Free Cosmopolitan Girls by Charlotte Burley Page B

nothing, cubbyhole of a room into a walk-in closet haven and laundry room. Before I left for a long weekend in Buffalo, I saw a floor display at Bed, Bath & Beyond and fell in love with it. It had a mesh wall and hanging racks, a canvas hamper, and lots of utility shelves. Michael copied it exactly. He could be so thoughtful when he wanted to.
    I took a long hot shower so I could be fresh for my baby. I was looking forward to a little tootsie rollin’. The food was done and I set the table. I slipped into one of Michael’s favorite Victoria’s Secret teddies, and topped it off with their signature pear body spray. The house was lit with scented candles, and the bed was fitted with satin sheets instead of the usual cotton. I laid down across the bed in a sexy come-and-get-it pose, rehearsing how I was going to look when my man walked through the door.
    I was interrupted by the ringing telephone.
Let the machine answer,
I thought. But what if it was Michael?
    â€œHello?” I said, putting my hand on my hip. I just knew it better not be Michael calling to say he was working another double.
    â€œYou must think you’re really special? Well you’re not, bitch!” my stalker threatened.
    I hurried and dialed star sixty-nine, but was defeated when I heard the recorded operator politely say,
“The number you are trying to call cannot be reached by this method.”
    What is going on? I clenched the phone tight. I adjusted the tension in my neck and shoulders. This is some bullshit. I hung up the phone and leaned against the wall in frustration. I didn’t need anything else fucking up my day. Who kept calling? And did the calls have something to do with Michael? Before I let my mind go completely wild I realized that I was tired, hungry, and in desperate need of some loving from my man. The thought of the much-needed lovemaking session with Michael quickly rejuvenated me. I decided to pull a Scarlett O’Hara and worry about the phone calls tomorrow. For now, I’d focus on tonight’s plan.
    I must have fallen asleep, because when I rolled over Michael was in bed snoring! I sat up and looked over at the clock. It was 5:30 A.M. Had I dreamed the whole thing? The phone calls? The cooking? Everything? I got out of bed and went into the kitchen. The table was still set for two, only one plate was missing and the pots and pans were stored away in the refrigerator. I walked over to the sink and saw one dirty dish, a fork, and one glass. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I couldn’t believe the son-of-a-bitch had had the nerve to eat, and hadn’t bothered to wake me up! Couldn’t he see what I’d planned? Now that I thought about it, when I woke up I had been lying on top of the sheets, but Michael was underneath them.
    I walked back into the bedroom, and stood in the doorway watching Michael sleep. Maybe if I stared at him long enough, I’d telepathically find out what was really going on.
    So many questions ran through my mind. Why was this woman calling me?
Who
was the woman who called earlier this evening? What time had Michael gotten home? Why was all this happening right before our wedding? I was suddenly flooded with insecurity as I stared at Michael, who, unlike me, was at peace and asleep. I tried hard, but I couldn’t hold back. Tears gushed from my eyes.

Chapter 15
    The Lion’s Den

    I didn’t know just how serious Judy was until she sent both Tara and I formal e-mail invitations for our “Supper Club” night. When there was a new hot restaurant that had the city buzzing, we showed up to be the “chic critique” patrol. Bond Street, the swanky new place for sushi, was the choice tonight.
    I was the first to arrive. Anxious all day, I needed Tara and Judy’s advice on how to deal with Troy. I wanted to see him so badly. I was on the verge of doing something drastic.
    â€œLindsay sweetie!” Judy’s way of greeting a person