That night, Jules lay awake thinking about Monique Leung, Simon’s cryptic words about new opportunities, and Stan Oppenheimer. She also remembered, for some reason, the way Vivian had looked in her pajamas on New Year’s Day. That seemed like years ago now.

When Jules fell asleep, she dreamed about Vivian’s mouth and body. Her mind was a little fuzzy on the actual details; all she knew was that Vivian’s skin was soft beneath Jules’s mouth and hands, and that, for once, she welcomed Jules with open arms.

And in her dream, for the first time in a long time, Jules felt joyful. Like she’d come home, like this was the rightest thing ever, like everything was okay at long last. Vivian shuddered and whispered that Jules was wonderful, that what Jules was doing to her felt so good.

So of course Jules had to go and wake up in the middle of it.

Her skin was tingling, and she had a wet ache between her legs, even though the dream hadn’t been super explicit. Still half asleep, refusing to let herself think, she reached between her legs and rubbed. She remembered only the noises Vivian had made in her dreams—soft, pleased little murmurs and moans—and the way Vivian had felt beneath her, so warm and welcoming. She remembered this and only this until she came with a moan of her own.

Then she lay still and waited for her heartbeat to slow down, still keeping her mind as blank as possible so she wouldn’t start thinking yet again about how pathetic she was. She reached for a Kleenex from the box on the nightstand and wiped off her fingers.

Her last thought before she drifted back to sleep was that she should take a leaf from Simon’s book and start looking for a Prince or Princess Charming at Fashion Week. It might be the only way off the Hindenburg at this point.

Chapter 36

Chapter 36

As they were driving away the next morning, Vivian told Jules, “I’ll be leaving for dinner from the townhouse at seven thirty. And don’t forget my lunch appointment with Stan.”

“Right.” Jules’s tone came out too sharp.

It provoked a frown.

Jules cleared her throat. “Sorry. Right.”

The lunch appointment was pretty short. Vivian and Stan Oppenheimer only had thirty minutes to spend together before the Burberry show. Jules spent the whole time thinking in agony about all the different ways a person could spend a half hour. She and a couple of her exes had tried several of them.

At least she had her own thing to do tonight. Her own puzzle to solve. Monique Leung obviously wanted something from her. Only time would tell what that might be, and ordinarily the thought would have made Jules nervous. Was going to the party an act of disloyalty?