the hot stranger arranged for the following weekend – to discover that her parents had all but taken over her apartment. Technically speaking it was their apartment, but considering they only stopped by for a few weeks a year, she felt justified in thinking of it as exclusively her home, where they were guests. Impossible, dreaded guests. If they didn’t like the authentic African zebra skins she had selected to replace their boring Oriental rugs or the way she’d arranged for all the lights, shades, and electronic equipment to work by remote control, well, that wasn’t her problem. And no one, not even her parents, could claim they actually preferred their hand-chiseled, specially imported Italian marble shower and hot tub to the ultramodern rainfall shower, sauna, and steam room she’d replaced them with in the master bath. No sane person, at least. Which is precisely why Adriana had to dress and flee as quickly as possible: in four short hours, her sleek sanctuary had become a strife-ridden ring of hell.
Not that she didn’t love them, of course. Her papa was getting older and, at this point in his life, much more mellow than he’d been when Adriana was growing up. He seemed content to let his wife call the shots, and rarely insisted on anything beyond his nightly Cuban and the tradition that each and every one of his children – three from his first wife, three from his second, and Adriana with his current, and hopefully last, wife – reunite at the Rio de Janeiro compound for the weeks before and after Christmas. The opposite had proven true for her mother. Although Mrs de Souza had been relaxed and accepting of Adriana’s teen years and all her sex-and-drug