by Dawn Edwards
‘I have a few properties; a townhouse that has very limited, underutilized outdoor space. I have a large oceanfront property on the Cape with a yard that’s been neglected since…well, I’m going to say since it was built in the 1920’s. And a new neighboring property on the Cape that needs an extensive interior, exterior and landscaping overhaul—but not until at least the fall, as that’s when we close on it. I’ve seen your resume, and I need someone to design, implement and manage everything, from contractors, rental equipment, budgets and timelines. I can point you in the right direction in terms of who to contact for help, but I am far too busy to take it on, and I want to give you a chance. It would, however, involve your relocating to the Cape, at least for the summer. We can do a 6-month trial. Starting with these commercial spaces first.’
Unable to find words or the ability to speak, I nodded, and we shook on it. He told me he’d be in contact, and I left.
Chapter 2
JESSA
GIRL MEETS BOY, girl marries boy, they live happily ever after.
These are the lines that are spoon-fed to us in countless Hollywood movies, TV series and romance novels. One would think that in a town such as Hollywood, given their track record for divorce and infidelity, the storylines would be showcasing something a little closer to home, or realistic. But I guess that divorce, heartache and scandal are better at selling tabloid magazines than movie tickets and ratings.
Happily ever after, I know it happens for a lucky few, like my parents for instance. I’ve grown up seeing them in love with each other. Even on their bad days, I know there is still love between them, and that’s what helps them overcome their challenges.
But for the vast majority, the honeymoon ends, and divorce lawyers get richer.
Everyone has different meanings for what happily ever after means to them; but all are held up to the fairy-tale stereotype brainwashed into us as little girls.
From the time I was young enough to believe in fairy tales, I had just assumed that my life was normal and would continue to be effortless. To me, everyone had their own private jet, just like they had their own cars. And that’s the problem with growing up privileged and sheltered. You don’t see it, until you step away from it.
Because of all of this, it wasn’t a long shot to think even a few years ago, that relationships were going to be as straightforward and smooth as my parents’ had been. Perhaps age had jaded me, but I’d given up on finding my Prince Charming and felt like I was settling for Mr. Right-timing.
It seemed that with every passing week, things were getting harder with my fiancé, Matthew. As each month passed by and our Labor Day weekend wedding date grew closer, I was now starting to see the naivety of rushing into an engagement and agreeing with Matthew on a speedy wedding date. Regret sat heavy in my soul every day. It was clear that I had been hiding behind my innocence. It was becoming more apparent and my parents’ warnings and worry clearly obvious. But he had trapped me in more ways than I cared to think about, for when I did, I felt ill.
Life wasn’t a fairy tale. Prince Charming might exist, but his name wasn’t Matthew, and I wasn’t destined for my happily ever after. I’d be settling for content, on a good day.
I felt confined by my own insecurities and the fear of social judgement.
It was a sunny Sunday afternoon in late March; my parents insisted we drive out to their Hyannis Port summer home today. I was smack dab in the middle of finishing up end-of-term projects and starting to review for university exams. Then there was Matt, who wasn’t happy his weekend routine of sleeping his hangover off had been disrupted.
He wasn’t big on the whole give-and-take aspect of relationships, or anything that didn’t involve his interests coming first for that matter. Compromise was something that was slipping from his vocabulary with every passing day it seemed.
When my father had first mentioned the idea to us at our last weekly Thursday dinner, Matt had flat out said he couldn’t go. He didn’t even have the courtesy to offer an excuse, even if it were a lie. Lately, I was constantly trying to keep the peace between my family and Matt. I then tried to get out of it, playing the whole “I have to study” card.
But Steve Cahill wasn’t hearing any excuses. My father had reasoned that he’d given us over a week’s notice, and therefore we had plenty of time to plan ahead and rearrange schedules. ‘Neither one of you are busier than I am, so we will meet at 11 am and then get lunch together.’
My father might have been a shrewd businessman, but when he came home, he was an easygoing family man. He didn’t ask for much, but when he did, I tended to grant it to him. I told Matt it was a non-negotiable situation, and to my surprise, he finally caved, but clearly wasn’t happy about it, going along, kicking and screaming like a petulant toddler.
I drove out to the new Backbay condo Matt and I had just purchased a few weeks ago. Until the wedding, I was still officially living with my parents. I would finally move from my childhood home in Beacon Hill when we married over Labor Day weekend.
It was an old Victorian, which had been gutted, fully renovated and converted into six condos. I knew as soon as we walked in, I wanted it. It had been out of our price budget, but after looking at what seemed like hundreds of crappy flats, Matt finally gave in and got the one I really wanted, despite the cost.
The decision, I didn’t see at the time, was that I had shot myself in the foot, as he was stressed with trying to work harder to afford it; he was unruly when he was stressed. That stress was starting to wear me down as well. He was stubborn and refused the help from my trust fund or from my father with the down payment or mortgage.
When I arrived at 10 am, he was still in bed and tried again to get out of going with me. My parents had made a point of saying they needed both of us there.
He was adamant that he wasn’t hungover, but the smell of stale rum on him was the dead giveaway. I made a run to Starbucks while he showered and dressed, and I gave him a disappointed look as he got into the passenger seat of my Audi Q7.
‘Don’t start, I told you I didn’t want to go,’ he snapped at me, putting on his sunglasses and taking a big gulp of his cappuccino.
‘Well, they asked…’ I replied pulling out into the traffic.
‘So what?’ he cut me off. ‘Whenever they want something, we are supposed to just drop everything and go?’
‘When do they ever ask?’ I snapped back.
He had the audacity to laugh at me. ‘Loads of times. This will not continue to happen once we’re married.’
It killed me inside knowing that he held so much power over me. That I had given it to him. I was terrified that he would continue to come between me and my family until they were figures in my life, not a part of it.
More and more, I was becoming an inactive participant in my own life, and it scared the shit out of me.
I had to tread lightly here. Family was a sensitive topic.
‘Marriage is about family, immediate and extended. I know you didn’t grow up with much of one, but I did, and you know how much they mean to me. So yes, from time to time we will need to drop things for my family…our family.’ I didn’t often bring up his family, I knew it was a sore spot for him, but I needed him to understand family and what it meant, especially what it meant to me. I was losing the battle, but I would go down fighting.
It had really bothered me at the beginning that he wouldn’t open up to me, especially about his family. He always tried to change the topic and would get almost angry with me when I tried to push him for something, anything about them.
‘I don’t care about your background,’ I told him one night on the drive home from dinner. ‘I’d just like to know where they are, why you don’t want me to meet them?’
My mother had been on my case for a while about meeting his family. It was strange that he had moved to Boston basically for me and was talking about building a life here with me, and I still hadn’t met them, spoken to them, or even heard him speak about his
parents or siblings.
‘They are dead, Jessa,’ he yelled at me as he stopped for a red light. ‘Fuck, is this what you want, me like this? I don’t talk about it because it fucking sucks, ok?’
I took in a breath and looked at him, ‘See?’ he said not able to meet my eyes, ‘That look on your face is exactly why I don’t like talking about this shit, I don’t need your pity.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I apologised in a low voice.
‘Don’t pity me,’ he warned me. ‘I’ve had enough of that my entire life, I won’t tolerate it from you.’
I nodded as the light turned green and he started to drive again. ‘When?’
‘Jesus, Jessa,’ he cried out. ‘What part of I don’t like to talk about it do you not understand?’
‘Ok…’ I started.
‘It’s bad enough being around you and your perfect little family all the time to remind me.’ His voice was raised and angry—with me, a pattern that had started shortly before this incident. ‘I don’t need you hounding me to open up about what I lost.’
That was the first time I had seen his temper, but it wasn’t the last.
After that, he took every opportunity to remind me that I was all that he had. It was a lot of pressure, to know that he didn’t have anyone to love him, to care for him other than me. If that weren’t enough, one night he even went so far as to tell me that I was the kind of girl any guy would be proud to bring home to his family and that his mother would have loved me.
He was sad and lost, and after the death of my brother I truly got this pain. But as much as I was in pain, I was still the one who was trying to please him, to make him happy. Even when he threatened to leave me at the time I needed him the most.
In the beginning, he really did seem to care about my family. I couldn’t pinpoint the moment the change started, but it was when my brother died that he became almost obsessive about me, wanting to distance us from my parents.
‘They are too sad, I just can’t handle it,’ he told me a few days after Josh’s funeral. ‘It’s just too much for me, I’ve already dealt with grief and loss, I can’t do that again.’
I was broken, and he should have known better, but he used my emotions against me. I didn’t see it at the time, I was too blinded, all I could do was react, and given my mental state, I started sobbing, uncontrollably. ‘I need you, Matt.’
‘And you have me.’ He wrapped his arms around me, hugging me. Which was odd as we were walking in the park. He was never into PDA with me, hardly ever even holding my hand in public, despite my attempts to try, let alone openly hugging me. I didn’t know why, but my insecurity told me he didn’t want to be viewed as being with me by others in public. When we were alone, he wasn’t shy, he just wouldn’t claim me in public.
I hugged him back. ‘Please,’ I sobbed in his chest.
I should have let him go then. Looking back, that was where he made his power play to tip the balance. Little by little the rules started, the controlling tendencies surfaced, and the emotional blackmail really amped up. It was so subtle, I didn’t even see it until it was far too late. Hindsight really is twenty, twenty unfortunately.
But not before he told me he needed me just as much as I needed him, and he couldn’t walk away because he loved me.
He loved me.
I had a man who loved me, cherished me and wanted to protect me from all the evil in the world. Well, that was what he told me.
According to him, my friends were horrible people who were into drugs, and he didn’t want me mixed up with it. It made sense to me at the time, he didn’t want me in danger, he didn’t want me or my family embarrassed. He was protecting my safety and my family’s reputation. So, when he asked me not to go to parties with them, not to hang out with them, I declined their invitations, time after time. One can only refuse an invitation so many times before they stopped asking. But I couldn’t ditch Zoe and Amber. Not only because they were my best friends, but because I worked with them and they were close to my family. I knew this pissed him off, he hated that I had girlfriends who could influence me, and he viewed them as his greatest threat.
I had mistaken his looking out for me for what it really was, him controlling me. When all you want is for someone to love with you, it’s hard to distinguish between love and control. It gets so that you’d do anything to keep him happy just so he won’t leave.
He turned the radio to his favorite station and looked out his passenger side window. The rest of the car ride Matt was silent, busy on his phone. It was a quick hour’s drive from Boston, as the summer traffic hadn’t started yet. I parked in my spot, looking over to Matt, who was still avoiding me, busying himself with his phone.
‘You coming?’ I asked, turning the car off, continuing to look at him. He was an average-looking guy, there was nothing remarkable about him. Today he had on a pair of light grey pants, a hoodie and a vest on over it, which was a stark contrast from the suit and tie he wore every day to work. He had light brown hair, brown eyes, a round face and kept a few days’ stubble most of the time. He was a few inches taller than I was, with broad shoulders and the start of a belly. He made me feel less insecure about my looks because he wasn’t hot; not that a hot guy would ever be with someone like me, unless they just wanted me for my trust fund.
‘Doesn’t appear I have a choice, now does it,’ he said bitterly, finished his email and got out of the car after I did.
I noticed neither of my parents’ cars were in the driveway, but an old green van was parked off to the side, with lawn gear and tools leaning up against it. I walked along the stone path from the driveway to the house. As I slid my key into the lock, a man came around the side of the house into sight, but still near the corner of the house, some distance from us. Matt was standing next to me on the side where the guy was coming from.
‘Hiya, you alright?’ he called, walking towards us. ‘Can I help you?’ I heard the British accent, and I looked around Matt to see the guy who had been at my father’s office a few weeks ago. The one who had made my heart flutter and sent electric pulses to my girly regions. Our exchange had been no more than a few minutes, in the lobby of the office with Trish standing a few feet away, but I left feeling drunk and needed to change my panties.
I had never in my life reacted to anyone like that. Except watching porn, nothing made me wet—not even Matt, ever!
My walking, talking, sex-on-a-stick fantasy was dressed different than last time, but there was no doubt it was him. He was tall, tan, some light brown hair peeking out of the beanie hat he wore. As he walked closer, it appeared he had the most unique light hazel eyes I’d ever seen, they were captivating, and the makings of a short beard. Gone was his fitted suit I last saw him in. Today, he was wearing work pants, work boots, a dirty t-shirt and gloves. But hot damn if he didn’t look as sexy as hell, same as last time. I bet he smelled as good as he looked; rugged, manly and natural, not masked by cologne.
Looking him over was making me all tingly again, and I had to get my breathing under control and pray to God that my hair-trigger blushing wouldn’t sell me out again. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of him since seeing him in the reception of my father’s building. The thought of him was enough to induce a fever, so it was no wonder I blushed upon seeing him again.
Matt looked at him, giving him the once over, and simply said, ‘No.’ Then continued to open the door I started, welcoming himself into my parents’ house, clearly without them being here.
Matt’s rude dismissal helped save me from my embarrassing blushing for now.
When Matt stepped out of the way, the guy stopped as recognition crossed his face, ‘Oh hey…’
‘Hi,’ I said, looking anywhere but right at him for more than the briefest of seconds. It was hard not to stare, but I knew I’d be done for if I did. ‘So how did the interview go?’
He smiled an award-winning smile at me, ‘Great, I’m here, hey!’
I had assumed he had been interviewing fo
r an office job with my father. Matt stepped back outside, clearly annoyed with me for speaking to the gorgeous guy standing in front of me. Matt wasn’t stupid, even he could tell this guy was smoking hot. Matt’s jealous side had been on point lately, and I had no idea why; I had never given him any reason to think anything. I had never cheated, never even thought about it. I wouldn’t dare, he held too much power. ‘Are you coming in?’
Besides, there was no way that a guy who looked like Andrew would ever give someone who looked like me a second look, let alone a chance.
The guy looked to Matt and took off his gloves, extending his hand. ‘Hiya, I’m Drew Cameron, Steve’s landscape architect…’
Matt cut him off with a laugh, ‘That’s a fancy way of saying gardener.’
Andrew looked at him but said nothing, clearly being the bigger person and ignoring my rude and classless fiancé.
I extended my hand instead. ‘Hi, I’m Jessa Cahill, nice to officially meet you, Drew,’ I said, noting he had introduced himself as Drew, and perhaps he preferred it. ‘We’re meeting my parents out here today.’
Good God, the electric pulse that shot through me at his contact took my breath away, and I had to clear my throat to hide my gasp. I looked up at him and saw his eyes go wide, and we both pulled away.
He looked at me for a brief second, seeming to collect his thoughts. He looked around, getting his bearings. ‘Oh right, they were just here, just nipped into town to grab a coffee.’ He smiled a brilliant smile, and his accent was alluring.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Matt spit out loud enough for both of us to hear, stepping back inside the house. Thankfully he had missed the moment between Drew and me. ‘They ask us to come all the way out here, to the middle of fucking nowhere, and they can’t even show up on time. I could have used the extra sleep.’
I looked back to Drew and mouthed, Sorry, as I saw my parents’ car pulling onto the property.
I turned to Matt and walked into the house after him. I put my hand on his chest. ‘Please pretend to be nice and happy.’
