Lost Along the Way (29 page)

“You'd do that for me?” Cara asked.

“Yeah, I would. Like I said, it would help me out, too. But I think you need some stability and something positive in your life right now. I've been there, so I get it. I think it could work out great.”

“I don't know what to say,” Cara said, feeling a sudden urge to hug him.

“Think about it.”

“I will. Thank you, Nick. If someone would've told me that this week would end the way it has, I never would've believed them.”

“I didn't think this week would end like this, either. I just spent my night photographing a naked celebrity with a comatose man, and my morning pretending to be a lawyer. How is any of that normal?”

“It's not. But you'd better get used to the abnormal if you're going to be friends with us!”

Two hours later, she drove through East Hampton and onto the stretch of Route 27 that would lead through Amagansett and then to Montauk. What she would do when she got there she wasn't exactly sure, but oddly enough, even though she had just left her husband, her life, and her house, she felt like she was coming home.

I
wish I could've seen his face. That might have been my greatest performance yet. He's going to lose his fucking mind!” Jane said. She slapped the dashboard so hard in her excitement that she winced in pain. She had to admit, she was proud of herself. True, maybe her methods weren't ethical by social standards, but this wasn't a normal situation. She'd found a way to solve Cara's problems, to feel like she was useful, and to put her acting skills to good use. If she had to get naked to do it, so be it. Most people in Hollywood stripped for much less.

“Where do you get your courage from? I could never in a million years do what you just did,” Meg asked, wondering how girls who grew up as close as they did could be so completely different.

“It has nothing to do with courage. It's spite. He doesn't deserve her, and now, hopefully, he'll let her go. What could be a better reason than that?”

Meg drove east on the highway, staring at Cara's taillights in front of her, but her mind had been wandering for the better part of the ride. She couldn't stop thinking about Reed and how awful he'd been to Cara, and Jane and how her husband had betrayed her and ruined her life because he was selfish and greedy and arrogant. Then she thought about Steve and about how he had done absolutely nothing—not one single thing since the day they'd met—except love her and support her and value her. And she'd thrown it all away. Jane and Cara were alone because that was what was best for them. But what was best for her? Could
this really be the way her life was supposed to play out? Did she really toss away everything that mattered to her willingly? She had chosen to be alone this past year, and for some reason, until now, she couldn't see how very, very stupid that was.

“Are you okay?” Jane asked. “You've been quiet, even for you. What's on your mind?”

“Steve, actually,” Meg said.

“It's not too late,” Jane answered.

“I was so awful to him. He tried so hard and I pushed him away. Why would he even want me back? Nothing has changed. We'll never have kids. Not our own, at least.”

“So what? You'll have each other. Why can't that be enough?”

“It's not what we had planned. It's not how things were supposed to happen.”

“Meg, you need to adapt. So what if it isn't how things were supposed to happen? Look at the rest of us. You think this is how any of us thought our lives would work out? You have a great guy who loves you. I'm really sorry about your medical issues, I am. But you're not the first woman in the world to have fertility problems, and honestly, if he's okay with it, then that's his decision. He's a big boy. He can decide for himself. Do you think that being separated is the better option? Really?”

“No. I've known that it's not for a long time, but I can't bring myself to call him. I mean, what will I even say? Sorry? Sorry I left you and moved to Montauk and made you worry about me nonstop for a year? Sorry that I can't have kids and because of that I abandoned you? Seriously, what do I say?”

“Nothing. You don't say a word,” Jane said. She paused, then added, “You let me do it for you.” Jane removed her phone from her bag and scrolled through her contacts.

“What are you doing?” Meg asked.

“Today seems to be my day for solving all of my friends' problems. I'm calling your husband.”

“Jane, hang up the phone! Stop it!” Meg yelled, remembering a similar conversation they'd had when Jane had called the boy Meg liked in fifth-period French class and tried to get him to come to a party. That hadn't ended well, either.

“I will do no such thing. I'm taking matters into my own hands. You need my help.”

“Please hang up the—”

“Hi, Steve!” Jane said. Meg realized she was holding her breath listening to Jane speak, a vein in her neck pulsing so strongly she could actually hear it. “No, she's fine. Everything is great. Well, I spent last night taking naked pictures with Cara's soon-to-be ex-husband, but other than that things are great. Don't worry, though, Meg was only the getaway driver; she had nothing to do with the pictures, or the drugs, or the blackmail. We've been taking good care of her, as promised!”

Meg unwillingly cracked a smile just picturing Steve's face on the other end of the line as he tried desperately to understand what Jane was talking about.

“Anyway, it's a long story. You know what would be great? Why don't you come out for dinner tonight? We're celebrating and we'll fill you in on everything when you get out here. Meg really wants to see you. I think it's time you guys talk things out. I don't want to overstep here—you know how much I hate to meddle in other people's problems—but in this case, I think it's warranted. It doesn't matter what time, six, seven, whenever. What do you say? It'll be nice.”

“Tell him I hope he comes,” Meg said. “Tell him . . . tell him I'd like him to come.”

“Did you hear that?” Jane asked. “Don't make her ask twice. Please come. Great. We will see you around six!” Jane hung up. “Maybe I should be a relationship counselor.”

“What did he say?” Meg asked.

“He's coming. He's looking forward to it. He wants to hear the story. You can still save this. You can still get your life back. I'd kill to be in your position.”

“I—I don't know what to do,” Meg stammered. Who got this nervous over seeing her own husband?

“I just told you what to do. Meg, please don't make him come all the way out east hoping to reconcile with you and flake on him. That's just cruel.”

“No, that's not what I mean. I meant I have nothing to wear.”

“Oh, well. That's a different story, then. I don't think he'll care what you wear. I think he only cares about what you have to say. Let's focus on that.”

“Do you really think I can do this?”

“I think we can do anything we want to do. You just have to be brave enough to put yourself out there. Do you want me to get naked and straddle him when he gets to the house? I'll do that for you too, if you want.”

“Keep your clothes on or I will end you,” Meg said, her insides churning at the mere thought of it.

“That's my girl.”

There were so many questions bouncing around Meg's brain: What if Steve changed his mind and didn't show? Or worse, what if he drove all the way out there, but then decided that
he didn't want to listen to what she had to say? She knew that he was running out of patience and she couldn't blame him. It didn't take a genius to understand that this was probably going to be her last chance to save her marriage, and that if she couldn't convince him that she was ready to move on from everything, he'd probably move on without her. As soon as they returned home, they headed straight for Meg's room. Cara, Nick, and Jane sat on her bed for over an hour, watching as she tore through everything in her closet, ultimately deciding on nothing. She felt like she was back in college, getting ready to go on a first date or something, instead of preparing to meet her husband for the first time in almost a year. She never thought she'd have these feelings again, the butterflies that overtake you when you're really excited and nervous and hopeful and scared all at the same time.

Two hours later,
Steve knocked softly on the door. It takes a special kind of man to be willing to knock before entering his own house, but Meg had always known he was special. She smoothed her hands over her hair before she opened the door, suddenly having to resist the urge to cry. Cara, Jane, and Nick had scurried upstairs to give her some privacy, but she knew they were all piled on top of each other at the top of the stairs, eavesdropping without feeling the least bit guilty like only best friends can. Meg wouldn't have it any other way.

“Hey,” Steve said when she opened the door. He held a bottle of wine in one hand and a bunch of flowers in the other. “I heard you were having a dinner party. You look great,” he added quietly.

“So do you,” she answered. There weren't words to say how sorry she was for everything, so she didn't even try. Instead, she
flung herself on him. “Welcome home,” she managed to choke out before she started to cry.

An hour later
they sat around her farmhouse kitchen table, Meg and Steve on one side, Cara and Jane on the other, with Nick at the head. They ate tequila-and-chili-spiced chicken and sipped champagne as they celebrated too many things to count. Meg watched Steve eat slowly, savoring the first home-cooked meal she'd made for him in a very long time, and listened to Nick and the girls fill him in on their adventure. Steve waited until the very end before he said a word. Meg knew his brain was swimming with all the details they'd just thrown at him, and that made complete sense. Meg had done more in the past week than she'd done in the past year. Part of her had come back to life.

“You guys did all of this in the last twenty-four hours?” Steve asked.

“Yup,” they said in unison.

“Wow. You know, I always knew that you were not women I wanted to mess with. It's too bad that Reed had to learn that lesson the hard way, but screw him. I never liked him anyway.”

“Cheers to that!” Jane said, raising her glass. “Now can I say I told you so?”

“Not yet,” Cara said with a laugh. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Okay. I've been waiting a long time. One more day won't kill me.”

They finished their celebratory dinner and cleared away the plates, then returned to their seats to dig into an apple pie and vanilla ice cream.

“So now what?” Steve asked after finishing his second slice. “What are you guys going to do next? Rob a bank?”

“I haven't gotten that far,” Jane admitted. “Now that you mention it, I have absolutely no idea, but bank robbery is not on my to-do list. I'm in enough trouble with the banking industry.”

“Nick offered me a job,” Cara said, trying in vain to hide her excitement.

“Really?” Jane asked.

“It's true,” Nick said.

“You know how much money people spend on summer homes out here? Serious bucks. You might end up making a fortune,” Meg pointed out.

“I might end up making nothing,” Cara said.

“It would behoove you to show a little optimism as you embark on this new phase of your life,” Nick chided.

“Sorry,” Cara said. “I'm still trying to process everything.”

“I'm positive that I'm completely fucked. How's that for optimism?” Jane asked. “Don't get me wrong, I'm so happy that I have you all back in my life, but I am still totally screwed. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself,” she admitted.

“Wait! What about Sheila?” Meg said. She slapped her hand on the table in excitement and Sebastian immediately hopped up from the floor and came scurrying over to her side.

“What about her?” Cara asked.

“She said she was going to sell the pictures she took of you to a tabloid.”

“Real gem of a girl, that one,” Jane scoffed.

“No. You're missing the point. The point is, there's money to be made by being
you
right now. Everyone wants to know what you're doing, right? Everyone wants to know what's going on with you. Hell, the news is insinuating you're dead.”

“They are?” Steve asked. “Why?”

“Don't ask,” Jane said. “Yeah, sure. There's money to be made if people want to chase me and sell pictures of me looking miserable. Good for them. They're basically bounty hunters. I hate all of them.”

“So don't give them the chance,” Meg said. “I think you should tell your story yourself. If people want to know about you so badly, give them what they want. On your terms.”

“Are you saying she should write a memoir?” Steve asked.

“Bingo. You can write your story yourself and tell everything you want to tell, the way you want to tell it. Don't let the media spin everything out of control. You're Jane Logan. You tell the Jane Logan story. I'd bet you could sell it for a ton of money. You might be able to afford a new apartment, or at the very least rent one, and the tabloids will back off because the mystery will be gone. No one will care about you anymore once you demystify yourself.”

“I don't know why you girls thought up your blackmail scheme, but didn't think of this earlier,” Steve said. “It's the much more obvious fix.”

“Thanks, guys. I appreciate you trying to come up with something productive for me to do with my time, but I don't think I can write a memoir. If for no other reason than I'd like to try to move on from this phase of my life, and writing about it will only keep it alive longer. It's so pathetic, isn't it? I'm almost forty years old, and I've never really given any thought to what I wanted to do when I grew up. I went from being an unemployed actress to being an unemployed trophy wife. It's not exactly the résumé I hoped to have at this stage of the game.”

“So what if you never held a normal job?” Meg asked. “It doesn't mean you can't use this time to figure out what you want
to do and go after it. You're smart, dedicated, and talented. You just need to refocus.”

“I know. I need to take some time and really figure out what I want to do now, you know? I don't want to make any stupid decisions on a whim. I've made enough of those for one lifetime, and all they've ever done is get me in trouble.”

“I think that's one of the smartest decisions you've ever made,” Cara said. “You're right. One thing you have going for you right now is that you don't have any obligations. You can do anything you want—once you figure out what that is, exactly.”

“Right. I just have to figure that out,” Jane said.

“You will. We will help you. You don't have to go through this alone anymore,” Meg said.

“What do you say we clean up and then have some after-dinner drinks in the den?” Cara asked.