by Lisa Lace
“I need to make sure I’m working toward a steady income even after this,” she gestures between us, “is over.” She is leaning against the window pane, her hands clutching the frame on either side of her.
“Why are you still concerned about money, knowing how much of a cushion you’ll have?” I am perplexed. “Is that all this is to you?” I can’t keep the hurt out of my voice, but I know that even if she agrees with that sentiment, I can’t blame her.
“I need that security is all,” she says flatly. She’s avoiding my eyes, and I feel myself losing my enthusiasm from earlier.
“I understand,” I tell her quickly. “Everyone needs that.” I begin to wonder if this is her way of asking me for more money. Bella’s mother had done that, implying that she had suffered depression during the pregnancy and deserved compensation for it. “I can increase how much I give you after the contract is up,” I say quietly. I wonder if she’ll take the bait. If she does, I’ll know I’m right about her motivations.
“No. I’d rather not take more than what we agreed upon. I’m more worried about my income and livelihood afterward.”
I’m only slightly satisfied by this answer. I’m still bothered because I’d imagined that she would be equally enthusiastic about extending our agreement. I know I’m able to read people well, so her lukewarm reaction to my suggestion confuses me.
The past couple of weeks have been so blissful, and well beyond my expectations of what we might have together. I assumed that she was feeling the same way about me, but now I wonder if her motivations have changed at all.
I don’t think it’s my place to ask her because according to our agreement, she is doing nothing wrong. In fact, she’s adhering to it, whereas I’m the one straying from it. I hadn’t expected my own feelings on the subject to change.
“Are those for me?” Laura is walking over to the table, where I laid the bouquet down. I’ve forgotten to purchase a vase from the gift shop downstairs to present them to her.
“Oh, yes,” I say. I go to stand next to her, picking up the bouquet to present them to her. I think it’s my imagination, but it’s possible her cheeks turned pink when I did that. It’s odd, though. As much as we’ve been intimate, I didn’t think this small gesture would have made her have that kind of reaction.
“Thank you,” she says smelling the lilies. “These are my favorite.” A look crosses her face. “Did I tell you that?”
“No, no. I, uh, well, I did see them on your laptop,” I say sheepishly. I give her a half smile in apology. “I’m sure I could have asked you, but it was a last-minute thing, and I saw them, so…” I’m not sure how to finish my thought.
She nods, but she’s still frowning. “I guess that makes sense. I’ll let that one slide since they are really nice.” She looks at me with a teasing smile.
Looking into her eyes, I see a glimpse of what our relationship could look like, and I want more. I want her to look at me as something more than a blank check.
Before I have a chance to steer the conversation back to expanding the terms of the agreement, her phone rings.
“Samuel! Yes, it’s good to hear from you. I’m sorry I couldn’t take your call earlier.” Laura moves to her bag and withdraws some papers. “I have them here; let me tell you which ones are done. I scanned the ones you’ll need for tomorrow but I don’t have the others done yet.”
I listen to her talk to Sam for a few minutes while I straighten Bella’s room. I see pictures Bella has drawn of herself with what looks like Laura. They are holding hands in one picture, sitting with a giant teacup in another, and among flowers in a third. In such a short amount of time, Laura has made an enormous impression on Bella. And me. I tuck the pictures into Bella’s travel bag and walk out to see if Laura has wrapped up her conversation yet. She hasn’t.
“You’re absolutely right.” She’s laughing. “I’ll try that place next time. If we get a chance, we should go to the one near the office.” She pauses and laughs again.
I can’t help feeling like an outsider with her and Sam. I want to tell her that she should limit talking to Sam to only work-related topics. I want to tell Sam to back the hell off and to keep their relationship strictly professional. But as much as I want to say this to her, I know I have no right. I don’t see myself telling Sam anything unprovoked either, so I stew. I recall him telling me how attractive he thought Laura was, and it burns me up.
When Laura hangs up, she seems to be in a more cheerful mood, and it bothers me. The evening isn’t going the way I expect at all.
“When do you have to leave for your dinner?” I ask casually. I am suppressing the frustration that is building up inside me.
“I have to get ready for that,” Laura says leaping up from the small couch. She’s wearing minimal makeup, with a plaid skirt and a plain white top. She looks incredible, and I want to tell her so, but I refrain. There is nothing I can say at this point that she will accept without reading into it. The contract says nothing about the feelings that I have budding for her or the envy I feel toward her reaction to my own brother.
“Daddy! Laura! You’re back!” Bella, her friend, and the nanny troop in. The nanny looks wiped out, and I can see that Bella looks like she has some energy to spare.
“Hey Doll-face,” I say, scooping her up. “Your mom will be by to pick you up in a bit,” I tell her friend.
“Your mum,” Laura corrects me with an elbow.
“Mum,” I repeat. Bella giggles.
“Why do you call your mum ‘Laura’?” Bella’s friend cocks her head to the side and looks from Laura back to Bella.
“She’s not my real mom,” Bella corrects her. She looks thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t know my real mom. She left.”
The friend seems to accept this for now and is already interested in one of Bella’s dolls on the coffee table. Bella slips down and goes to show off her whole traveling collection. I look at Laura in time to see a wistful expression lingering on her face. She hasn’t said anything about Bella calling her anything but Laura, and I never saw a need for her to change her title since it’s temporary. I wonder if Laura would have preferred that Bella call her something else.
“I better go get ready,” Laura says, heading to the bathroom. “When is the nanny leaving? Do you need help getting Bella ready for bed?”
“No, the nanny will be leaving shortly, but I can handle it.”
I look back at the flowers after Laura’s shut the door and wonder whether I can sustain the marriage as it stands today. If Laura is content with the way things are, then I should back off and respect her choice. The problem is that my mind understands this logic, but my heart thinks otherwise.
Laura
Sifting through the third bag, I come up empty-handed. We have been home for a few months now, and I have yet to unpack completely. Since our return, I’ve been even busier than before.
Before we left, I was still living alone. Although we were traveling together for just under two months, it has been an adjustment to move in with Maxwell and Bella. I feel like I’m living in another city, for one thing. And if that wasn’t enough, I’ve had to hit the ground running since we got back. There is always one crisis after another to deal with at work, and then I have Bella to look after as well. I’m not sure where I stand with Maxwell either, which adds to the mental load that I’m carrying around with me.
“Did you get that email?” Sam knocks on the door while he talks. His eyebrows are raised, and he waggles them the way he does to Bella when she’s being stubborn and he wants to cheer her up.
I give him a half smile. “I did. I just replied to him.”
“You’re an angel.” He grins. “What’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be working from home today?”
It’s interesting to me how Sam never mentions Max in relation to me. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge our relationship at all. Had he not attended our brief ceremony, I would assume he didn’t know about it.
“I was going to,
but there were a few things that I had to come in for anyway, so I’m making it a half-day,” I explain. “Bella has a ballet recital today too, so I need to take off early to take her to that.”
“Oh, I see.” Sam glances back toward Max’s office. “It explains why he’s in a rush to leave. I’ll go take care of my end of that email; you let me know when you’re leaving so I can watch for any others incoming. I can’t be as quick as you, but I can try.” He winks as he leaves.
I watch him go and wonder why he hasn’t mentioned any girlfriends or even expressed interest in anyone. Not that I expect him to confide in me, but I find it odd that he’s still single because he’s funny, attractive, and wealthy to boot. I notice several women in the office eyeing him, but he never gives them attention beyond what is necessary for work.
A movement catches my eye, and I see Max talking to a woman from Riley’s floor. She’s standing close to him and touching his arm while she leans in and laughs. I feel jealousy rise up inside me, but I push it away. I don’t have any right to feel jealous about someone who is with me for some predetermined amount of time.
I must be staring at her hard because she notices me. But she doesn’t have the decency to remove her hand from my husband’s arm.
My husband. Where did that come from? I never think of him in those terms, and doing so now makes me feel odd. Max catches my eye and gives me a quick nod before he begins backing away from the woman. He looks like he’s moving toward Sam’s office until she steps closer still to him. I can’t read Max’s expression but there is tension on his face.
I sigh and look away, pushing back from my desk. When I look up again, they’re gone.
A few months ago, I was worried about myself and how I was going to pay off all my debt. Now the debt is the furthest thing from my mind because that particular problem is all but eliminated thanks to Max.
But where that problem ended, several others have cropped up, also thanks to Max. I don’t miss wondering where I might get the money to pay everything off, but I do miss the simplicity of it. Worrying about where my situation with Max might leave me emotionally is always on my mind. It feels like I’m trying to keep myself afloat, but I find myself being pulled under by the current.
It’s also confusing for me to pretend that I don’t care about Max in front of him, but to pretend that I do care for him in front of everyone else. The hardest part is pretending to myself that I don’t care about him, though. I notice myself worrying about him when he doesn’t come home on time. I feel jealous when other women in the office get too close to him or make him laugh. The laugh he shares with them seems so carefree, but when he gets around me, I sense a tension.
When we were still in England, Max said he wanted to extend our agreement, but I didn’t want to at that time. If he asked me today, I would say yes, but I would have some addendums to the original contract.
I want something more substantial. I want to let go and feel something for him and have him feel something for me. But how do you spell that out in a contract and make it stick? What I want is something authentic.
“Hey, are you busy?” Riley is standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. She looks like she has something on her mind.
“Come in. I was just taking a break,” I tell her. Smoothing the wrinkles on the front of my skirt, I gesture to a chair where she can sit. “Sorry. I ran out of table space and moved some of my work to the chairs, so wherever you can find a perch, take it.”
“You and I have a lot to discuss,” Riley says seriously. As usual, she’s not one for small talk.
“I already knew you had something on your mind,” I grin. “What is it? Lay it on me.”
“You need to stop moping around and start putting more into your relationship with Max, or someone else will.” She arches an eyebrow and tilts her head back in a gesture meaning someone in the office.
“Yeah, I know, the blonde, right? What’s her story anyway? She seems really hands-on.”
“I know you’re new to the whole dating thing—forget that. You haven’t even really dated, which is what makes this so difficult. You do not understand the dynamics at play here. Women know when there’s trouble at home, first of all. And a man like Max is the ultimate goal. The only thing that held these women off before was the fact that we all thought Max was done with marriage and long-term relationships. He married you out of the blue, and granted, no one knows the terms of your marriage, but that tells them that he still wants commitment.” Riley pauses to grab some candy from a jar I have in the corner and crunches on them while she thinks.
“What do you think I should do?” I ask. “I want a more authentic relationship, but I don’t know how to ask for it at this point. Everything is so confusing.” I collapse into my chair and rub my temples.
“I knew this was going to happen!” Riley exclaims.
I glare at her. “Congratulations.”
“Sorry, you know I had to say it. Okay, let’s talk strategy here. You want him, and he seems to want you back. We can work with this. It was his idea to get married, after all.”
I tell her about Max wanting to extend the contract, and Riley claps her hands in excitement. “I knew it! He’s thinking about it, too! All you have to do is open up, Laura! You’re not showing him that you want this as much as he does!”
“But he never said anything about having feelings for me,” I argue. “He just said he thinks it’s a viable, convenient option for both of us.”
“Wow, sounds sexy,” Riley drawls. “You two really know how to make the sparks fly.”
“Shut up and help me,” I shoot back.
“It’s simple, really. You need to show him that you’re really interested in him—invested in him.”
“How do I do that?”
“How’s your sex life?” Riley asks, pacing the length of my office. “I’m assuming fairly active. Both of you are willing participants?” She whirls on me suddenly, her fingers poised to pop another piece of candy into her mouth. “Did you use any fun stuff?”
“What, like toys? No, it’s active without any supplements.” I think about how much I want him constantly throughout the day, to the point where I feel as if I need him more than he needs me. “If anything, we don’t do it enough, but it’s because we’ve been so busy since we got back.”
“Damn, you guys are so hot for each other you don’t even need to introduce edible panties.” Riley’s eyes narrow into the distance, and she looks back at me to nod in approval. “That’s awesome. Same for my guy and me, but we like to experiment. But back to you. So you haven’t hit a plateau or a routine, right?”
“Well, the frequency has definitely decreased since we returned,” I respond. I’m worried. Maybe Riley is onto something. If we’re not as active as we once were, that could mean that Max isn’t as interested in me. It’s possible that he’s following through with his “duties,” but he’s waiting for it to end. The thought makes me shiver.
“Then it’s your job to kick it up a notch,” Riley declares. She’s eating more candy now, stuffing the small pieces into her mouth as she wears a path into the carpet and plots my next move.
“Wear something crazy sexy, blow his mind. Wear something that leaves nothing to the imagination—I think you need to give him a show so he knows exactly what you want. Don’t make him guess because that hasn’t gotten you anywhere.” She stops chewing and looks thoughtful. “Do you have time tonight? I can help you find the perfect outfit.”
“I think so,” I say slowly. “I can get the outfit and wear it, but then what?”
Riley lets out a huff. “You follow your instincts. You’ve spent too long suppressing everything, and now you need to let go and allow yourself to feel.”
I think about her words quietly while she continues to talk about the skimpiest outfit that would get his attention. After deciding that everything should either be completely see-through or have an inappropriate quantity of fishnets, Riley looks satisfied.
“We’ll definitely find something like that at the store I’m thinking of,” she says as she gets up to go back to her office. “I’m going to go finish up my work so we can leave early. You do the same. It should leave us plenty of time to find you an outfit and get you to start thinking sexy thoughts.”
I don’t mention that it’s almost all I think about when Max isn’t around. The way I want to go to his office and shut the door and have him in any number of positions. But that’s never been our problem. We communicate so well without words. By instinct, I think. Riley is right. I need to make Max aware of how I feel.
“If you don’t buy this for yourself, I’m going to buy it,” Riley proclaims, holding up a lacey, see-through piece with silky edging. I’ve never seen the inside of this store that Riley seems well acquainted with.
“Buy it. It’s not like we’ll be caught wearing it in the same place,” I joke.
“You’re right,” she says, admiring herself from several different angles in the mirror. “But you should buy it, too. Give yourself some options for tonight and have some more pieces ready as options.”
I look at the options with different styles in front of me. Red, pink, or black. The first two look tacky against my skin tone, so I throw the black into my shopping bag.
“These too.” Riley dumps the other two colors in as well. “Options, Laura!”
“But that red one is just two pieces of lace and some ribbon. I’m not even sure what I’m paying for!” I protest.
“Less is more.” Riley smirks. “I vote that one for tonight. Black is too somber.”
Riley drops me off at home and gives me a few pointers on how to put myself on display tonight. “Be available. He doesn’t need you playing hard to get now.”
“I wasn’t playing hard to get in the first place!” I tell her while I gather my purchases.
“Well doing nothing is the same as playing hard to get,” she insists. “Men can’t read our signals, so they need us to be obvious about our intentions.”
