you for a fabulous evening. So much fun. See you Monday.”
Charlie Bartlett called her the next morning and invited her to brunch at the Carlyle. They walked through Central Park afterward and he left her reluctantly when he put her in a cab to go home.
He called her again on Monday, and invited her to a gala dinner at the Metropolitan Museum that she had frequently read about but never been to. He had lunch with her in SoHo when he dropped by to see the new offices, and took her to dinner at La Grenouille on the weekend. It was a full-court press with a massive bouquet of red roses, and every evening she spent with him was more fun than the last one. He had to go to London and Dubai the following week, but as soon as he got back, he took her out to dinner again, and invited her to see his incredible Fifth Avenue triplex that made her parents’ apartment look like a hovel in comparison. She was impressed that when she went to his apartment, somewhat hesitantly for a drink, he didn’t try to get her into bed. He treated her like a very attractive woman he was smitten with and courting, but not like a piece of meat that was his for the grabbing. He was a total gentleman and she loved the little bit of Texan drawl he still had. It was a challenge to keep her head and not fall head over heels in love with him. He was everything any woman could have wanted and more. His obvious fortune far exceeded hers so he wanted nothing from her. He was kind and funny, intelligent, and had a great time with her. She hadn’t had a bad moment with him yet, and he kept coming up with more fun things to do. He knew about every play, every exhibit, and every new restaurant in New York. She was working hard in the daytime, and playing hard at night with Charlie. She wanted to ask him where he’d been all her life while she wasted her time with sleazeballs like Nigel and Ed, and cripples like Ian. There was nothing wrong with Charlie Bartlett, and he felt the same way about her. She was starting to ask herself if this could be happening, and if it was real. It was almost too good to be true, and if it wasn’t real, his performance was seamless. He appeared to be the perfect man in every way.
He waited two weeks to kiss her, and when he did, it was both gentle and searing at the same time, and quickly became highly addictive. They did a lot of kissing and groping and wishing after that, but Coco didn’t want to rush into anything. She wanted to savor each moment and let it unfold. He was in no rush. He wanted things to happen the way she wanted them to, however that was. She had never been around a man as easy to get along with, and so eager to make her happy, whatever that meant to her.
Sam sensed something different about her, and questioned her about it when they had dinner.
“What’s up? I saw you on Page Six twice last week.” Everyone in the city read it, about the movers and shakers, and the high-end local gossip. “How do you know Charles Bartlett?” Sam was impressed.
“He’s a friend of Evan, my investor.”
“He’s got a great reputation in the world of finance. He’s supposedly a pleasure to do business with, and an honest guy.”
“He’s an incredibly nice man. He knew my father. I think I’ve really met a great guy this time. I’m taking it slow. We’ve been out a lot.”
“That doesn’t sound slow to me.”
“What’s happening with Tamar?” They hadn’t spoken in a few days, and the last time they had, things were stressful for him, which was no surprise, given the situation. He had confronted her about the affair with the rabbi, and she admitted it. She was in love with him. Enough so to give up custody of her kids.
“Amazingly, it sounds like she’s really going to let me have custody, with reasonable visitation for her. The rabbi must not want four children under five underfoot. But she wants a lot of spousal support, and possibly a settlement. I can’t believe it, but it’s down to that now. I think she may move out soon. I’ll have to prepare the kids.”