The Other F-Word

by MK Schiller

  “Yes, but you have nothing to be worried about. It was my ex-husband.”

  He laughed cynically. “You think that makes me feel better?”

  “It should. There’s nothing going on.”

  “Then why the hell didn’t you tell me about it?”

  “Because I’m not one of your employees. I don’t answer to you, Damien Wolfe.”

  “Yes. You. Do.”

  “Excuse me?” My nails dug into the flesh on my palms. Goodbye, manicure.

  “You answer to me, just as I answer to you. That’s what being in a relationship is.” His voice had a strained, tight quality that sounded foreign to me.

  “You’re acting ridiculous.”

  “Am I? I think I’m handling it pretty well.”

  “You need to trust me. Do you think I would cheat on you after everything I’ve told you?”

  “No, I don’t, but I absolutely think you should let me know when you’re having lunch with another man, especially one you had a prior relationship with.”

  “I didn’t get a chance. It’s not a big deal, so stop making it one.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t we on the phone just a short while ago? Would it have been so difficult to insert a sentence somewhere about this?”

  “Damien, you’re really pissing me off.”

  “Likewise, baby.”

  The line went dead. He’d hung up on me. I almost threw my phone against the shop window, but I managed to calm myself down. Who did he think he was? I’d been having an innocent lunch with Peter. In fact, we’d spent most of the time either talking about Damien or Billie.

  Instead of going home, I took a long walk to process what had happened. Had we broken up? I didn’t think so, but this definitely qualified as a fight. I took my ear buds out of my purse and stuck them in my phone. This was a Janis Joplin moment if there ever was one. I scrolled to the only song that could make me feel better—Piece of My Heart. It was powerful enough to calm me, yet strong enough to help me feel justified in my ticked off state.

  I walked down the Miracle Mile, blaring Janis in my ears, wearing my hot pink Jacqueline Kennedy style wrap dress, black knee high boots, complete with ruined manicure and bitter expression. He kept calling. I ignored it. Fuck him. How dare he insinuate I would betray him? I kept marching, my heartbeat came down and even Janis was whispering through her poetic lyrics that maybe I was acting foolishly.

  I stopped and leaned against a store window. I needed some advice so I called Kate. It went to voicemail. Damn. She was the one person I could ask. Then I remembered I had two daughters in very committed relationships. Only they didn’t know about Damien and I didn’t want to answer those questions yet. Maybe I could ask without asking. I decided to call Stevie. She was blunter than Marley—she’d tell me straight out what she thought.

  “Hi, Mom,” she answered on the second ring.

  She started talking about Bobby right away, and there was no way I was interrupting an opportunity to talk about my adorable grandson so I listened to her and conversed back.

  “Mom, I’m sorry was there another reason you called?”

  “I had a question for you. A hypothetical one.”

  “Shoot.”

  “What would you do if Adam had lunch with an ex and didn’t tell you?” I cringed hearing it aloud. I slapped my hand against my mouth, curling my fingers, which was a huge mistake because they were still wet. Now I had crimson Jezebel all over my mouth.

  “Why? Did you see him? Who is she?” Her voice grew into a shriek with every question

  “Stevie, calm down. I swear this is hypothetical. I’m asking for a…friend. Adam wouldn’t do that to you.” No, he wouldn’t hurt my daughter like that.

  “Oh, good,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Because I would kill her.”

  “Stevie, I raised you better than that.”

  “You’re right. It’s not entirely her fault. I would kill him.”

  “What it if was a business meeting of sorts and you were just dating at the time?”

  “Well, Adam is a civil engineer so unless she wanted a bridge built or a building surveyed, I don’t see the point.”

  “Stevie, just go with me here. What if there was a good reason for the meeting?”

  “It would have been worse if we were dating because the relationship was new and my insecurities high. I wouldn’t necessarily think he was cheating, but I’d be hurt nonetheless.”

  “You trust Adam, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do, but he shouldn’t give me a reason to question that trust. By not telling me, he’s basically saying he doesn’t account for my feelings. And well…that’s a very different kind of betrayal.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  “So who’s this friend? Is it Arty?”

  “No, I have to go. Give Bobby a kiss for me, and tell Adam…”

  “Tell Adam what?”

  “That I’m glad you married him.”

  I found myself wandering the city further, thinking about what Stevie had said. I was running out of Joplin to nourish my soul, and it didn’t matter anyway since my phone had one bar left. Then I was alone with my thoughts. I imagined the situation in reverse. What if Damien was having a quiet lunch in a nice restaurant, holding the hand of one of his exes? I swallowed the bitter seeds of pride, making my way to his building.

  * * * *

  I sat at his doorstep, chiding myself for being so pathetic. Maybe I should have called him instead of waiting for him to get home like some sort of enthusiastic puppy.

  I fell asleep there, or maybe I was dreaming because I smelt his delicious scent, and the comfort of his strong arms around me.

  “Are you carrying me or is this a dream?”

  “I’m carrying you, unless we’re both having the same dream.”

  “You’re late,” I said.

  “I went to your house.”

  “Why?”

  “I assume the same reason you’re here. I may have overreacted, and I’m sorry for that. I’ve been looking for you. I was worried.”

  I blinked open my eyes. “My phone ran out of juice. I’m sorry too. I should have told you. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a relationship.”

  “Me too,” he said, setting me on the couch. He took off his jacket and draped it over a chair. He was wearing a blue pinstripe shirt…and black suspenders. I’d never thought of suspenders as a sexual male accessory, but in that moment, they were a complete aphrodisiac. He looked like a 1940s movie star. Like Montgomery Clift in A Place in the Sun. Of course, that did not end well.

  “Wine?”

  More like Charlie Sheen from the original Wall Street, without the slicked back hair.

  “Do you have beer?”

  He smiled, running his hands through his hair. “Yeah.”

  “Thank you.”

  He brought the ice-cold beers and sat next to me on the couch. I needed to touch him, so I scooted over to his lap.

  “I like these,” I said, pulling on his suspenders.

  “They keep my pants up.”

  “Maybe I don’t like them that much then.”

  He laughed, placing his hand on the back of my head. His lips brushed against mine, slowly at first, but then he sucked on my bottom lip and a deep moan escaped me. When I backed away, I was breathless. He traced his finger across my cheek.

  “Is this lipstick?” he asked.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s nail polish.”

  He picked up my hand, kissing the inside of my wrist before turning it over to look at the smudged mess. “How did you do that?”

  “I had an epiphany that caused me to slap myself in the face when my nails weren’t dry.”

  “Epiphany is a very sexy word too. Say it again.”

  “Epiphany,” I said, drawing out the sound.

  “Please extrapolate on your epiphany,” he said, twirling a piece of my hair.

  “I understand how you feel because I would fee
l the same way if you went to a lunch date with an ex-girlfriend. I swear to you there is nothing going on. I would never jeopardize what we have.”

  He leant forward, pressing his forehead against mine. “I know that.”

  “Did you fire Kelly?”

  “Yes.” He put his finger under my chin, lifting my head to meet his. “Why do I get the feeling you’re upset about that?”

  “She was just the messenger.”

  “It was none of her business, and she was trying to incite a fight.”

  “I just don’t like the idea of being responsible for someone’s loss of livelihood.”

  “You’re not. She is.”

  “But—”

  “She had other issues, Jessie. Do you know she came to my office with that photo? I’d made up my mind to fire her before I even talked to you. She said some very inappropriate things, and I won’t listen to it. I certainly won’t have someone on my payroll that’s looking to sabotage me in any way, even if they believe their intentions are noble.”

  “You’re right. It’s your business, and I shouldn’t interfere in the way you run it.” I stood up and stretched. “I’m going to use the bathroom to wash this polish off my face.”

  I took the long walk towards his bedroom, taking a second to stare at the wall of windows that overlooked Lake Michigan. The view was breathtaking, as was everything in this place. I flipped on the lights and my jaw dropped at the small gallery arranged there, confirming my suspicions that Damien had purchased Peter’s paintings. There were at least a dozen portraits all hung up in a neat row.

  He walked in behind me, bringing his arms around me. “I don’t have all of them yet, but I will.” He kissed my temple, and a familiar shiver travelled up my back. “I hope you’re not angry about this, but I couldn’t stand the thought that another man was admiring you this way, even if they don’t show your face.”

  “I’m just shocked. I haven’t seen these in over a decade.”

  “You look exactly the same.”

  “I have more life marks.”

  “I can see what you mean about having a personal relationship with the subject. It’s clear he loved you. He loves you still, doesn’t he?”

  My spine went rigid. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because he continued to paint you even after you were divorced. You didn’t know that, did you?”

  I cupped my hand over my mouth. “No.”

  “There are forty-nine paintings in all. The last one completed two months ago. He promised to stop painting you as a contingency of our agreement. I plan to own all of the Beloved paintings. That’s what they’re called, right?”

  “Yes. Peter told you all this?”

  “He told my agent. There are dollar signs for each painting, so it only benefitted him to be honest.”

  “That’s so many. You’re going to run out of wall space,” I said in a weak attempt at a joke.

  “I have three houses, and I can buy many more, but these would be for my private rooms only.”

  “You have three houses?”

  “Yeah, didn’t I tell you that?”

  I shook my head.

  “I have this one, one in the Florida Keys and a cabin in Big Sur. I’ll take you sometime, not to mention forty hotels across the world. None of your paintings will end up there, but I want to take you. Where would you like to go first? The Caribbean? Hawaii? Amsterdam?”

  “I’ll go anywhere as long as you’re beside me. Damien, I’m ah…glad you have my paintings, but you shouldn’t buy all of them. Even if they are private sales, people are going to think you’re obsessed.”

  “Fuck what anyone thinks. Besides, I am,” he whispered. “But not like scary stalker obsessed. More like lovesick boy obsessed—what’s the word?”

  I laughed. Damien had this way of sounding so controlling one minute, and so endearing the next. “Fetish.”

  “Yes, I fetish you.” He bent down close to my ear, gesturing to the wall of me. “I’m struggling with this because I know you have a daughter with him and I trust you. I also know how he feels for you, and that’s really difficult for me.”

  “I understand, but I come with baggage Damien, and I don’t travel light.”

  “I need to be in the know. Is there a reason you haven’t introduced me to your family, Jessie?”

  It was time to merge those two worlds. My family wasn’t traditional, but I still fretted about how they would react to their mother being in love with a much younger man. Love? Yes, dammit, love. I did more than fetish him. I loved him.

  Damien had been patient, but he brought it up once in a while. He was anxious to meet them. I just needed some more time. I needed to know he felt the same way for me before bringing him into the world I’d so carefully protected all these years.

  I swallowed, turning to him. “Just give it some time okay? It’s only been a few months. They haven’t seen me with a man in a long time, especially not one younger than me.”

  “It’s fine. I can be patient. I waited over a year for you to come back into my life, didn’t I?” He rubbed my cheek with his thumb. It was tender and sweet. “Baby, I think this nail polish is going to be a bitch to get off.”

  We both laughed. This man could always make me laugh and swoon and melt…sometimes all at once.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The last meeting for the fundraiser was a group event. Damien came to the library in my favourite suit, complete with suspenders. He smiled at me. It was a pleasant, professional smile, but I knew what he was doing. I’d requested secrecy. He’d obliged, yet he was cheating by looking so damn appealing.

  We sat at a long conference table. Alan, Damien, his new hotel manager, Dana and myself going over the final plans. I smiled at Dana. She was a nice lady, and she definitely was not interested in my man. In fact, I was pretty sure she wasn’t interested in any men. The party was in three weeks, and in a strange way, Kelly’s departure made more work for me. I was doing my work and hers by making the calls to the caterers, paying invoices and checking the RSVPS. I didn’t mind though.

  “So, Miss Mason, tell us what you’ve accomplished,” Damien said.

  “I sent out requests to about five hundred authors asking for autographed versions of their books for the silent auction. We’ve received over a hundred responses so far, which I think will fetch some generous bids. I also have—” I paused as I felt his foot rub against my leg. I hid my smile, moving on. “Several other donations from patrons and staff.”

  “Five hundred requests? That must have been very hard.”

  “It wasn’t so bad. The other change is that we’re at max capacity for the guest list. I was worried the room may be too crowded.”

  “It holds over six hundred people,” Damien said.

  “Yes, and we have close to that number coming.”

  “That’s very impressive, Miss Mason,” he said as his foot travelled up and down my leg.

  “So, I’ve requested your staff to open the garden area up as well.”

  “I think that could be dangerous with the weather.” His foot moved between my knees, pushing them apart.

  I clutched the edge of the desk and took a deep breath. “We have provisions. Heat lamps will be set up.”

  “What if it rains? We wouldn’t want our guests getting…wet, would we?”

  And damn, I was.

  Was he trying to throw me off my game? I slipped off my heel, flexing my foot, readying to give him a dose of his own medicine. I didn’t pussyfoot around though, no pun intended. I moved my toe straight to his shaft, and let it hover there. His sharp intake of breath was rewarding.

  I leant forward on the table. “I am prepared. We will have a tent set up. It’s not really that hard, is it?”

  “Not yet,” he said, his voice strained.

  Alan was talking, stroking that goatee of his. Dana was nodding along. I was trying to multi-task and pay attention. He took my foot in his hand and started rubbing it, working his way to my an
kle, caressing it gently then moving farther north.

  I gulped down my bottled water like I was in the Sahara desert.

  “Are you all right, Miss Mason?” he asked with plied innocence.

  He thought he’d won this round. Damien didn’t understand we were playing two out of three.

  “I’m fine, Mr Wolfe.”

  “Because you seem hot. Is it hot in here for you?”

  “I was thinking it was a bit chilly actually,” Dana interjected.

  It should have sliced through the tension but it didn’t.

  “I would adjust the thermostat for you ladies, but I’m not sure which way I should make it go,” Alan said, laughing as if he had made a joke.

  I think for Alan it was.

  “Please, if Dana is cold, turn up the heat. I certainly am comfortable at any temperature.”

  “I have to say, it is just a bit on the warm side for me,” Damien said. He took off his jacket, revealing those fucking suspenders I loved so much. His fingers strummed against them, while he continued asking me questions like nothing was going on. I moved my toe back to his crotch. This time putting a tiny bit of weight on it. I felt him growing against me.

  “I think this benefit will bring in a great deal of money for the library.”

  “Yes, you’ve done an amazing job, Emmie,” Alan was saying.

  I traced the line of Damien’s shaft through his pants with my toe.

  “Impressive,” he said, closing his eyes.

  “And again, thank you, Mr Wolfe, your generosity will always mean a great deal to us. You are saving jobs and books.”

  “Welcome,” he half-garbled.

  It was time for the kill.

  “On that note, would you mind matching the dollar amounts we earn on the silent auction?”

  “Emmie, he’s already donated the venue and catering. We can’t ask him to do that.”

  I pressed my toe against his tip.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “What?”

  He swatted my foot away.

  I turned my head away to hide my smile.

  “Excuse me. As you can see, I’m very enthusiastic about this event. I’d be happy to match it.” He turned to me, shaking his head slightly.

  “That’s wonderful. Thank you very much,” Alan said, standing up to shake Damien’s hand.