“Is it so bad that I want you to be beautiful?” He pulled her hair up and balanced it on top of her head as if assessing whether he liked the look.
If he noticed she was naked, he didn’t show it. His focus centered on his hair creation, as if only the part of her he controlled mattered.
“I’d like to think I’m pretty no matter what I’m wearing.” She bent her knees and grabbed a shirt off her bed. She held it to her chest, letting it drape over the rest of her. “You used to think I was.”
“Stop being so sensitive.” He let her hair fall back against her face. “Are you going to wear a wig?”
“I don’t know.”
“You should.”
In honor of her grandmother, she dyed her hair black and wore it long and straight. Every photo of the Duchess showed off that style. Jennifer loved it. She thought it worked well on her by highlighting her eyes and flattering her skin tone.
Preston hated it.
He preferred the more extreme looks. Even now he went to a chest under her window and opened the lid to paw through her wig collection. He threw a platinum blonde one on the bed. “Wear this.”
“I’m fine with my own hair tonight.”
He exhaled, filling the sound with a stifling load of disappointment. “You are still so closed off. Even after all this time your experience is limited. You need to open yourself up to something wild.”
He’d made the insinuation before. “Like?”
“There are things I can show you.”
They went out all the time. Preston was not the type to sit around watching a hockey game or joking with friends over a beer. There was no such thing as a quiet night at home with Preston. He wanted action all the time. At first, she found that intoxicating. Now it exhausted her.
“It’s all in here.” He pressed his hand against her heart, less as a loving gesture than a claim of ownership. “I can feel it.”
She pulled out of his grasp. “Preston, don’t.”
“We just need to dress you up, let you be someone else for a few hours so you can let go.”
“I can be whoever I want.”
He snapped his fingers. “What was the name you used the other night when we went out?”
“Victoria Sinclair.”
The more her real life diverged from this one, the more she felt like two people. Office worker Jennifer would never stay out all night and ignore her obligations. Victoria welcomed the wild life.
As Victoria, she could banish the shyness and explore. Like the wigs and clothes, the name was part of a persona that let her walk into the world as someone else.
“Victoria.” Preston said the name like he was tasting it. “Very good. It suits you.”
She hated that he liked Victoria more than Jennifer. To her, they were sides of the same woman. To him, it was a choice and he wanted only her Victoria half.
“It’s an identity,” she mumbled.
“One you should nurture.”
That was her intent but knowing Preston’s preference ruined it for her. “Maybe.”
“I know what I’d like to see.” He grabbed the bag he’d brought with him to the apartment.
“You bought an outfit for me.”
“I know what I want.”
“What about what I want?”
“That’s irrelevant tonight.” He opened her hand and put the bag in it. “Trust me.”
An hour later they rode in a rickety elevator in an old fabric warehouse that now housed half of the city’s underground goth movement. The walls were sickly green and the space cramped. She hadn’t said two words to Preston since he rushed her out of the apartment in the outfit he bought and deep red lipstick.
Even now she stood there seething, wondering why she’d let him boss her around. She was about to unleash when a gentleman dressed in full vampire gear, complete with the cape and fake pointy teeth, stepped inside. At least Jennifer hoped they were fake. The man hovered by the number panel in stony silence.
He waited until the doors closed before turning around to face them. “I assume we’re all going to the same place.”
“The Greenberg wedding?” Preston’s joke broke the tense silence in the car.
The vampire laughed, and so did she. By the time they stepped off the elevator and onto the floor of the party, she’d been wound up in his spell once more. She marveled at how he did it. One minute he could throw out a line that stunned everyone with his wit. The next he could break down her self-confidence and stomp her common sense to dust.
Preston appeared in front of her and delivered a deep bow. He held his arm out to her. “Madam, I believe they’re playing our song.”
She listened to the banging techno music shouting through the dark industrial space and smiled. She could barely hear, let alone dance. “Sounds like a waltz.”
His smile was filled with satisfaction. “I knew you wouldn’t back down.”
She slid her arm through his. “Not yet.”
“That’s my Victoria.”
“Another scuba diving trip?” Wendy stopped in the process of unloading the grocery bags. She had a gallon of milk in one hand and a cartoon of eggs in the other.
Paul waited for her to drop both. “There are six of us.”
“How long will you be gone?”
He wanted her to put everything down before the conversation went much further. If he’d known that look of shock would move over her face at the news, he would have waited to share it until they were relaxing on the couch after dinner.
He’d been dreaming about this for a long time, before he met Wendy at the bar and certainly before they moved in together. He’d talked to her about his dream of hitting the best spots along the Atlantic coast.
From her reaction he assumed she never thought it would happen. She likely believed he would try it once and stop, but Lunen-burg just fueled his desire to keep going. So much for believing in him.
“I’ll be back in three weeks,” he said.
“What about your job?”
He leaned against the refrigerator and watched her work. She went from still to constant motion. She wiped her hands on her jeans and raced around the kitchen putting everything away with Olympic speed.
“I travel six months a year for my work, then I get a break. You know how this works. You knew I had time coming and wanted to take a trip. It was just a matter of getting in with a planned dive in the right location and at the right price.”
She tried to slam the refrigerator door but it closed with a soft bump. “I thought we’d spend the time together.”
“You have to work.”
“Excuse me?”
Admittedly, it was a lame excuse. He reached for anything in his brain and that one popped out. He regretted the lack of tact but not the content.
She’d moved in to the apartment he shared with Brian just months after meeting. Brian didn’t complain because his share of the rent went down and there was always food in the house. Paul appreciated all the touches, but fought being swept up in it all.
She wanted a commitment and permanence. He wasn’t ready to go there. It was too fast, and maybe it would never happen. He wanted it to. Hell, he really wanted it. She was beautiful and into him. But for the first time in his life he understood Jennifer’s refrain in needing to grow on his own before committing to someone else.
“Wendy, cut me a break here. I’ve been wanting to try this forever. I have my certification. My gear.”
“So?”
Not the easiest argument to fight but he tried. “I have the opportunity to try some amazing dive sites. I’m not going to miss that.”
“What about me?”
“You’ll be here.”
“And?”
He had no idea what the right answer was to this obvious female test. “I go. I dive. I take some photos. I come back. This is not that difficult to understand.”
“And you expect me to just wait.”
He almost reminded her how she was t
he one who pushed them into living together. She put them on fast forward, not him.
“It’s three weeks, not three years.”
“It’s about making decisions together and if you don’t get that . . .” She shook her head. “Forget it.”
He knew he had to follow her to the bedroom.
He also knew he had to go on the dive.
Seventeen
Never lose yourself in a man.
—Grandma Gladys, The Duchess
HEATHER SLIPPED INTO THE DOORWAY. “YOU SURE you’re okay?”
Jennifer stared in the bathroom mirror and concentrated on perfectly applying her lipstick. “Yeah.”
“I’m your big sister. You can tell me anything.”
“Like?”
“Preston.”
“We’re dating.” She glanced at the small clock on the shelf above the towels. “And he’ll be home in ten minutes, so I have to get moving.”
“Heaven forbid you not be ready when the master comes through the door.”
“What does that mean?”
Heather’s head fell to the side against the door frame. “He’s got you doing these things—”
“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.” Jennifer said the words but didn’t believe them.
The pressure from Preston never stopped. He told her what to wear and what to eat. He tried to get her to switch banks and frequently paged through her checkbook. She’d found him more than once going through her purse and then claiming to be looking for something like gum.
And as intrusive as that stuff was, it was minor. His violent mood swings went from infrequent to the norm. He called her Victoria regularly now. More and more, in his eyes, Jennifer disappeared. “Life is exciting with him. He knows everyone and is connected to this life I never knew existed.” Jennifer repeated the excuse she told herself over and over.
“But seeing it and being in it are two different things.”
“With him, I can be or do anything. The shy girl who works hard and follows the rules goes away.” She could talk to people and fit in. The clothes put her in the place where the line between Victoria and Jennifer blurred.
“You’re still her.”
Jennifer put the lid on the lipstick and set it down on the sink.
“Not when I’m Victoria Sinclair.”
Heather’s started to say something then stopped. It took a few seconds before she started again. “I don’t understand why you can’t just be you. Why isn’t that good enough for him?”
Jennifer searched for the right explanation but couldn’t mentally grab onto it. “Think about our lives. We grew up in a pretty isolated environment. Even now we hold down jobs and do what is expected of us.”
“I get all that.”
Jennifer held her sister’s hands and willed her to listen. Really hear the need. “Now imagine that for a little while you could break out and step into this world you’d never imagined. People are free and artistic and not tied down to the norm.
Heather squeezed Jennifer’s fingers. “So is he the one?”
“For what?”
“Forever, Jennifer. Is he whatever you’ve been waiting for your whole life?”
Jennifer dropped her sister’s hand and stepped back as far as the small room would allow. “No.”
“Then I don’t get it. Why waste the time?”
“Preston’s not the guy you marry and have kids with. You have fun with him.”
“That’s all this is?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not building a future with him. This is some kind of holding pattern?”
Jennifer could see the worry and panic in Heather’s face. It washed off of her and over Jennifer. “I’m just having fun.”
The word sounded hollow even in her own ears. She tried to convince herself that life with Preston consisted of fun and excitement, but many times it revolved around something different. Around control and his silent demand of obedience. She felt disgusted by those parts.
“Okay.” Heather turned around.
Sadness welled up in Jennifer. She called after her sister before she could disappear from sight. “I love you, you know.”
“Same here.” Heather’s voice grew softer. “That’s why I tried to talk to you.”
“You should have worn the red dress instead of the black,” Preston said as they walked into the crowded bar.
This place sat on a refurbished block in the warehouse district. The rooms were full, and cigarette smoke clogged the air. Jennifer couldn’t see much through the crush of people, but she noticed one thing. This was not one of their usual hangouts.
This was the place people came and admitted they were there. No one dressed up or had sex in the hall by the bathroom. A normal bar.
“I like this dress,” she said as she smoothed her hand over her ever-shrinking stomach.
“The other would have shown off your tiny waist. Since you’ve lost the weight and gotten so fit, you should show it off.”
“Heather thinks it’s too much.” So did Jennifer. The constant workouts and liquid lunches were taking a toll. If she stood up too fast, she got dizzy.
“She should come out with us then, shouldn’t she?” Preston nodded to the women milling around. “She’d realize super thin is the ‘in’ look.”
“I’m not convinced I can keep it up.”
“Sure you can.”
Jennifer refused to have this fight, especially not in public.
“Why are we here?”
“I thought we’d have a drink and then head to the real party.”
“What does that mean?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of our activities. You can just stand there and look pretty.”
She took in his glassy eyes and heavier-than-usual hand and wondered what was going on. “Preston—”
“I need to meet with someone for a second.”
There was nothing normal about this evening. “Who?”
“Have a seat at the bar.”
He walked away as soon as he issued the order. She watched his broad back disappear into the throngs and pop up again by the door marked manager. She had no idea why they were here, but it wasn’t just to take a look around. Preston moved in different circles than this.
She liked the bar. It felt comfortable and familiar. But it lacked his required level of style.
At the moment, she didn’t exactly fit in either. She was overdressed. The outfit showed off a good deal of leg. The red wig hid her Victoria side from her real-life, but she felt oddly out of place wearing it now.
“Jennifer?”
She froze. She’d know that voice anywhere. It played in her dreams and owned her memories. She turned and faced the man who once meant everything to her.
His green eyes wandered over her face. “That is you, right?”
“Hello, Paul.”
The years had been good to him. He was tan and trim. Handsome with a sweet smile that still pinged her heart. He wore black pants and tee.
He fit in just right with this place. Better than he would have when they were together.
“I’ve never seen you here before.” He rested his elbow on the bar and leaned in.
The closeness enveloped her, along with the clean scent of his skin. She knew he crowded her so they could hear over the steady hum of conversation from the people around her, but for a second she let herself believe this went deeper.
“I’m just making a quick stop.” She shouted that fact right into his ear.
Paul took a quick glance around the bar. “Alone?”
“No.”
He smiled. “Ah.”
She looked at his hand and noted there was no ring. She’d heard through the gossip trail that he was living with a woman named Wendy. A woman who looked like Jennifer’s exact opposite, which she found interesting.
“What’s with the wig?” he asked.
“Just playing.”
“I like your real hair.” H
e lifted his hand as if he was going to touch there but then let it drop.
“People like to pretend.” It felt like a childish and stupid game. Paul didn’t appear to judge, but she measured her life by her time with him, and this period suddenly fell short.
“You’ve never had to be anyone other than who you are. Jennifer was always pretty special in my book.”
Her heart melted a fraction. “How is it that, even after all this time, you know the exact right thing to say to knock me off guard?”
“I wonder why you think you’d need to be in battle stance around me in the first place.”
She realized she didn’t.
She ran her hand over the fake hair. In Preston’s world, she dressed up and fit in. It all struck her as odd now. “I wanted to try something new.”
“I can understand that.”
“Have you? Tried anything new, I mean?”
“Just got back from a dive trip. Took up photography. Typical boring stuff.”
It was honest and real. Everything about him was. “You are anything but boring.”
She looked past Paul and saw Preston leave the manager’s office and start through the crowd toward her. A stark desperation ran through her and settled in her stomach. She didn’t want these two men to meet. Didn’t want her world with Preston to taint her memories of Paul.
“I should go.” She tried to act cool, but her movements were jerky and fast.
“It’s okay.”
She stopped glancing around, waiting for her worlds to collide, and focused on Paul. “What is?”
“Whatever has you so upset.”
“I’m fine.” She tried to walk past him and get to the door.
He stopped her with a gentle hand on her elbow and turned her back around to face him. “You sure?”
She was tired of people asking her that. She absolutely didn’t want Paul to think her life was anything but great. “Of course.”
“For the record? As hot as this look is, and it really is, I prefer the real you.”
Her defensive shields raised. That fast, they snapped into place. “Maybe this is the real me.”
Paul let her go. “And maybe not. Either way, I hope you figure it out.”
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