22

Serayah’s living room wasn't peaceful like Giselle had hoped it would be; it was heavy, vibrating with the collective shock of three people who had just realized the floor had dropped out from under them.

Lawrose was perambulating, his loafers tapping frantically against the floor as he paced the length of the rug.

He looked like he was trying to solve a complex equation but was getting confused even more.

"You did what?" Lawrose finally exploded, spinning on his heel to face Giselle. "You slept with Chase? Again? After he served you divorce papers? After you caught evidence of his cheating? After I specifically told you shun him and stay the flying fuck away from him?"

Giselle sat huddled on the sofa, her knees pulled to her chest. "It was... it was a moment of weakness. I thought maybe if I could just …get down with him one last time, I was foolish I know. I don’t just know what came over me and why I would let that happen."

Serayah put her face in her hands, groaning. "I knew it. I knew letting you go back there alone was a bad idea. I terribly regret it, Giselle. I should have handcuffed you to my radiator if I had to."

“And I tried to seduce his father” Giselled cooed much to the shock of the duo in the room. Serayah looked up, her eyes wide with a new horror. "And then you tried to seduce his father?"

"I didn't try to seduce him!" Giselle cried, though her blush betrayed her. "He was just... there. And he was being kind, and he was being everything Chase isn't. I didn't know how to handle Chases constant teasing and pushing me over the edge, Serayah! I was such a fool, I felt so stupid especially with how he rejected me!"

"This is too much to take in, You knew Chase was a total asshole," Lawrose pointed out, stopping his pacing to loom over her. "And yet you stayed. You lingered. You let him let him fuck you. Not you playing a game of chess with a Grandmaster while you’re still trying to figure out how the little horse piece moves by going to seduce his father! Jesus christ, Giselle!."

Lawrose and Serayah exchanged a long, weary look. Simultaneously, they moved to the sofa, flanking Giselle. They sat in a grim row, staring straight ahead into the empty fireplace in total disbelief.

"I’m a mess," Giselle whispered into the silence.

"Oh yes, goodness me, you’re a catastrophe," Lawrose corrected, but his voice had softened. He bumped his shoulder against hers. "As much as I am still vibrating with rage that you hung up on us during our last call, I won’t let you navigate these turbulent waters alone. You’re clearly drowning, and I’ve to help out the best way I can."

"What are we going to do?" Serayah asked, leaning forward. "What is Giselle going to do now that her father-in-law knows? Or at least, now that he’s starting to put the pieces together? Because let’s be real, a man like Richard Hemingway doesn't have a 'bad memory.' He’s just waiting for her to blink first. And I honestly wished she had listened and quietly left that mansion instead of going to ignite more flames with him"

Lawrose stood up, his face setting into a mask of pure pragmatism. "First things first. Hand it over."

"Hand what over?" Giselle asked.

"The phone. I don’t want those folks tracking your device."

Lawrose reached out, snatched Giselle’s phone from the coffee table, and held the power button down until the screen went black.

"Why did you do that?" Giselle reached for it, but Lawrose swiped it out of reach. "They might call. Or Chase might try to—"

"Exactly, I do not want them to reach" Lawrose snapped. "So for the time being,  they won't be able to reach you. You are officially off the grid."

"I agree," Serayah said, crossing her arms. "You need a detox before you can engage them again because this is getting toxic in all honesty."

Lawrose sighed, sitting back down and looking Giselle square in the eyes. "I am doing this because I know for certain you are not yourself right now. You are slowly losing it, Gigi. I understand the sexual frustration—God knows I’ve made bad choices when I was thirsty—but giving yourself to Chase while simultaneously throwing yourself at his father? It shows you’ve lost your sense of self-control. It hurts to see you falling apart like this. You’re acting like a woman who wants to be caught so she can stop feeling."

Giselle let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging. "So, what now? You’ve turned off my phone."

"You are hereby under house arrest in Serayah’s," Lawrose declared, pointing a finger at her. "I will be going back to my place with your phone. For the next couple of days, you are going to sit in this house, drink water, and process your life. You need to decide what you want to do with your life after the Hemingways, because as your friends, we cannot watch you throw your future away for a family of sociopaths."

"Wait," Serayah interrupted. "Don't go home with her phone, Law. If you take it, I know you well enough, you’ll start answering her texts just to be messy. I know you."

Lawrose looked offended. "I would never. Well, maybe to Chase because a bitch has to curse that man out some time."

"No," Serayah insisted. "Leave the phone here. I’ll lock it in my safe. I’ll make sure she never accesses it. You come by and check on her, but the phone stays in the vault."

Lawrose groaned but reluctantly handed the dead device to Serayah. "Fine. But I’m visiting frequently to make sure she isn't trying to signal them with smoke messages from the balcony." He tries to laugh at his own joke.

Giselle nodded slowly, a sense of relief washing over her. "I agree. I have no right to disagree. I... I fucked up. I’m a mess."

"The first step is admission," Lawrose said, clapping his hands together. "Now, enough of this funeral silence. If I have to spend the afternoon in 'house arrest' with you two, I need to vent. I have tea, and it is piping hot."

Serayah leaned in, her eyes lighting up. "Finally. Something that isn't about a Hemingway. Give it to us."

"So," Lawrose began, leaning back and crossing his legs. "I’ve been seeing this guy, Marcus. Incredible body. Smelled like sandalwood and looked quit expensive too. We’ve been seeing each other for three weeks. Last night, we’re at this hidden lounge in Soho, very hush-hush, and he’s telling me how he wants to take me to Mykonos."

"And?" Giselle asked, momentarily distracted from her own misery.

"And just as he’s describing the private villa, this woman walks in," Lawrose said, eyes wide. "She’s wearing a coat that costs more than my car, and she walks straight to our table. I thought she was a fan of my I*******m. No. She looks at Marcus and says, 'The nanny says Leo has a fever, and you’re here with another man?'"

Giselle gasped. "No!"

"Yes!" Lawrose shrieked. "The man is married! With a child named Leo! And apparently, I am a 'twink' who is interfering with family health crises. I told her, 'Honey, if I knew he was yours, I wouldn't have touched him with a ten-foot pole—mostly because his fashion sense is actually quite basic when you get him under bright lights.'"

Serayah laughed, the first real sound of joy in the room all day. "What did Marcus do?"

"He tried to say I was a business consultant!" Lawrose cackled. "I told his wife, 'Ma'am, does this face look like it consults on anything other than contouring?' I walked out, blocked him, and then realized I’d left my favorite silk scarf with him. urgh. So now, I’m the victim of these unfortune married gay men."

"You really attract the crazy ones, Law," Giselle said, a small smile playing on her lips.

"We all do, darling," Lawrose said, looking at her significantly. "But the difference is, I know when to leave the scarf behind. Now, Serayah, fetch the wine. If we’re on lockdown, we’re doing it with a buzz."

As Serayah headed to the kitchen, Giselle felt the weight of the phone’s absence. She was cut off. Richard would probably be looking for her since she didn’t join him for breakfast. Chase would be cursing her name. But for the first time in a week, the air in her lungs felt like it belonged to her.