Un-Tying the Knot {h.s.}

Chapter 4

"And if at all possible can you get a reservation at Catch for tomorrow?" Eleanor finishes.

We're in the elevator. We just got done shopping. I'm exhausted.

I'm holding about five massive bags that I've had to carry all throughout Rodeo Drive, and have been equally trying to clutch them to my body for the past 30 minutes while she chatted on the phone in the parking garage and paced, threatening to cut my arm off if I dropped them because she didn't want them to touch the "filthy ground." She had promised we would be going upstairs any moment. Of course, I stood there tortured for 30 minutes. At least now we were in the elevator, we were on course and I could put these down soon.

As soon as we had gotten in the elevator and Eleanor had finished dictating her latest set of demands to me (even though I wasn't capable of writing anything down because my hands were full), she slouched against the railing.

"What a stressful, horrendous day," she murmured.

Yes. Stressful and horrendous. For one of us, anyway.

We had four business meetings before lunch, a disaster with the florist shortly thereafter, and we then spent hours letting Eleanor "sulk it off" with retail therapy. Pretty sure it was her preferred version of therapy. Either way, I was happy that it was Friday and almost over.

I watched as she started to rub her temples, still hearing the dinging sound of the elevator shifting floors. Where were we anyway?

"Who are we meeting here?" I asked, curiously.

"No one. I live here," she rolls her eyes, as if I should know. I've never been to her home before, though.

All I could do was blink my eyes. Of course! It makes sense now. This was the tallest high rise on the west side, and the opulence of the lobby we had wandered into wasn't lost on me. As I looked down at the elevator panel, I realized we were heading to the penthouse. Because of course.

As soon as the elevator dings, Eleanor immediately pushes out, leaving me in her wake. I struggle out of the doors and nearly drop the bags at the sight of the 20th story penthouse.

The foyer was an entire floor of nothing but glass, giving you a full 360 view of all of Los Angeles. You could see the beach and the ocean on one wall, turn 180 degrees, and see the city on the other. I was in awe.

As I looked back into the house, avoiding the view, I saw the modern living room sprawled in such a trendy area. But there were stairs, and as I looked up, I realized that there must be at least two to three additional stories. This place was absolutely beautiful.

As the thoughts settle in, I can't help but feel weird being here. This is Eleanor's home; where she eats, bathes, and lives. And in this moment, I realize that I'm guilty of the same thing Eleanor does every day. I've forgotten that she is human. There's a real living, breathing person with thoughts and feelings and emotions. And this is where it all comes together, at night and in the morning. We were both first and foremost, women.

My thoughts were interrupted by Eleanor's voice. "Great, she's still here," she offered, pausing to check her watch. "I have to go talk to the maid about the mess she made of my Vera Wang gown."

Okay, maybe we weren't exactly alike.

"And Harry's home," she groaned with an eye roll. "Playing that God forsaken piano. I swear if it wasn't a gift from Elton John himself, I'd get rid of it."