The Awakening of Nina Fontaine Page 11

  By the time Edmonia returned, Nina had finished packing up Janet’s photographs and had started planning the arrangement for their next show, a series of nudes that were breathtakingly sensual and raw.

  “Don’t you have a party or something?” Edmonia asked after she’d set down her stuff.

  Nina looked up from the list of photos in her hand. “What time is it?”

  “Almost five.”

  “Shit, yes.” Nina crossed the room to the office and set the list down on the desk. “I started outlining possible configurations.”

  Edmonia picked up the paper and flipped to an unlined sheet that was meant to mimic the gallery’s white wall. “This looks good. I wouldn’t have thought to put the two women on the sofa in the center, but I like it.”

  “It’s such a commanding shot,” Nina said. “I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I figured if everyone else felt the same way, we might as well take advantage and make it the centerpiece.”

  “Let’s run with it.”

  “Really?”

  Edmonia always had final say when it came to curation and arrangement, but Nina had been pleased to discover she had a certain knack for the task. She’d learned a ton in the short time she’d worked for Edmonia and had started to see the gallery as a kind of second home.

  “Why not?” Edmonia said. “It works. Now go on, before your girlfriends finish all the food.”

  Nina laughed, then tipped her head at Edmonia. “You know what? You should come.”

  She’d never really thought about it, but now that she did, she realized she’d never seen Edmonia with anyone — not a man, not a friend, not a family member other than Angela.

  She gave no indication that she was lonely, but Nina probably hadn’t seemed lonely to the women in Larchmont either.

  Jesus, she hoped she hadn’t.

  Karen, Robin, and Amy had made her realize what she’d been missing. They were sometimes crazy, and their advice was all over the map, but it was nice to have friends for a change.

  Edmonia did a double take. “To your thing tonight?”

  Nina grinned. “Why not?”

  “For one thing, I have to get Angela to ballet.”

  “Okay, but next time?” Nina asked. “I think you’d like them, Edmonia, and I know they’d like you.”

  Edmonia smiled and shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

  Nina bent to the tiny refrigerator in the office and removed the tapas platter she’d made for the potluck. “I’ll let you off the hook this time, but I’m going to ask again.”

  Edmonia waved her off. “Why are you still here?”

  Nina picked up her bag. “See you Sunday.”

  “Sounds good. And it’s about time you start calling me Moni, don’t you think?”

  She remembered Edmonia’s words from the first day she’d stumbled into the gallery.

  My friends call me Moni.

  She didn’t know if Edmonia had friends hidden away somewhere or not, but Nina was happy to accept the title.

  “Then I’ll see you Sunday, Moni.”

  Edmonia sighed. “See? Now you made it weird.”

  Nina laughed and headed for the door.

  22

  By the time she got to Amy’s, everyone else was already there, and from the sounds of it, probably on their second round of cocktails.

  “There she is!” Karen came toward her as she entered the kitchen and deposited a kiss on Nina’s cheek. “You’re late.”

  “And you’re boozy.”

  Karen raised her glass. “If you hurry, you can catch up.”

  “I’ll mix you a martini,” Robin said from the counter where she was pouring vodka into a glass.

  “Great.” Nina smiled at the statuesque blond pouring gazpacho into a serving dish. “Hi, Moira.”

  “Hey, you!” She finished pouring and set the bowl down, then came over to kiss Nina on the cheek. “It’s nice to see you.” She looked at the platter in Nina’s hand. “Let me take that.”

  “Thanks.”

  It had been difficult to imagine a partner that would be Amy Han’s match until she’d met Moira for the first time. As a professional chef, Moira was every bit as successful as Amy, but where Amy was all tightly coiled energy, Amy had an air of calm even when situations seemed to be descending into chaos, a trait that must have come in handy when she was juggling her marriage to Amy, their daughter Ruth, and her job as head chef at one of the city’s most popular new restaurants.

  Together they’d built an enviable home, modern and spare made homey with intricate rugs, tons of plants, and touches of wood and wicker.

  Nina bellied up to the massive kitchen island and took the drink that Robin pushed at her. “Mmmm… perfect.”

  Robin beamed. “I still got it.”

  They mingled around the kitchen, catching up on bits of news while they sampled Nina’s tapas platter. Much to Karen’s chagrin, she was between men and wondering what had caused her sudden drought. Robin’s lover from India had broken off their relationship, and Robin tried to describe her mixture of relief and sadness as they piled their plates with food and moved into the living room.

  “I don’t miss dating at all, do you babe?” Moira asked Amy as she lowered herself to the floor in front of the coffee table.

  Amy took a seat on the couch and grinned. “Is that a trick question?”

  “Bitch!” Moira said.

  Everyone laughed.

  “I’m just fucking with you,” Amy said. “You couldn’t pay me enough to be single again, although I do sometimes miss the freedom of not having to find a babysitter every time we go out.”

  “You have a babysitter!” Robin finished chewing before continuing. “She’s upstairs with Ruth right now.”

  “I know we’re lucky,” Amy said. “Isla is great about staying late, but it’s still something we have to think about, you know? Can she stay? Will she stay? If she won’t stay, who else do we trust?”

  “It’s the mental energy,” Moira agreed.

  Amy pointed at her. “Exactly.”

  “Which isn’t to say I’d trade being a mother for anything, because I wouldn’t,” Moira said. “But it does change things. In terms of dating, I’m more than happy to live vicariously through the rest of you, minus the men.”

  Karen laughed. “Perfect, because my life is entirely ‘minus the men’ right now.”

  Robin patted her hand. “You’re just in a dry spell. It happens.”

  “Tell that to my vagina.”

  “Um, no thanks,” Robin said. “I’ll leave that particular announcement to you.”

  “What about you, Nina?” Karen asked.

  Nina took a drink of her martini. “What about me?”

  “You definitely aren’t suffering from a lack of men. You owe it to us to share the wealth, if only through an update.”

  “No update,” she said.

  “You still haven’t slept with either of them?” Karen reached for one of the mushrooms Nina had stuffed with panko, herbs, and bread crumbs and popped it into her mouth. She closed her eyes. “Oh my god… this might be even better than sex.”

  “I’m glad you approve,” Nina said. She’d been enjoying cooking in her tiny kitchen, trying out new recipes, using ingredients Peter hadn’t liked.

  “So?” Karen prompted. “What’s the word?”

  “Nothing,” Nina said. “Although I have a feeling that’s about to change.”

  “Do tell,” Moira said. “I can’t relate to the man part but I can definitely relate to the orgasm part.”

  Nina still had to fight against residual embarrassment when they got on the topic of sex. She’d never had the kind of friendships where it had been such an open — and graphic — topic.

  “It’s just not sustainable,” Nina said.

  “In what way?” Robin asked.

  Nina hesitated. “We’re kind of at the point — with both of them, and I can’t believe I’m saying that — where it’s either going to evolve
or it’s going to fizzle.”

  “It’s not going to fizzle with Jack until he gets you between the sheets,” Amy said.

  “We don’t know he’ll blow Nina off after he sleeps with her!” Robin said.

  “That’s true.” Amy looked at Nina. “Sorry, Neen.”

  “It’s fine. It’s possible he will blow me off — I know his reputation — but I’m almost at the point where I don’t care. I can’t take the tension anymore.”

  “Sounds yummy,” Karen purred.

  “It’s torture,” Nina said. “Like being tipped back in the dentist chair waiting for a root canal.”

  “I doubt sex with Jack Morgan will be anything like a root canal,” Moira said.

  “You never know,” Amy said drily.

  “See? That’s what I’m talking about,” Nina said. “It’s his reputation that’s killing me, not knowing what it’ll be like when it happens, not knowing if I’ll like it or if he’ll want to do something I’m not up for.”

  “What wouldn’t you be up for?” Karen asked. “Like, what’s your line in the sand? Bondage? Anal?”

  Robina laughed and shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

  Karen looked at her. “What? I’m just asking.”

  “I don’t even know.” It’s not like Nina hadn’t thought about it. She’d even done a little digging on the rumors about Jack’s sexual predilections. “I promised myself I’d be open to… well, to anything. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare the shit out of me.”

  “Totally understandable,” Robin said. “There’s a lot of weird shit out there.”

  Just hearing Robin say it sent a fresh bout of nervousness through Nina’s stomach.

  “What about Liam?” Moira asked.

  “It’s different,” Nina said. “Not unbearable because I’m scared or because I don’t know what to expect.”

  “Then what?” She looked at Moira. “The gazpacho’s amazing.”

  Moira smiled.

  “We’ve just done everything else,” Nina said, answering Amy’s question about Liam. “We’ve gone to dinner and stayed in with takeout, we’ve gone to the movies and stayed in to watch them on the sofa, we’ve gone to gallery openings and wandered bookstores. We’ve kissed, we’ve made out, it’s kind of like…”

  “Shit or get off the pot?” Karen asked.

  “Yuck,” Nina said. “But yes.”

  “I get that,” Robin said. “You hate to waste time until you’re sure you’re sexually compatible.”

  “That’s the worst,” Karen said. “Remember David Rosenfeld?”

  Moira cackled. “David Rosenfeld! My god, I’d forgotten all about him.”

  “Who’s David Rosenfeld?” Nina asked.

  “David Rosenfeld is a movie producer Karen dated a few years ago,” Robin explained. “Long story short, she decided to try playing hard to get for a change.”

  “Did it work?” Nina asked.

  “Oh, it worked!” Amy said. “He was beyond hot for her when they finally did it — she made him wait four months — ”

  “Which was fucking torture, by the way,” Karen interjected.

  “So she makes him wait four months,” Amy said, “and then when they finally do it, he’s bad in bed. Like, epically bad.”

  “What do you mean?” Nina asked. “It’s sex. How hard is it?”

  “Not that hard!’ Karen said. They all broke into laughter. “And it wasn’t just that, he was just… bad. Bad at oral, bad at penetration. If it had been the Olympics, he would have scored below a five.”

  “Yikes,” Nina said.

  Karen sighed. “I really liked him, too.”

  “That’s the point,” Robin said. “You were already super invested by the time you slept with him, and it sucked to realize you weren’t sexually compatible.”

  “We can’t sleep with everyone on the first date just to know if they’re still in the running,” Nina said.

  “Yes, we can,” Karen said. “We’re grown women. We can do whatever the fuck we want.”

  Robin shook her head, but Nina could tell she was trying not to laugh. “I’m not saying sleep with anybody before you’re ready,” Robin said. “I’m just saying it sounds like it might be time with Liam. You seem to really like him.”

  “I do,” Nina said. “But I’m terrified.”

  “Because it’s been so long?” Moira asked.

  “That, and because he’s so beautiful, and so much younger.”

  “You’re beautiful too,” Robin said. “Don’t forget it.”

  Nina smiled. “Thank you, but you know how it is. It doesn’t matter how much weight we lose or how much yoga we do or much we lift. We’re never going to be thirty again.”

  “It sounds like he doesn’t care,” Amy said. “He may not even want thirty. I know tons of women dating younger men. It’s a thing now.”

  “That’s great, but it doesn’t mean I’m eager to show off my body to a guy barely out of his twenties.”

  “I’d totally do a super hot guy barely out of his twenties…” Karen said dreamily.

  Nina shot her a glance. “Thanks. That’s super helpful.”

  “It’s a fact,” Karen said. “I’d be all over it if I had the chance. Who cares if he doesn’t like your aging body? You get a sizzling roll in the hay with a gorgeous, muscled stud. That memory will keep you warm for a long time, trust me.”

  “But… I like him.”

  Sympathy crossed Robin’s features. “It’s hard to be vulnerable, but if you don’t risk anything, you don’t get anything. It sounds like you already have something pretty great with Liam, like everything’s just fallen into place.”

  “It has.”

  “Then go with your gut,” Robin said. “With both men. It won’t steer you wrong.”

  “I agree,” Amy said. “How will you know if you don’t try?”

  “And that goes for Jack Morgan, too,” Karen said, popping another mushroom into her mouth. “You never know, you might really like anal.”

  “I think that calls for a fresh round of drinks,” Robin said, getting up from the sofa.

  Nina buried her face in her hands as everyone laughed.

  23

  She prepared more carefully than usual for her date with Jack the next night. He’d given her no guidelines other than to say that she should dress “comfortably,” which knowing Jack meant she should dress for a cocktail party instead of a formal event.

  She took a long bath, soaking in the sandalwood salts she’d bought at a local boutique and carefully shaved everything. She’d gotten into the habit of plucking her eyebrows regularly and having her lip waxed and staying on top of split ends, but she’d cringed when Karen told her shaving pubic hair was a thing. Karen had offered to take her for a bikini wax, but as nervous as Nina was about spreading her legs for Jack or Liam, she was ten times more nervous about doing it for one of the women at Karen’s salon so they could rip off all the hair on one of the most sensitive spots on her body.

  Karen had laughed when Nina said as much, but Karen wasn’t exactly modest.

  Nina had opted for a a super clean shave instead and had trimmed her remaining pubic hair until it wasn’t much more than fuzz.

  She wasn’t a prude, but she wasn’t a porn star either.

  She’d slicked lotion over every inch of her body before stepping into a slinky black thong and matching push-up bra. Then she’d stood in front of her closet, terrified she was going to make a wardrobe mistake. It was the first time Jack hadn’t sent something for her to wear before one of their dates, and while she knew she couldn’t expect him to continue doing so — and some of his selections were a bit revealing for her taste anyway — she couldn’t help thinking wistfully of their previous dates when all she’d had to do was step into something and know it would be appropriate.

  She passed over her slacks without hesitation. Jack was most definitely not a slacks kind of guy, and especially not her kind of slacks.

  When s
he reached the back of her closet, she came upon the two dresses she’d brought from her old life.

  She pulled them out and held them in front of her. Neither had fit very well the last time she’d worn them in Larchmont, circumstances that had caused her not to buy new clothes, but simply to avoid the ones that didn’t look good on her.

  She saw now the fallacy in the decision. If she’d been buying new clothes all along, she might have something to wear that was suitable for a date with Jack Morgan. Now all she had was a loose embroidered floral that looked like it belonged on a vacation to Mexico (in fact, she may have bought it on the last vacation she and Peter had taken to Cancun) and a deep green dress she’d bought for Peter’s last Christmas party.

  The green dress wasn’t horrible, but she remembered thinking her breasts looked matronly in it, her body doughy. She’d felt more like the mother of a bride than an attractive woman still in her prime.

  She tore the peasant dress off the hanger and threw it on the bed to prevent herself from stuffing it back in her closet. It was time to be honest about the sad state of her wardrobe. She would call Julia at Bergdorf’s tomorrow and treat herself to a few new things — on sale, preferably clearance.

  She unzipped the green dress and stepped into it, sliding it up her body. The silky fabric was sensual against her skin, although she didn’t know if it was a product of her fresh shave or the fact that her body was primed for what might be coming with Jack.

  She slipped her arms into the sleeves and twisted around to work the zipper, then straightened the dress as she walked to the full-length mirror.

  She blinked at her reflection, trying to process the fact that she was the woman in the mirror.

  This woman wasn’t frumpy. She didn’t have a muffin top or love handles. Her arms weren’t pulling at the cap sleeves of the dress, and her breasts definitely didn’t look matronly.