“What are you doing here?” Kate said, surprised. I turned around and saw her standing in the entry to the dining room in a powder blue blouse, slim black slacks and perfectly coifed vanilla blonde bob. I was able to observe all of these details, including the small birthmark on her right thumb, because I couldn’t speak. I was literally speechless. As was she. And the metronome ticks of the clocks were suddenly as loud as a church bell.
I saw movement in the corner of my eye, and it was Daniel standing in only black drawstring pants, his muscular chest, rippling abs and pecs, complete with zebra pattern scratch marks courtesy of moi.
“What is she doing here, Daniel?” Kate asked, desperate to hear that I came to drop off some flowers he’d for bought her and that’s all. Daniel looked totally relaxed beside a small tinge of annoyance that rippled his upper lip. He stared indifferently at her and blinked once before turning.
“I have a son,” he said mildly, walking over to the tray of fruit that was supposed to be dessert. The cart the tray rested on was shoved against the wall with a broken wheel from when he bent me over it and most of the grapes were crushed to wine by my shoulder blades when he flipped me, hitching one knee on his hip and drew the other ankle up to his ear. My handprints in his sweat marred and smudged the creamy wall behind.
He casually rolled a grape between his lips as if he didn’t just drop a bomb in an already atomic conversation.
“What does that mean? What do you mean you have a son? Why is she here, Daniel?” Kate’s voice was unsteady, as were my knees.
“I don’t think it needs repeating, Kate,” he warned, lowering his brows. I had already started tiptoeing towards the door with my clothes and the messenger bag I’d slung across my chest.
“You stay,” I heard Daniel order, and I turned to see he was staring at me as I pulled on my jeans.
“What? What do you mean she stays!” Kate pleaded, blinking rapidly, and took a step towards him. “What are you saying?”
“I mean she stays,” he repeated, raising an eyebrow over cold green eyes. I needed to get out of here.
“Daniel, I really should be going,” I said quickly and headed down the hall I hoped led to the door. I heard Kate say something vaguely, but the ringing in my ears drowned out everything else. I knew long before I heard him I wouldn’t get out of there unscathed. While I was fidgeting with the five hundred locks on the door, I felt his broad chest press against me.
I sighed and dropped my forehead onto the wood door with a thud, closing my eyes.
“I should go,” I whispered.
“You should stay,” he said firmly, and I lobbed my head back and forth against the door in what was meant to be a shake.
“No. No, I need to go. He needs me,” I said quietly, lifting my head and gripping the knob with resolve. After several seconds, I felt him step away from my back and I turned the knob. As I stepped through the doorway, I chanced a peek back at Daniel, who stood stoically with his arms by his sides in big fists, his beautiful body still taught from exertion, and a flash of betrayal raced through his eyes.
I closed the door.
And then I let my back fall against it on the other side and exhaled deeply into the chilly night air.
For the second time in my life, I’d given Daniel Baird my virginity.
And I still had no idea why.
Chapter 13 - Dawn of the Orchid
He turned me around and laid his palm at the nape of my neck and began slowly running his smooth hand down my spine. My body understood, my hair swung over my shoulder, a few stray locks clinging to the sweat slicked skin of my back. His hand slid lower until his palm rested on the small of my back. He rubbed swirling circles on the smooth skin there and lightly pressed down in the center and I arched in response. I lifted onto my tiptoes and gripped the edge of the cart with one hand, the other pressed flat against the wall, anticipating.
“Tell me you want me, Gabrielle,” he asked thickly.
“I want you.”
“Then have me,” he said.
The cart shook in my grip.
~o~
Twenty-five years.
Twenty-five years of order and control. Discipline, responsibility; planned out and risk free. Except for the months I can’t remember, this describes my life. As a child, my stuffed animal was in order by species, by twelve I had perfected cleaning the house alone. My closet was organized by color, always, and a forensic accountant couldn’t find a flaw in any numbers I touched. Dean’s list in college, Honor Roll for every semester of school I’d ever attended. But there was no honor here. Or control.
As I leaned my head against the glass, I swirled lazy squiggles in the fog of my exhale. But I stopped before I could breathe out and erase them again like I had in the car with Ian only a week ago. I was marked—my second chance at doing it the right way was gone. There was no “cleaning the slate” again.
I was in a vulnerable position, no doubt. Did I see Daniel’s acceptance of my son as the lost acceptance I’d longed for from my own mother? I didn’t think of myself weak enough to fall prey to those insecurities anymore. That girl was gone, or so I thought. I could rationalize it was Daniel’s magnetism combined with a record of abstinence flooding my senses all at once, avalanching better judgment.
Was I really going to call home to buy my more time in bed with Daniel while my trusting family waited for me to return home? Away from my own child? And with an engaged man? Although his feelings about Kate were surely not as sincere as they should be, how could I possibly do that to another woman? I was Nadia now.
All these things confused and worried me, but that wasn’t the worst of it. I may not have any recollection of intimacy, but my body certainly did. He led, but I was not far behind. He may have been an animal, but I was no less savage.
I took every cue instinctively. Subconsciously, I knew sex. When the doctor explained what happened to my memory, he told me I should expect to retain any learned abilities that occurred during the lost episode. When I asked what that meant he replied, “If you learned to speak Italian in that time. You may speak it again fluently.” Apparently, I’d taken up another sort of instrument entirely. And that was terrifying.
On the ride home, I had the cab stop at the drug store to refresh my makeup, buy a mending kit, and sew on the kit buttons to replace those missing from my blouse. When I got off the elevator on my floor, I did one final check of my wardrobe and smoothed out my shirt before I made my way to my front door.
“Welcome back!” Violet chirped as she swung the door open, and I entered only glimpsing for eye contact. “That took a while. Tristan’s been sleeping fine.”
I nodded, entering the door. I looked around my home that was lit with love, warm with family and the aroma of trust, and everything was in its rightful place again. The bubble was safe.
“How did it go?” August asked gently, and his blue eyes twinkled in the soft light.
“Good,” I replied, but my mind was still reeling a little.
“What did he say?” Violet poised anxiously. I tried to organize my thoughts.
“Well, he acknowledged Tristan as his son,” I started, and tried to keep my hands from wringing the napkin in front of me. August and Violet both smiled a smile of relief at each other. I smiled back, relieved that I’d managed to get some news out of this night.
“And?” she probed.
“I told him I didn’t want support. He understood that part,” I added, completely winging it. “He didn’t request the DNA test, but he understands it’s on the table, and we may revisit the issue later. And we are still discussing visitation and how much he wants to participate in his life.”
“What kind is he interested in?” August asked curiously.
“Limited,” I answered, remembering his parting look.
“What else?” Violet asked excitedly. “You guys must have talked a lot. You’ve been gone a while.”
“We covered the basics.” I looked down and tried to
piece this in a way that wasn’t a total lie. “But Kate, his fiancée, showed up—we sort of got sidetracked.”
“Oh,” August said introspectively and I looked up at him, wondering if he read through the piecemeal lie. I yawned involuntarily.
“I’ll give you more details tomorrow, but it’s been a long day,” I added as I stood and scooted out my chair. “I’m heading to bed.”
“We’ll talk more tomorrow, then,” August said warmly as he came over and hugged me, kissing my forehead. “You did well, Bree. It takes a lot to stand up to a man like Daniel.”
I felt a physical pang of guilt. August was such a good man, and he thought I was as good as him. And until tonight, I thought I was, too.
“I know,” I said with a nod and tried not to think about how little standing up was involved. I walked August out and stood at the door holding it open for Violet who was flitting around the living room.
“It’s been a long night, Violet,” I called to her with a sigh and rubbed my forehead with the back of my hand. She didn’t respond, and I looked up to see her looking back at me with a smirk.
“I can tell. So, you were all about business, huh?”
She’d lost me for a second, and then I tiredly replied, “Yes,” remembering Jill’s motto as she dressed me in the power suit I’d changed out of.
“That’s funny. It looks an awful lot like someone gave you the business.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” I closed the door and headed to my bedroom. I sat on my bed and began removing my earrings when she followed me in.
“Those buttons were mother of pearl when you left. And those my dear, are not mother of pearl,” she observed coyly, eyeing my shirt.
Looking down, I swore. Leave it to the fashion police.
I looked up at Violet and we just stared at each other for a moment. She looked shocked, then she blinked once.
“You slept together!” she announced, sounding both amazed and excited.
“I know,” I said guiltily, still perplexed.
“How did that happen?” she asked.
“I’m not really sure,” I answered honestly. “It was weird.”
“It was weird, eh?” she pried and wagged her eyebrows.
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t have anything to compare it to,” I replied lamely. “I can’t believe I did it.” Violet abruptly stopped and looked seriously at me.
“Look, Bree, don’t start this,” she said. “You had sex. Big deal.”
“It is a big deal, Violet. A very big deal,” I added guiltily, thinking of the surprise guest who arrived.
“You can beat yourself up if you want, but I’m happy for you. Delighted, actually. It is sad and strange that you have gone all these years without having sex. Well, except for that time…” she corrected herself apologetically. “But this is good, Bree. It means you’re not broken.”
“What do you mean?” She caught my attention.
“I mean you push sex and romance away completely. You hide from it. You’ve completely turned yourself off to the experience. You are more confident now, but you won’t date, you won’t hook up, and you cringe at the idea. But now you’re set free. Now that you know what you’ve been missing, there’s no going back,” she said, and it sounded like she was campaigning for her own lifestyle more than mine, but she had a point. After I had Tristan, I actually became worried some wires got crossed. I was a neutral party—like an amoeba—combined with zero libido. Nothing like I was tonight.
“But it’s Daniel Baird,” I reminded her.
“Big deal,” she said nonchalantly. Then her eyes went as wide as saucers. “So. How was it?”
I smiled a little because my mind couldn’t help but wander back.
“He’s good,” I admitted, shaking my head to myself in awe.
“Details!” she said as she bounced on the edge of my bed. I pursed my lips and stared at her for a moment. I remembered the nights in our teens when she would come home and tell me about her experiences. It seemed odd to have the shoe on the other foot. And now she looked so excited; it was practically contagious.
“Do men usually go for long stretches like that?” I furrowed my brow with a guilty frown. “Is that the norm? We never stopped.”
“What do you mean you never stopped?” she pried. I wasn’t sure how to phrase it.
“I mean, I think I just had three hours of tantric sex with Daniel Baird,” I replied stupefied and Violet fell off the bed onto the ground with a thud.
“Are you okay?” I asked concernedly as I quickly reached down to help her up. She threw one arm on the bed, and her head popped up on the mattress with her shoulder length pale hair flipped to one side haphazardly, feathered indigo streaks cascading like an ocean wave.
“Are you okay?” she asked incredulously wide eyed.
“I’ll be fine,” I assured her but really wanting a hot bath for my all over soreness.
“He went for three hours, consecutively?” she asked in a daze.
“Give or take,” I answered embarrassedly.
“It’s magic,” she said dreamily as she stared at my headboard.
“I’m sorry?”
“His stick. It’s magic,” she grinned, waving around an invisible wand in her hand.
“Okay, enough sharing for the night,” I said as I flopped down onto my pillows.
“Oh, Bree, relax,” she chided as she took the hair dryer to the bathroom. “Wait, didn’t you say that lady Kate from the photographs was there? Please tell me you three didn’t.”
“No,” I defended quickly, and the buoyancy Violet generated suddenly left my body. “But she showed up.”
“You were caught with him?”
“Yes. And it was the most horrible thing, Violet.” She looked reluctantly sympathetic when I spoke. “I think it broke her heart.
“You know what? He’s a jerk for putting you in that position,” she asserted sternly, but then her face relaxed. “But he’s not a jerk for putting you in all those other positions.” She winked and giggled.
I finally kicked her out. I was grateful for Violet because although she took almost nothing seriously, that’s exactly what I needed.
I checked on Tristan who was deep in slumber and brushed his hair to the side before kissing his forehead. I took a steaming hot bath, but I never did quite feel clean. When I got in bed, I kept drawing on the image of a crushed Kate. I did it intentionally to fight off the sated and satisfied smile that my lips traitorously threatened to form at the memories of the pleasure that was all wrong.
~o~
I got Tristan up early so we could have breakfast at a little diner around the corner from his school. A special treat. He chewed his scrambled eggs, and we both giggled as I wiped lemon muffin crumbs from his face and we blew bubbles in our milk. I felt like myself again.
Hours later, Claire and I were heavy into the Monday morning drill trying to get things wrapped up before my meeting uptown when we heard the front door bell lightly ding.
“For me?” Claire gasped, her head rising above the high counter and dramatically clasping her hand to her chest. She had been a performing arts major—I didn’t even look up.
“Are you Miss Valentine?” I heard in a thick New York accent.
“I’m Ms. Valentine,” I answered automatically, setting my financial calculator down. When I looked up, I saw a short tanned man in a khaki uniform holding a giant orchid plant. Not just any orchid, I’d never seen so many blooms on a single plant. It was exquisite.
“Orchids. My favorite.” Claire reached across the counter and the deliveryman’s eyes shifted to mine for consent.
“I’ll take that,” I said as I reached across the counter, setting it down gently.
Claire pouted. “August is so sweet. If you don’t marry that man, I’m leaving Ari and stealing him away,” she lamented, flopping down in her seat. “The last gift I got was a Joy Division CD and an antique Russian protractor.”
“August is a swee
t one,” I said. I peeled the unmarked card open and read.
I owe you these.
That was it all it said. Signed with an ink bled dash at the bottom that made me pity the pen. It was a ‘D’ for Daniel. I suddenly felt my face get hot and not in the flattered way. This was a reward for my performance. Was this my treat for sitting when he said sit? Did I roll over well enough for him?
I took a deep breath because the reality was, I had.
He couldn’t muster a more sincere message, like, “Sorry for getting you caught in the middle of my elitist love triangle”? At best I felt like a favored bottle of wine from his cellar. Shouldn’t he be sending the woman whose beating heart was ripped out before me an arrangement of flowers? Perhaps he sent Kate some, too, covering all his bases.
He hasn’t sent Tristan one gesture since this whole thing started, not that I demanded that, but this proved his priorities were beyond convoluted. He didn’t even sign his name. No paper trail back to his brandy-haired mistake. Apparently I was good enough to be his mistress, but not the mother of his child. Well maybe he wasn’t good enough to be the father of mine. Regardless of what happened last night, I was not his plaything.
And, yes, this was a manipulation. He invited me to his home, asked me to come alone, to drink wine, to sit on his lap, and I fell for it. If I did turn in to a sex-possessed beast, it was only at his provocation. He had no intention of being a father to Tristan and used my vulnerability to ensnare me for the only thing he’s wanted from the beginning; sex with me.
I looked at the beautiful plant in a glass-blown pot and took a moment to appreciate what could have otherwise been a meaningful gesture from one person to another. Keeping them was more humiliation than I could bear.
“Throw it away,” I instructed Claire. I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.” I swung the door open then murmured, “He should have sent Legos.”
In the Land of Milk and Honey Page 18