by L. D. Davis
I blinked slowly, and then blinked again. “I’m sorry. What?”
As he explained, Marco went into the closet, voice raised so I could hear him. “The Dower was established about a hundred years ago. It was for men only until about fifteen years ago. They have since allowed women to join as well, but most of the members are there by invitation. A person can join by recommendation of current members, but it is a long process and never a guarantee.”
I was struck dumb by what I was hearing. Surely, socialite clubs weren’t a real thing. I thought they only existed in movies. When Marco said we were going to brunch, I had thought brunch at Denny’s, or some other unassuming diner. After all, Marco admitted that he loved the food at Lily’s diner, and we’d found a diner not too far from my house that we frequented with the kids. I should’ve known better, though. We weren’t in Ohio, or even a Philadelphia suburb. We were in Manhattan with Marco’s aristocratic friends.
I quirked an eyebrow. “And you are a member of this club?”
“Yes. Interestingly enough, I didn’t know it existed until I received my invitation four years ago.”
He stepped out of the closet then, hangers draped with clothes dangling from his fingers. I stared suspiciously at the garments, recognizing that while they were obviously women’s, they weren’t mine—I hadn’t unpacked my suitcase—but I didn’t understand why Marco would have them. If he was about to hand me another woman’s leftovers, he would be having brunch alone. Possibly with a black eye.
“What’s all this?”
“After you were measured and fitted back in Ohio, I gave your measurements to a personal shopper here in the city. I wanted you to have a few things here and at the cabin that you don’t have to lug back and forth.”
I stared at each item as he laid them out. The navy straight-legged pants were by a designer called Akris. The white button-up silk blouse was Ralph Lauren, and the new leather jacket was Dolce & Gabbana. As I continued to stare at the outfit, Marco kept talking as he went back into the closet.
“Dower has a somewhat strict dress code, depending on the day. Saturday brunch is a little less formal than Sunday brunch, but no jeans are allowed during brunch or before a certain hour the rest of the week. Men don’t have to wear ties on Saturday’s, but suit jackets or blazers are required. Women don’t have to wear dresses, but they cannot come in with their parts hanging out on display.”
My brow furrowed and I bit one corner of my lower lip as I absently repeated his words. “Their parts on display.”
“Sneakers are never allowed. The dress code is rather strict, as I mentioned, but once you get the hang of it, you do not think about it when it’s time to go.”
This time, when he came back to the room, he brought with him a pair of red flats and a monstrous bag, both by Gucci. “I know you do not always use a purse, but I got you one just in case.”
I stared at it as he dropped it on the bed beside the shoes. “What would I even put in something that big?”
Marco shrugged. “I have no idea what women put in their pocketbooks, but now you have one in case you think of anything. Besides, the personal shopper I’d hired said it was sophisticated to carry one.”
He came to me and kissed my temple as he gave my towel-clad rump a gentle pat.
“I will be in my office until you are ready. Don’t take too long, though. As it is, we are going to be a little late.” He gave me another kiss, another pat, and left me alone.
I stared at the clothes, all of them. The ones I had lain out next to the ones Marco had put out for me. They were completely different styles, and completely different in quality as well. The most expensive of my items were probably the jeans. They had cost me forty bucks on sale, and that had been almost more than I thought any pair of jeans should cost. I’d picked up the sweater at a thrift store. It was clean, in great shape, and looked new to me, but sitting next to the Ralph Lauren silk blouse, it appeared old, used, and dingy.
I didn’t know how I felt about Marco buying me a whole new wardrobe without my knowledge, especially after our brief conversation at Veladona’s. Kyle had done that to Lily when she first moved in with him, but once she had gotten past a few personal gripes she had with him, she said she was perfectly fine with the purchases. He’d matched her hodge-podge style almost exactly when he selected pieces that had fit her punk-rock personality as well as her stylish corporate business side and everything in between. Kyle had paid close attention, had known her well, and had accepted all her styles, even the ones that seemed to clash with his own. Marco, on the other hand, seemed to be clueless about my style and my comfort.
It was possible he’d only picked out the outfit in front of me based on this very type of outing to the club. Maybe he’d purchased other options that were more me, more my style. I knew we were short on time, but I just had to check it out.
I tightened the towel around me and went into his closet. I had only gone in there once since our arrival, and that was to retrieve my dress. I had only taken a quick glance around and had snickered at the pile of dirty laundry in one corner. It was little things like that and even his sneakers left by the front door and the few dirty dishes in his sink that had made me feel comfortable in his apartment. The place was nothing like the cabin. It was everything you’d expect it to be for a Manhattan billionaire bachelor. Sleek and stylish. Made more for show than for comfort, but I had understood that. Manhattan was where he slept sometimes, but it was mostly where he worked. The cabin was where he lived.
Once I turned on lights and moved deeper into the cavernous area, I quickly found the space he’d reserved just for me. I stared at it in awe for a moment. He’d bought a lot—way more than I’d expected. My hands moved through the items on hangers—dresses, blouses, skirts, sweaters and jackets, catching some of the designer labels and many price tags that made me cringe. Eight hundred dollars for a shirt? Really?
I dug a little deeper and began to pull open drawers. There were some undergarments, but nothing too crazy. I wasn’t sure how I would’ve reacted to finding sexy lingerie. I opened a few more drawers and found jeans that were clearly a higher quality than my forty-dollar denim, more nice pants, and only a few more casual items like T-shirts and leggings. I threw open a pair of doors and discovered couple angled shelves that displayed costume jewelry—at least I hoped it was costume jewelry—a few more bags and shoes—not a lot of shoes, but several pairs, mostly the kind I didn’t wear.
I closed the doors and stood there for a moment, my hands still on the knobs, my head bowed as I stared at the floor and tried to breathe evenly. Maybe I should’ve appreciated what Marco had done. The clothes were nice and of good quality, but they weren’t me. Did he not like what I owned? Did he not like how I dressed? Did it embarrass him?
I drew my hands over my face and let out a long breath. There wasn’t enough time to stand around in the closet and complain about my boyfriend spending probably a good ten grand on me while some women couldn’t even get their guy to buy them a cheeseburger off the dollar menu. For the time being, I had to suck it up and talk to him about it at a more convenient time.
It took me another half hour to get dressed and to do my hair and makeup. I didn’t see myself in the mirror until I finished and had the new leather coat on and the giant Gucci bag in my hand. It was the second time in less than a day that I barely recognized myself. Some may find that to be a good thing. Some people like change. I understood why some people needed to change, but what I didn’t like was the feeling that someone else was trying to change me.
Marco entered the room as he pulled on his sports coat. His face brightened when he saw me. “You look fantastic. Everything fits well?”
Too well, I wanted to say. I’m not your dress-up doll, I wanted to add to the other thing I didn’t say.
“Yes, everything is fine.”
“The personal shopper was right. The bag is sophisticated. Ready?”
I swallowed back my angry retort of not b
eing sophisticated enough for him and accepted his hand.
The Dower was in a non-descript five-story building on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, not too far from Marco’s apartment. A doorman who resembled an NFL linebacker let us in with a personal greeting to Marco. Once inside, we encountered a receptionist behind a tall counter. “The Dower” was in big gold letters on the yellow wall behind her.
“Welcome back, Mr. Mangini.” She flashed her pearly white teeth.
Marco winked at her as he signed our names in a book. We walked to the left and through another set of doors, also manned by an undercover linebacker, and entered a spacious lobby. There was a coat-check counter as soon as we entered, a winding set of stairs in the middle of the room, and chairs and sofas, most of them occupied. To the right was a small coffee bar that reminded me of a fancier Starbucks.
When we headed toward the stairs, a small panic began to flare, but before it could reach maximum velocity, we veered to the right to a bank of elevators. We exited on the fourth floor directly across from yet another set of glass doors, except this time, I could see what was on the other side. It was a vast dining room, brightly lit from the morning sunshine that splashed into the room from the three walls of floor-to-ceiling windows. All the tables, big and small, were covered in white lace linens with golden flower embroidery. The centerpieces were small but elegant floral arrangements. The left side of the room was taken up by tables laden with food, and men and women slicing off slivers of steaming meats. One table made me think of the Garden of Eden, as it overflowed with fresh, sweet-looking fruits.
Then, there were all the beautiful people. At the Harrington’s, I’d expected to see women and men fancily dressed. Even though none of the women were in ball gowns and there were no tuxes, it was impossible to miss the refinement in the way they dressed, or the hauteur in their mannerisms. Once again, I was somewhere I didn’t belong.
“You’re late again,” Celeste admonished as we approached our designated table.
Marco grinned at her. “Only fashionably so.”
He bent over and kissed her cheek before he pulled my chair out for me. Of course, he would be seated next to her, but I was happy to see Adam would be on my other side again. Brodie was on his other side. Aiko wasn’t present, and Kat and Hailey, two men I’d never met named Corey and Zac, and Zac’s fiancée, Gemma, were all seated around the table.
“You know what I think?” I murmured to Adam after the introductions. “I think you like the vapid egotists. You seem to always be in their company.”
“I’m only here for the mimosas.” He held up a glass with a lopsided grin.
I smirked. “And not for the gorgeous Nubian queen?”
He stared at me for a moment. I thought he was going to deny it, but instead, he just averted his gaze with a faint smile before he sipped his drink.
“Where can I get one or ten of those?”
His brows moved up and down. “I know a guy. Come with me.”
He stood up and offered me a hand. Marco’s gaze fell on me before he stared hard at Adam’s hand, and then looked back to me. I saw the spark of jealousy in his eyes, but I batted my lashes dramatically and curved my mouth sweetly.
“Well, if you’re not going to feed me, someone has to.”
I allowed him the few seconds it took to claim me with a kiss, and then left with Adam for food and drinks.
“So, how long have you been in love with Celeste?” It was a bold thing to say considering how short of time we’d been acquainted.
He winced. “Oh. Right to the point, huh?”
“You stare at her like you can imagine what your future babies will look like—which, by the way, they would be crazy beautiful with your eyes and her skin.”
“Am I that obvious?”
I shrugged. “Maybe not to everyone else, but maybe I noticed because I’m an outsider. So, how long?”
He sighed as he dropped a mini scone onto my plate. “Since the very first time I saw her, about nine years ago.”
That surprised me. “That’s a long time to carry a flame for someone who doesn’t reciprocate.”
“I’ve dated others, have loved others, but I have not been able to get her out of my system. I don’t know if I ever will.”
“Have you ever told her?”
“No, and most likely, I never will. I would rather live with the dream than to live with the disappointment. Come on, let’s get you a mimosa.”
I was glad for Adam, because once again, I didn’t have anything to really contribute to the array of conversations around the table. We didn’t talk constantly, but I enjoyed his quiet presence. Like me, he didn’t have much to say, at least not aloud. Between the two of us, there was plenty of whispered sarcasm. I didn’t miss how often Marco’s gaze swung to us. I also didn’t miss how often Celeste pretended to see right through us, especially Adam.
“What about you, Lydia?” Kat startled me when she said my name. It was the first time in the hour and a half we’d been there that anyone other than Marco or Adam had addressed me directly. I had stopped paying attention. “What do you do for a living?”
“Oh, I’m currently a stay-at-home mom.”
Hailey nodded like she could relate. “So you work from home? It’s not easy. I run the magazine from home two days a week. We have an au pair, but still, the kids know I’m home and there is no way you can make a two-year-old and a four-year-old understand that Mommy has meetings, and Mommy has work to do that can’t be interrupted.”
Kat rolled her eyes. “Maybe we need a better nanny.”
Hailey pretended to take offense, even as she tried to hide her amusement. “Nathan is spectacular. You just don’t like him because he’s young and attractive.”
Their banter was cute. In a way, they reminded me of me and Marco. It made me feel a little softer inside than I’d been in past days, made me start to believe that maybe I’d been overreacting to a few things.
Hailey was still laughing a minute later when she returned her attention to me. “I’m sorry, what is it you said you did?”
“Just a mom. It’s the only career I have.”
“Before she started a family, Lydia was in school full time to become an anesthesiologist.” Marco’s voice was full of pride, as if I had accomplished something.
The corners of my mouth pulled down in a slight frown. The statement was irrelevant, because I hadn’t completed even half of my education and never would. In my mind, it was the same as announcing that when I was three, I’d wanted to be a space-traveling princess when I grew up. Both were unreachable goals, both fantasies at this point in my life.
His friends ate it up, though. Exclamations of pleasant surprise and comments about it being a good career path and names were pulled out of an imaginary hat as people I’d need to know when I finished school.
“That was a long time ago.” I’d managed to pitch my voice over the others. As they quieted down, I prepared to tell them all how unfeasible that career now was for me, but once again, Marco jumped in.
“I checked into Ohio State’s curriculum. It was unclear if you will be able to transfer your earned credits, but it seems like a solid choice. In the spring, you can make an appointment with an advisor and register for the fall.”
Gemma beamed across the table at me. “Oh, that would be wonderful. You live in Columbus, right? It shouldn’t be too far of a commute.”
“I actually live in a suburb of Columbus.”
Marco waved his hand dismissively. “It isn’t far. Out of curiosity, the last time I was there, I took the drive. If you drive, it does not take long at all.”
I stared at him. He was excited over the possibilities. “You know I don’t drive, Marco,” I said quietly, just above a whisper.
“But eventually you will. You won’t be immobile forever.”
That hurt me. He knew why I didn’t drive. Maybe he didn’t know every detail, but he knew enough to understand. Yet he’d just made an off-handed comment t
hat made me seem like I was just being lazy or something.
I let them all yammer on for a few more minutes. The only two people who didn’t speak were Adam and Celeste. I heard his soft, irritated sighs every few moments, and Celeste just watched everyone with a blank face.
My voice carried over all the chatter, and I tried not to sound like a bitch as everyone quieted. “I’m not going back to school. I have three small children. Ten-plus years of college didn’t seem so bad when I was eighteen, but things are different now. Besides, I’m not… I don’t have that kind of money. Medical school is not cheap.”
That realization is what seemed to shut them up. I wasn’t like them. I couldn’t just write a check to the university for my classes and books.
“Sweetheart, money would not be a factor.” Marco rubbed my shoulder. His smile was almost condescending, as if I were the idiot.
Adam cleared his throat and spoke up for the first time. “In the end, it’s her decision. An anesthesiologist is a doctor. Success will take a lot of time and dedication. If she’s not sure, there’s no point in setting her up for failure.”
There was a few seconds of silence while everyone mulled that over, as if they had some personal stake in my life. For once, I was thankful when Celeste opened her mouth.
“Wow. Look at the time. I apologize, ladies and gents, but I have a shopping date.”
She left a couple minutes later after saying goodbye to everyone but me and Adam, and kissed Marco on the cheek and made him promise to call her in a couple days. It must have been some kind of cue, because then, everyone else had places to be.
I held my tongue until we exited the building and stood on the sidewalk out front. “That may have possibly been more awkward than the dinner party. Actually, they’re pretty neck and neck as far as social disasters go.”
Marco studied my face. “I don’t think either one was a disaster, but you are clearly upset.”
I snorted. “You think so?”
The streets were busy with New Yorkers going about their business. They walked around us as if we were just another fixture in the sidewalk, like a street sign or a newspaper stand. Once upon a time I would’ve reveled in the hustle and bustle of the city. As it stood now, I couldn’t wait to get out.