Sleeping with Her Enemy

by Jenny Holiday

  “What the hell, Dax?” A woman walked in. No, more accurate to say that a woman waddled in. A very pregnant Kat Harris, the sister from the photos. “Oh! Heeeellllloooo there,” she drawled. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. I’m Kat, Dax’s sister.”

  Amy shook the outstretched hand but stayed sitting with the quilt in her lap. “I’m Amy. Dax’s…coworker.”

  That wasn’t strictly true since they worked for different companies, but it seemed better than saying “office frenemy who slept over totally platonically last night and is now wearing your brother’s shirt and nothing else.”

  “I think ‘what the hell’ is my line, Kat. I told you I don’t want you here this late in your pregnancy.” He pointed at his sister’s very impressive stomach. “What if you go early and you’re stuck on the island?”

  She waved dismissively. “You can canoe me to the mainland. Oh, oh! I’ll have a water birth in the lake! Ha!” She threw her head back and cackled. “I’m actually not here for you, though,” she said. “I think I must be insane, or nesting, or both, because I decided to buy one of those awful paintings.” She gestured at the pastel swirly abstracts they’d discussed last night. “Mrs. Sampson asked me what color the nursery was going to be, and when I told her, she offered to make one to match.” She shrugged. “I dunno, it seemed like a good idea at the time. But it’s enormous. Much bigger than yours.” She smiled brightly. “So, dearest brother, I need you to help me ferry it across, and then I’ll go the rest of the way in a cab. I was hoping you’d be here and not at the condo.” She plunked herself down on the chair Dax had vacated, reached for the Oreos, and eyed Amy. “But first I need to eat about a hundred of these.”

  Amy smiled in spite of herself. Kat was a force of nature. “I was just, ah, leaving, so I can help you with the painting.”

  “No! I’ll do it,” Dax said, his eyes darting around the cottage. Amy had never seen him nervous before. He was always so in control, so confident-bordering-on-arrogant. Like his CEO persona extended to all areas of his life. But now he looked a little…caged in. She liked it. The old pre-jilting Amy would have relished making Dax uncomfortable, enjoyed annoying him.

  But the old, pre-jilting Dax would never have taken care of her the way he had last night. Probably once they were back in the office, they would go back to crossing swords. She would relish it, in fact. It would be nice to feel like maybe, after so much upheaval, she was on her way to getting some of her old self back.

  But for now, she’d throw him a bone. For some reason, he didn’t want his sister to think he’d slept with her. Maybe Kat had no idea about his playboy ways. “Okay,” she said, standing, which, unfortunately, showcased her bare legs. “I’m going to go get dressed, and then I’ll take off.”

  “Anyway,” Dax said to Kat, “now that you’re here, you might as well stay a while. Wanna go canoeing?”

  “Oh my God, no. I’d sink the thing.” She looked at Amy. “Don’t let me chase you out.” Then she swung her gaze back to Dax. “Maybe you should take your…coworker for a canoe ride.”

  “I got left at the altar last night,” Amy said, feeling like the truth was probably the only way out of this awkward situation, and though the realization amazed her, she thought Dax might be too much of a gentleman to embarrass her by telling his sister about her epic humiliation. “I ran into Dax, and he let me crash here.”

  “Oh my God, honey! That’s awful! Men are the worst. Honestly, who needs them? They’re not good for anything.”

  Amy couldn’t help but glance at Kat’s swollen belly.

  Kat cackled again, like a peppy witch. When she was done, she pointed at the bump and said, “IVF, my friend. No father required.”

  Amy tried to cover her shock. She’d heard of single women getting pregnant on their own, but she’d never met one. She admired it. To know what you wanted with such clarity and resolve that you were willing to buck society—and biology—to get it? That took balls. Metaphorically speaking. Up until yesterday, she’d thought she knew what she wanted. Now? No earthly idea. “Well, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to get changed and then go pick up the pieces of my shattered life.”

  She could hear them whispering as she changed back into her dress. When she emerged a few minutes later, she felt like she was embarking on the mother of all walks of shame. The wedding dress that had seemed exactly right when she’d tried it on in the store—indeed, when she’d slipped into it on her wedding morning—now felt like it belonged on a streetwalker. Why had she had the tailor shorten the skirt?

  Kat gave a low whistle. “Hubba, hubba,” she said. “Your ex-groom is a giant fucking idiot.” She punched her brother’s shoulder. “Right, Dax?”

  “That’s actually true,” he said. “I’ve always thought that.”

  Amy patted her hair. She had tried to put herself together as best as possible with the few supplies she had in her small wrist purse. She always felt better with her red lips on. She’d almost been swayed by her mother’s insistence that a bride shouldn’t have such a bold lip, had nearly caved and allowed her mouth to be painted a tepid pink. Now she was glad she hadn’t, because she needed all the armor she could muster for the walk of shame. Or the ferry of shame, or whatever. “It was nice to meet you, Kat.” She turned to Dax. “I guess I’ll see you in the office tomorrow?”

  “Weren’t you gonna go on a honeymoon? You should take some time off. Go without Mason.”

  “Nope. Mason was too busy at work to get away right now. We were going to go on a trip in the fall. I was just planning to come back to work on Monday.” Ouch. That sounded pretty pathetic when she said it out loud.

  “You want a hoodie or something?” he asked. When she shook her head, he said, “I’ll walk you to the ferry.”

  She mustered a fake smile. “Thanks, but I think I’d rather go by myself. That’s going to be how it is now.” She cleared her throat because she felt like her voice was going to catch. “Might as well get used to it.”

  He nodded, but he did walk her out of the house, shutting the door behind him.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t invite you to my wedding,” she blurted. Where the heck had that come from? What an odd thing to say. But she had agonized over it, just a little. She’d invited literally everyone else from his company and hers and a bunch of people from the Rosemann Agency, the third company on the floor. She most definitely hadn’t wanted him there—the idea of Dax watching her get married made her skin crawl—but it had seemed a little rude to so conspicuously leave him out.

  He shrugged and smiled. “No worries. I wouldn’t have come, anyway. We don’t like each other, remember?”

  Right. She nodded.

  He stuck his hand in his pocket and produced her ring, which she had, amazingly, managed to not think about since he’d taken it off her at the bar. “Don’t forget this.”

  The sight of it made her ill. “Can you…” What? Give it to Shelby?

  “Throw it in the lake?” he supplied. “Have the stone reset into a samurai sword you can use to chop Mason’s head off?”

  She couldn’t help but laugh, which had the effect of making her stomach stop churning. “No, but would you mind just hanging on to it and bringing it to me at the office? I don’t want to…” What? Give it back to Mason? Look at it ever again? She was just putting off the inevitable, but she felt, as irrational as it was, that she couldn’t do the walk of shame with the ring in her possession. The tiny thing was just too big a burden.

  He nodded and pocketed it.

  She was almost overcome with relief, relief mixed with…gratitude? She cleared her throat. “Well, thanks. For, ah, everything.”

  “No problem, Strawberry Girl.”

  Oh, God. She felt like she might start crying again. No. No, no, no. She straightened her spine, grasped her handbag with all her might, and started clacking down the path in her heels.

  She wanted to look back, but she didn’t. Just kept concentrating on putt
ing one foot in front of the other. Step, step, step. Until finally she clicked her way up the ramp onto the waiting ferry. Walking to the far end, she stood against the far railing so she was facing the skyline.

  As the boat bumped out of the dock, her phone buzzed. She’d sent the requisite text to her brother earlier, but forced herself not to look at the fifty-nine—yes, fifty-nine—unread texts she had. The one incoming made it an even sixty. She looked down. Mason. She swiped over to her email, and the icon showed a hundred and seventy-seven unread messages.

  As the boat picked up speed, the wind whipped through her hair. It felt good. Surprisingly good. The sun, warm on her skin, did, too. Another buzz. Sixty-one texts. She looked down at the phone. Her screen saver picture was a shot of Mason opening a record she’d given him last Christmas, his face intensely concentrating on the task.

  You know what? Fuck it.

  She stood up straight, retracted her arm in her best imitation of Brandon Morrow, the Jays’ most underappreciated pitcher, and hurled the phone into Lake Ontario.

  Chapter Five

  “This is so amazing. I can’t thank you enough,” Amy said, spinning in a slow circle in Cassie’s apartment.

  “Well, it’s nowhere near as nice as your house, but I’m happy for you to stay as long as you want. I’m always at Jack’s anyway. I don’t even know why I keep this place.”

  Amy had gone directly to Jack’s house from the ferry, and he and Cassie had taken her to her house to pack a bag. She’d emailed Mason and told him she was clearing out for a week and asked him to have his stuff out. He’d written back assuring her he would be gone before the week was up. It was all very civilized and businesslike. There had been no gnashing of teeth, no more sobbing—she seemed to have gotten that out of her system with Dax. Maybe she was just numb, but she wondered why there wasn’t more drama. If you really, truly loved someone, shouldn’t you be more broken up in a situation like this?

  “It’s important to have a place of your own,” she said, understanding exactly why Cassie held on to the cute, cozy apartment. “And it is too as nice as my place. It’s totally charming.” It was the truth. In some ways, the studio apartment reminded her of Dax’s little house. It was much girlier, but functionally, there were similarities. It was small but comfy and stocked with everything a person needed, making her question why she’d ever bought her three-bedroom house to begin with. She’d been twenty-three when she bought it. What did a twenty-three-year-old need with eighteen-hundred square feet? She’d been planning ahead, even then.

  “Yeah, it’s kind of symbolic, I guess,” Cassie said. “I worked hard to afford this place back in the day, and I’m not ready to give it up just because I happened to run into Mr. Richie Rich.”

  Amy smiled at Cassie’s name for Jack. And even though she knew and Cassie knew that the place was purely symbolic—she couldn’t imagine anything wrenching apart Jack and Cassie—she said, “I hope I’m not keeping you out. Mason should be out of my place in a week at the most.”

  “Not at all. Stay as long as you like. But I hope you know Jack meant it when he said you’re welcome to stay with us in his house. There’s a guest room with your name on it if you change your mind.”

  “I appreciate it. I just kind of want to be alone to, I don’t know, wallow and lick my wounds. That sounds dumb, doesn’t it? But I’ve never really lived alone before. Mason and I were already dating when I bought the Forest Hill house, and he moved in a month later. I went from college roommates to him.”

  “I get it. Just don’t hide out too much.” She flashed a smile. “I’ll come by to check on you tomorrow.”

  “Jack and I aren’t done discussing the work situation,” Amy protested. “I may still see you at the office tomorrow if you come by for lunch like usual.” Her boss had ordered her to take the week off. Amy had insisted that she was fine to come to work. She’d told Cassie she wanted to be alone, and it was true…to a point. But a week with nothing scheduled? She wasn’t sure she could handle that. “Tell Jack I’ll call him later.”

  “Yeah, good luck with that.” Cassie waggled her fingers as she shut the door behind her, leaving Amy alone. Totally, completely alone.

  She hadn’t even bought a new phone yet.

  It was a little bit scary. It was a little bit awesome.

  …

  When Dax headed over to Winter Enterprises later that week, it wasn’t because he wanted to see Amy. He’d been hearing about her from Cassie, who reported that after an initial few days of crying on and off, Amy had seemingly picked herself up and gotten on with things. She was on a Jack-ordered holiday and was holed up in Cassie’s old place, apparently filling her days with movies and shopping and trips to the spa. Cassie was skeptical, worried that Amy wasn’t allowing herself to really feel her heartbreak, but Dax wasn’t so sure. It seemed entirely possible that Amy was over Dr. Vajayjay and was merely enjoying her hard-won freedom. But who knew? Probably Cassie was right. Women knew about that shit. He certainly didn’t. He’d only ever had one serious relationship, and when he’d tried to break that off, all hell had broken loose.

  It wasn’t only Cassie who’d been talking about Amy. All week, his employees had been afire with chatter about the wedding—they were plotting an elaborate hacking scheme designed to ruin Mason’s credit rating. It was all Amy all the time on the forty-ninth floor, even though she wasn’t there. There was no escaping her.

  So when he heard from the programmers that Amy had been spotted on the forty-ninth floor on the Friday of her forced vacation, he wasn’t wandering over there, like the Boy Geniuses were talking about doing, to bask in her newly single presence. His trip to the neighboring company was to see if Jack wanted to grab lunch.

  Probably Amy wouldn’t even be in. If she had indeed been spotted on the premises earlier, it was likely just to pick up something she needed. In a way, it was too bad he wouldn’t see her, because it would have given him something to taunt his sister with. To the extent that he had thought about Amy this past week, it was because Kat would not shut the hell up about her. That was why he tried to keep his personal life separate from his family. They all went crazy at the slightest hint he might be moving toward settling down—which was irritating because they had all had front row seats for the train wreck that was Allison, so they had to know it was a lost cause. Still, when he’d arrived at his parents’ house on Sunday night for their family dinner, Kat, ever hopeful, had filled them in on every detail.

  “I promise I won’t even nag you about grandchildren if you bring this girl to meet us,” his mother had said, patting Kat’s belly. “Your sister has that covered.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “For now.”

  “We all just want you to be happy,” his traitorous sister said, an artificial smile plastered on her face.

  His father, typically, said nothing, just served Dax’s mother more stroganoff.

  “I am happy. And she’s just a friend. Not even that! She just needed some help, and I happened to be around.”

  “Don’t you think eighteen years is long enough to let what happened with Allison rule your life?” Kat said, her signature playful smile gone.

  Adrenaline flooded Dax. They didn’t talk about this. Kat knew that. “It doesn’t rule my life,” he said stiffly. It was true. It had been a tragedy, of course. And he had learned an important lesson. But that was it. It wasn’t like it kept him up at night—anymore.

  “I’m glad you helped this girl,” his mother said, oblivious to the tension swirling around her children. “Your father needed help when we first met.” Dax and Kat had both heard the story of their parents’ meeting countless times, and this was usually the part where they would catch each other’s eye and commiserate, but Kat just stared at the floor as their mother went on. “He was locked out in the rain.” Mercifully, his mother left out the rest of the story, where she invited the waterlogged boy inside. Her parents weren’t home, but when they arrived, they freaked out at the prospect of their daug
hter being alone with a white boy. Yada, yada, Romeo and Juliet, yada, yada, love conquers all. She always left out the part where Dax’s father had charmed his in-laws so hard that when he’d asked their mother to marry him and she’d said she had to think about it, her parents had tried to ground her, despite the fact that she was twenty-one.

  “Help is good,” their mother went on, motioning for their father to put more sour cream on her stroganoff. “It’s as good a basis for a relationship as anything. Certainly better than these lust-filled hookups”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“that the youth are doing today.” Dax nearly spit out his food in a fit of coughing. If only his mother could have seen him with Amy on the ferry. God, if she could have heard the filthy things he’d said to her, she would ground him, no matter that he was thirty-five.

  “How do you know about lust-filled hookups, Mom?” Kat asked, smiling tentatively at him. He smiled back, despite himself. He could never stay mad at her, even when they were kids.

  “I read about them in the paper.”

  “Anyway,” Kat said, “Dax, I think Mom’s point is that you should give this girl a chance. You’re not getting any younger. You can only be a canoeing, programming, hermit bachelor CEO rich dude for so long.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” Dax said. And he did. His family was annoying, but they were his, and he loved them. He just needed to shut this down. This was exactly why they never met any of his girlfriends. They didn’t understand the whole concept of casual dating. His mother would have been appalled, in fact, to hear him outright telling women he went on more than one date with that while he was up for some short-term fun and companionship, they needed to check any ambitions they might have beyond that if they wanted to be with him. “But you’re barking up the wrong tree. Last night was an aberration. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time to help. Under normal circumstances, this girl hates me.”

  “No!” His mother pressed a hand to her heart. “That’s not possible.”