The door opens, and Gabriel smiles broadly. “Ready for lunch, Missy?” His eyes flick to Marley. “Hey, Marls.”
“Hi.” She smiles goofily.
I smile as well. “Mr. Ferrara.” I glance at my watch. “You’re early. Lunch isn’t for an hour. I thought you said two?”
“My meeting finished early, and I’m hungry. Let’s go now.”
I look over at the gorgeous Italian, tall, dark, and handsome in his designer suit. Gabriel Ferrara is a rock star in New York, but to me he is just a dear friend. He knew my late husband, and although I never met him when Wade was alive, he got in contact with me not long after his death. He owns one of the largest media companies in the world, and his building isn’t far from here. He gives me advice here and there, and we catch up for lunch when we can. It’s completely platonic between us—he’s a rock that I lean on from time to time.
“Gabe, tell Claire that she needs to go to this conference.” Marley sighs in exasperation.
He frowns as he looks between us. “All right . . . Claire, you need to go to this conference,” he repeats unenthusiastically. “Now let’s eat. Sushi awaits.”
Marley’s eyes find mine. “Can you just have a week off and go to Paris? Take some time for yourself. Get away from the kids. I can look after everything back here at the office. We had that cash injection—things are okay around here for the moment. Use the time to recharge.”
I exhale heavily. I know I need to pull myself out of this funk. My life is so dull; I’ve lost enthusiasm for everything. My life that was once wild and carefree has been replaced with animosity. Sometimes I’m so furious at Wade for leaving me with this mess that I tell him off in my head, as if he can hear me, and then afterward, I feel so guilty because I know he would have given anything to see his sons grow up and that leaving me would have never been his choice.
Life just isn’t fair sometimes.
They say that only the good die young—what about the best? Why did he have to go too?
“Go to the conference,” Marley urges me. “You are not going to lunch until you agree to this.”
“Hurry up, woman. Yes. It’s agreed; she’s going.” Gabriel tries to finish the conversation. When I don’t move, he exhales heavily and falls onto the couch.
“You know I don’t know how to do the motivational mumbo jumbo.” I stand and begin to pack files away. “The crap that they go on with is next-level batshit crazy.”
“I think you need some batshit crazy, because batshit broke isn’t a fun place to visit.” Marley sighs again.
I smirk.
“This is true.” Gabriel smiles as he scrolls through his phone.
I continue putting things away. This is true. Batshit broke is not somewhere I want to visit at all. I sit back in my chair and stare at my hopeful friend.
“Go, recharge. It’s in Épernay in the Champagne district of France, for fuck’s sake. It doesn’t get any more beautiful than this, Claire. It’s a tax deduction; you either pay for this or pay it in taxes—the choice is yours. At the very least, you can get a massage every afternoon and then drink two liters of champagne every night with your gourmet dinner and fall into bed in a blissful stupor.”
“Épernay is beautiful,” Gabriel mutters, distracted. “I would go just for the location.”
“You’ve been there?” I ask him.
“A few times. I went with Sophia last summer,” he replies. “She loves it there.”
I imagine myself alone in a luxurious hotel room. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten away. Five years, actually. “Now, a gourmet dinner and champagne . . . that is tempting.”
“If the conference part of the trip is boring, just ditch it, and have a week to yourself in France. You need this break,” Marley says.
Gabriel stands. “Agreed. You’re going. Hurry up; I’m ravenous.”
I exhale heavily.
“Will you just go for me?” Marley takes my hand in hers. “Please.” She smiles sweetly and bats her eyelashes as she tries to be cute.
Oh God, she’s not going to let this go. “Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll go.”
She bounces off my desk and claps her hands in excitement. “Yes, this is going to be so good for you, Claire—just what you need.” She rushes toward the door. “I’m going to book flights