by J. J. Bella
“Great. I wanted to ask—you met how long ago, exactly?” He leafed a booklet from his briefcase and began to take notes in bright blue pen.
“Erm. Six months,” Brittany said, scrambling to remember what Paul had told everyone else. “At a coffee shop.”
“Ah. Were you in a business meeting?”
“No. I worked there,” Brittany said.
Paul’s eyes drew toward her, looking sharp. Agile. “I’m sorry? You worked there?”
“At Blue Line,” Brittany said, not realizing fully that she was flubbing up the lie Paul had told.
“The one here on the corner?” Jack asked. “Really close? Why would Paul have been there six months ago? He was still living on the Upper West Side…”
“Oh,” Brittany said, her cheeks growing pink. “It might have been—another time…”
“In fact,” Jack said, beginning to speak with more rapidity. “He didn’t move across from Blue Line until a little over a month ago. Brittany. You didn’t just meet your husband at Blue Line a little over a month ago, did you?” He looked giddy, his eyes flashing.
“Um—“ Brittany stammered, gazing at her hands. Why had Paul sent this man here to grill her? “I mean. I’m in love with Paul. We met six months ago.”
She knew, now, how foolish she sounded. She watched as Jack began to collect his things once more, looking self-satisfied, and then dropped his hand onto her shoulder. “I think we’ve done a good thing together, here, today. We should meet more often. Oh, and I hope you and Paul have the most beautiful marriage.”
With that, he winked and strutted from the apartment, leaving Brittany in a hollow apartment, wondering if she’d just made the worst mistake of her life.
Chapter Fourteen
That night, and the night after, Paul gave her almost nothing: no warm hellos, no eager questions, no tidbits regarding his life at the office. When Brittany mentioned, off-handed, that one of his associates had swung by the apartment to “seek information regarding their marriage,” he’d paused, given her a half-alarmed look, and then returned to his magazine. “I’m sure it’s fine. Just for paperwork,” he’d said.
It was making Brittany feel caught in a gilded cage, gazing out at New York City from a tower and unable to join it—to seek real emotion, to feel loved. Despite the growing feelings she had for Paul, she sensed he wouldn’t allow himself to give himself, in total. Especially not after what had happened with his ex-wife. Every new woman had the capacity to be a “new” Elena. At least, that was true in his eyes.
One afternoon, not long after they’d slept in one another’s arms, Brittany heard commotion from the top of the building. A heavy whirring noise met her ears, causing her to burst from her seat and rush to the terrace. An immense helicopter was landing from above, finding its footing against the tile, its great blades flashing through the blue sky. Brittany crept out onto it, incredulous, and then watched as Paul hopped from the back, flashing her a smile. She felt her stomach clench with desire for him. For things to be the way they’d been, if only for a night.
“Get some things together,” Paul said as he approached her, placing his hand on the small of her back. “We’re going to the Hamptons.”
“Why?” Brittany asked, her voice getting lost in the whirr of the machine.
“Because I need to talk to you,” Paul said then. “And I can’t do it here, with all the chaos of my life getting in the way.”
Grabbing a few things back in her room, Brittany felt her heart hammering with promise, with lust. He wanted to talk to her. Finally. After waiting for days for him to even look at her, he’d cultivated a plot to whirl them from the city center, toward a clean slate.
It was a dream.
Up in the air, Paul reached toward her and clung to her hand—pointing at the world outside their window. His voice came through the microphone on his headset. “Have you ever seen New York this way?” he asked. “It’s remarkable, looking at so many tiny lives, running their courses beneath us.”
Brittany smiled, trying to focus on her breathing. Anxiety and surprise had filled her, making her nearly incapable of finding the right words.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” she murmured into the headset, giving him a look of longing.
“I want to talk to you about what I said,” Paul answered, shifting toward her and drawing his hands around her shoulders. “About us being only roommates. That’s bullshit, isn’t it? Ever since my first wife, I’ve been so frightened about growing closer to someone. Opening up myself seemed impossible. But when I saw you at the coffee shop; when I first began to speak with you, I sensed you were different. I sensed you could be someone important to me. And I’m asking you if—if you’d like that, too.”
“To be properly married?” Brittany asked, her heart swelling.
“To give it a damn good shot,” Paul affirmed.
Brittany nodded, ecstatic. She brought her head forward and kissed him, bumping their headsets and causing Paul to cry out with laughter. They yanked their headsets from their skulls and continued to kiss, lost in the chaos of one another’s emotions, finally fulfilling the yearning that Brittany had felt since she’d moved in with him.
His house at the Hamptons was luxurious, with an Olympic-sized swimming pool, a hot tub, a large, wood-burning fireplace, a ballroom and a bar for parties, along with a more intimate part of the house, which he liked to stick to. The moment they entered the back door, the couple dropped their things and fell into one another’s arms, making love first in the living room, across the chaise lounge, and then moving toward the pool, where they skinny-dipped, laughing wildly. At the water’s edge, Paul drew himself between Brittany’s knees, allowing his tongue to linger across the soft wetness of her pussy. He found the knob at the top of her clit, sucked on it briefly, causing her to cry out. She brushed her fingers through his dark hair, then cast her spine back, allowing pleasure to pulse through her.
In the final hours of the day, they made love in his giant bed, deep in the softness of the comforter, their bodies linked, with Brittany’s thin legs wrapped tightly around his muscled abdomen. As he thrust himself deeper into her, gliding against her G-spot, she gasped, then cried out, suddenly thrust into a world of orgasm, of pleasure she couldn’t comprehend. Linking her eyes with his, she felt him orgasm within her, as well—making them gasp in each other’s arms until they fell into a deep slumber, one of release and happiness.
They spent the rest of the weekend together, making love and dining at the country club, finding solace in conversation, in giggling, in discovering new things about the other. On their final day, Paul surprised Brittany by flying Lea out to meet them, and the three of them spent an entire afternoon on the beach: building sand castles, sunning, with Brittany and Lea taking an hour or two to doodle in their sketchpads. Their portrait of Paul was particularly hilarious—with Lea making him look a bit more like a caterpillar than a human.
Brittany wished the weekend could last forever. But alas, real life beckoned, and they had to return. She only hoped their love would continue to grow, flourish, even within the bounds of the chaos at home.
Chapter Fifteen
Paul whistled as he entered the office after the long weekend, lost in his rolling mind. He couldn’t stop playing the images over and over in his mind—sun-drenched afternoons with Brittany, who giggled at his jokes and fed him strawberries by hand before kissing him. Their kisses had been salty, from the sea, and joyous, affirming their true feelings.
He hadn’t been this happy in a long time.
But when he reached the boardroom for the meeting, Paul was shocked to find his father and mother there, along with the rest of the board: Samantha, Otto, and Jack. Several of his father’s lawyers were stretched out in chairs near the back, making notes.
“Hello,” Paul said, raising an eyebrow high. “Papa. Mama. Good to see you.” He reached forward and kissed his mother on the cheek. Her skin was tough.
“How coul
d you do this to us?” she whispered to him, her voice harsh. “Making a mockery of our family.”
Paul looked at her, aghast. “Mama, what are you—“
“Paul. Please don’t stand there looking like you don’t know what we’re talking about,” Jack boomed from the side. Taking a mighty step forward, he slapped a file of papers on the table. The file read: “Brittany Haverford, 1994-2017”.
“What is this file?” Paul demanded, tapping his fist against the table, making it shake. His eyes flashed toward Jack. “Were you investigating my wife?”
“You’re still going to call her that, then?” Jack demanded. “Because I’ve been investigating this so-called wife of yours, and I gotta say. I don’t think your marriage is going to hold-up in court. Doesn’t seem to be anything but a fraud. A way to get your father’s money as soon as you could. How disgusting.”
Paul swept his eyes toward his parents, who looked grey-faced, glum. “Papa—“ he began, wanting to tell some semblance of the truth.
But his father held up his hand, halting him. “Son, if this marriage turns out to indeed be fraud, it will be annulled. You will be written out of the will. You’ll be given a very small pittance of your inheritance, and the rest will go to Lea in a trust fund. Elena will operate that trust fund. And not you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Paul boomed. “You know, for a fact, that Elena is nothing but a gold-digger. She’s been calling me for years trying to get more custody money…”
But he saw he was fighting a losing battle. Tears crept down his mother’s cheeks, as Jack gloated in the corner.
“We just hope this isn’t true,” his mother whispered, tossing her graying hair behind her shoulders. “Because we love you, son. But if you’ve teased us this way—if you’ve made a mockery of us—then I don’t see how this can go on.”
Paul turned toward the door, slipping his hands through his hair and then tugging at it, feeling frustration brim through him. After he stomped through the door and ducked into the elevator, that’s when he allowed his scream to bolt from between his lips, to echo against the metal walls, to make him feel, in that moment, that if he wasn’t careful, all would be lost.
Brittany would be gone. And so would his daughter.
Chapter Sixteen
When Paul collapsed in the chair across from Brittany, the sweat was bolting down his forehead. His cheeks were red-hot, showing his passion, his anger. After a long moment of silence, Brittany reached toward him, placing a soft hand atop his. Whispering, she asked: “Paul? Baby? Are you all right?”
Paul didn’t move his hand. Their skin had spent so much time next to one another, attached, over the previous weekend, that Brittany sensed they were growing together. They were united. After a long moment, she drew herself toward the liquor cabinet and poured them both a glass of whiskey, then dropped herself onto Paul’s lap. They clinked glasses, then sipped.
Paul’s head lolled downward, then. His eyes closed, allowing his dark eyelashes to flutter along his cheeks. “They know, Brittany. They know it was a sham. And if they can prove it—if they can prove that we don’t love one another, that we aren’t truly in this, then they’re going to take everything. My money. My position. And my daughter.” He shuddered.
Aghast, Brittany latched onto his chin, bringing his face toward hers. She kissed him, then, inhaling the heat of his mouth, the terror of his near-quivering lips. Then, when the kiss broke, she asked him, in a soft voice:
“Do you want to make this work? Do you want to fall in love with one another?”
Paul paused for a long time. His dark eyes seemed to pierce into hers, making her twist with fear. But when he answered, his words were firm: “I wouldn’t have picked you in the first place if I didn’t think this could become something real. Something whole. And over the past weekend, in the Hamptons, I sensed this could be our forever.”
Brittany’s heart swelled with his words. A single tear crested her cheek, making her blink rapidly.
This was it. This was her forever.
Finally, she found her answer: “So let’s tell them that, then. That we love each other. It’s the truth.”
The meeting, the grill session, was held the following afternoon in the boardroom, and featured many of the people who’d been at Brittany and Paul’s wedding: Elena, Jack, Paul’s parents, Lea, and the members of the board. Brittany and Paul sat close together, clinging to one another’s hands like a united force—and waiting for the axe to fall.
Jack handled the questions. His voice was lawyer-like, smarmy. It made Brittany’s stomach squirm.
“So, Brittany. When was it you met Paul? You seem to have given us all many different answers.”
Brittany pressed her lips together, glancing toward both of Paul’s parents. They gave her urgent glares.
“Well—“ she began.
“Because, it’s come to my attention, after interviewing someone named Ian of Blue Line, that you were employed at that coffee shop until very recently. Just a few weeks before. And, according to him, you weren’t, at that time, in a relationship with anyone,” Jack continued.
“You interviewed Ian?” Brittany asked, aghast.
“Paul, what do you think of that?” Jack asked him, drawing taller. “Did you indeed meet Miss Brittany Haverford at the coffee shop? And was it before or after you moved to Williamsburg?”
“You didn’t go to law school, Jack. I know for a fact you couldn’t get in,” Paul boomed.
“Irrelevant,” Jack returned.
“Then stop treating this like it’s some kind of daytime law show,” Paul scoffed.
“Paul,” Max, his father, returned. “Please. Just answer the questions. We’re trying to get to the bottom of this.”
“Fine,” Paul said, ripping his free hand through his dark hair. “We only just met each other. Are you happy?” He paused, allowing his words to take effect. “I walked into the coffee shop, saw this gorgeous woman, and then felt a connection I couldn’t describe. When it came out that we were both in predicaments—hers, monetarily, and mine more in a family and business setting, I offered to help her, if she’d marry me.”
The words came spilling from his mouth, making Brittany’s eyes appear like saucers. Around them, the boardroom grew quiet, tense. Jack’s self-serving eyes centered upon Brittany, leering at her. “Brittany, can you confirm this?”
“Sure,” Brittany whispered, trying to draw courage from within. “But there’s so much more to the story, now.”
“Irrelevant, I’d say,” Jack said, giving a bright smile to Elena. “Looks like we’re done—“
“What’s more to the story, dear?” Claudia asked, leaning closer. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that Paul and I are falling in love with each other,” Brittany said, her voice gaining confidence. “We’re growing into each other. And I’ve never loved a little girl more than I’ve loved Lea…”
Lea rushed forward, then, bursting from her mother’s arms. She wrapped her arms around Brittany, causing a smile to stretch across her face. Lea mumbled across Brittany’s shoulder. “I want to stay with Brittany,” she said. “She plays with me. She loves me. She’s a better mommy than my own mom.”
Claudia brought her hand to her mouth, clearly shocked. Elena sputtered forward, trying to draw her child back. “Lea, come along. That woman is a traitor.”
“But she can’t be,” Paul boomed. “You’re the one who hasn’t stopped asking me for child support payments since we started the divorce proceedings. You and Jack have been hounding Brittany and I for details about our marriage from the beginning. And it’s crystal clear that it’s just because you don’t want to miss out on all that money.” His eyes flashed.
Raising his hands into the air, Max interrupted, holding court. His voice was weak, but didn’t deviate. “Children. Jack. Paul. Elena. Stop this, right this instant. I can’t handle it another moment more. Your bickering, your edging toward the money, has grown out of contro
l. I have half a mind to put that money far away from all of you and leave it for Lea, when she needs it. That being said—“
He paused, gazing down at Brittany, who still held onto Lea with tight arms. “Brittany, what you’re saying about my son warms my heart. Paul’s been alone and lonely for years, All my wife and I have wanted is for someone like you to come along, to see the good in him. And it seems, Brittany, that you do.” He turned toward Paul, then. “Paul. Do you love her, back? Is it a match? Can we trust you to honor her, to hold her close? To be the husband she needs?”
Paul nodded, gripping onto Brittany’s hand and then reaching forth, bringing his daughter onto his lap. “We’re a family, Papa,” he said. “And you always said that family comes before business. That it comes before everything else. If you need me to choose between the money and these people in my arms, right now, I choose them.”
“Ha,” Elena scoffed. “As if you’ll have full custody.”
“I’m seeking it as soon as possible,” Paul said to her, lashing out.
“I’ll expect those support payments, all throughout that battle,” Elena whispered. In the silence that fell afterward, she caught her hands across her mouth, realizing her mistake. She’d revealed herself as the shrew she truly was—hunting only for his money, and not motivated by her love for her child.
Claudia snapped and pointed toward the door, asking Elena to remove herself. “This isn’t the time nor the place for your selfishness,” she whispered, her words harsh. “You shouldn’t even be in here.”
Elena scuffled from the room, flipping her hair behind her. Brittany’s hand squeezed Paul’s, showing allegiance. Their honesty had defeated the beast.
“The decision to give you your position as CEO and the inheritance holds,” Max said then, clapping his hands together. “I’m glad that we can finally put this behind us.”
Paul lifted his daughter as he stood, then reached across the table to shake his father’s hand. As Jack drew closer to him, hoping for a handshake as well, Paul pointed toward the door. “I’ll need you to join Elena, on this one, Jack,” he boomed. “You’re fired, effective immediately. Get out of my sight.”