Half Empty (First Wives, #2)(18)
She paused.
Wade opened his mouth.
Trina kept going. “On the occasion a single man, old or young, approached me . . . it was never to talk about the company, or the cause. It was only to see if it had been long enough since Fedor’s death for me to consider dating.”
Fedor? Her late husband’s name was Fedor?
“You’re a beautiful woman.”
“With a brain,” she said, pointing to her head.
He made a rolling motion with his finger. “Can we go back . . . Fedor? That’s a very unusual name.”
“His father is Russian. Alice Everson was his mother. American.”
Something clicked in the back of his head. “This was in the news.”
The waiter walked by and Trina flagged him down. “Can we have a menu?”
“Sure.”
“Mother and son died close together,” Wade remembered out loud.
“Yeah. It was not a fun time.”
“I suppose escaping to Venice was a good plan for the anniversary of it all.”
She tilted her drink in the air in his direction. “See, that’s what I thought.”
Her eyes lost focus again. There was so much going on inside her head, Wade could practically hear the wheels turning.
“Anyway . . . now I need to figure out what to do. That’s proven harder than it would seem.”
“Because you planned your life with someone who is no longer here.”
Her eyes snapped to his, and he wondered if he got that wrong.
“Yeah, I guess.” Trina looked away. “Tell me about you.”
The change of the subject told him that more talk of her late husband was off the table.
“What do you want to know?”
Trina finally looked at him again, her eyes less guarded. “How has fame and fortune changed your life?”
The waiter stopped by, took their order, and left again.
“It’s changed everything. Even my friends, I’m sorry to say.”
“How is that?”
“Money changes how people look at you. You know that.”
“I do.”
The memory of Drew filled his thoughts. “Jealousy is often followed by his ugly uncle, Envy. When that happens, things change. Much as you want your friends to come along for the ride, they often don’t.”
“Chances are they weren’t that good of friends, then.”
“Maybe. Real friends are hard to find in my world. Some of the people I relate to the most are other singers, some as successful or more so. They get it.”
“So celebrities hanging out with other celebrities happens because no one else understands?”
“You could say that. Have you ever had the paparazzi outside your hotel or home?”
She nodded. “Actually, yes.”
That was not the answer he was expecting. “Really?”
“They called me the black widow.”
Wade lost his humor. “They did not!”
“You’re familiar with the media. You know how they are.”
He’d been called many things, but none terribly hateful. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that, darlin’.”
“It’s okay. I have a group of really wonderful friends now.”
“The ones you’re avoiding.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Aren’t we supposed to be talking about you? Tell me about your mother.”
His head fell back as he laughed. “Now you’re a therapist.”
She laughed along with him. “Or you can tell me about your last real girlfriend.”
Hand on his heart, he said, “My mother is the best woman in the world.”
Trina roared with laughter. “Boundaries are set. Okay . . .”
Chapter Seven
The sound of fists hitting the door met the pounding in Trina’s brain. She cracked one eye open and protested the sunlight blaring through the hotel window.
Shots . . . they had ended the night drinking shots.
Trina never drank shots.
Her eyes drifted closed again.
“. . . is she in here?”
What was Avery doing in her hotel room?
The door opening didn’t wake her up, but the voices that followed did.
“What the hell, Trina?”
With a hand to her forehead, Trina faced the glare of the light to find the very women she was trying to avoid standing over her.
“What are you—?”
Behind Lori, Shannon, and Avery, Wade leaned against the doorframe. “We had a bit to drink last night.” Wade wore a hotel-issue bathrobe and a smile.
Lori moved to the bed and Avery turned on Wade. “You had better not have—”
“Whoa, feisty lady. Hold your fire.”
“Back down,” Trina said, a little loud. She winced at the sound of her heartbeat behind her eyeballs. “Oh, God.”
“I know that look.” Wade’s voice was closer than the buzz of women in the room.
An arm wrapped around her shoulders at the same time her stomach reminded her why she never drank shots.
In the space of five seconds, the covers on the bed were thrown off and she felt her body lifting and a flat chest pushing against her cheek.
She held back a burp that promised to be so much more until her knees felt the cold tile floor of the bathroom.