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The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo(75)

By:Taylor Jenkins Reid


“Harry.”

“And . . . what I told you yesterday about wanting a wife. I’ve been thinking, and if this works, if people buy it . . . maybe we could raise a family together. Don’t you want to have a family?”

“Yes,” I said. “Eventually, I think I do.”

“We could be great for each other. And we won’t just give up when the bloom falls off the rose, because we already know each other better than that.”

“Harry, I can’t tell if you’re serious.”

“I’m dead serious. At least, I think I am.”

“You want to marry me?”

“I want to be with someone I love. I want to have a companion. I’d like to bring someone home to my family. I don’t want to live alone anymore. And I want a son or a daughter. We could have that together. I can’t give you everything. I know that. But I want to raise a family, and I’d love to raise one with you.”

“Harry, I’m cynical and I’m bossy, and most people would consider me vaguely immoral.”

“You’re strong and resilient and talented. You’re exceptional inside and out.”

He had really thought about this.

“And you? And your . . . proclivities? How does that work?”

“The same as it has with you and Rex. I do what I do. Discreetly, of course. You do what you do.”

“But I don’t want to continue to have affairs my entire life. I want to be with someone I’m in love with. Someone who’s in love with me.”

“Well, that I can’t help you with,” Harry said. “For that one, you have to call her.”

I looked down at my lap, stared at my fingernails.

Would she take me back?

She and John. Me and Harry.

It could actually work. It could work so beautifully.

And if I couldn’t have her, did I want anyone else? I was pretty sure that if I couldn’t have her, all I wanted was a life with Harry.

“OK,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

Another car came up behind us, and Harry grabbed me again. This time, he kissed me slowly, passionately. When a guy jumped out of his car with a camera, Harry pretended, just for a split second, that he didn’t see him and slipped his hand down the top of my dress.

The image printed in the papers the next week was tawdry, scandalous, and shocking. It showed us with swollen faces and looks of guilt, Harry’s hand clearly on my breast.

The next day, everyone was printing headlines that Joy Nathan was pregnant.

The four of us were the talk of the nation.

Unscrupulous, unfaithful, lustful sinners.

Carolina Sunset set a record for the longest stay in theaters. And to celebrate our divorce, Rex and I shared a pair of dirty martinis.

“To our successful union  ,” Rex said. And then we clinked our glasses and drank.





IT IS THREE IN THE morning by the time I get home. Evelyn had downed four cups of coffee and apparently felt wired enough to keep talking.

I could have bowed out at any point, but on some level, I think I welcomed the excuse not to go back to my own life for a little while. Being wrapped up in digesting Evelyn’s story means I don’t have to exist in my own.

And anyway, it’s not my place to go making the rules. I picked my battle. I won. The rest is up to her.

So when I get home, I crawl into bed and will myself to fall asleep quickly. My last thought as I go to sleep is that I am relieved I have a valid excuse for why I haven’t responded to David’s text yet.

I’m woken up by my cell phone ringing, and I look at the time. It’s almost nine. It’s Saturday. I was hoping to sleep in.

My phone shows my mother’s face smiling at me. It’s not quite six her time. “Mom? Is everything OK?”

“Of course it is,” she says, as if she’s calling at noon. “I just wanted to try to catch you and say hi before you headed out for the day.”

“It’s not even six A.M. where you are,” I say. “And it’s the weekend. I’m mostly planning on sleeping in and transcribing some of my hours of Evelyn recordings.”

“We had a small earthquake about a half hour ago, and now I can’t go back to sleep. How is it going with Evelyn? I feel weird calling her Evelyn. Like I know her or something.”

I tell her about getting Frankie to agree to a promotion. I tell her that I got Evelyn to agree to a cover story.

“You’re telling me you went up against the editor in chief of Vivant and Evelyn Hugo both within twenty-four hours? And you came out getting what you want from everyone?”

I laugh, surprised at how impressive it sounds. “Yeah,” I say. “I guess I did.”

My mom lets out what can only be described as a cackle. “That’s my girl!” she says. “Oof, let me tell you, your father would be beaming right now if he were here. Would just be glowing with pride. He always knew you were going to be a force to be reckoned with.”