Shattered Perfection (The Perfection Series Book 1)

by Heather Guimond

  “Mimi, I don’t know what to say, other than I’m sorry.”

  “Let me help you. How about I was a ginormous prick, unrivaled by even an African elephant’s dick? Or in the history of dicks? And here’s the most important part: I completely and totally overreacted, was horribly unfair to you. I’m sorry and it will never happen again. I don’t know, you may have something else in mind, but it seems to me that’s about the only thing, or something really fucking close to it, that would be appropriate at a time like this.” I sat back, taking a sip of my coffee.

  His contrite expression was swiftly replaced by a flinty glare for a fleeting second. For that brief moment, I saw the Vance of the night before staring back at me and I flinched, fearing a repeat performance. Had I gone too far in my outburst? However, he closed his eyes and seemed to struggle for another moment, and when he reopened them, his remorseful look was back.

  “You’re right, Mimi. I was completely out of line. I was just so disappointed when you got home, I don’t know what came over me. I felt so slighted. This new deal at work has stolen so much time from me, that it is robbing me of the one thing that brings me real joy—you—and when I came home and you weren’t here it was just another thing stealing my happiness. I lost it and took all that pain and frustration out on you. It felt like you were being inconsiderate by not calling or texting me to say you would be late, but I understand how you could lose track of time. I was totally out of line.

  “Could we please put the incident behind us and start over? I don’t want one ugly scene to come between us and ruin what we have,” he plead.

  “This isn’t the first time you’ve been ugly to me though, Vance. I let the first incident slide by and you pretended nothing ever happened, but I refuse to do that again. I want to make sure that if something is bothering you, we have an adult conversation about it, and that you treat me with respect even if you are upset,” I said, doing my best to be reasonable.

  “What do you mean I’ve been ugly to you before? When?”

  “The night of the breast cancer gala. Of course, it wasn’t anything like last night. You were just irritable all day, then extremely rude to me the entire evening. Any time I tried to find out what was bothering you, you brushed me off and grew more annoyed with me.”

  His face twisted thoughtfully. “I don’t remember anything like that. I was very bored that evening, but I don’t recall anything out of the ordinary happening.”

  I sat there silently remembering his pleasant, normal demeanor the following day. It certainly supported his claim now that he had no memory of how he acted the day before, although I couldn’t see how that could be possible.

  “I’m not making it up, but whether I say it happened or you say it didn’t, we are both in agreement that last night did, and my position of how we move on from that doesn’t change,” I said firmly.

  “I understand. I will do my best to be patient and talk with you if I get upset or if something is bothering me. I won’t treat you like that again. However, please try to be patient with me while I’m working on this deal. I’m under a lot of pressure right now, and I’m stretched very thin. I’m afraid the stress is taking its toll in a lot of ways.”

  “What do you mean? What else is going on with you?” I asked, my concern for him growing.

  “Well, I’ve been having a lot more headaches. Since you’re asleep most of the time when I get home, you don’t see it when they happen. I also forget a lot of things at work. My work is slower because of it, and I have to put forth twice as much effort. I have to leave myself little notes everywhere. It’s one of the reasons my days are so damned long. I’m afraid I’ve also been short-tempered with my co-workers. I sequester myself in my office as much as I can, to avoid any confrontations. I can’t wait until this deal is over and everything goes back to normal.” He rested his head in his hands. “Maybe I’m just not meant to be a partner if I can’t do this level of work. I’ll just have to accept that I’m only associate material.”

  I took his hand. “I wish you’d told me you were having these problems. I may not be able to help you with the work, but I can at least help you deal with the pressure by being an outlet for you. You don’t have to carry the burden all alone.”

  “When was I supposed to turn to you? We hardly ever see each other. We don’t even have time to chat on the phone during the day, my time is so consumed by work. Hell, I don’t even have time for this conversation. I should be working right now especially since I left ‘early’” (he curled his fingers into quote gestures as he said the word early) “last night, but I knew we needed to have this conversation this morning. The only thing getting me through now is that the deal is almost closed. Maybe a week or two more of this and it will be done.”

  “Then we’ll hang in there and see it through. If you have a bad day and I’m asleep when you come home, wake me up and we’ll talk about it. I can lose a little sleep if it means being there for you when you need me. I want to be there for you. It’s my duty and my pleasure as your wife. I want to share those burdens with you. Likewise, if you have a headache, I want to take care of you. I’ll get your pills, I’ll rub your temples and help you relax. I’ll do anything to make your life easier, Vance,” I said as tears began to prickle my eyes. I had no idea he had been suffering. I knew the increased demands on him had to be stressful, but I didn’t know how much. I was a terrible wife for not noticing or considering what it was doing to him. No wonder he snapped last night.

  I got up and went around the table to sit on his lap and take him in my arms. “I had no idea things were this hard for you. Don’t give last night another thought. All is forgiven. In fact there is nothing to forgive. You simply reached your breaking point. Had I known things were so bad, I would have been much more sensitive toward you. I promise I will be much more aware of your situation and do my best not to add to your stress.”

  His arms came up around me and squeezed tight. “I know I can always count on you to make things better, Mimi.” He pressed his lips to my temple and whispered against my skin. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too,” I said, never meaning it more.

  We sat like that quietly, enjoying our renewed connection for a few moments before Vance broke the silence with a regretful sigh.

  “I wish I could sit like this for the rest of the day. Maybe even take you into the bedroom for a good long while, but I need to get dressed and head into the office. Can I ask one favor though?”

  “Anything.” I replied.

  “I don’t know when I’ll be home tonight, but would it be asking too much for you to wait up for me? I want to see your face first thing when I walk in the door,” he asked quietly.

  My heart melted a little that he would ask for something so simple, but so touching at the same time.

  “That is definitely not too much to ask. I will be waiting for you eagerly. Would you like me to have food waiting for you too, or maybe something to drink?” I offered.

  “No, just you. And if you happen to have nothing on, I might be able to muster the energy to do something about that.” He gave me one of his devilish grins.

  I giggled, saying, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  He patted my thighs twice, before gently easing me up off his lap and giving me a light kiss on the lips. My heart felt much lighter and I found myself looking forward to the evening.

  Vance left the house about nine-thirty in the morning. I wasn’t sure what it meant in terms of him getting home, since he was usually out of the house by six a.m. and I never knew what time he came home since I was usually asleep when he did. As such, I spent most of the day reading, and making sure to take a good nap so I could be awake enough to stay up late waiting for his arrival. When two a.m. came and went and he still wasn’t home, I began to grow worried. I sent him a text message inquiring after him and when he thought he might be done. I didn’t receive a response.

  At three-thirty, I actually called his cell phone, but
it went straight to voicemail, so the thing wasn’t even turned on. I thought it could also be a dead battery, but I was aware he had a charger in his office, so that wasn’t really a good excuse. I brushed other possible reasons his phone could be turned off from my mind. I then called the direct number for his office phone, but it also just rang several times before going to voicemail.

  I continued to wait until six a.m., after drinking copious amounts of coffee to keep myself awake. I called his cell phone for the final time, and that time it rang, but there was still no answer. Worry getting the better of me, I decided to drive over to his office to see if I could locate his car, either in the parking lot or somewhere on the route there. My imagination began to run away with me, fears of him falling asleep at the wheel on his way home, and wrapping his car around a street lamp somewhere invading my thoughts. I grabbed my coat and walked out to my car, only to find him parked in the driveway, fast asleep in the front seat. I panicked because although it was Los Angeles, it was still December and the temperature was far too cold to be sleeping outside. I attempted to open the door but it was locked. I ran back inside and searched in his desk frantically for the spare key, cursing the fact that it was not on my key ring, making a terrible mess as I went along. Once I located it in a side drawer, I dashed back outside and let myself in using the electronic key fob. I knelt on the ground and leaned through the open car door, putting a hand to his cheek to check the temperature of his skin. I was surprised he wasn’t frozen solid. His lips had slightly blue tinge, but to my relief were still mostly a light pink. I shook him gently, then a little harder, while calling his name to wake him up. Unfortunately, this accomplished little other than a few heavy breaths and some low grumbling. I slapped his face lightly, hoping to rouse him further and maybe bring some color back into his cheeks, this time eliciting a wave of his hand to brush me away. Encouraged by the response, I slapped his face with much more force, which finally brought him around, his eyes opened wide in shock. He looked at me slightly disoriented at first, then with a furrowed brow asked, “Did you just hit me?’

  “Unfortunately, I had to. You wouldn’t wake up and I was panicked.” I informed him.

  “Panicked? Why? Is the house burning down? Are you mysteriously pregnant and in labor? Am I late for work?”

  “Negative to all the above, except for maybe the last one, I’m not sure about that. But the reason I was panicked might be answered by the fact if you look around and see where you are then take note of the fact that I waited for you all night, but you never came home,” I said, motioning to his surroundings with a lift of my chin.

  His eyes grew wide as he took a look around. “I spent the night in my car?” he asked incredulously, wrapping his arms around himself as if just noticing the cold.

  “It would appear so,” I said. “Let’s get you inside and into a hot shower where you can warm up. I’m surprised you’re not hypothermic.”

  I stood and stepped back to let him out as he struggled to stand.

  “Vance, why didn’t you come inside last night? Did you go drinking after work? Were you drunk?”

  He looked slightly dazed as his eyes scanned the front yard. “I have absolutely no idea, Mimi. I don’t even remember leaving the office last night.” He looked at me with a very troubled expression, and I could have sworn it looked like there were tears in his eyes. He blinked a few times and they were gone. I lifted one of his arms over my shoulders and helped guide him into the house, assuming his legs would be very stiff from the cold and from being cramped while sleeping in the confines of the car.

  I got him settled in the bedroom so he could get undressed while I ran the shower. Once the bathroom was nice and steamy, I helped him into the stall and stood watch while he leaned under the hot spray, bringing his body temperature back to a normal level. I was genuinely worried for his health, not only in the very short term after this night in the frigid air, but the toll his work was taking on him. He needed a few days off to relax and rest his body and mind. He needed lots of sleep, a few good home cooked meals and a few days of doing nothing but decompressing. I was determined that he would not be going into the office that day no matter what he said and I was going to call his boss first thing Monday morning and demand that someone fill in for him for a couple days. I’d lie and say he had a terrible case of the stomach flu if I had to. I’d tie his stubborn ass to the bed, if he gave me any trouble about it, either. I was going to make sure he rested, if it killed me.

  Once Vance felt he was sufficiently warm, I helped him out of the shower over his protests that he was just fine. I dried him off over more objections and helped him dress in an old, soft, white T-shirt and a pair of lounge pants. He grumbled the entire time that he was not an invalid, but with a no-nonsense look from me, he quieted down and allowed me to baby him. I forced him into bed and informed him he was not going anywhere that day. It was Sunday, it was the Lord’s Day and he had suddenly found religion at the church of What Mimi Says Goes.

  We argued over my plan to call in sick for him for the next two days, but after I threatened him with a divorce, we compromised and agreed that he could have work couriered over. He could work on some stuff from home, but nowhere near the amount nor for as long as he would if he were at the office. He made a phone call, then informed me that someone would be by that afternoon to bring over a box of files and he would appreciate it if I would put it in his office, considering I wasn’t letting him out of bed.

  I made him some soup for breakfast and fed it to him, which amused him greatly. I think he began to enjoy all the attention and being coddled to some extent. It had been a long time since we had gotten to spend any time together, and being spoiled by me was something of a novelty. All he had to do was sit back and let it happen, a concept foreign after all these months of being under so much pressure to deliver results.

  Finally, I left him alone to get some quality sleep. I checked on him fifteen minutes later and he was out cold. I smiled to myself, happy he was finally getting some desperately needed rest.

  A little after noon, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find a stunning redhead, dressed head to toe in designer labels, with a perfectly made up face, standing on my doorstep holding a banker’s box and wearing a smug look on her face.

  “You must be Mimi. I’m Tiffany Strong. I work with Vance. He asked me to bring these files by.”

  “Oh, hi,” I said pleasantly, opening the door wider and motioning for her to come in. “Let me take that from you.” I said reaching out for the box.

  “That’s okay. I’ll just take them back to his office, I know where it is.” She started to walk toward the back of the house.

  I stopped her and gently took the box from her arms. “No, thank you. Please, have a seat and I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

  She may have known her way around my house for whatever reason, but I was not about to let her go gallivanting around like she owned the place. I placed the box on Vance’s chair, not wanting to risk messing up his organized chaos any more than I already had in my search for his car key.

  I exited the office to find this stranger standing in the doorway to our bedroom, staring in at Vance as he was sleeping. Good thing he wasn’t sleeping naked as he normally did, I thought.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked. “I told you to wait for me in the living room.”

  “I just wanted to see if he was okay. It’s not like him to not come into the office, even if he’s sick,” she said innocently.

  I closed the bedroom door quietly and ushered her back down the hallway, so our talking wouldn’t disturb Vance’s rest. Once we were back in the front of the house, I turned to her and said, “You could have easily asked after his well-being. I don’t understand why you felt it was in any way appropriate to make yourself at home in my house.”

  “I’m sorry, Mimi. I guess I just do feel at home here, after all the time I’ve spent in this house. I didn’t mean to offend you. Please tell Vance
I hope he feels better soon. I’ll—He’ll be missed while he’s gone.” She offered me a weak smile before turning to the door and letting herself out.

  I didn’t know what she meant by feeling at home in my house, but I wasn’t going to put too much thought into it just then. I resolved to discuss it with Vance when he was awake and feeling more rested. Instead, I set about making him a nourishing lunch.

  Just as I was taking a fillet of red snapper out of the oven, Vance came into the kitchen yawning and scratching his stomach. He smiled at me, looking much better than he had this morning.

  “Mmmm, that smells good, Mimi. Is that for me?” He asked. “I sure hope so, because I feel like I could eat everything in this house.”

  “It is. I also made you a green salad and some pasta in olive oil to go with it. I’ll have it plated for you in no time,” I said with a smile.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” he inquired with a frown, looking around and seeing only enough for one.

  I shrugged nonchalantly. “I had a sandwich earlier, but I’ll sit with you while you eat.”

  We took our places at the kitchen table, and he dug into his food with gusto. It was obvious he was grateful for a home cooked meal after weeks of takeout. “My god, Mimi. This is delicious. I can’t tell you how tired I am of Chinese, Pizza or anything that comes out of a cardboard or Styrofoam container.”

  “You know, I was thinking about that. I could always start making dinner and bringing it to you at the office. That way you’d be eating better and we’d at least have the opportunity to see each other for a few minutes. Surely you could take twenty minutes or so to stop and eat.” I suggested.

  He paused, his fork halfway to his mouth before setting it back down again. I could see the wheels of his mind turning as he thought the idea over. “I might not be able to do that every night as some days are just too crazy, but that just might work two or three nights a week. You don’t think that would be too much work for you, though? I don’t want you going to too much trouble.”