by Nicole Dykes
He zips the suitcase, “I do not have time to explain this to you again.”
“I need to know. Why do you think that having a child solely for your political career and image, would help me?” I pause and spit out, “So that I can be at home alone with a baby instead of just plain home alone?”
He glares over at me, “We will talk about this more when I get back.” He walks over to the door and stops, turning back for a moment, “When I met you and then met your parents, I thought you were the ideal candidate for my wife. Your mother is a perfect example of a good wife, respectful of your father. I know that they raised you better than this. Don’t let us all down.”
I wipe a single tear from my cheek, dropping my head to look down at the floor, “Yes, well I don’t remember running for the position of your wife. I thought we were in love.”
He shakes his head at me, “You are so naïve.”
My head snaps up, looking at him.
That’s all he has to say?
He’s never been good at expressing feelings, other than what he wanted. That was something I accepted a long time ago, but I always told myself he wanted to.
My God is my marriage a total sham?
There is no way that I have been totally blind to all of this for seven years of my life.
I know there was love there at one time. There had to be.
He looks down at his watch, “Charlotte, I don’t have time for this. I will call you when I land.”
I nod silently. Normally I would walk him to the door, give him a kiss and wish him a safe trip. But tonight, my body will not move.
“I have arranged for you to have dinner with Karen tonight. Be at the club at 7:00. And please don’t be late.”
“What?”
“Don’t argue, Charlotte. She will keep you company while I’m gone.”
Who will keep me company when you are home?
“Alright.”
He leaves our room and shortly after that, I hear the click of the front door being locked.
I stand and compose myself in the mirror.
How did I get here?
After what seems like an eternity pondering that thought, I go into autopilot mode.
I change into a knee length, black cocktail dress and heels. I fix my make-up and hair to make sure I’m presentable and then leave for the club.
As I drive through the crowded streets of Kansas City, my mind is whirling from my conversation with my husband.
The way he talked about the days when we first met. It was like he handpicked me from other “well-bred girls” to become his wife solely for the benefit of his career. Someone to simply show off and to be his well-mannered date to events.
I’m not totally ignorant, I did understand that would be part of our marriage. But I thought we were a team. It wasn’t until tonight that I realized I may have been more like an employee to him, just another person on staff.
I pull my car in front of the country club, handing my car over to the valet. I’m dreading every minute of this dinner with Karen.
Once inside, the hostess guides me to the table where she is already sitting there, checking her make up in her compact mirror.
She closes it and stands to give me hug, “Well, you made it. You look gorgeous as always.”
We both sit, both sitting the same way, perfect posture, legs crossed at the ankle. “Thank you, Karen. I love your dress, it’s very pretty.”
She smiles, coyly, “Oh well, it’s nothing like the dress you had on Monday, but I think it does the trick.”
That wasn’t a compliment. Just in case you were wondering.
Karen has wine and we order dinner. We both have a salad, then pass on dessert.
I miss dessert.
Not that I ever was really allowed to eat sweets, but occasionally my nanny would slip me some when I was a child.
Karen does however ask for another glass of wine and looks over at me. I’m lost in my own world. And I am having a really hard time focusing on her gossip, and talking about the next big event she’s organizing.
“I know that you miss Nicholas, but he will be back in a couple of days.”
I can’t hold myself back from scoffing when she says that, “I know that.”
“Besides it will give you guys a break from the petty arguing.”
I look at her stunned, “What do you mean?”
She waves me off, “Oh please, I know all about your little argument. Honey, you’re being ridiculous.”
This is not happening. This is not what my life has become. “Nicholas told you?”
“No, of course not. William did.”
“William knows?”
“Honey, we all know. And everyone, and yes me included, thinks it would be wonderful for you two. You have to learn to think, Charlotte.”
“I am thinking. Having a child to help someone’s career is disgusting.”
She tilts her head at me like I’m a child throwing a tantrum, “No, it’s smart. Marriage is give and take. You have to learn to play the game a little bit, my dear. You give him a baby and see what you get.”
“I would get a baby that I would raise on my own.”
Again she waves her hand, “Oh please, we don’t have to do anything alone. And babies are great, it’s teenagers that are a pain.”
“So you had your children for the sake of your husband’s career?”
Her husband works in finance. I can’t imagine why she would need to do that. “No, I didn’t, I had them as kind of a security policy.” She then adds, “And of course, love.”
“Security policy?”
She rolls her eyes and takes a sip of wine, “Yes, Charlotte. William and I have been married for twenty years, but I knew a long time ago that it was possible he would get bored with me and want a divorce. Having children allows for extra income and being tied to him forever.”
I’m sure my jaw is touching the table. “You married him for money and had children for money.”
“Oh Charlotte, you are so naïve.”
That’s the second time I’ve been called naïve tonight and my blood is boiling. “So enlighten me.”
“Alright. Women have to do things sometimes to gain security. Things that they may not want to do. I love William, but I really love the life he has given me. And I find it a bit hypocritical, you sitting her lecturing me about marrying for money. You are almost twenty years younger than Nicholas, sweetheart. We all know why you married him.”
There is no reason to argue. “You act like it’s a hundred years ago. Women have rights now.”
“Maybe in the ‘real’ world. In ours, we have to play the game and look out for our best interests. I know that you think having a baby would be a terrible thing, but trust me on this it would do wonders for your marriage.”
I stand up from the table. At a loss for words. “Thank you for joining me for dinner. I need to get home.”
She nods, “Alright. Just think about what I said.”
I leave the club in a fog, I have no idea where I’m going, but I have to get away from the club and even my own house doesn’t seem appealing.
After driving around aimless for a while and for reasons I don’t know or I don’t care to explore, I am now parked in front of Tricked.
They are closed and it’s dark inside. I just sit in my car.
Perhaps everyone is right and I’m just a naïve girl, blind to the world I live in.
Maybe all of this is normal?
I nearly jump and hit the roof of my car when there is a knock on my car window. I hold my chest and look to see that it’s Jackson, staring at me like I’m totally crazy.
Maybe I am.
Chapter 16
Jax
What the hell is she doing here?
It’s almost 9:30, and it’s dark out on the street in front of my shop. Charlotte looked terrified when I knocked on her window, and now she looks downright humiliated.
I signal at her to roll down her window an
d thankfully she does, “Charlotte, is everything okay?”
She scoffs at that. Even though it’s dark out, the security lights from the shop show me that’s she’s been crying. “No.”
“Come inside.”
She holds her hands up, “I can’t. I shouldn’t be here.”
There is no way I’m letting her leave now. “Charlotte, you are here. So come inside. Everyone else left already. It’s just us.”
She dabs at her eyes with a tissue and then opens her car door. When she steps out of her car she locks the door and follows me up to the door.
I pull my keys out of my pocket and unlock the door to my shop, letting her inside.
I flip on the lights to the main office, “You want some coffee? We have a pretty good machine.”
She nods, “That sounds nice. Thank you.”
She follows me into the back where there is a lounge for the employees. It’s complete with a kitchen, sofa and comfortable chairs, a nice table to eat lunch at and flat screen television.
She sits down cautiously on the couch, and I walk over to the coffee maker and start a pot of coffee. Before walking over and sitting next to her on the couch. Leaving some space between our bodies.
“You gonna tell me what you’re doing here?”
Her mascara is wrecked and she looks so unbelievably lost, “I don’t know.”
“So you always sit in your car at night crying in front of my shop?”
“Not usually.” She sniffs, “Nicholas and I had a fight and then I had a strange, sort of eye-opening dinner with a so-called friend.”
I try to stay calm and take a deep breath, “He didn’t hurt you did he?”
She shakes her head, “No, not physically if that’s what you mean. Nicholas isn’t a violent man.”
Somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, I know this is none of my business. I shouldn’t fucking ask any questions. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Fuck. Why do I care so much?
“I really shouldn’t. It’s personal.”
I nod my head. Okay that’s good. At least Charlotte has boundaries. Maybe she’ll keep us both safe.
Then she says, “Of course, apparently Nicholas has been telling everyone we know.” And I know I’m fucked.
The coffee machine beeps to let me know it is finished and I walk over. After pouring two cups of coffee, I bring them back to where Charlotte is sitting.
I hand her a cup and she cradles it in both hands, “Thank you.”
I sit down next to her, taking a drink of hot coffee. “I told you, we are friends. If you need or want to discuss this, then we can. If not, then we can sit here and drink coffee in silence. Up to you.”
She seems to be mulling that over pretty hard and then blurts out, “He wants to have a baby.”
What. The. Fuck. I’m really glad I wasn’t drinking coffee when she says that because I don’t want to know what it’s like for hot coffee to come out of my nose. Not exactly smooth.
I have no clue what to say to that and then Charlotte tacks on the drama, “That’s not really the bad part, Jackson. He wants to have a child to help his political persona.”
I say the first thing that comes to my mind, “And you told him to fuck off, right?”
Maybe I need to use my filter a little more.
But it actually gets a small snicker, “Not exactly in those words, but I wouldn’t agree to it. Now he’s furious with me.”
“So you are thinking about it?”
“No. I mean, yes. I have no idea anymore. I’m so confused. And then I find out that our friends not only know about it, but they think that it would be a great idea.”
Those are some fucked up friends. Luckily my filter kicked in on that one, and I didn’t say that out loud. Of course, it’s still me so I don’t totally hold back, “It doesn’t matter what they think. That’s a choice you have to make for yourself.”
“I know. And I could never do that, Jackson.” I feel relieved for a brief second, but it’s replaced by something else. “I just don’t know what to do. He’s so angry with me all of the time. I can’t do anything right.” I groan in disappointment. It really sounds like she wants to work it out with this asshole.
And no, I don’t want to think about why I’m so disappointed by that. She’s my married client after all.
“It’s not your job to please him.”
I really don’t want to think about Charlotte pleasing him again. How the hell is he not the happiest guy in the world? Charlotte is his wife.
She places her coffee on the table in front of the couch in the lounge, “We are married. I want to make him happy.”
I place my mug next to hers and look her dead in those gorgeous, green eyes, “Does he want to make you happy?”
Her face saddens, “I don’t know.” She wipes another tear from her cheek and it damn near kills me, “I don’t know anything anymore, Jackson. I don’t know why he married me in the first place. And now I know that everyone, including our friends, think that I married him solely for his money.”
I’m apparently a fucking glutton for punishment, because I break all of the unspoken, unwritten rules that I’m sure we both are well aware of- I touch her.
It’s forbidden. I shouldn’t. But I wrap my left arm around her small waist and pull her to my side. Letting her head rest on my shoulder, “I don’t think that.”
“I know that you don’t. What’s funny is that it couldn’t be further from the truth.” I can feel her breath on my neck as she leans on my shoulder looking up at me, “He grew up comfortable and made a decent amount of money before we even met, but he didn’t have nearly the amount my family did. I can’t tell you how many checks have been written from my father and my trust fund account to fund his career.”
For some reason, I didn’t see that coming. Charlotte is not only his “trophy wife”, a prize for this dickhead to show off to his friends, but she’s also his fucking meal ticket.
This woman is the most kind and pure person I’ve ever met, and this fucking guy is using her for everything he can get.
I would love to drive to his house and beat the shit out of him. Maybe even make him cry, like he did to her.
Honestly, ten years ago there wouldn’t be any stopping me. Hell, maybe even four years ago. Now the voice in my head that tells me not to do stupid shit, is getting louder and louder.
“Charlotte, why do you do it?”
I feel her shoulders shrug, the contact of her body on mine is torture, “I love him. Or I loved him. Oh, I don’t know anymore.”
“He can’t make you have a baby.”
“No, but it could break up our marriage and I can’t do that.”
No matter how I say this it’s going to make me look like an asshole, but oh fucking well. “Why not?’
Her eyes connect with mine again as I look down and she looks up from her place on my shoulder, “I can’t get divorced. It would disgrace my family. My parents have been married for thirty-one years. And my mom’s parents, they have been married for nearly sixty. We don’t get divorced in my family.”
“So you just have to stay in this marriage. With a man who is using you for his career and money?”
Her head leaves my shoulder as her body moves up, placing her elbows on her knees she leans her head down, sobbing, “I don’t know if that’s true. He’s under a lot of stress with the re-election coming up.”
Now she sounds like an abuse victim.
I place my hand on the small of her back, rubbing it in small circles, trying my best to comfort her. “Please don’t cry.”
She sits back up, still sitting dangerously close. Our side touching and my arm is around her back.
Her face, those full lips are way too close to mine. Her eyes are slightly red from crying, but they are also shimmering in the light.
She’s so fucking beautiful.
I reach over with my other hand to wipe another tear and it brings us even closer, our noses graze.
For a split second, everything freezes. She’s not my client. She’s not married. There’s no Dylan or Alex telling me not to.
God, I want to.
And then her fucking phone rings and she jumps backward, distancing herself from me.
She quickly, searches through her small purse and finds her phone. “It’s Nicholas. I should go.”
What am I supposed to do? Tell her to stay and possibly commit adultery with a guy who is constantly talking about how he will never get married, and just wants to have a good time for the rest of his life.
Beg her to divorce him and again run to Mr. No Commitment?
Charlotte has to figure out for herself what is best for her. If she leaves this asshat it can’t be because of someone else. She’s been told what to do her entire life.
The phone stops ringing. She didn’t answer it.
We both stand with a sizeable distance between us. “Thank you for listening to me, Jackson.”
“I told you that I would.”
She smiles, “Yes, well, I’m not used to people keeping their word.”
She turns to leave and I reach for her hand, holding her here with me, “Are you really going back to him, tonight?”
“No. He’s in D.C. for a trip. I’m sure that phone call was to tell me he arrived. But I do need to go home.”
At least he won’t be there.
“Goodnight, Charlotte. Drive safe.”
“Goodnight, Jackson.”
She flees out of the lounge. I clean up the coffee, putting the mugs into the dishwasher in the small kitchen.
I hear footsteps coming down the hallway, but they don’t sound like high heels on the tiled floor.
Luke stands in the doorway, glaring over at me with suspicion, “What the hell was she doing here?”
Fuck my life.
“How long have you been here?”
“Not long, I couldn’t sleep. I was in my garage and heard someone leave the main entrance. Imagine my surprise when I looked outside and saw Mrs. Warner pulling out in her beamer.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“No, it fucking couldn’t be. That would mean you are having an affair with not only a married woman, but one whose husband could potentially put us out of business.”
