Page 55 of The Husband Diet
I didn’t have to think about it but pretended to. If that last parting look on Julian’s face was anything to go by, he was feeling something, too. But just how far it went beyond friendship remained to be seen.
‘That’s the worst impersonation of someone thinking I’ve ever seen,’ he said disgustedly. ‘Admit it – you like him, too. A lot more than you think.’
‘If I admitted that…’ I whispered, and he leaned closer.
‘Yeah?’
‘I’d have to kill you.’
Paul stomped his feet and said, ‘I don’t care. I know you’d sleep with him. Oh, Erica, he’ssothe guy for us.’
Could he be right?
It was late, the kids were asleep and we were watching some oldies. Paul’s choice wasSooner or Later.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘You take Julian, I’ll take Rex Smith. Man, I lu-u-urve him.’
‘He’s not gay, Paul. Actually, he’s a real ladies’ man. Didn’t he find out he had a son years ago?’
‘Imagine that – finding out you have a son somewhere. That would freak me out,’ Paul said with a nod as he guzzled some wine.
‘If you’d slept with a woman, I’d be freaked out, too,’ I informed him, and Paul took another swig of his wine, swallowed and suddenly went serious.
‘God, I still miss Carl, you know?’
He sighed and I stared at him. Ages and battalions of men had gone by since Carl.
‘What do you miss about him? You always used to say he was too much of a workaholic.’
He shrugged. ‘Dunno. I just do. Life is a bitch without someone to love. Without a family, don’t you think?’
I shrugged. ‘I have you.’ Which was true. No matter what, I’d always be happy with Paul. As long as I had him, my safety net, I’d be fine.
‘I wonder what he’s doing now,’ I asked about Carl.
‘Probably still writing scripts. He was good. Maybe I’ll be costume designer for one of his movies one day. We’ll look into each other’s eyes and realize we made a big mistake splitting up.’
I was still staring at him. In all the years I knew him, he’d never got sentimental, except for when Warren and Maddy were born. God, you should have seen old waterworks then. He couldn’t pick either of them up without bawling.
‘Oh, Paulie.’
‘I’m so lucky to have you, Erica. You’re my family,’ he said flatly. ‘And I love you.’
‘Sweetheart,’ I whispered. ‘You’ve had too much to drink. Let go of the cask now before you keel over.’
He stared back at me with his large dark eyes and burst out laughing and soon, for no reason, we were rolling all over the floor in hysterics.
‘OK, I confess,’ I managed between cackles of delight. ‘If Ricardo Montalbán put a lay around my neck and said “Welcome toFantasy Island,” I’d immediately say, “Point me to Julian!”’
‘Ha! I knew it. No woman can resist the shoulders on that guy.’ Paul shrieked in triumph. ‘And have you seen his hands? They’re enormous. I say, let’s make a toast to his hands.’ Paul giggled and jabbed me in the ribs.
And so we made a drunken toast to Julian’s hands with our empty glasses before reaching for another bottle.
*
The next morning at work, the ringing phones sounded like Quasimodo had gone berserk on the church bells of Notre Dame in Paris. Between my ears. Damn the wine.
Clutching my temples, I looked around for Jackie, who was nowhere in sight. Sighing, I distractedly picked up the receiver. ‘Yes?’
