by M. C. Cerny
“Babe, I don’t care about that. I just want you to smile.” Jack crouches over me, inching me back on the bed. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Did you have a good day with Shelby?” He’s now lying half over me, his arms protectively around my body, saving me from being deliciously crushed by his weight.
“I did, but I feel like you two are conspiring against me. Why is that?” I loosen Jack’s tie and kiss his cheek, mostly so I can breathe him in and feel calm.
“We’re here for you.” He brushes hair off my forehead, gently kissing my lips. “Always, Edie.” He smiles and I roll my eyes at him. Jack rolls off the bed and heads into the bathroom, leaving the door open. When I hear the shower turn on, I prop myself on my elbow to get a treat of seeing Jack naked.
“Dinner?” I ask.
“Sure. I’m always hungry, babe.” He smirks before jumping under the spray of water.
Chapter Thirteen
Edith
I decide to be brave and try something. I feel like I owe Jack for all the trouble I must be, and I desperately want us to be happy again. “Jack, will you be a while?” I shout into the steamy bathroom.
“Probably five minutes.”
“Can you make it ten?” I ask, heading back to my mess on the bed. Putting my hands on my hips, I start looking for something in particular.
“How about if I slip into the office and you let me know when I can come out?”
Smirking, I sort through the bags, putting away some of the purchases in the process, until I find a backless halter dress in a bright red silk that Shelby forced me to buy after I tried it on. Quickly, I strip and put in on, then rush downstairs to start dinner. I grab an apron and dig through the fridge for some marinated chicken breasts and stuff for a salad. I then reach in the cabinet for some boxed risotto. Moving in with Jack has meant upgrading my palate from my usual watered-down juice and dollar store pizzas. I start boiling water, chop a few things, and set the chicken to bake. I open the door to the cellar and, taking a deep breath, walk downstairs barefoot. Nothing scary here, except the random old spider web. Flipping the light on, I head to the wine fridge. We have a small one upstairs, but this one has the good stuff I know Jack likes best. I pick a bottle of white I hope will go with the chicken and scramble back up the stairs. I flip off the switch and close the door, leaning against it. No matter how much I know the cellar is perfectly fine, I can’t get over the creepy feeling of the cool cement and stone foundation under the old house.
After about twenty minutes, I grab plates and glasses, then open the cork on the wine. I pour two glasses, then feel Jack standing in the doorway. I turn my head just enough to glance at him. He’s standing against the archway, arms folded, and has what I hope is an admiring look on his face.
“It looks…delicious.” He pauses, moving from his spot to stand close behind me, placing his hands on the counter. I take a deep breath and leaning back against him. It’s just Jack. I’m not afraid of him. However, after my heart got pumping from running up and down the stairs, my body feels primed for a fight or flight response.
“Mmm-hmm,” is all I can manage as he nips my neck and shoulder playfully. We haven’t touched like this in weeks, and I’ve missed him. He takes one finger and traces from my ear down the side of my neck. Maybe a glass of wine will give me the courage I need to take things further?
“It smells incredible.” Jack has his face in my hair, nuzzling me.
Impulsively, I reach my arm up to cup his head, running my fingers through his hair. This amazing man wants me and keeps me safe. I can do this, I chant in my head. Today doesn’t have to be for the right reasons. I just don’t want to lose him.
“You mean the chicken?” I tease him, feeling his tongue rasp along my skin, tasting me, testing my mood.
“What chicken? I’ve got my hands and senses full of you, and only you. Tastes good, too.” Jack bites my skin enough to sting, but not leave any marks, then follows that up with gentle kisses. His hands trace my body, lingering on the line of my spine, curving around my hip. After all my pushing away, Jack still wants me.
I turn in his arms and place my palms around his face. Jack’s hands skirt the sides of my dress, grazing close to my breasts. A fluttering ache I’ve been missing slowly blossoms, like a bud pushing through snow. I want this so badly, my mouth waters. As I open my lips to kiss, bite, laugh with joy, the phone rings.
It’s a moment before we are capable of shaking off the passion. The incessant ring of the phone penetrates the air. “I think…” I lick my dry lips, sad the moment is gone. “I think maybe we need to answer that.”
Jack sucks in a deep breath and reaches for the cordless phone on the counter behind me. He presses the button with force and growls, “Hello?”
I can see his cock straining against his pants, so whatever the news is, it sure as hell interrupted a happier moment. When Jack’s body stiffens and he clenches his jaw, I know the call is not good. I grab the glass of wine and take a fortifying sip to steady my nerves.
“Who is it?” I whisper, afraid to ask. Jack looks at me and hands me the phone. Our fingers touch, but without the heat of a few moments ago.
“It’s the prosecutor’s office. They want you to testify against him. They want to review your statement.”
The tone of Jack’s voice tells me several things. One, he still thinks about this as much as I do, and two, he still feels responsible for what happened. I’m sick. I’m upset. I’m a swirl of emotions. The desire I felt has evaporated into thin air as if it never existed. Now I’m exhausted, deflated, and ready to hide from the world.
With shaky hands, I take the phone, and Jack finishes his wine in one gulp. “This is Edith,” I whisper.
Jack
Rolling away from Edie gets harder and harder every time. I figure taking a shower is one of my few options before I drive myself crazy with wanting her. Edith asks me to take my time and, as I wash the weariness of the day away, I wonder what she has planned. For the first time in weeks, I saw the first spark of mischievousness in her eyes. I would happily bankrupt myself if it meant I could see her smile like that every day.
After my shower and dressing, I walk into my office, letting her marinate her plans, whatever they may be. I can hear her clanging around in the kitchen. Edith is no chef, but she’s mastered a few simple, delicious meals. However, even if it was on fire and tasted like crap, I would still eat it. It’s the very reason I secretly keep a pack of Tums and other remedies in the downstairs bathroom. I check my email and respond back to my PA, Tom, who is finalizing details for our trip. I hear Edith go into the cellar and I can no longer concentrate. I decide to watch her from the doorway until she grants me permission to enter her space.
She comes up from the cellar, shutting the door behind her, clutching the bottle of wine. It’s one of my favorites, but my absolute favorite is a challenging young woman wearing a red dress that leaves little to the imagination. When she places the bottle on the counter, I can see the moment she realizes I’ve been standing there, watching her. Her glance is all the permission I need. She wouldn’t have put on such a sexy dress if she didn’t want me to act on my feelings for her. Edith isn’t coy by nature, and misreading her signals now would do nothing but push us a million steps backwards. Slowly, I stand behind her, breathing in her scent. My arms trap her against the counter and when she backs up against me, I’m a goner. Running her fingers through my hair, our mumbled words cement in my mind that I will have Edith tonight. Her skin pebbles in goosebumps as I kiss and nip at her. She intoxicates me like no other and, for one blessed night, I want nothing more than to shut out our problems. She’s responsive and eager, making my blood pool below. The fire I tried to extinguish in the shower earlier is back in full force. I want to touch every part of her. It’s sublime. It’s perfect.
Right until the fucking phone rings…
My mind rages an internal battle until Edith urges me to answer it. I want to rip the fucking wires from the
wall. Growling into the phone, I realize it’s Sam from the prosecutor’s office. He needs to speak to Edith about the case against Daniel because they want her to testify. Our nightmare seems to be awakening all over again. Begrudgingly, I pass the phone to Edith. I don’t want her to do this, but I may not have any choice in the matter. I know the nightmares that leave her in a cold sweat and whimpering into her pillow will return and she will shut me out again. It’s so fucking unfair. If I could take away the hurt, I would.
Her fingers tense around the phone. I watch her carefully as I pour us each a full glass of wine. She nods her head a few times, grimacing, and I lightly touch her back. When she walks away from me, the hurt isn’t mistaken. My chest feels like it’s being ripped open all over again. In my head, I hear her screams for help beyond the door I had to replace at her apartment. It should never have gotten to that point, and I feel the impotence of my existence all over again. Maybe I’m the one who needs therapy.
Chapter Fourteen
Edith
Last night, I agreed to meet with Sam Autumns, the assistant prosecutor working my case, to make an addendum to my formal statement and review my testimony. Daniel is being charged with simple assault, sexual contact, and criminal mischief for attacking me and destroying my apartment. He could potentially face a maximum of only six months in jail and a thousand dollar fine. Whenever Jack hears that’s all Daniel can get…technically, he’s a first-time offender, which just means it’s the first time he’s been caught or arrested…he becomes livid.
I have a hard time coming to grips with that reality. If his lawyer is good, he could probably be out in less than six month, free to do as he pleases. I know Sam wants to win this case, but sitting in the conference room and discussing the charges being downgraded to disorderly conduct with no jail time, 120 hours of community service, and a five hundred dollar fine just doesn’t equate to the emotional shit this event has caused in my life. The slow wheels of the justice system seem pretty damn unfair.
“Ms. Willows…” Sam snaps me back to attention. “Edith, it is really important we have all the details we need to proceed.”
“I understand that, but besides my statement, there is nothing else I can tell you.”
“So there is nothing that would jeopardize your credibility on the stand if we decide to pursue this with a court trial?” Sam is looking at me with an intense expression, making me wonder what he knows about my relationship with Jack. I don’t want him to get in trouble.
Instead of verbalizing an answer, I shake my head.
“Edith, the defense is going to use whatever tactics they can to discredit you. I know you’re living in Jack’s house right now, but I just don’t know in what capacity.” Sam is kind and almost grandfatherly, but he’s still an agent of the court. My deepest fear is that Jack will be held responsible for this and everything else that’s happened.
“I won’t bring anyone else into this. If you are okay with that, great. If not, I can’t help you prosecute Daniel Munson.” On shaky legs, I stand up to leave.
Sam grabs my hand, squeezing it gently. “I want to prosecute that son of a bitch.”
I nod and clutch my purse closer to my body, as if that will protect me, and leave his office. I walk down the hall, dazed, the soft thump of my boots hitting the glossy, grey tiles. I think about calling Shelby or Aiden, reaching into my purse for my phone. When I round the corner, I bump into someone. I drop my purse, my phone falling to the floor, and the man drops his briefcase. As we bend to pick them up, I recognize him immediately, my heart freezing.
He smiles, slyly. “Well, lucky me. Edith Willows. I was just on my way to speak with the prosecutor.” Daniel’s slick lawyer, Richard Gunds, oozes his contempt as he straightens his expensive pinstriped suit. The only thing slicker are his beady eyes, and shiny head.
“I’m sorry. I need to go.” I say the words automatically as I try to shrink in on myself, wiping loose tendrils of hair from my face. Nervous, I feel sweat trickling down my back. I back away, but Mr. Gunds grabs my wrist and holds me as I try to wiggle out of his grasp. The grip is bruising, but who would believe me? I don’t see a security guard, and I’m not in the hallway with the video cameras.
“A word of advice, Ms. Willows. If the prosecutor hasn’t dropped the case before the trial begins, I’ll have to invite your scholarly boyfriend to testify.”
“Oh what grounds?” I yank my hand back roughly and cradle my wrist to my chest, rubbing the tenderness. My finger nervously slides over the screen of my phone.
“Improper relations between a student and a teacher, of course. I’d hate to see Jack Hamilton, a respected businessman in the community, have his reputation tarnished because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut and your legs closed, Ms. Willows.” He’s sadistic in his mocking. He’s probably the perfect lawyer for Daniel Munson. “Think about it. I’m sure the prosecutor will let me know.” Richard Gunds walks away, his body owning the space he occupies with an entitlement born of an asshole-ish arrogance. When I see Shelby, I’ll be sure to ask if I can borrow her voodoo doll and stick a pin in the jerk.
I wait until he turns a corner, then take a deep breath before I jog out to the parking lot and get in my car. It’s a cold day so I start up my Prius and get the heat going. However, the chill in my hands and body are more than just a reflection of the outdoor temperatures. Looking down at my phone, I see the screen has a crack across the face of it.
Fucking marble hallways.
“Shit. Can I just get a break here, universe?” Muttering into the empty car, I contemplate who to call. The car’s dashboard glows blue and says it’s only 11:15am. Shelby is substitute teaching at a middle school art program, and Jack has a meeting until 1:30. Luckily, my phone still works, so I decide to call Aiden, who is on campus in a winter session study group. Damn nerdy doctors. He hates groups of people, so he’ll probably thank me for the interruption.
Aiden answers right away. “How’d it go, karate kid?”
“Hey, that’s what Jack calls me.”
“I know. The math nerd stole it from me.” Fondly, I remember meeting Aiden in our Freshman Seminar course and him calling me that. It feels good to have these connections, instead of the shit ones swirling in my head. “And you’re deflecting, Willows. How did it go?” Aiden is logical and to the point, and I feel like I need a voice of reason to help me through this.
“Not great. Listen, can I come by campus? I need to talk.” I feel the panic rising. I know I need to get the car moving before I’m overcome with some ridiculous paralyzing fear.
“Of course. I’m in the science building.”
Hanging up, I sit in the car, letting it warm up, methodically wrapping my scarf around my wrist tightly in order to feel something, even if it’s the bite of fabric on skin. Making an impulsive decision, I call Sam, who picks up right away. “Sam Autumns.
“I can’t do this, Sam. I just can’t. You’ll have to proceed without me.”
“Edith, you know I can’t do that. The state would have to drop the charges.”
Shaking uncontrollably, I squeeze my eyes shut to fight the blackness. “Then do it.”
“This is a mistake. If you want to fight this, I’ll fight for you, but I need you on board one hundred percent.”
“No, Sam.”
“Do you want me to call Jack? I can explain it to him.”
“No. I’ve got this. I’ll tell him when I get home. Thank you for everything.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I let the tears fall. I don’t know how I will tell anyone about this. I’m hoping I can postpone everything until after Miami.
“Just…think things through. I won’t do anything until after the Christmas holiday.”
“All right. I’ll think about it.”
But my mind is already firmly and irrevocably made up as I drive towards the science hall to dump all this on Aiden.
Jack
I’ve been waiting for Edie to call me and let me know how her meeting with the a
ssistant prosecutor went this morning. I had tried to get out of my meeting so I could go with her to talk to Sam myself about other protective measures we might be able to take, but she asked me not to cancel it. She said she was working on moving forward and she needed to go alone, but now I’m kicking myself. I can’t concentrate when I’m worried about her. Checking my phone, the blank screen registers nothing. I try to tell myself that no news is good news, but I hope she calls me soon.
The phone buzzes in my hand, startling me, but it’s not Edith. “Hello. Jack Hamilton.”
“Jack, its Sam Autumns. Listen, we need to talk about the case.” Sam doesn’t sound like he’s in a good mood and dread fills me.
“I was hoping to come with Edith today, but she asked me not to. I wanted her to feel like she could do this on her own.”
“Well, that’s kind of what we need to talk about.”
“Is everything all right? I did retain our own lawyer, just in case, but–”