“That is much more than one reason,” he points out as he takes out a chair for me. “Have you been thinking a lot about this? Because, at least to me, it seems you’ve given a lot of thought to how you would respond if I asked you to marry me.”
“I like to be prepared,” I say as he takes a seat to my left. Patricia and her husband are already seated across from us. “You’ve said many things to me while inebriated, most of which you probably don’t remember, and when you are drunk, you respond best to logic; I have little arguments worked out should something like marriage ever be discussed. But, as I’ve said, you wouldn’t mean it, and I highly doubt marriage, least of all with me, has ever crossed your mind.” I take a moment to catch my breath before turning my gaze across the table and smiling. “How was your trip? I must apologize for my appearance; I wasn’t aware I was going to dine with you.”
“Please,” Patricia says, holding up her hand. “You look gorgeous no matter what. I keep telling you to come to Paris. Model. They will love you in Paris, even if you are an American.”
I feel my face heat up and I can’t help but look at my lap. “Thank you for the offer,” I tell her, “but I actually really like my job here. And I love LA.”
“Robert’s a lucky man,” Christopher remarks, and shoots my boss a smile I can’t decipher. Maybe it’s some inside joke between them or something, but I put it in the back of my mind and instead focus on the food that’s waiting for us on the table.
“Plus, I couldn’t eat as much spaghetti as I want to,” I say, grabbing some Parmesan cheese and shaking some on my noodles.
“Oh God, a size six is not fat,” Patricia says with a roll of her eyes. “What is the problem here in America? If people just learned portion control, and not to shovel crap in their mouths, and maybe walk more, there wouldn’t be this obsession with weight. Jesus Christ.”
“I know I’m not fat,” I say.
“Patty’s still a little jetlagged from the plane,” Christopher says, patting his wife’s knee. “Plus, Bruno’s been demanding to be fed every few hours. He wasn’t too fun on the plane. In fact, I’m surprised he hasn’t started crying yet.”
“Why do you call me Patty?” Patricia asks. “You know I do not like to be called Patty.”
“You brought Bruno with you?” I ask, feeling my lips curve up.
“Of course,” Patricia says before taking a quick gulp of her wine. “We are not the type of parents who – how do you say? – pawn our children off on a nanny or someone like that. Plus, this way, Bruno will be getting culture.”
“Bruno is nine months,” her husband points out. “I’m not sure if he’ll remember this example of culture.”
“That is why I have brought our camera. And you’d be surprised at how much children remember. They are very impressionable, you know, and considering Bruno has our genes, our intellect, he’s probably already grasping the complexities of travel.”
I glance over at Robert and we share a smile. Christopher and Patricia are complete opposites when it comes to characteristics, but when it comes to the core of who they are, they’re surprisingly similar. Something is obviously working for them though, because they’ve been together nine years, and five of those have been united in marriage.
You know, I’m suddenly glad that Robert is having dinner with them at this moment in time because this is another successful marriage he can bear witness to, and it’s totally obvious just how in love both Christopher and Patricia are with each other. Maybe they will rub off on Robert. He could use a little rubbing, if you ask me, and not in the way he wants it either.
From the moment the words came out of Patricia’s red lips, the entire evening took on a whole different meaning for Robert Swift. He was used to having revelations, especially when it came to technology and business, but rarely did he ever have a revelation about himself. The effect wasn’t immediate, but then again, it never was. But something changed. Maybe it was the fact that Patricia had basically said he and Madeline were like an old, married couple, but Robert felt it had more to do with her abrupt statement of the obvious: his relationship with Madeline Perkins was the longest he had ever had with a woman.
And for whatever reason, that really struck him.
Of course, he brushed it off with a quick joke and a charming smile, but for the rest of the evening, he felt off. And much more attuned to the little things about Madeline, like the subtle scent of roses that touched her adorably messy hair, the way her face was completely devoid of makeup and yet looked like some kind of rare artifact, a masterpiece. Of course, he also took into account the way her pantsuit fit her curvy frame, the way her ass – though she would never say the word – looked, the way her heels caused her shoulders to fall back and her breasts to jut out a fraction more.
And it was that fraction that made a difference.
Robert was a man in every sense of the word. There was no way for him not to notice just how good-looking his assistant was. In fact, that was one of the reasons why he let her into the house that fateful day she came over to show him some hinky numbers – though he could have sworn she had said kinky – and why he was so quick to hire her on as his PA. Because he did want to sleep with her.
And yet, he hadn’t. Not from lack of trying, however. Even now, there wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t make some sort of innuendo regarding her looks or how he wanted to bed her. But then she would get this look in her eyes and brush him off. It wasn’t as though she was uninterested in him as man – he saw the way her eyes lingered a little too long when he was working on something in his workshop – but her reaction to his come-ons was more of a ‘Nice try’ than a ‘Don’t even think about it.’ Which, of course, only made him try harder.
Still, she resisted. And he came to the conclusion that Madeline Perkins probably never would. Normally, he would brush off a girl who didn’t reciprocate his feelings, but for whatever reason, Robert was disappointed. But he realized that along with that disappointment came respect for her as a person, a woman, and he trusted her with his life. She was the closest thing to family he had, and the voice inside his head. And even though he would still jump at the opportunity to have one night with her – a night he would make certain was the best she had ever experienced and one he knew would be incomparable to the countless others he had with faceless women – he knew that maybe sleeping together wasn’t the best idea. He didn’t want to ruin what they had together.
Robert watched as she blushed when Patricia told her to model in Paris but ignored the little jump his heart did at the prospect of losing Madeline to anyone. He would quadruple her salary if she asked in order to get her to stay. He would do more if she asked.
But relief came fast when she admitted that she liked her job.
Christopher wasn’t joking when he said that Robert was a lucky man. Robert knew that, and yet there seemed to be a knowing in Christopher’s smile that Robert felt he understood but couldn’t quite grasp, like sand in the palm of his hand.
As conversation continued about Paris and the holidays, Robert let his thoughts linger on marriage. Maybe it was because, for whatever reason, Madeline was fascinated with the prospect of joining two people together, or that she didn’t believe he would mean it if he ever proposed to her, but something about the topic that had at once seemed so taboo, now almost seemed…
And the fact that Christopher and Harold Morris, both in different stages of their marriages, true, seemed happy. Even though they could only have sex with one woman for the rest of their lives. Was there a person in this great, wide world that was worth such a sacrifice?
A baby began to cry, shaking Robert out of his thoughts. The four of them were now in Robert’s billiard room, drinking coffee and chatting about nonsensical things such as Robert’s issue of GQ and if it was true that he really did bed the past twelve playmates including Playmate of the Year.
“I’ll get him,” Madeline said in a soft voice to Patricia, who had already begun to st
and up. “You guys must be so tired. Stay here. I’ll take care of it.”
Patricia argued with Madeline, pointing out that Madeline had been working all day, but Robert knew it wouldn’t make a difference. And it didn’t. Patricia sat back down after Madeline had forced the supermodel’s resignation, and Madeline disappeared to the nearest guest bedroom.
And before Robert could stop himself, he was out of his seat, excusing himself, and following Madeline.
It was the moment he walked into the bedroom where Bruno was that the revelation began to take form. His brown eyes were resting on Madeline who was currently holding Bruno, coming up with a smile that managed to shine even though her eyes revealed just how exhausted she was. She looked so at ease, so natural, with the child that Robert couldn’t interrupt just yet. He had to watch. Because really, that was all he could do. He couldn’t look away, and he really didn’t want to.
God, she was gorgeous. Patricia was right; she really could model if she wanted to. And yet, she was perfectly in the heart of LA, striving not to be famous but to ensure that his life was easier.
How did he get so lucky?
And just like she knew he was there, she tilted her head and smiled at him. Without even thinking, Robert felt himself straighten. Bruno had slowly begun to fall asleep, so Robert silently made his way into the room.
“You know,” he said as he watched Madeline place Bruno back in the crib Patricia had insisted on bringing with them even though they would be returning to their hotel room relatively soon, “I’ve always wanted a kid or two.”
“Well,” Madeline replied, standing up straight once she finished her task. “You know you have to settle down before you do that.”
“Not necessarily.” He shoved his hands in his jean pockets as he followed her out of the room. “I don’t have to settle down or anything if I don’t want to, though I will admit, it would be easier if I did. No contracts or anything like that. Although I suppose it’s always better to be safe than sorry. Anyway. Do you want kids?”
He didn’t know why he asked her that particular question. It was personal and out of bounds and unprofessional – as Madeline would say – but he didn’t care. He wanted to know her answer.
She stopped walking, causing him to do the same, and for a minute, she was silent. Okay, maybe he should have kept his mouth shut; he didn’t have to know –
“I don’t know,” she said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. Her shoulders shrugged, surprising him at how graceful she could make a simple gesture, and she lifted her eyes so they were resting on his. “I haven’t really thought about it or anything. Maybe one day though, if I find the right person.” And with that, she continued on her way back to the billiard room.
Robert previously believed the right person was an elusive commodity that he suspected didn’t exist. But now, he wasn’t so sure anymore.
Chapter 8
I can’t make it.”
I choke a little on my own saliva and nearly drop the phone.
What?
“What do you mean you can’t make it?” I ask, staring at my panty-clad body in my full-length mirror. My crimson dress is hanging in my closet, waiting for me to put it on, and yet I am currently distracted by the call Jewel has decided to give me. “Jewel, the party is in two hours.”
“I know, but I’m still sick,” she says, and I can tell she’s sorry she can’t come. Well, about as sorry as anyone with a severe congestion problem can sound. “And I don’t want to risk getting you sick, or Mr. Swift sick, or, God forbid, Ethan sick.”
Ethan. That’s right. This is another perfect opportunity for her to get to know Ethan, and not the way his body moves. Tonight would have been great to have a personal conversation with him because tomorrow is Christmas, and there are so many things you can talk about when it comes to Christmas. Like mistletoe. And stockings. And candy canes. And obviously Jesus. And he would probably have fallen in love with her once she spoke about her passion for Christopher Nolan movies and Jamba Juice, and I could throw in – having casually overheard their intimate conversation – how attentive Jewel is with her job, letting the insinuation go unspoken that she could possibly be attentive in other aspects of her life.
“I suppose that would be a bad idea,” I say. Okay, I surrender. “Well, make sure you get lots of fluids and lots of sleep, and I’ll make sure to tell you everything that happens, okay?”
Jewel chuckles but due to her illness, it sounds painful. We say our goodbyes and happy holidays, and I take the rest of the time to get ready. The dress is a tad too tight – I probably shouldn’t have had spaghetti for dinner – but after moving around in it for fifteen minutes, I decide I can maneuver in it for the duration of the party and not be uncomfortable. Luckily, I’ve already broken in my shoes or else that seriously would have been a problem, considering they give me an extra three inches and hug the curves of my feet like a lover would.
I invited Christopher and Patricia Debrees to attend, but apparently they will be visiting Christopher’s parents, spending the holiday family-oriented rather than charity-oriented. It is definitely understandable. If my family was still around, I would definitely be with them instead of here. Obviously that’s not going to happen, so I’m stuck. Though, out of all the events Robert throws and attends, this one is my favorite. Maybe it’s because it’s Christmas, and it’s hard to be sad at Christmas, but there’s something magical in the air.
At that moment, the driver Robert has hired for me despite my insistence that I am perfectly capable of driving myself rings my apartment to inform me that she’s here. I’m out the door in less than five minutes.
St. Jude’s Medical Center is located in Fullerton, which is a part of North Orange County. Because this party is geared towards the children patients, the entire children’s wing is festively decorated with real Christmas trees, ornaments, and stars and angels. There is a man dressed as Santa Claus, handing out gifts to the children, while one of his elves is passing out candy canes. Christmas carols are playing through the speakers – I swear by the time I leave here, I’ll have “Jingle Bells” stuck in my head – while actual carolers are going around singing. Robert did want to hire a couple of reindeer, but that’s where the hospital drew the line.
Oh well.
I spot Robert already there with a glass of amber champagne in his hand. He is, of course, surrounded predominantly by beautiful women, talking about only God knows what. He looks good in his suit, but he always looks good, and I’m surprised to see that he has actually put some effort into controlling his hair. It failed, of course, but at least he tried. And even more shocking is the fact that he’s wearing a tie with Christmas trees on it. This makes me chuckle to myself. Instead of heading over to him though, I try and spot Sam, Robert’s driver, in the crowd.
Sam is definitely a party guy, but not so much when it comes to classy events. Like, he prefers a nightclub over this sort of shindig any day. But I always have him attend these things with me just in case Robert indulges in alcohol to wretched excess and I have to take care of him. Sam can get people away and out of any building faster than I’ve seen anybody else do, which is weird because he’s on the scrawny side and not in the least intimidating.
I manage to spot him chatting up his own woman, and I can’t help but roll my eyes and smile. Who knew Christmas parties are where you could find a mate? Although, Love Actually does have that scene with Alan Rickman and that awful woman who knows he’s married to the wonderful Emma Thompson, but does she care? No!
I head over to where Harold and Melinda Morris are. Even though I’m a few feet away, I can see the way she’s looking at him – so obviously in love with him – and the way he has his hand on the small of her back even though he’s talking to a group of people. Cosmo would say that they’re clearly in sync, even though their attention may be somewhere else. If I’ve learned anything, body language never lies.
“…his mother is very attached to him,” I hear Harold say
. “But he’s twenty-five years old now, you know, and James is very much his own person. Well, that’s what his column seems to say. Did I mention that he has in own column in the New York Tribune? Very successful. Hollywood is considering making it into a movie.”
Harold is obviously talking about his son, the highly elusive James Morris. I feel my ears burn at the mention of him because even though I’ve never met him, I want to know more about him. Harold is always talking about him, and it surprises me that with such a loving father, James hasn’t come to visit Harold. Especially with the awful weather in New York right now, the snow and the bitter air and the cold. Here, I think sixty-eight degrees is too cold. If I were James, I’d be here in a New York minute.
Haha, I’m so clever.
“Where was I?” He looks at his wife for guidance, but before Melinda can remind him, he suddenly remembers. “Right, well as I was saying –”
Someone places their hand on the small of my back so my attention is snatched. I crane my neck in order to look over my shoulder and am surprised to see Ethan behind me. He gives me one of those impish grins that make all the girls’ stomachs acquire a good number of butterflies before leaning close to me and whispering, “Hey.”
“Hey,” I say back and then turn my head in hopes that he’ll understand that I’m trying to listen in on what Harold is saying.
“…Christmas with his father, but as you can see, he’s not here,” Harold continues. Drat. I feel as though I’ve missed a very important piece of the James Morris puzzle. “So I sent an e-mail over to Jane, James’s mother, and –”
“You look wonderful, Madeline,” Ethan says, moving even closer than he is. “That color looks astronomical on you. Tell me again, how is it that someone like you is single? I’m still trying to figure it out and have come to the conclusion that it’s not possible.”
I barely hear him because I’m trying to listen to Harold, but since Ethan is closer to me, I can barely hear Harold as well.
Four Sides of a Triangle: An Austen & Cufflinks Novel (The Austen & Cufflinks Series Book 1) Page 7