One Fifth Avenue - Candace Bushnell [138]
But then riding down Fifth Avenue in the taxi, they’d come upon the mighty glory of One Fifth, and Lola decided the evening had been worth all the trouble. Reaching the thirteenth floor, Lola found Enid’s keys, opened her door, and handed Enid back her handbag. Enid rewarded her with a kiss on the cheek, something she’d never done. “Good night, dear,” she said. “I had such a good time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Do we have plans?” Lola asked.
“No. But now that you’re living with Philip, we don’t need plans. I’ll knock on your door. Maybe we can go for a walk.”
Great, Lola thought, going into Philip’s apartment. Tomorrow was going to be about twenty degrees. “Philip?” she called.
When she didn’t get an answer, she went through the apartment, looking for him. Philip wasn’t home. This was perplexing. She called his cell phone and heard it ringing in his office. He’d probably gone to the deli and would be back in a minute. She sat down on the couch, took off her shoes, and kicked them under the coffee table. Then she noticed that her bridal magazines were missing.
She stood up, frowning, and began searching for them. There had been a dress in one of the magazines that was particularly fetching—it was beaded and strapless, with a long train that flowed out when you walked, and pooled elegantly around the feet when you stood still. If she couldn’t find the magazine, she might never find that particular dress, because the bridal magazines didn’t put all their pages on a website, so prospective brides actually had to buy the publication. She looked in the kitchen and then Philip’s office, coming to the conclusion that he had accidentally thrown them out. She would have to scold him for it—he had to learn to respect her things. Going back into the kitchen, she poured the last of a bottle of white wine into a glass, then opened the garbage chute to dispose of the bottle. Philip had repeatedly told her not to put glass down the chute, but she refused to follow his orders. Recycling was such a pain, and besides, it was completely useless. The planet had already been ruined by previous generations.
And lo, stuck in the top of the narrow chute was one of her magazines. She pulled it out and, smacking it on the counter, glared. So Philip had thrown out her magazines on purpose. What did that mean?
Taking the glass of wine into the bathroom, she began running a bath. She assumed Philip wanted to marry her—why wouldn’t he?—but that it would take some urging to pull it off. What she’d been telling James Gooch about Philip wasn’t true at all. She was perfectly happy to force Philip down the aisle if she had to. Everyone knew that men needed to be marched to the church, but once they were, they were grateful. If necessary, she was even willing to get pregnant. Celebrities were always getting pregnant first and married later, and if she had a baby, it could be dressed up like a little bridesmaid and carried down the aisle in a basket by her mother.
She was stripped down to her bra and panties when she heard the key turn in the lock. Without covering up, she hurried into the foyer. Philip came in, unencumbered, she noted, by a deli bag, and wouldn’t look her in the eye. Something was wrong.
“Where were you?” she asked, then adjusted her attitude to make it seem like she didn’t care. “I had the best time with Enid at the ballet. It was so beautiful. I didn’t know it would be like that. And ‘Diamonds’ was so cute. And Enid said you danced in The Nutcracker when you were a kid. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He turned around and closed the door. When he turned back, he appeared to register the fact that she wasn’t dressed. Usually, this excited him, and he’d put his hand on her breast. But now he shook his head. “Lola.” He sighed.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Put on your clothes and let