This might make what I’m going to do next easier. I know how he can be about our dinners together, but I need him to make an exception tonight. I pick up my phone, sit up in bed and send him a text.
Me: I can’t do dinner tonight. I have plans.
Heath: What are you doing?
He answers me within seconds.
Me: You don’t tell me what you’re doing all the time.
I fire back. Why do all of my movements have to be tracked but not his? It's not as if one of his many guards wasn't going to follow me. He will know my every move. He always does.
Heath: I have no problem telling you what I’m doing.
Not only is his response as quick as the last, but then he shares his location with me on his phone. I find my lips twitching because he’s making an effort. It’s the small things that make me happy.
Me: It’s Abigail’s birthday. She invited me over for dinner.
Abigail loves to cook and I love to eat anything she makes.
Heath: What time do you need to be there?
Me: 7
Heath: I’ll be ready to leave at 6:30
Me: You’re coming with me?
Heath: Yes
I stare at the phone wondering if that’s such a good idea. I’m going to have to tell Heath they know about us. I don't keep anything from Abigail. She is my best friend. I send her a text letting her know I won’t be coming alone. I know without a doubt she’ll be excited about this. She is still holding on strong that Heath and I are meant to be.
This might not be the worst idea, though. Seeing Abigail and her husband together always reminds me of what I don’t have. Their love is the kind of thing people long to have. Watching them sometimes makes my heart ache. Heath could see what he is missing. That our marriage will never work if we don’t make changes. Seeing them together will show him that you can have this kind of love if you find your soulmate. Abigail’s husband would do anything for her. That man loves her unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
Then he might leave you, my mind whispers. I suck in a breath, the thought catching me off guard. Wouldn't that be a good thing? If he moved on to find someone he really loved to have the children he wants so badly and I’d do the same. None of that settles well inside me.
At the moment, that is neither here nor there. I stand, going to my closet to find something to wear. I grab a pair of wide leg white pants and a knitted soft pink sweater. I grab my favorite gold flats. I pick a white bra to go under my sweater to match my pants, knowing part of it will show through the sweater. Not much though. I take it all to the bathroom to get ready, brushing my hair down and putting on a little makeup.
I slip some gloss onto my lips and stare at them in the mirror. He hasn't kissed me again. The kiss that I can’t stop thinking about. It started with me thinking about the kiss and then my mind would wander to what would have happened if I hadn't made a run for it. This time I’d stay and let him have his way with me.
My thighs clench together. My eyes fall closed. How long would he have kept me in the room? How many times would he have to take me until he got me pregnant? He would've had his way with me over and over again, his body on top of mine as he thrust in and out of me, spilling himself inside until there was nothing left. He wouldn't be able to stop himself. I wouldn't be able to stop myself from coming right along with him.
A knock sounds on my bathroom door, scaring the crap out of me. I drop my gloss into the sink and jerk around to see Heath standing in my doorway.
“Are you okay?” He steps into the bathroom, coming over toward me. He lifts his hand, touching my forehead. “Are you not feeling well? You’re flushed.”
“I’m fine,” I rush to say. I wasn't sick. I was turned on.
“You look stunning.” He drops his hand, his eyes roaming over me.
“Thanks.” I lick my lips and my eyes go to him. “We should go.” I dart around him and out of the bathroom. I grab Abigail's gift from off my dresser before heading out of my bedroom. Heath follows right behind me until we both make it to the entryway. I find my purse.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again. I can see real concern on his face.
“Yeah.” I try not to look at him because I’m scared that I’ll keep looking at his mouth. I think I built the kiss up. There is no way it was as good as I remember.
“Look at me,” he orders. I turn my head, my eyes raising to meet his. “What is it?” he pushes.
“Abigail and Con know about us. That this is arranged.” I motion between us.
“Okay.” He shrugs, not seeming to care. Con runs in the same circles as Heath. I thought it might irritate him that he knows.
“I only told Abigail but they are in a real marriage. They love each other and don’t have secrets.” I would never expect Abigail to keep something from her husband. I get it because I long for something like they have.
“Okay,” he says again, opening the front door for me. I can’t tell if he’s mad or not. I hate when he has the stoic look on his face that I can’t read.
“Be nice to them.” I point my finger at him.
He grabs it. “If this was a real marriage you could order me around more easily. Tell me I’d sleep on the couch if I chose to not be nice. That I’d be in the dog house.” He leans down, biting the tip of my finger playfully before he kisses it. Once again, it makes this marriage feel a little more real.
15
Heath
Abigail and Constantine Weathers live in a two-story penthouse overlooking Central Park. It’s a massive space with an equally massive rooftop garden where dinner is currently being served. Orchard’s curled on a large oversized-upholstered chair next to me, her feet tucked underneath her. A large glass of red wine dangles from her fingertips. She’s as comfortable here as she is in our home—maybe even more so. The implication of the visual makes me restless so I shift my focus to the Weatherses. After all, they’re why I came.
To Orchard, this couple represents what real marriage should be. I’ve come to study this so I can pick it apart and apply it to our own situation. I realize it’s not entirely the same. Abigail and Con married for love and I bought Orchard from her father, but those origin stories don’t have to dictate our future. In fact, I refuse to let that happen.
It’s supposed to be a marriage of convenience where each party gets what they want. Her father didn’t go to jail, the shipyards were saved, she went to college and never wants for a thing. I got her. It seemed like a perfect arrangement at the time. Now she’s older and sees things she wants but doesn’t think I can give to her. She’s wrong, but part of that is my fault. I need to figure out how to convince her our marriage can work just as well as anyone else’s.
So far Con hasn’t done anything that I haven’t done for Orchard. He’s attentive, bringing over a throw when Abigail mentioned the evening breeze, but she’s not using the blanket. Instead, it’s tossed over the back of the chair. She has the same red wine as Orchard, which is getting low. When she reaches for the bottle, Con leans forward to grab it before Abigail can and tops off her glass.