The Perfect Woman (Rose Gold Book 2) Page 4

  Nina opened her mouth to ask what exactly he meant by that, but before she could, they were interrupted.

  “N? Nina, is that you?”

  Nina turned with shock to find her best friend, Caitlyn Calvert, weaving her way between the tables.

  They had formed a friendship as children when Caitlyn received a scholarship at her preparatory academy, where she had boarded instead of commuting from her hometown of Paterson. She had even stayed with Nina’s family several times when her own home life had been more…difficult.

  Even so, the girls had somewhat drifted apart over the last few years. Nina had gone away to college, but Caitlyn had stayed put on the Upper East Side, by what means, Nina really wasn’t sure. Now, however, Caitlyn looked…different. While they had both grown up over the last few years, the short, pudgy girl with unruly brown hair, a slightly crooked nose, and even more crooked teeth had disappeared. Everything was straightened and bleached, and she must have lost at least twenty pounds since Nina left for Florence. Her glossy hair was now closer to dark caramel than black coffee. In fact, Caitlyn would have been nearly unrecognizable had it not been for that voice.

  “Ahh!” she shrieked as Nina stood to greet her, grateful she wore a very loose-fitting sundress. “It is you! The girls didn’t think you would be back until July at least. Maddie was convinced you’d spend the summer on the continent, but here you are!”

  They traded air kisses, and then Caitlyn joined the table without an invitation.

  “You look wonderful, Cait,” Nina said honestly. “Your hair, your—”

  “Nose?” Caitlyn snickered. “Florian Hendricks actually paid for me to have it done—can you believe that? Men will do anything.”

  Nina’s brow wrinkled. Ah. Any questions about how Caitlyn could afford to stay in New York’s wealthiest neighborhood vanished. “Florian Hendricks? Isn’t he…”

  “Older than the earth? Balder than a golf ball?”

  Beside them, Calvin’s face blackened, and he touched his thinning hairline self-consciously.

  Nina hid a smile. “I was going to say a bit older than you, but I suppose that works.”

  Caitlyn shrugged and flipped her hair over one shoulder, appearing not to notice the other person at the table. “Age is nothing but a number, and the man is crazy about me. Paid for this, this, and these on top of the nose.” As she spoke, she pointed at her lips, hair, and then her breasts, which yes, did look a little bigger and…higher…than before underneath her fitted summer dress. “Of course, you can’t say a word. You won’t, my love, will you?”

  Some people were overwhelmed by Caitlyn’s somewhat manic energy, but Nina had always enjoyed it. Like Calvin, she was a social climber, but Nina found her honesty about it refreshing in a world of veiled references. Caitlyn knew what she had to offer the world, and what she didn’t. And somehow, someway, she managed to make it charming. Almost as if she saw herself with the same tongue in cheek that everyone else did.

  “No,” Nina assured her with a smile. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Good.” She grinned. “Because I’m aiming for some jewelry out of this too, before the old coot gets bored with me. Can’t have a reputation, if you know what I mean. And this all goes for you too, whoever you are.” She turned to Calvin. “Who are you, anyway?”

  They turned to find Calvin eyeing Caitlyn with an expression Nina couldn’t quite understand. Irritation? Greed? Admiration? Everything?

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Caitlyn chattered on. “How rude of Nina not to introduce us. I’m Caitlyn Calvert, her oldest friend.”

  She offered her hand, dangling a bright diamond tennis bracelet as she looked Calvin over, taking in everything from his ill-fitted suit to his stained overshirt to his cheap shoes. Calvin took a large gulp of beer, leaving a thin line of moisture on his top lip, then accepted her hand.

  “Calvin Gardner.” He glanced at Nina. “I need to use the john. I’ll leave you to reacquaint. And I know you’ll make the right decision, princess. You did before.”

  He stood up, causing his chair to screech on the deck and a cascade of crumbs to fall to the ground. As he left, another wave of nausea swept through Nina. Midday “morning” sickness. Or maybe just the idea of committing herself to a sham marriage. Or perhaps the prospect of telling Grandmother that she was pregnant with her professor’s illegitimate child.

  It could have been any of them. Nina had no way of knowing.

  “So what’s his story?” Caitlyn asked as she watched Calvin go. “Obviously, I wouldn’t blame you for an affair with an older man, but you don’t have the same needs I do. A few more years and your trust will pay for any new body parts you want. But that man? Those Macy’s shoes and the Men’s Wearhouse special tell me he’s not worth more than five figures, even—and he’s not packing much anywhere else either.”

  Nina snorted lightly. “That’s ridiculous, Cait.”

  “Hey, in my experience, what they say about a man’s foot size definitely applies to the rest of his extremities. That guy’s feet are no bigger than a size eight. Nine, tops.”

  Ironically, Grandmother had said something similar after meeting Calvin. Well, not about foot size, but about his financial prospects. Nina had actually considered offering to take him for a fitting at Armani, if only to help him make a better impression with the people whose assistance he wanted. His potato-shaped physique probably wouldn’t fit the Italian lines anyway.

  Nina kept quiet when a waiter returned and took Caitlyn’s order for a dry Chardonnay. Like most restaurants in the city, he did not request identification.

  “And for you, miss?” he asked Nina. “Anything else?”

  “Some sparkling water, please,” she said absently. “And maybe ginger tea if you have it?” Anything to wash the taste of minty animal flesh from her mouth.

  “Right away, ma’am. Would you like me to box that up for you?”

  Nina pushed her plate away. “No, thank you. Just remove it, please.”

  Caitlyn’s sharp blue gaze flickered back and forth between Nina, the plate full of food, and the waiter as he left. Then she leaned close.

  “Be honest. You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

  Nina had just sipped her ice water and nearly coughed it across the table. “What?”

  Caitlyn grinned. “No wine? No eating? Plus, it’s not just the lake, love—you look green in the face. And you’re hanging out with that.” She wrinkled her surgically enhanced nose in the direction Calvin had gone. “Why don’t you just take care of it? Then you wouldn’t be stuck with him. We all get Prosecco goggles from time to time, but there’s no reason to martyr yourself to a one-night stand. Especially when it looks like that.”

  Nina swallowed as the pit in her stomach tightened again. “I—it just wasn’t right. Not for me.”

  “So it is his?” Caitlyn pressed.

  “Hmm? Whose?”

  “Whose do you think, silly? Calvin’s, of course. I’m just asking, N. We don’t really know what you were up to in the last year. For all I know, you had some delicious love affair with a hot Italian rogue.” She chuckled, as if the idea was absolutely hilarious. “Don’t worry,” she said with a conspiratorial wink. “I won’t tell a soul.”

  Caitlyn had no idea how right she was, Nina thought. For a moment, she considered confiding in her. She thought about saying that’s exactly what had happened. And more than that, she had fallen so desperately in love with the most wonderful and unavailable man in the world that she couldn’t bear to give up any other piece of him, including his baby.

  But if she did that, she might as well call Page Six and have them run a spread.

  The photographers would find Peppe. They would destroy his family. His entire life. And that, despite everything, Nina would never ever do.

  So, she let the assumption of Calvin’s paternity stand.

  “Caitlyn, really,” she said quietly. “You can’t say anything until I speak to Celeste. At least for a few days.” />
  Immediately, Caitlyn sobered. She reached out to clutch Nina’s hand, and for a moment, Nina felt her heart rate calm.

  “Oh, N,” she said with a soft squeeze. “Of course. You don’t even have to ask.”

  Caitlyn really could be a good friend when she wanted. As had Calvin thus far, Nina had to admit. Perhaps he was being honest about the suggestion that a marriage between them would be a temporary arrangement. If he was truly her friend…would that be so bad?

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  “We’ve always kept each other’s secrets, haven’t we? You’re like my own sister.”

  Nina sighed. “You can imagine what’s going to happen, after everything that happened with Eric.”

  At the mention of Nina’s cousin, Caitlyn looked truly pained. It was no secret that she had nursed an intense infatuation with Eric since they were all children. His engagement had nearly ruined her. And now that he was gone…well, Caitlyn couldn’t be happy about that either. Florian Hendricks or not.

  “It’s all just terrible,” she agreed in a voice that cracked. “Have you—have you heard from him?”

  Nina shook her head. “Nothing. He hates all of us now. And I don’t blame him. Why wouldn’t he, considering what they did? Our kind of people can be so awful to others when they don’t fit in.”

  Caitlyn pressed her slightly fuller lips together. She’d been on the receiving end of a few of those comments herself over the years.

  “Which means you can’t disappoint them either,” she said with full understanding. “Of course not. But if your grandmother finds out about this baby, she will be enraged. Oh, N, what are you going to do if you’re not getting rid of it?”

  “Did you tell her the news?”

  They both turned to find Calvin back at the table, still adjusting his pants and wiping his damp hands on his jacket. Caitlyn’s lip curled with slight disgust. Nina trained her face blank. Was she really going to…marry…this man? Would anyone in her family believe she’d willingly attach herself to someone so uncouth?

  Calvin sat down and smiled at Caitlyn, who looked like she was fighting to maintain a straight face.

  “News?” she asked. “What news is that, N?”

  “I’ll let you tell her, princess.” Calvin raised one brow, and his gaze darted between Nina and Caitlyn as he grabbed his beer and took another thick, messy gulp.

  Was that a threat or a reminder? Nina couldn’t tell. But fear danced up her spine regardless. Of what, she couldn’t quite say, but if she closed her eyes, she could still see the pictures of Eric at Penny’s funeral. And the smug look on Grandmother’s face behind him.

  Ostracization.

  Financial ruin.

  Total humiliation within and outside of her family’s home.

  Maybe someone’s death.

  These were the things facing Nina if she went it alone.

  “You have to keep this to yourself too, Cait,” she told her friend with as much conviction as she could muster. “At least for a few days. But you might as well hear it first.”

  Caitlyn leaned in, bright blue eyes dancing with anticipation. She loved nothing better than a secret.

  Nina swallowed thickly. Her throat was so dry.

  “Yes,” Calvin said as he set a hand over hers. “I’ve just asked Nina to marry me. Do you want to tell her what you said, princess?”

  A breeze floated off the water, catching a leaf of lettuce Calvin had dropped earlier and carrying it away into the pond.

  Nina swallowed hard. Calvin’s thick fingers didn’t move from hers. Her stomach turned, reminding her of what she was harboring.

  “I—I said…” She drifted off, then finally managed to drag her gaze back to Caitlyn’s. Her voice was barely a whisper. “I said yes.”

  Chapter Three

  June 2008

  “Nina. Nina.”

  The name bounced through the dusty chapel, echoing off plaster walls beyond flowered hats and polite faces.

  Nina blinked and found Calvin Gardner, her husband-to-be, glaring at her from the other side of the altar while the officiant blinked through oversized glasses like a bemused owl.

  “For God’s sake,” Calvin hissed, pulling for the tenth time at the part of his stiff tuxedo collar that dug into his jowls. “Can you answer the man’s question?”

  Nina took a moment to remember where she was. A church. In a white dress. In front of friends, family, and an assortment of people who had come to watch the novelty of an heiress marry a nobody.

  Marry.

  The strength of the word hit her in the stomach yet again. The same way the word “object” had just a minute or two before.

  When the minister had asked the assembly in a bored tone whether anyone objected, Nina had chanced a peek through her veil. No one had raised a hand.

  She had looked to the doors at the back of the hall, half expecting to see Peppe, or maybe even Eric, crash through them.

  The doors stayed firmly shut.

  Nina took a deep breath, trying and failing to ignore the way the boning of her dress—yes, her wedding dress—dug into her expanding ribs. It had only been days since her final fitting, and at almost ten weeks along, she was already outgrowing it.

  It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t have chosen this dress for herself under normal circumstances anyway. Too much lace covering her arms and bodice, the full skirt wider than it was tall.

  But then again, this wasn’t the wedding Nina would have chosen either. No little girl dreams of getting pregnant out of wedlock and marrying a man who vaguely resembles a banana muffin, all before she’s twenty-one. She had always seen herself getting married on the beach, perhaps near her family’s estate in the Hamptons. Wearing a slip dress like Catherine Bessette-Kennedy, not one like Grace of Monaco. Dancing in the moonlight in the arms of a man who loved her.

  She should have known it was time to forfeit those dreams the second she met Peppe. She should have known in that moment that she would never be worthy of them.

  Nina swallowed as she looked between Calvin’s livid face and the minister’s. “Um, I’m so sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Calvin muttered.

  The minister adjusted his glasses and patted Calvin kindly on the shoulder like he was calming a toddler about to throw a tantrum. It didn’t seem to work.

  “Of course, dear. It happens all the time.” He cleared his voice and repeated, in a louder voice: “Nina Evelyn Astor de Vries, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”

  St. Mark’s Church in-the-Bowery was silent, the only noise the occasional whisper of paper fans and screech of rented chairs on the wood floors. It was hot, even for late June in New York, and the second-oldest church in the city did not have working air-conditioning that day.

  One hundred and four of New York’s most elite people—her people, as Nina had been told all her life—were crunched onto the chairs, fanning their sweat-soaked faces while they awaited her response. It was a small crowd by de Vries standards. Even Aunt Heather’s second wedding was twice this size at the Vineyard, and that had been called a modest affair.

  “Ahem.”

  In the front row, Celeste de Vries’s light cough spoke volumes. She, like the rest of the family, looked perfectly put together in her light pink Chanel suit, her silver hair pinned into a classic French twist, and a wide-brimmed hat tipped elegantly to one side. Beside her, Nina’s mother, Violet, watched with only a slightly less bored than usual expression through her typical Chardonnay glaze. Edwin Astor, unsurprisingly, had elected not to come. Too short notice, he’d said. And with only two weeks between the announcement and this strange procession, he was right.

  It was short notice. For everyone.

  Nina looked down to where Calvin cuffed her shaki
ng hands with his thick fingers, his thumb brushing over the diamond engagement ring that Nina had purchased for herself only a week before. She studied the lace that covered her body from wrist to neck like a straitjacket and forced herself to breathe. Then she looked to the floor, where the tips of her Zanotti pumps peeked from under the layers of tulle and taffeta.

  Everything suffocated. Everything.

  Don’t cry, she thought to herself as she pressed into her feet to stand tall. Don’t cry. You mustn’t cry. They’ll never stop talking about you if you do.

  And wasn’t that the point of today? To fade into obscurity, away from their prying eyes? Marry a nondescript man in a nondescript dress and live a nondescript life until it didn’t matter anymore?

  All she had to do was not cry while she did it.

  It was very, very hard.

  “Nina.”

  For a moment, she saw him. Peppe. The slightly worn skin from too many summers under the olive trees. The salt-and-pepper hair curled a little too long over his ears. The large friendly eyes protected by the glasses that constantly slid down his long nose.

  She imagined he was the one standing at this altar, clutching her hands, waiting for her to make the promise that would bind her to him for life. She imagined that they hadn’t said goodbye that terrible day at the station. That he hadn’t gone back to his wife and children. That she wasn’t here. Pregnant. Alone.

  Well, she was alone. Wasn’t she?

  “Nina!”

  Nina blinked again, and it wasn’t Peppe’s voice calling her back to the present, but Calvin’s. The man who had stumbled upon her somewhere outside a nameless Queens clinic, then sat with her in silent support as she made a decision that would change the rest of her life.

  For that, she supposed she owed him everything.

  In front of them, people were openly whispering. Celeste scowled. How one person’s expression could contain all number of threats, Nina would never understand. But she felt them. And would endure all of them if she embarrassed herself and everyone there by doing what she desperately wanted—to walk out of this church and leave it all behind. Even if it meant she risked the sincere wrath of Celeste de Vries to claim her freedom.