by S. Layne
My mind is so focused on work all morning long that besides the few phone calls I get for Liam, reminding me he’s not in the office, I barely notice that he’s gone.
The entire day flies by and by the time Liam arrives from lunch, looking just as commanding and sexy in his suit that he did this morning, the entire exchange from earlier is forgotten.
“Hey there,” I greet him and stand up from my desk. I know he’s going to want to speak to me, so I gather my iPad and a stack of notes for him from this morning.
“Good morning?” he asks, waving me into his office.
“Busy. Yours?”
His hand goes to his tie and he adjusts. It’s an odd movement, watching him fidget. “Fine. Great, actually.”
I don’t say anything and take a seat at my usual chair in front of his desk. He’s not looking me in the eyes, and the soft gazes I’ve been receiving are gone.
Something cool prickles down my spine as we get down to business and I discuss the meetings he has this afternoon with our Marketing Team and then one more meeting with the Tech Team. They sent over the finalized designs and prototype this morning, and I watch as he grins slyly when I hand it to him.
“Check it out,” I say and nod. I squirm in my chair. Three years working on this and I’m almost seeing it to fruition.
It’s like Christmas presents and Halloween candy all in one day.
I am riveted to his reaction as he slides the small prototype out of the envelope and into his hand. Two small cords with fabric-type pads at the ends follow it and I watch as he meticulously wraps the wires and clips them to the back panel. It snaps closed and when everything is concealed, the handheld defibrillator is smaller than my iPhone.
“It’s perfect.” He lifts his eyes to mine and smiles. It’s genuine and soothes some of the distance between us.
I grin back. “That’s what I thought.”
Slowly, his grin changes into something introspective and his eyes soften. “You’ve done an amazing job with this product from start to finish.”
“Um. Thanks?” I tilt my head, wondering where he’s going. He hasn’t seen me on this project from the beginning, and his tone—the implication—is strange. “You’re acting kind of strange today. Is something going on?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m just proud of you.”
I lick my lips. It takes me a moment to respond and when I’m about to, I’m cut off by the buzzer on Liam’s phone.
He hits the intercom button. “This is Liam.”
“Hi, Liam.” Sheila’s voice comes through the phone. “I know you and Laurie are in a meeting, but her mom is on the phone and she said it’s urgent.”
“Not a problem.” Liam nods toward me. “She’ll be right out to her desk, send the call through.” He presses the button to end the call and shoos me toward my desk. “We can talk more later.”
I’m frazzled and confused when my desk phone starts ringing, and I feel an odd tingling run down my spine.
Turning around, I see Liam’s eyes on me through his office.
I frown and pick up the phone, putting my back to him. “Hello?”
“Laurie, I finally reached you.” Her voice is panicked and instant concern prickles down my arms.
“Is everything okay, Mom? Is Dad okay?”
She huffs. “Of course we’re fine. But I’ve been speaking with the Center Theatre all morning finalizing everyone’s seats and I learned that you have only RSVP’d for one person. Is James working, dear? I don’t understand how he can miss this important night for your father.”
Technically, it’s an important night for the leukemia foundation they’re raising money for, but somehow my mom makes everything about her.
“Um…he can’t make it.” My fingers brush across my forehead and I fight to keep my composure. This is not how I wanted her to find out.
“Nonsense,” she states. “I’ll just give him a call—”
I interrupt. “No, Mom. Don’t do that. James can’t make it and he’s horribly sorry.”
“Well, I just don’t understand.”
I sink into my chair and my grip on the phone tightens. “Mom,” I finally say. “I’m leaving James. We’re in the middle of a divorce right now.”
She gasps, and then a thick silence settles on the phone line. I close my eyes when I feel it.
Feel him.
Snapping my eyes open, I shift in the chair and see Liam standing in the doorway to his office, arms crossed over his chest and a cool gaze on my phone.
“You can’t,” my mom stammers and then huffs again. I knew she’d take this as a personal insult. “This is silly. Whatever problems you have, you can work through them.”
Not if I don’t ever go to the marriage counseling appointments he’s texted me about and I’ve ignored.
“Mom…this really isn’t the best time.” I swallow and look away from Liam. “James and I are over and I know that hurts you.”
“Hurts me? Honey, this is horrible for you. James always took such good care of you, you can’t just leave. What will you do?” I don’t have time to respond before she keeps rattling. That whole career of my own I have has never been important to her, regardless of the fact that I actually can take care of myself just fine. “Never mind. I’ll speak with James and we’ll get this all cleared up.”
I gasp into the phone only to be met with a dial tone in my ear.
Oh, hell.
I hang up the phone and drop my head into my hands, elbows propped on the desk.
When I pull my head up, Liam is still there, his eyes an arctic blue. “I take it your mom didn’t know?”
He spins on his heels and walks away, and I close my eyes.
People ending a conversation before I can respond is really beginning to irritate me.
It was only hours ago I woke up with Liam next to me, his deep timbre caressing me and making me fly to incredible heights, but even as I pick up the phone to make a call I need to make, I already miss him.
He’s feet from me but somehow I know that since he made me come this morning, everything is different.
I breathe a heavy sigh of relief when I call James’s private office number and he immediately answers. I don’t think I could handle Becky today.
“Hey, James,” I say quietly when he answers.
“Laurie, hi. Are you okay?”
I laugh, knowing I just had the same reaction to my mom’s phone call minutes ago. “Yeah…sort of. Do you have a minute to talk?”
Guilt stabs me in the chest when he says, “Of course. For you, always.”
At his casual tone I can practically see him smile through the phone, and the stabbing pain in my chest increases.
For years I thought he was the best man in the world. And one mistake ruined it all. And here he’s been, trying to change, or show me he can…or whatever…and I’ve been fucking my boss to forget my pain.
God. How did I become this woman I don’t even recognize anymore?
“Laurie?” he asks, his voice questioning.
“Yeah…sorry.” I push down my wandering thoughts. “Listen, I want you to know you’re going to get a call from my mom soon. And I’m really sorry in advance—I tried to stop her.”
“What is it?”
I hear something shift and click through the phone and I close my eyes. I can see him at his office, getting more comfortable, readying himself for a serious conversation.
“Their annual leukemia fundraiser is tomorrow night.” I bite my lip, so unsure of how to tell him this. “I told her you weren’t coming and I told her about our divorce.”
He’s silent for a bit. “I see,” he finally says. His voice is thick and tears burn my eyes. “I thought we were giving it sixty days.”
God, he sounds so defeated.
“James.” I sigh.
He laughs softly, but it’s cold and I squeeze my eyes shut. “I know what you said, Laurie. I also remember you saying you’d think about trying. Can I take i
t that you’ve decided for certain?”
A lump forms in my throat, preventing my answer.
I have decided. Haven’t I?
Movement to my right surprises me and I snap my head up. Liam is back in the doorway with a folder in his hands. His eyes assess mine and I watch his lips pull back into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
I fumble over my answer. “I can’t really talk right now,” I murmur into the phone. I feel like I’ve been caught doing something wrong. I’m not, though. Am I?
God, I’m such a mess.
James laughs once and his voice tightens. “Right. Don’t worry about your mom, Laurie. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks, James. I’ll talk to you later?”
I hear a cold laugh chill the phone line before he hangs up without answering.
I’m given no time to process the last five minutes and how everything shifted before Liam is in front of me.
“We have a meeting with Marketing.”
I nod and slowly reach for my own files, and then stand. “Okay.”
He nods toward the phone when I pull my eyes to his. I want to avoid him. I feel the weight of the day and I just want to go home and sleep.
“Was that the husband?” His lips press together and his eyes tighten.
“Yeah.” There’s no point in denying it.
The air between us becomes so thick I can practically taste it. Or reach out and touch it. I shiver under the withering glare Liam flashes.
“Very well, then.” His shoulders roll back and his face returns to indifference. “Let’s go.”
He waves me forward, but I notice that for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t lead me by touching me.
My mind spins in whiplash and I send up a silent prayer that the rest of the afternoon will fly by so I can get away from everyone who’s currently giving me a migraine.
My nerves are racing and dancing down my arms and through my body when the car my parents sent for me pulls up to the Center Theatre in Lansing. I’ve been in the car for over an hour by myself and the quiet has done nothing to settle the nervous anticipation of the night ahead of me. I’ve been here several times to take in plays or musicals with my family, and since they began donating money to the Michigan Leukemia Foundation five years ago, this has always been the arena where it’s held.
Outside, the walls are curved and look to be an ivory marble. The roof is slanted, which makes the whole building look even more like a spaceship, but that’s always made it seem more artistic to me.
Tonight, I inhale a deep breath and clasp my clutch in my hands tightly, wishing I was stepping into any other building but this one.
I have ignored my mom’s phone calls ever since she called at work yesterday. I was able to stave her off with texts, letting her know I was busy getting hair and nails done and then getting ready this morning, but I know as soon as I step through those doors, alone, I will face an incredibly difficult night of lying.
Lying about the reasons why James isn’t joining me to all of my parents’ social friends and professional acquaintances.
Lying to myself about the fact that I’m not missing Liam. A dull pain has beat inside my chest since our last Marketing meeting when he went into his office and shut the door.
I left the office without a word, knowing I’d already told him I wouldn’t be able to see him, but his aloofness still stung.
It still does.
“Ready, Mrs. Baker?”
I fight back a flinch and lift my hand toward the driver. He’s older than my dad and his hand is covered in age spots that remind me of my grandfather’s.
“Yes.” I nod, allowing him to gently assist me out of the car. “Thank you very much.”
He jerks his chin and gestures toward the entrance. “Have a pleasant evening. I’ll be here to assist you home when you’re done.”
A small sting of sadness makes me frown. “You’re just going to sit out here all night?”
His dry, pale lips crack into a smile and he waves me away. “Don’t you worry about me, my missus has me stocked with those books-on-tape-type things. I’ll put one in and it’ll feel like I’m at the movies. You just go on in and enjoy yourself.”
I bite back a sarcastic retort.
I’d rather walk across a bed of needles over a fire than endure the torture that’s certain to come my way.
With a friendly nod goodbye, I smooth out the imaginary wrinkles in my dress and head into Center Theatre. I’m swept away by the elegant fixtures that hang daintily from the ceiling on wires so thin they can’t be seen. It gives the illusion that thousands of candles are hanging in midair.
The elegant navy blue and silver curtains draped over the walls and across the arched ceiling flicker in the candlelight, creating the movement of gentle ocean waves rolling at night.
Its calming and elegant effect has everyone speaking in hushed tones. They’re the only sounds I hear other than the clinking of champagne flutes as I search the vast space for my parents.
My shoulders tighten and pull back as I remember my role for the night—to be the doting daughter—and I suck in a breath as deep as my skin-tight black dress will allow.
The small train wisps around my ankles as I walk steadily on the four-inch heels and make my way into the throng of donators, friends, and associates of my father. Somehow, he’s managed to take an annual celebration of his own Fortune 500 medical company and combine it with the most tastefully done and successful foundation gala of the year for business owners and the wealthy in Michigan.
I’ve always loved this night, hearing about my father’s successes and their plans for the future. It’s inspiring, and even as a teenager it created in me the drive to do more…see more…be more than the simple housewife my mother always thought I should aspire to.
I shake off the thought, the niggling voice in my head coming too close to the accusation James threw at me at lunch several weeks ago—that my role was to be there for him.
It’s silly and preposterous to think that a woman should have no passions outside the four walls of her home, and yet that’s what I’ve always known: a woman to stand by her man through thick and thin. Which is what I’ve always wanted, yet not at the exclusion of my own desires, too.
A waiter dressed in a black tuxedo, immaculately done hair, and a polite smile, pulls me out of my wandering and unhelpful thoughts.
“Champagne?”
“Please.” I reach for the glass, wishing he had a bottle that I could nab from his tray. “Thank you.”
With a slight dip of his chin, he’s gone, and I search the large room. Circular tables line the sides and in front of the stage in order to leave room for after dining dancing time. After scanning the room, I see my mother and father at the center table in front of the stage.
Steeling myself, I close the space between us, remembering to nod hello to associates I know—some of whom I grew up with—before I finally reach my mother.
“Darling,” she says and leans in to brush a whisper of a kiss across my cheek. “You look beautiful.”
Her eyes scan my hair, makeup, and length of my dress—down to my heels and the polish on my toes, which peek out from under the hem. Her eyes shimmer with approval before she steps back.
“Mother.” I nod and quickly take in her own elegant appearance. Almost sixty, she looks like she could still be mistaken for in her forties. Her hair drapes just to her shoulders—the same auburn hair that I have—and complements her bodice-style silver dress that widens at the waist and falls to the floor. The silver catches the light when she moves and it looks like it’s made of crystals.
“Hey, sweetie,” my dad says, pulling me in for a quick hug and a slightly more tender kiss.
“Good to see you,” I murmur against his cheek and squeeze his biceps.
“Heard you’re having some problems,” he says quietly when he pulls back. His eyes dip down in concern.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Of cou
rse you will,” my mother states and moves in next to my dad. Her light pink lips spread into a tight smile. “Couples have problems. You and James will get through yours.”
I can’t respond before she wraps her hand around my dad’s forearm and squeezes. “Tonight will be a night you never forget, I just have a feeling. So many big announcements coming tonight that your father can’t wait to share.”
My eyebrows pique with interest. “Yes?” I ask and tilt my head toward my father’s.
“Later.” He brushes another kiss across my cheek as we’re joined by his partner. “We’ll discuss it later, I promise.”
I frown when he looks at me with a hesitant expression.
The next thirty minutes move by at a turtle’s pace and eventually everyone gathers at the circular tables for dinner.
With efficient grace, meals are served and soft music plays from a string band on the stage when I finally notice the empty chair next to me.
“Mom?” I lean over and whisper. “Who’s the seat for?”
My heart drops when she looks at me with a cool expression that says she knows what’s best for me.
“Please,” I hiss, careful to not cause a scene. “Tell me you didn’t.”
I’m seated with my parents, my father’s partner and his wife—along with their son and gold-digging daughter-in-law. I’ve never liked any of them, always thought they were weasels—and their son Thomas and I have never gotten along. The fact that I didn’t want to be a trophy wife growing up never helped endear me to his wife, either, who looks down her thin and expensively bought nose at everyone.
My mom brings her champagne flute to her lips and whispers over the edge, “I will not be embarrassed on the biggest night of your father’s year, possibly in his career. Of course I extended the invitation to your husband.”
Husband. The word rolls and twists my gut, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.
“And yet he’s not here.”
She lifts and drops a shoulder, the movement precise and refined. “He will be.”
“I can’t believe you told him to be here,” I mutter and reach for my glass. I shouldn’t be surprised after our talk yesterday.
