There is still a back-and-forth going on about the set. The site survey was great. That woman… Oh, what was her name…? Claudia! Yes, Claudia. We were going over logistics and she was answering my questions, but then I… left… with Asher.
Harvey and I have gone over the speeches and I still have to write a few more inserts in the copy.
I pause at the thought. I am really far behind. I immediately feel deflated. The roller coaster of emotions I’ve been feeling the past few weeks is really taking a toll on me. How can I go from high to low so fast? It makes the lows feel even… lower.
“Erik,” I say. He’s patiently waiting for me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know my notes were due already. There are still another three weeks.”
I bite my lip and wait for a response. I can’t stand the look of disappointment on his face. Please, don’t let him fire me.
“Richard and I are heading over to Lincoln Center to discuss camera placement and lighting. I expect those reports finalized and on my desk by end of day Friday.” He turns to leave and then stops and sighs.
“I have high hopes for you. Friday.” It’s a command more than a compliment. With two taps on the door, he leaves.
I look around at the papers on my desk, trying to figure out how I let so much get by me. It wasn’t that long ago I was the go-to gal, the one you could rely on, who picked up everyone else’s pieces. I came here two months ago with that same attitude and fresh ideas. Then I got distracted letting my head get away from me.
And, I know exactly where it’s been.
The house is quiet when I get home. Gwen is still here so she can spend time with Jackson. It’s sweet of her, though part of me can’t wait until she goes home. She meddles. I want to talk to Gabriel about Becca again but can’t with Gwen around. She will either take his side, or worse, take mine. I don’t know if I’m ready for that… yet.
“You look beat. You really should wear more rouge.” She’s thumbing through New York Magazine again. It’s been circulating my house all week, yet I’ve neglected to pick up the damn thing and read it.
“Thank you for the words of encouragement, but I had a very trying day at work.” My body falls to the couch in defeat.
“I’ll tell you what I’d like to try… This boss of yours. Did you know he’s been linked with two Hollywood actresses and three socialites in the past year alone?” Her eyes widen as she scans the photos.
“Yes, he is quite the playboy, mother. I’ll put in a good word for you if you’d like a piece.” I cover my face with my arm. I wish I could just block out everything Asher, and Asher-Marks Communications, for a few moments.
“Did you know he is the sole heir of the Asher fortune? When his grandfather dies, he’ll be left with everything. Just imagine how much money that man will have!”
“Yes, Mother. I am aware.” My voice is muffled under my arm, but I’m sure she can hear the annoyance in my voice.
“And this sad, sad story about his mother. She died in a tragic car accident with him in the car.”
My head peaks to attention. “What else does it say?”
“How his heroic grandfather took him in. The man is a saint. He is the only living family the boy had. I don’t know how you are able to look at that man without your heart breaking every day.”
I sit up and reach over toward my mother. “Can I see that article?”
Gwen hands over the magazine, and I read it through. In there, it talks of the empire. Wow. The Asher family does control as much as Gabriel said they did. I can see why gluttony and greed are synonymous with the Asher name.
My eyes glide through the article, trying to find the part about the mother, when the garage door opening disrupts me. Gabriel is home. I have to talk to him.
His dark, wavy hair has fallen haphazardly on his face. He must have been running his hands through it a lot today. He looks more beaten and battered than I do.
“Hi, baby. How was your day?” I stand to join him by the table. I gently put my hands on his shoulders, but he brushes them away.
He catches my stunned expression.
“I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day. I want to go upstairs.”
Gabriel kisses me on the forehead and makes his way up to the bedroom. I stand here listening as his footsteps climb the staircase and the door to the bedroom closes behind him.
This isn’t the way tonight was supposed to go. My heart actually aches inside my chest. I grab Gabriel’s car keys off the kitchen counter and head to the garage.
“I’m going out,” I shout over my shoulder to Gwen, who watches me, stunned.
Crack!
I love the sound of a metal bat as it hits a ball. I especially love it on days like these.
Crack!
This one is for Gabriel and his bipolar moods!
Crack!
This one is for Becca, with her perky boobs and platinum-blonde hair!
Crack!
This one is for Erik and his goddamn deadlines!
Crack!
This one is for Heather and her bitch attitude!
Crack!
This one is for Malory and her perfect body and evil words!
Crack!
This one is for me being such a chicken shit all the time!
Crack!
“I thought I’d find you here”
I should have known she’d follow me.
Crack!
This one is for nosey mothers who can’t stop meddling!
“You always did run to the batting cage whenever you got angry.” Gwen is standing behind the fence as I take my next hit.
Crack!
“Leave it alone, Mom. I just need some time to think.”
Crack!
“I remember the day of your father’s funeral. You didn’t think we knew where you were, but I followed you to the cages. You hit balls for hours. I was afraid you’d sprain your wrist.”
Crack!
I step back from the batter’s box.
“I didn’t know you followed me.” I remember that day. After the burial, everyone went to a local restaurant to toast my father’s demise. At least that’s the way I saw it. I couldn’t bear to hear happy stories of my dad’s life. I was too sad. I wanted to go somewhere I could connect with him. Where I could connect a bat to a ball. It’s how Gabriel feels about sailing; it connects him to his home.
This must be how Asher feels about music. Why he pours himself into it. It connects him to his mother.
“You are your father’s daughter, Kathryn.” Gwen steps around the side of the fence. “But you’ll always be your mother’s daughter. And that means you want it all.”
I look away from her.
“That’s not what this is about, Mom. You don’t understand…”
“A husband’s neglect. Oh, honey, if you don’t think a woman who was married to a man who was always on the road doesn’t understand neglect, then you know nothing about me.”
“At least Dad had an excuse.” She has no idea what I’m going through. Keeping my eyes forward, I take swing after swing. She’s still standing there, watching.
“Are you going home tonight?” My words come off snarkier than I intended. I hear her shuffle her feet from side to side, deciding what to do.
“Yes, Kathryn,” she says with a pause. “I was just stopping by to let you know I’m heading back tonight.”
I take a few more swings and wait for the sound of her car driving out of the parking lot. I know she means well, in her own way, but I just can’t deal with her tonight.
“A week!”
I’m pacing the hallway outside our bedroom. Is he kidding me? Chicago? Now? We were supposed to talk.
“I have no choice, Kat. I told you. If I’m going to get this guy a good deal, it will take a lot of work.” Gabriel pulls his suitcase from under the bed and starts to pack.
“I don’t give a shit about your work. What about my work? The concert and gala are in three weeks!” I throw my arms up in a d
ramatic gesture.
“Really, you think your job is more important than mine? Last I checked, I was the one paying the bills around here.” Gabriel knows I despise when he throws it in my face that he makes more money than me.
“You’re an asshole, Gabriel Monroe.”
“And you’re being unreasonable,” Gabriel says, placing his dress shoes in the bag. “I have no choice. My client is taking off for a few days so I can get into his office and go through every piece of paper he hasn’t shredded yet. This case goes to trial in four weeks.”
I storm around the bedroom, looking for something to throw. “How can you think it’s acceptable to tell me at ten o’clock at night that you’re hopping on a plane at six in the morning to head to Chicago? Do you comprehend how wrong this is? You have a wife and a baby. You can’t just take off on a whim!” I stop to catch my breath. I didn’t realize I was screaming.
“Kat, please, you know I don’t want to do this, but there really is no option.” Gabriel places two suits in a garment bag. “Besides, you have Carmen.”
He just doesn’t get it. I have to work late this week. I can’t leave Jackson with Carmen all day and all night. It’s not right.
The phone rings and I fall onto the bed. I can’t deal with whoever is on the line. I motion for Gabriel to answer it. I immediately know it’s bad news.
“Fuck!” Gabriel slams the phone down.
I shoot up from the bed. “What is it?”
“That was Carmen.” Gabriel runs his hands across his forehead. “Her mother is sick so she’s taking the train to Philly to tend to her. She said she’ll be in Philadelphia through next week.” Gabriel is now equally as pissed as I am.
Good, welcome to my world.
I fall back on the bed. Great, this is just what we need. No husband, no nanny, and I can count down the days until my event.
“What about your mother?” Gabriel suggests.
“My mother just left, Gabriel! She is not driving from upstate to stay with Jackson for a week.”
“Bring Jack up there, then.”
“No, Gabriel, I am not going a week without seeing my kid. “
“Well, Kat, you can’t have it all.”
Gabriel can be such a jerk sometimes. My feet find the ground faster than my mind can grasp words for a comeback. I storm out of the room and grab Jackson’s bag to pack. Ten o’clock at night and I’m driving upstate.
By the time I get back home, it’s almost four in morning. My mother insisted on talking about my argument with Gabriel. She, of course, took Gabriel’s side. The woman is in love with the man. If I didn’t marry him, I’m sure she would have.
As I turn into the driveway, I consider calling out sick. How am I ever going to get to the office on time?
I turn off the ignition and undo my seatbelt. Unplugging my iPhone, I open the center console and put the charger away. As I place the white cord inside, I feel something soft at the bottom of the compartment. I hadn’t noticed it when I took the cable out earlier. My fingers pinch the soft material and lift it out.
Just breathe, Kat.
In my hands is a black lace thong. What is this doing here? I own lace thongs, but the label inside, Agent Provocateur, confirms this lacey undergarment is not mine. Upon further inspection, I see the thing has a clasp at the bottom where you’d attach a garter belt. This is the kinky stuff you give your friends at their bachelorette party.
I panic and shove the thong back into the center console and close it. Whose could those be and why are they in our car? Like flashes from a movie, the scene plays before my eyes. That little tramp, Becca, buying underwear at Bloomingdale’s. She was on the phone, talking about some guy she met in the park.
My body begins to spasm as I punch the steering wheel in front of me with the palm of my hand. I am such a moron! I knew it. I absolutely knew something was up. But instead of saying something, I decided to let it go.
What I should have done was hired a private investigator. I should have had documentation of this little affair. I should have gotten a lawyer. I should be making him pay.
“Just breathe.” I attempt to say the words out load just as I have almost my entire life.
Well, not anymore!
I storm into the house, looking for Gabriel. Taking the stairs two at a time, I call out his name, but he’s not there. He must have left for the airport already.
What time was his flight again? I can’t think. I can’t breathe. My chest heaves. I place my hand over my heart to calm my erratic pulse. I think I’m having a heart attack. What is going on? Where is my husband? Why is there another woman’s underwear in our car?
Our bedroom is empty, the bed is made, and the light is turned off. I turn to his dresser and start rummaging through his things—pants, sweaters, shirts, everything—trying to find a clue, any clue. Isn’t this what they do in the movies, go through the husband’s things after suspicions of an affair? But to look for what? What am I looking for? More underwear? I don’t know.
I virtually spray the room with Gabriel’s clothes, pulling pant pockets inside out and finding nothing, before heading to his closet. Suits! In the movies, the wife always finds an incriminating receipt in their husband’s suit jacket.
One by one, I inspect his suits—inside the chest pocket, the inside pocket, the pants—but I find nothing.
Putting my hand on my forehead, I try to get my bearings. What am I looking for? What can I look in next?
The dirty clothes!
Running into the bathroom, I dump the hamper upside down, digging through its contents. I even smell each shirt, looking for a sign of perfume, and inspect the collars for lipstick stains, anything.
My breath quickens. My heart is leaping out of chest. I’m anxious and nervous for what I might find. Do I want to find something? Is this what I suspected all along?
As I inspect the last shirt to find… nothing, my body gives way and collapses on the floor. The tears discharge and fall down my face. I cry big, heavy, ugly tears. My breath hitches and my nose runs. I rub my face with my shirtsleeve and try to pace myself. The release is refreshing as I finally begin to catch my breath.
What has happened to my life? Where did we go wrong? I stop and lift my head to peek into the bedroom to take a look at the warpath I’ve left behind. Clothing on the bed, dresser, across lamps, and on the floor. It looks like a mental ward.
I’m going insane. That’s it. I have officially lost my mind. Maybe I made up finding the thong in the car. It was really there, wasn’t it?
My head in my hands, I sob and release weeks of frustration and disappointment. Hell, I’m releasing two years of frustration and disappointment. What happened to us? What happened to the young couple that met on a stairwell and couldn’t resist the passion they ignited in each other? What happened to the young couple that promised forever and dreams to each other on a sailboat?
Well, one is crying on the bathroom floor, and the other is on a plane to Chicago.
I lie on the bathroom floor for what feels like forever. I lift my head and see the sun is threatening to make an appearance. After my sobfest, I feel weak and numb. Slowly, I retrieve myself from the floor and mechanically pick up each piece of laundry from the bathroom floor and place it in the hamper. Next, I move into the bedroom and carefully place every article of clothing back in its respected drawer or hanger, exactly as I left it.
Looking in the mirror, I can see but a shadow of myself. Eyes puffy and splotchy. My hair is a mess. I’m exhausted, but I can’t stay home. I can’t stay in this room. There is only one place I can go. After a quick shower, I throw on a new skirt suit and head out the door.
The morning’s events have left me distracted. Gabriel is seeing someone else? As much of a confirmation I have in the form of sexy underwear, I can’t help but wonder how the hell this happened. If you asked me a week ago if I thought Gabriel was capable of cheating, I would have told you no. There’s no way.
God, I’m so naïve.
Even Malory saw the writing on the wall, but I kept pushing it to the side. It was easy to. Gabriel is the most dedicated husband and father I have ever met. His parents have been together for forty years, and he always said he wanted to grow old together just like them. No, this is not my Gabriel. The man I’ve been with for ten years. The only man I’ve ever been with.
Could that be the problem? Am I boring in bed? Have I become unattractive since having the baby? When Gabriel and I met, he loved my inexperience. He indulged in teaching me how to love my body and use it for pleasure. We spent the first years wrapped in each other, all arms and legs and wet kisses. No matter where we were, we found a place to escape to be alone.
But then what happened? Life happened. Gabriel started spending more time at the office than he did at home. I found myself traveling for work and going out for dinners with colleagues when he wasn’t around.
And then Jackson came and romance went out the window. Quickies were the new norm. Both with conversation and in the bedroom. But was it enough to drive him into the arms of another woman? I was available. I would have responded.
Maybe he doesn’t want to be with me anymore. Especially the last few weeks, I’ve been distracted with work and… Asher. No, that has nothing to do with it. No matter how attracted I may be to my boss, that is where it ends. I would never… ever do anything to jeopardize my marriage.
Would I feel the same way if Gabriel had a little crush? I know the answer. I would be furious. But it’s different. Women have more control than men do. Don’t we?
And now Gabriel is in Chicago, doing God knows what. The thought leaves me feeling ill. I’ve never heard him speak of another woman. Who could he have met when he wasn’t working? It has to be someone at work. Some beautiful, smart someone who doesn’t have a post-baby body, and now her lace panties are sitting in my car. My beautiful husband’s car.
Oh, Gabe, what mess have we made of our marriage? Only five years in and infidelity casts her ugly head. I feel like I’m sitting in a fog.
“Lost in thought?” Asher startles me, awakening me from my daze. I realize I’ve been absentminded tapping my pen on the desk. How long have I been absent?
Pure Abandon Page 20
