Dirty Sexy Games

by Laurelin Paige

  My mother squealed and jumped up from her seat so I took the few steps to meet her in yet another embrace.

  “Oh my God, that’s so wonderful! I’m so happy for you! You’re happy, right?” She leaned back to look at me. “Yes, you’re so happy. This is amazing. Marie, our baby is really married! I should have worn a better dress for the photos. Thank goodness you looked as spectacular as you did. My God, you really got married!” She swept me up in her arms. Again.

  “Yes, Mother. We’re happy. It’s real. I’m happy.”

  I was also terribly confused. But wasn’t that the way with love?

  “So then you’ll be settling down in France together seriously. You’re really going to make a home there.” When she let go of me this time, she put her hand to her chest and rubbed the spot right below her throat. “I’m going to have to consider moving overseas. I don’t know if I can live so far away from you if you’re actually putting down roots.”

  Though I appreciated that my happiness was a priority for my mother, it was more than mildly annoying that even she didn’t consider my move as real without a husband attached. Sometimes she was just as much of a traditionalist as my father had been.

  But that battle was pointless considering the thing I was going to say next.

  “About putting down roots…” Though Weston had his ideas of what we should do, I still thought my idea was better. “What would you think if we didn’t move to France? And we stayed here, instead.”

  “You know I’d love that, darling. But what about the company?” She tugged at my shirt, straightening it on my shoulders. “Why are you even thinking about this? Does Weston not want to move?”

  “No, he’s willing to move.” I brushed past her and headed back to my seat at the table, wanting to be have space between us so I could talk without feeling so “mom’d.” “Just. Imagine that. If we settled down here…we could start a family.”

  “Angela! Babies!” Marie exclaimed from behind me.

  “Elizabeth, are you pregnant?” My mother didn’t seem quite as excited as her friend.

  “No!”

  “You promise? You can tell me if you’re in trouble. I don’t even think they call it ‘in trouble’ anymore. But you know I’ll understand.” She came and sat down at the seat Marie had set for herself, directing her focus completely on me.

  “I told you. I’m not pregnant. I’m just saying I could get pregnant. I could put someone else in charge of the company. I could be less hands-on and raise kids instead. I could be a full-time mom. Like you.”

  Her face scrunched up as much as her Botox and fillers allowed. “Oh, honey. I don’t know about that.”

  That had not been the reaction I’d expected. “Why not? Don’t you want grandkids? You were happy not working, raising me. Weren’t you?” My heart thumped in my chest, afraid she’d say no and turn my whole image of my childhood upside down.

  “Yes. I was,” she said to my relief. “Very happy. But you are not me. You would be bored out of your mind. And you fought so hard for your company. You should go to France. You’ve said for years that you were planning to wait to have kids. I think you should stick with that plan, if you ask me. Is Weston pressuring you otherwise?”

  “No. He’s not. Sometimes plans change, though. With a new person in my life, I thought I should rethink everything.”

  “You shouldn’t have to rethink your dreams if you’ve really found the right man. Don’t rethink this. You will regret it. Go to France, do your thing, win big, or fail even, and then have your family. You have years for that.”

  “But, Angela! Babies!”

  I glanced up to find Marie had paused from dusting the appliances in the kitchen to make her comment. “Stop cleaning!” I scolded, knowing it was hopeless.

  “Babies can wait,” my mom said. She smoothed her mostly drawn-in eyebrow with her pinky. “I’m not old enough to be a grandma yet anyway. Unless you’re already pregnant. You’re sure you’re not?”

  “I’m sure. Geez.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Then what is it? There’s something. I can tell. I know you, Elizabeth. What’s going on?”

  I threw my body back against the chair in a frustrated huff. My mother always managed to bring out teenage behavior from me. “Fine. There’s something else. It’s Weston. Sort of. He…” There was a part of me that wanted to really throw him under the bus, wanted to make him the bad guy for keeping the secret that he’d kept.

  But a bigger part of me realized that if we were going to make our marriage work, I had to treat us like a team.

  So I stuck to what was relevant. “He just found out that he has a two-year-old son that he was unaware of until now.”

  “Oh my God,” Marie said, dropping the duster and stepping closer for the gossip.

  “I know. It’s been complicated, to say the least. He found out on our wedding day.”

  “Oh my God.” From my mother this time.

  “Right?” I filled them both in on Callie and her surprise visit, on the bomb she dropped and the dilemma about Weston wanting to be part of Sebastian’s life yet also wanting to be with me in France.

  When I’d finished, they were both sitting at the table on either side of me, staring at me with wide eyes.

  “Are you going to say anything?” I asked, looking at my mother. I hadn’t intended to ask her for advice, but now that I’d spilled everything, I realized I wanted it. Especially since she’d shot down the only solution I’d thought was viable.

  “I’m not sure,” my mom said glancing to Marie, as though seeking some support before saying something difficult.

  I tensed. My mother didn’t usually give hard words. I gave her hard words more than she delivered them to me.

  “Spit it out, Mom. What are you thinking? Are you thinking it’s never going to work? Daddy couldn’t handle seeing me and being part of my life so how the hell is Weston going to make it work?”

  “I don’t think that’s fair to say,” my mother said, surprising me. “Your father would probably have been a lousy father even if he was on the same continent. He was simply more invested in his business than he was in a family. It’s just the sort of man he was. If Weston intends to be a father who is devoted to his son, I’m sure he could work it out.”

  Again, I felt relief.

  But… “Then why are you so hesitant? You seem hesitant. What am I missing?” The way she was cautiously staring at me, I felt like I was missing a whole lot.

  She answered with a question, which I hated. “What are the terms of the inheritance again? How long do you have to be married?”

  “They’re vague. It just says I have to get married. I wanted a solid marriage so that Darrell had nothing to stand on if he chose to fight it in court. What are you thinking?”

  “That Weston’s secret love child gives you a good reason to want a divorce.”

  “Mom!” I scooted away from her. “Why would you even say that?”

  “Because I know you were worried the marriage might not look real if you got divorced too soon, and I’m seeing this as a way out of that worry. It’s actually kind of a lucky break.”

  “It’s not a lucky break if I’m not intending to get divorced anymore. Did you forget that part? Where I said I loved him? And he loved me?” It was my turn to steal a glance with Marie, as I checked to see if she thought my mother was being as insensitive as I currently thought she was.

  But Marie looked as though she thought my mother’s idea wasn’t so bad. “Maybe you should hear your mother out,” she said, nodding toward the woman who’d raised me.

  “Then tell me already. Quit dragging this out. What is it I’m not thinking of?”

  My mother tapped her pink-painted nails on the table, seeming reluctant or unsure of how to proceed.

  Then she shifted in her chair and dove right in. “I’m going to just be real honest with you, honey. Marriage is hard. Whoever you are. Whatever circumstances you are in. Especially the first year of marr
iage. And here you are trying to add a really big job on top of that new marriage. And on top of that, you’re adding the additional stressor of moving to a completely new country, which isn’t too big of a deal for you because you’ve spent so much of your life in France, but what about Weston? Then again, on top of all of that, Weston is trying to form a new relationship with a son he just found out about? You will have to build a relationship with that child too, you know. Plus you’re adding the stressor of being apart so much. That’s a whole hell of a lot of stressors. I’m pretty sure that any good marriage counselor would tell you it’s too many stressors. How can any marriage work under those circumstances?”

  “That is an awful lot of stressors,” Marie said, nodding.

  I hadn’t thought of it exactly like that. Some of it, but not all of it. Not in quite those terms.

  I didn’t like those terms.

  “That’s why I suggested living here. It would take out half of the things you just said.” My throat was tight though, because I’d already heard her opinion on me living in the U.S., and because I really didn’t want to give up being a major part of Dyson Media. And that only left one real option.

  “I see,” my mother said, patting my hand. She tilted her head and nodded understandingly. “You know that’s not going to make you happy, though. You know you’re going to be miserable like that.”

  “But I love him, Mom,” my voice cracked and a stupid tear surprised me by rolling down the side of my cheek. “And Weston has never loved a woman until me. It’s like we’re meant to be. Like we’re supposed to have found each other. Supposed to have taught each other how to love. What’s it all for if we don’t end up together?”

  “That’s amazingly beautiful. And so very special. Even if it ends, it doesn’t mean it won’t have been special. Remember that Hollywood movie that came out a couple of years ago? It won the Academy Award. Where the two artists were really in love and they split up because they knew they had to go follow their dream and that they couldn’t be together while they did that. They didn’t end up together, but in the end they were both really happy because they lived for their dream, and they found other love and it all worked out in the end.”

  “I hated that movie,” I said, my lip trembling.

  “It is a really heartbreaking movie, Angela,” Marie agreed.

  “The point is,” my mother said, raising her voice to drown out Marie, “you may very well have been meant to find each other. You may very well have been meant to teach each other how to love. But you might not have been meant to live together forever. I was meant to find your father, and I was meant to have you. But I was not meant to live with that man forever.”

  “No one was meant to live with that man forever,” I said, wiping at my nose.

  “You know, honey. If you and Weston have something real, something that’s really meant to last, then he’ll still be here when you’re ready. Go off and run your business for five years or so. Come back and then see if he’s waiting. If he is, then you’ll know. And if he isn’t, then you’ll know that too. Real life isn’t like a romance novel. You don’t always have to end up with the guy.”

  “I don’t think I like real life anymore.” I was definitely wishing my real life didn’t include a know-it-all mother.

  That wasn’t true—I was grateful for my mom and glad she’d stopped by. I needed to hear what she had to say, even if I didn’t decide to listen to her.

  Was I actually thinking of taking her advice?

  Nothing she’d said had been wrong. In fact, she’d been very right. About everything. That was the worst part. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—accept that her plan was the only way forward.

  “I need Weston,” I said, refusing to give him up so easily. “I need him to help me run the business. He’s taught me a lot, but I’m not ready to do this on my own. I need him by my side!”

  “Pfft.” She waved her hand, dismissing the notion. “You’ll hire advisors. You were planning to run the company before you fell in love with him, so why not now? Do you really think Weston’s going to have time to give you the kind of attention you think you need when he’s focused on being a new dad? Besides, I bet you know more than you think you do. All you need is little confidence.”

  I rolled my eyes. Confidence would fix everything. Right. She was talking like I was preparing to give a lecture, not run a multibillion-dollar corporation.

  She had a point about Weston, though—could I really rely on him to be my pillar of strength, my backbone, and my right hand when he was going to have his hands full figuring out this fatherhood thing? It wasn’t fair to him to even expect that. And it wasn’t fair to me to not have someone to rely on.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I said, my voice tight with emotion.

  “This is a lot, I know,” Mom said. “Think about it. Think about all of it. One thing your father was good at was making plans. He looked at every angle, thoroughly researched every option before putting any plan in motion. Follow his lead and do the same.”

  “It just feels so…cold,” I said. “I don’t like following his lead.”

  “Honey, it’s your heart. Making plans to keep it safe is the opposite of cold. Besides, your dad isn’t here to threaten Weston into safeguarding it. Which he certainly would have. I know this inheritance thing feels archaic, but I can tell you—when he put it into place, it was because he assumed you’d be more like me. He thought you’d fall in love and want to spend your time on that. And you have. So now it’s time to channel him and make a logical decision about that love, whatever it is.”

  “Thank you, Momma.” I sat with her words for a minute, then added, “I like it when you say nice things about Daddy. I really didn’t know him that well, and I forget that he was a good person too, until you remind me. I appreciate that you remind me.”

  It made it a lot easier to deal with the fact that I was my father’s daughter, knowing that he wasn’t all bad after all. Knowing that if I made that choice, the choice my mother had suggested, it would make me like my father, but that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

  After my mother and Marie left, leaving me with lots to think about, I decided to take at least part of her advice and research all my options thoroughly. I picked up my phone, feeling the weight of the call that I knew I needed to make to Darrell, having promised I would get in touch with him when I was back on the mainland. I still hadn’t cleared up Weston’s double family. As soon as I did, it took away the option of using Sebastian as a reason for a divorce.

  I couldn’t do that.

  Could I?

  I didn’t know yet. Maybe. I needed more time to sort out all my alternatives.

  So it wasn’t Darrell that I called.

  “Elizabeth, what a surprise.” Clarence sounded genuinely happy to hear from me. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “Well, I was wondering something. Did you mean it before, when you offered to help me in any way I needed?” My stomach curled as the words came out of my mouth, feeling as though I were committing some sort of betrayal just by having the conversation.

  “Yeah. I definitely did. What do you need?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  14

  Weston

  I picked at a piece of tape on the package sitting on my lap for the fiftieth time then smoothed it back down before pulling out my phone and looking at the clock on the screen. “We’re going to be early,” I said.

  Elizabeth didn’t answer, seemingly lost in her own thoughts as she stared out the window of the cab driving over the Brooklyn Bridge.

  I understood. This was a lot. A lot to ask of her when she already had so much on her plate. But that was marriage—sharing everything. Sharing the little and the lot, even when the “lot” wasn’t bargained for.

  It was Saturday. Three weeks since I’d married her. Three weeks since I’d found out I was a father to a little boy. And today, together, we were finally meeting him.

  I cou
ldn’t decide if I was excited or nervous or was coming down with the flu. I definitely felt like I wanted to throw up.

  My knee started bouncing and the present slid onto the seat next to me, bringing my attention to it once more. “Did we get the right gift? I should’ve gotten the construction set. It had three times the pieces.”

  I was met with silence. “Elizabeth?”

  She turned her head toward me. “What? No. That set was made for a five-year-old. This is perfect. It’s age-appropriate.”

  Age-appropriate. That was a term used at the ad office. Not in my actual life. Not before now, anyway.

  Elizabeth covered her hand with mine. “He’s going to love it.”

  I laced my fingers through hers and held on. It was soothing to touch her. And shocking, as though I hadn’t touched her in a long time. Since we’d been back from the honeymoon, we hadn’t been as connected as we had been before. She seemed more distant, more guarded, but I was sure she was just preoccupied with the overwhelming obligations to the outside world that we now had to face.

  There was also much for me to catch up on at Reach, and I still hadn’t broken the news to Donovan that I was leaving—mostly because I wanted to have my exact arrangements in place before I did, not because I was afraid of telling him. Not that at all. And Elizabeth was busy packing and arranging the transfer of business. She wanted to be in France before the New Year. Christmas was in two days. It was all happening so fast.

  And I still wasn’t sure how to be enough. Enough for Donovan. Enough for Sebastian. Enough for Elizabeth.

  But I loved her. And I knew she loved me.

  And I knew I loved this kid.

  And somehow, that would be enough. I just hadn’t yet figured out how.