Romy Sommer - Not a Fairy Tale

Removing her make-up was a mission, with nothing more than soap and water at hand, but she managed to get rid of the worst before she shucked off the remains of her destroyed evening dress and crawled between sheets smelling of lemony fabric softener.

It was only as she closed her eyes to let sleep claim her that she remembered what Dominic had said. Not “ if you come to me,” but when .

Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she drifted into sleep.

The angle of the light was all wrong. Nina forced open eyelids that seemed stuck together. Her mind was awake, but her body resisted. She snuggled deeper into the warm, soft duvet with its alien scent and peered out.

Her emotions were less easy to appease than her body. As the memories of the night came crashing back, so did the disappointment, excitement, humiliation, and turmoil. But her most overwhelming sensation was relief.

She’d done the right thing.

She was so not going to be one of those celebrities who racked up marriages and divorces faster than they racked up air miles.

What had Paul been thinking? They hadn’t even met each other’s families yet. How would her family feel hearing the news of her engagement from whichever reporter first managed to track them down for a comment?

She could imagine what Gran would have to say, and none of it would be printable.

Even so, she’d probably committed career suicide last night. But she couldn’t lie in bed all day and pretend it hadn’t happened. She’d have to get out there and face the music.

She stretched in the luxurious warmth of the bed and lifted herself up on her elbows. A large room, all in white but somehow not clinical. Golden sunlight slanted through the gap in the gauzy white curtains, across the white hardwood floor and onto the four-poster where she had slept. On one wall hung a dozen pictures in matching dark-wood frames. She climbed out of bed and moved to take a closer look.

Miniature movie posters; the kind they gave away free at movie theatres on opening nights. It was a moment before she registered they were probably all movies Dominic had worked on. Not all Christian Taylor movies, though she’d assumed they always worked as a team.

On the antique bench at the foot of the bed lay a pile of neatly folded clothes with a note. Hope something fits . She lifted the clothes gingerly. A pair of ladies’ sweatpants, jeans, a couple of t-shirts, and a hoodie. She didn’t want to think too closely who they might once have belonged to. She didn’t want to think too closely about what their owners had worn to go home in either. But at least they would be more comfortable than a way-too-revealing, torn evening gown.

She showered and dressed in the grey sweatpants, a plain-white t-shirt, and the hoodie. The fact that the jeans were at least two sizes too small didn’t help her mood.

When she emerged from the bedroom, the house was eerily quiet. She tiptoed down the passage and into the open-plan living area, careful not to disturb her host if he still slept.

The living rooms were warm and homely, with scatter cushions and vases, an unexpected window of stained glass in the dining area, and a wall of framed family photos Nina didn’t look at too closely. This was nothing like the carefully styled “I’m a sensitive man” look Paul’s decorator had created, with native American art on the walls but not a personal picture in sight.

Dom’s house had a haphazard warmth and feminine touches that suggested the action man with a reputation for going through women quicker than most men went through underwear had at least one home-making woman in his life.

Nina clenched her jaw and headed for the kitchen. It took her a couple of impatient minutes to figure out how to work the state-of-the-art coffee machine in the corner of the kitchen, then she set to ransacking the cupboards for something to eat.

Dom had a surprisingly well-stocked refrigerator for a bachelor. Fruit, vegetables, pro-biotic yogurt and freshly squeezed organic juice. After last night’s decadence, she should stick to All-Bran and water, but instead, she grabbed a banana muffin and a tub of yogurt, then sat at the kitchen counter with her espresso. The house didn’t have much of a view, but the back yard was certainly pretty, enticing her to enjoy its delights. A wooden patio set stood on the small redwood deck, with a wall of lush greenery beyond. A grapevine grew across the trellis that shaded the deck, and a wind chime hummed a melody as it stirred in the breeze.

She rose to head to the sliding doors and caught sight of the wall clock. She only just managed to stifle a groan. Mid-afternoon already. Everyone she knew had to be worried sick and wondering where she was by now. At the very least her PA, Wendy, would have expected her to report in a few hours ago.

Now, where the hell was her cell phone? Nina clapped a hand over her mouth, suppressing another groan. She’d left her purse at the coat check. At the one-of-a-kind, once-off party venue, which was no doubt already being dismantled.

She could only hope some journo wasn’t going through her cell phone photos right now. Was there anything incriminating on there? Aside from a couple of no make-up selfies, she hoped not.

Using the landline in Dom’s kitchen (who even still had one in this day and age?) she called the only number she could remember off the top of her head. She hoped Dom wouldn’t object to the long-distance call.

“Hello?” Jessie’s voice sounded tentative down the line.

“Hi, Jess.”

Her sister screeched so loud, Nina had to hold the phone away from her ear. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling and calling, and finally some intern from Vanity Fair answered your phone. She didn’t believe it was yours either. She was convinced an A-list celebrity would own something fancier.”

Nina rolled her eyes. “I left it at the after-party.”

“That good, was it? Did the party cheer you up, then? You sounded so down after the awards ceremony.”

So her sister hadn’t heard the biggest news of the night yet. “The Governor’s Ball was really wonderful. How did your appointment go this morning? Did it take – are you pregnant?”

Jess’s hesitation was all the answer she needed. Nina’s heart sank. How many IVFs had her sister already tried and failed?

Jess cleared her throat. “Give me all the details. How was the VF party? Who was there? Drop some names. Was it really as glamorous as it looks?”

Allowing herself to be diverted, Nina sipped a mouthful of espresso and launched into a description of the after-party as best she could. But her stomach pulled tighter as she talked. She had to get this over with. Jessie couldn’t hear from some other source. She steeled herself. “Paul proposed.”

“Shut up! Why didn’t you tell me you guys were that serious? ”

“Because we weren’t. I didn’t see it coming.” She stumbled for words. “I didn’t know what to do. He asked me in front of everyone. And I mean everyone . I said ‘no’.”

“Are you mad?” Her sister screeched again, and Nina held the phone away from her ear. Not Jessie too.

“I don’t want to marry him. I mean he’s nice and everything, but he’s not…I can’t see myself with him for the rest of my life.” She couldn’t see herself with anyone for the rest of her life. She had little enough privacy as it was. But if she was going to spend her life with someone, it would be someone who set her alight, not someone who’d eventually wear her down.

As the words of her favorite country song went, she was “better in a black dress” than in a white veil.