The Last Mrs. Parrish

by Liv Constantine

  Once she was Mrs. Parrish, those two brats were on borrowed time. They could go to community college as far as she was concerned. But she was getting ahead of herself; first, she had to convince Jackson to leave them.

  * * *

  When Jackson arrived at the apartment, Amber was wearing a black leather corset and collar. Daphne had complained to her on a recent night out that Jackson’s tastes were becoming more unconventional. When she’d pressed for more details, the prude had turned red and mentioned something about restraints. Amber had decided to test the waters, and what she’d found was that Jackson was craving more adventure in the sack. She’d gladly given it to him, and together they’d scoured a few online stores and ordered all sorts of interesting sex toys. She encouraged him to push the limits, was ready to do whatever she had to, to make him compare Daphne unfavorably to her. She kept all their toys in a drawer in the guest room, half hoping Daphne might snoop when she was there and Amber could have a nice laugh at her expense. But Daphne never mentioned anything to her.

  “That was amazing.” She nuzzled closer to him. “If I were Daphne, I’d never let you out of my bed.” She bit his earlobe.

  “I don’t want to talk about Daphne,” he whispered.

  She giggled. “She likes to talk about you.”

  He sat up, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just little wifely complaints. No big deal.”

  “I want to know. What did she say?” There was a hard edge to his voice.

  She slid back so she could see his face, her finger tracing a pattern on his chest as she spoke. “Just stuff about how she’s at a point in her life when she wants to chill out, and you’re always pushing her to socialize. Said she’d rather stay home and watch old Law & Order reruns. I told her she was lucky to go places with you, but she just shook her head and said she was getting too old for all these dinners and galas keeping her out late.” It was a total lie, but so what. He’d never know.

  She watched his face to see how he reacted, pleased to see his jaw clench.

  “I don’t appreciate the two of you discussing me.” He slid from the bed and threw on his silk robe.

  Amber went to him, still naked, and pressed herself against him. “We don’t talk about you, I promise. She just complains and I defend you, then change the subject. I adore you, you know that.” She hoped he believed that.

  His eyes narrowed. He didn’t look convinced.

  She changed her approach. “I think Daphne’s out of her element. You’re so brilliant and accomplished. You know all about art and culture, and she . . . well, she’s just kind of a simple girl. It’s hard to keep up the pretense.”

  “I suppose,” he said.

  “Come back to bed. I have a surprise.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s go to the living room. I have a present for you.” She grabbed his hand.

  He yanked it back from her. “Stop telling me what to do. You’re starting to sound like a nagging wife.”

  She felt tears of rage spring to her eyes. How dare he talk to her like that? She swallowed her anger and made her voice sweet. It wouldn’t do to let him see how pissed she was. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Would you like a drink?”

  “I’ll get it myself.”

  She didn’t follow him, but sat down and forced herself to read a magazine, then another to give him some time to cool off. After about an hour, she retrieved the small gold bag with the bib from inside the closet and carried it into the living room. He was sitting in one of the dining room chairs, still brooding.

  “Here you go.”

  “What is it?”

  “Open it, silly.”

  He moved aside the tissue paper and pulled out the bib. He looked up at her, puzzled.

  She took his hand and put it on her belly. “Your baby is in here.”

  His mouth dropped open. “You’re pregnant? With a boy?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I couldn’t believe it myself. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. There’s something else in there.”

  He rooted around and found the sonogram picture.

  “That’s our son.” Her smile was victorious.

  “A boy? Are you sure?”

  “One hundred percent.”

  He stood up, grinning from ear to ear, and picked her up. “This is wonderful news. I’d given up on ever having a son. Now you have to let me get you a place here.”

  Was he serious? “A place here?”

  “Well, yes. You can’t very well stay where you are now.”

  The blood was pounding in her ears. “You’re right, Jackson. I can’t. And I don’t want my son to grow up wondering why his father has him hidden in some back alley. He needs to be with family. Once he’s born, we’ll go back to Nebraska.”

  She turned and stomped from the room.

  “Amber, wait!”

  She threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and began packing a bag. Did he really expect her to go on being his secret now that she was giving him an heir? He was crazy if he thought she’d let Daphne continue to reap the benefits of being Mrs. Parrish while she worked in his office like a slave and he snuck in visits to his son. The hell with that.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving! I thought you loved me. What a fool I’ve been. I don’t see Daphne giving you a son, although she looks more pregnant than I do.”

  He grabbed her hands. “Stop. I was insensitive. Let’s talk.”

  “What’s there to talk about? Either we’re going to be a family, or we’re not.”

  He sat down on the bed and ran his hand through his hair. “I need to think. We’ll figure this out. Don’t even think about moving away.”

  “She doesn’t appreciate you, Jackson. She told me she cringes when you touch her. But I love you so much. All I want to do is take care of you, be the wife you deserve. I’ll always put you first—even before this child. You’re everything to me.” She got down on her knees, the way he liked, and showed him just how much she adored him. When she finished, he pulled her to him.

  “How was that, Daddy?”

  He gave her an inscrutable smile and stood up, picking up the sonogram picture again. His fingers traced it.

  “My son.” He looked up at Amber. “Does anyone else know? Your mother, your friends?”

  She shook her head. “Of course not. I wanted you to be the first.”

  “Good. Don’t tell anyone yet. I have to figure out a way to get out of this marriage without Daphne taking me to the cleaners. If she finds out you’re pregnant, it could cost me a lot of money.”

  Amber nodded. “I understand. I won’t breathe a word to anyone.”

  He continued to sit, a look of such deep concentration on his face that she was afraid to speak.

  Finally he stood and began to pace back and forth. “Okay. This is how we’re going to play it. You’ll get everything out of this apartment, and we’ll move you into a rental for now. If Daphne gets suspicious, the last thing we need is for her to find your things here.”

  “But Jackson,” she whined, “I don’t want to move to some awful rental. I’ll be all alone.”

  He stopped pacing and stared at her. “What do you mean, ‘Some awful rental’? What kind of cheapskate do you think I am? If you don’t want an apartment, we’ll get a large suite at the Plaza. You’ll have people to wait on your every need.”

  “But what about you? When will I see you?”

  “We have to be careful, Amber. I’m going to have to spend a little more time at home. You know, to allay any suspicion. You’ll have to stop working once you’re showing. Stay out of the way, so no talk gets back to Daphne.”

  “And what am I supposed to tell Daphne? She’ll get suspicious if I stop hanging out with her.”

  He chewed his lip and then nodded. “You’ll say someone in your family is sick. You’re taking some time off to go help.”

  This was b
eginning to sound like a bad plan to Amber. She’d be stuck away in some hotel, completely dependent on his being true to his word. It felt like she was being put out on a boat without a life jacket or a paddle and could be swept away at Jackson’s whim.

  “I don’t want to be in some impersonal hotel. It won’t be good for me to be in some strange place that doesn’t feel like home. It won’t be good for the baby either.”

  He sighed. “Fine. We’ll rent an apartment. A nice one that will feel like home. You can buy whatever you’d like for it.”

  She thought about that a few minutes. It was probably the best offer she was going to get at this point. “How long?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe a few months? We should settle it all by then.”

  She was angry and scared now, which made it easy to cry. “I hate this, Jackson. I love you so much, and now we’re going to have to be separated. I’ll be alone in some apartment that isn’t even ours. It makes me feel so afraid, the way I used to feel when I was little and we moved all the time because we couldn’t pay the rent.” She sniffled and wiped the tears from her cheeks, hoping this tale of woe might move him.

  He gave her a long look. “Do you want me to lose everything? You’re just going to have to trust me.”

  He wasn’t biting. She’d have to go along with the plan and hope he meant what he said until she could come up with something else. But what if he proved to be untrustworthy? Then what? She’d be shit out of luck, just like she was when she fled from Missouri. She wasn’t going to let him get away with throwing her and this kid she was carrying aside, even if she had to take more drastic action this time. No more screwing Amber. Those days were over.

  Part II

  Daphne

  Thirty-Six

  I didn’t use to be afraid of my husband. I thought I loved him, back when he was kind—or pretended to be. Before I knew what a monster looks like up close.

  I met Jackson when I was twenty-six. I’d finished my graduate studies in social work and was in the planning stages of the foundation I was starting in honor of Julie. I’d gotten a job in operations at Save the Children and had been there for six months. It was a great organization, where I could work at something I loved while learning everything I’d need to run my own foundation one day.

  A coworker recommended I get in touch with Parrish International, an international real estate firm with a reputation for giving back. She had an in—her father was a business associate. I had expected to be pawned off on some junior executive. Instead, I was granted an audience with Mr. Parrish himself. Jackson was nothing like the captain of industry I had read about. With me, he was amiable and funny, and he put me at ease from the start. When I told him my plans for the foundation and why I was starting it, he shocked me by offering to fund Julie’s Smile. Three months later I’d quit my job and was the head of my own foundation. Jackson had assembled a board, which he joined, provided the funding, and found me office space. Things had remained professional between us—I hadn’t wanted to jeopardize his support of the foundation, and to be honest, I was also a little scared. But over time, when the lunches turned into dinners, it seemed natural—inevitable even—that our relationship would turn more personal. His wholehearted embrace of my charity turned my head, I’ll admit. So I agreed to go to his house for a dinner to celebrate.

  The first time I saw his thirty-room estate, the vastness of his wealth hit me. He lived in Bishops Harbor, a picturesque town on the coast of Long Island Sound with a population of about thirty thousand. The town’s shopping area could rival Rodeo Drive, with stores far too expensive for my budget, and the only domestic cars on its pristine roads belonged to household staff. The houses dotting the shoreline in the area were magnificent, set far back from the road, shielded by gates, and on grass so lustrous and green it didn’t look real. When Jackson’s driver pulled the car into the long driveway, it took a minute for the house to come into view. My breath caught in my throat when we approached the tremendous gray estate.

  When we walked into the grand foyer, with a chandelier that would have been at home in Buckingham Palace, I gave him a strained smile. Did people really live this way? I remember thinking that the excesses surrounding me could pay so many medical bills for the CF families struggling to keep their heads above water.

  “It’s very nice.”

  “Glad you approve.” He’d looked at me with a puzzled expression, called for the housekeeper to take our coats, and whisked me off to the deck, where a roaring fire awaited in an outdoor fireplace and we could take in the spectacular view of Long Island Sound.

  I was attracted to him—how could I not be? Jackson Parrish was undeniably handsome, his dark hair the perfect frame for eyes bluer than the Caribbean. He was the stuff fantasies were made of—thirty-five-year-old CEO of the company he’d built from the ground up, generous and philanthropic, beloved in the community, charming, boyishly handsome—not the sort of man someone like me dated. I’d read all about his reputation as a playboy. The women he went out with were models and socialites, women whose sophistication and allure far outweighed my own. Maybe that was why his interest took me so by surprise.

  I was relaxed, enjoying the soothing view of the Sound and the salty smell of the sea air, when he handed me a glass of something pink.

  “A Bellini. It will make you feel like it’s summer.” An explosion of fruit filled my mouth, and the combination of tart and sweet was delectable.

  “It’s delicious.” I looked out at the sun setting over the water, the sky painted gorgeous shades of pink and purple. “So beautiful. You must never tire of this view.”

  He sat back, his thigh next to mine making me more lightheaded than the drink.

  “Never. I grew up in the mountains and didn’t realize what an enchantress the sea is until I moved east.”

  “You’re from Colorado, right?”

  He smiled. “Doing some research on me?”

  I took another sip, emboldened by the alcohol. “You’re not exactly a private figure.” It seemed like I couldn’t open a newspaper without reading about wonder boy Jackson Parrish.

  “Actually I’m a very private person. When you reach the level of success that I have, it’s hard to know who your real friends are. I have to be careful who I let get close to me.” He took my glass and refilled it. “But enough about me. I want to know more about you.”

  “I’m not very interesting, I’m afraid. Just a girl from a small town. Nothing special.”

  He gave me a wry smile. “If you call getting published at fourteen nothing special. I loved the piece you did for is magazine about your sister and her brave fight.”

  “Wow. You did your research too. How did you even find that?”

  He winked at me. “I have my ways. It was very touching. So, you and Julie had both planned on going to Brown?”

  “Yes, from the time we were little. After she died, I felt like I had to go. For both of us.”

  “That’s rough. How old were you when you lost her?”

  “Eighteen.”

  He put his hand on mine. “I’m sure she’s very proud of you. Especially what you’re doing, your dedication. The foundation is going to help so many people.”

  “I’m so grateful to you. Without your help it would have taken me years to get a space and a staff.”

  “I’m happy to do it. You were lucky to have her. I’ve always wondered what it would have been like to grow up with brothers and sisters.”

  “It must have been lonely being an only child,” I said.

  He had a faraway look. “My father worked all the time, and my mother had her charity duties. I always wished I had a brother to go outside and throw a football with, to go shoot some hoops.” He shrugged. “Oh, well, plenty of people had it much worse.”

  “What does your father do?”

  “He was the CEO of Boulder Insurance. Pretty big job. He’s retired now. My mother was a stay-at-home mom.”

  I didn’t want to pry, bu
t he seemed like he wanted to talk. “Was?”

  He suddenly stood up. “She died in a car crash. It’s a bit chilly. Why don’t we go inside?”

  I stood, feeling woozy, and put a hand on the chair to steady myself. He turned toward me then, his eyes intense, caressed my cheek, and whispered, “When you’re with me, I don’t feel lonely at all.” I said nothing as he scooped me into his arms and carried me into the house and up to his bed.

  Parts of that first night we spent together are still a blur. I hadn’t planned on making love to him—I had felt it was too soon. But before I knew it, we were naked and tangled up in the sheets. He held my eyes the entire time. It was unnerving, like he was staring into my very soul, but I couldn’t look away. When it was over, he was tender and sweet, and he fell asleep wrapped in my arms. I watched his face in the moonlight and traced the outline of his jaw. I wanted to erase all his sad memories and make him feel the love and nurturing he’d missed as a child. This gorgeous, strong, and successful man that everyone looked up to had shared his vulnerabilities with me. He needed me. There is nothing more enticing to me than being needed.

  When morning came, I had a pounding headache. I wondered if I’d been simply another conquest, if now that he’d had me, we’d go back to being business associates. Would I join the ranks of his ex-lovers, or was this the start of a new relationship? I worried that he was comparing me to the glamour girls he was used to sleeping with, and that I came up short. He seemed to read my mind. Propping himself up on one elbow, he traced my breast with his right hand.

  “I like having you here.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I simply smiled. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  His face darkened, and he pulled his hand back. “No, I don’t.”

  “I’m sorry.” I took a deep breath. “I’m a little nervous.”

  He kissed me then, his tongue insistent, his mouth pressed to mine. Then he pulled away and caressed my cheek with the back of his hand. “You don’t have to be nervous with me. I’ll take good care of you.”