Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(27)
“Why are these f*ckers asking me about Nicole and Gabriel?” I said when she answered the call.
Her silence was telling. My heart sunk a little more.
“Don’t tell me,” I said when she started to speak. “I’ll call you back when I get out of court. I can’t deal with unfortunate news right now. Handle whatever you can handle without me.” I hung up the phone before she could say a damn word. It must be the premiere. It had to be. There was no other explanation for it. Fuck if I liked the sound of it, regardless of the situation.
PICTURES. PILES OF pictures sat on top of my desk. In magazines, in newspapers, in print from what my buddy in the gossip industry was able to gather for me. Images of Nicole and Gabriel kissing on the carpet for the premiere of his newest blockbuster. Images of them gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes. Images of her laughing at whatever he was telling the interviewers from major networkers. Was it an act? Was it real? If it was an act, she had a real future in Hollywood and it had nothing to do with costume design. I hated those pictures. I hated the way he looked at her. I hated that she looked at him—period. I wasn’t a jealous man, but damn did that shit fester inside me.
“At least she only agreed to a premiere,” my secretary said as she walked into my office with her laptop in hand.
“What do you mean?”
Corinne sat in the seat across from me, setting her computer on my desk. She turned it over and pointed at the headline of a popular gossip blog.
Gabriel Lane vows to work on his marriage.
“It’s gossip,” I muttered, running my hands over my face, feeling the exhaustion take hold of me.
“I know, but still. They look pretty freaking happy,” she said, turning her computer to look at it again.
“Do you need anything else?” I asked. Corinne’s eyes widened.
“No. You told me to show you whatever was being talked about, so that’s what I came to do. I think this is it, though.”
I nodded. “Thank you. Can you bring me coffee please? I feel like I’m about to pass out on my desk.”
She stood. “Sure. You want me to hold your calls for an hour?”
I closed my eyes. That would be nice. An hour powernap on my couch. My eyes popped open, trained on the couch across from my desk, and suddenly all I could do was picture me sitting there and Nicole riding me. Fuck. I shook my head.
“No.”
“Okay. I’ll be back with the coffee,” Corinne said in a singsong voice as she walked out.
I wasn’t sure why I was suddenly picturing Nicole and me all over my office, but ever since she came in that day and I was assigned her divorce, she was all I saw. Originally, it had taken months to stop seeing her everywhere when I walked in. Back then, for concentration purposes, I’d had half a mind to trade offices with Bobby, but he had a shit view of the parking lot and the street, and I had the ocean, so I sucked it up and stayed. Now I wish I would’ve traded. I’d rather see grout than deal with thoughts of f*cking my client. My beautiful, spirited, off-limits client.
THE SECOND TO last thing I needed was to see the news that Nicole was staying with Gabriel everywhere. Everywhere. Every magazine, every news outlet, even the major ones that were supposed to report real news were talking about it. Apparently they’d become the it thing to talk about since Nicole was being painted as the fan who caught the star. Bullshit. It was all bullshit. He wasn’t a star when she met and married him, but I guess they’d forgotten that bit, or they didn’t care since this sold more stories. I waited the week out. They’d gone to the premiere on Wednesday night and I’d been dealing with the gossip since, but I had more important things to do like finish up my other case, and it was like Corinne said, she’d only agreed to a couple of things, one being the premiere. As her attorney, I had no right to be upset about it. That didn’t mean it stopped the feelings of annoyance and discomfort from spreading and sticking, though.
I liked to think I was pretty good about leaving my work in the office, unless I had something major pending, but this thing with Nicole felt like it was taking over my life outside of work. On Sunday, while I was straightening up my house, it was all I could think about. As if on cue, my phone vibrated in the pocket of my sweat pants. I stopped washing the plate in my hand and switched off the water when I saw Corinne’s name on the screen. She rarely ever called me on weekends. If we had things to say to each other, it all went through email. I answered it quickly.
“Umm . . .” she said. “Are you watching the red carpet by any chance?”
It took me a moment to understand what she was saying. I didn’t remember what was on tonight, but I reached for the control and switched on the TV nonetheless.
“No. What am I looking for?” I asked as I flipped through channels.
“Golden Globes,” she said. I stopped on what I assumed was the event when I saw a woman wearing a fancy black dress holding a microphone and smiling. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach when she held that microphone up to Gabriel Lane, who was standing beside her, looking larger than life, and then Nicole, who was standing beside him, wearing a red dress that hugged all her f*cking curves, looking like she belonged in my bed.
“What the f*ck?” I growled. The Globes wasn’t part of the agreement.