I Do, Maybe: A Novella

Home > Other > I Do, Maybe: A Novella > Page 18
I Do, Maybe: A Novella Page 18

by Jay, Libby


  “He’s my boyfriend, I live with him. He knows I’m lonely if I’m not with him.”

  “Emily.” Kat’s head appeared out from the change room door. “Don’t depend on him for a social life. Make your own life.”

  “I do, I have. But the problem is my most favourite girl lives a thousand miles away and the only other person who tolerates me is my cousin who is more like a brother to me and is a right pain in the arse ninety percent of the time. So I sort of have no choice but to depend on Fraser for a social life. And he gives me a damn good social life. A damn good life full stop. I’m lucky to have him.”

  “He’s lucky to have you, Em. Don’t forget that.”

  My phone rang from my bag. “It’s John,” I groaned. “Hi John.”

  “Hey, are you coming out with me New Years or what?”

  I closed my eyes. “Or what,” I answered.

  “Em, it’s your first New Years as an adult, you can’t sit around at home on your own.”

  “I won’t,’ I said. “I’ll let you know.”

  “I need to know by tomorrow midday.”

  “I know. I’ll let you know.”

  “You put your entire teen years on the back burner for him…”

  “I know, John.”

  “And I never see you anymore.” His voice started to rise.

  “We do see each other…”

  “We don’t and when are you going to visit your mum, she’s at our house every night, crying…”

  “I’ll call her when I’m ready. It’s none of your business anyway.”

  “Don’t forget who your real family are, Em. We love you unconditionally, no paperwork or signatures required.”

  “John, it’s not like that.”

  “Whatever, call me.” He ended the call.

  I grunted and put the phone back into my bag.

  “He has a point,” Kat said.

  “And what point is that?” I still had to be careful what I said around Kat. She didn’t know about the business side of my relationship with Fraser. John did, thanks to Mum blurting it out to Aunty Bree over three too many glasses of wine.

  “I don’t know, but he can’t be as wrong as you are.” She stepped out of the change room. The dark purple one was definitely a keeper. It hugged her tiny body perfectly before it flowed into a cascading frilly skirt, hemmed in a lighter purple.

  We smiled at each other; she’d found her dress. All she needed now was shoes.

  Three hours later, Kat was all set to go to the ball. Greg was driving us back to her hotel to drop her off.

  My phone rang. “Hey Fraser.”

  Kat looked at me with stern eyes, she mouthed ‘no, no, no,’ at me.

  “Em, I’m such an idiot, I can’t believe I forgot all about it, but my mum has a gala…”

  I stopped him short. “I’d love to come with you.”

  Kat shook her head at me and rolled her eyes.

  “What? Come where?”

  “Aren’t you asking me to the Gala on New Year?”

  “Yes, but how do you know about it?”

  “Kat. Kat goes every year.”

  He groaned loudly. “I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry, but I completely forgot about it. Mum usually reminds me, and she did, just now but, well, I never usually take anyone with me. But I really want you to come with me, as my date.”

  I laughed. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were nervous about asking me to be your date.”

  “I am. I should’ve asked you about this weeks ago. But I forgot. I forget every year.”

  “It’s okay, and I’d love to come as your date.”

  Kat hit my leg. “Weak,” she whispered.

  “Thanks Piglet. I’m really sorry.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll see you soon. We’re about to drop Kat off and then I’ll be home.”

  “Okay, see you soon.”

  I put my phone into my bag. “Kat, what are you doing tomorrow?”

  Kat sighed. “I’m going dress shopping with my best friend in the whole wide world.”

  I leant across and kissed her cheek. “You’re the best.”

  “I know.”

  Because Kat had a lot more experience dealing with the stuffy women who worked in the exclusive boutiques, she rang the same store and made another appointment so we could shop alone. She also organised for a hair and make-up artists to come to me.

  After finding a dress, shoes, jewellery and a dozen phone calls to Fraser to ask that my spending wasn’t over the top (the dress alone cost $4,385) we stopped at the gardens, grabbed a fruit smoothie and soaked up the afternoon sun.

  Kat’s family were leaving Melbourne the day after New Year’s Day to head to Europe for a winter holiday. She was telling me all about her plans to ski and meet mysterious men when a mysterious man approached us.

  “Hi, I’m Dean from Star magazine,” he said with a smile. He put his hand out toward us.

  Kat and I both quickly stood up. I looked around for Greg but he was gone.

  “Hey, can you answer a few questions for me. I’d really appreciate it.” He put his hand out toward my shoulder.

  “We have to go,” I said firmly.

  “Oh come on, just a few questions.” He stood in front of us, his hands out to the sides.

  “No, I have nothing to say.”

  “That’s because I haven’t asked you questions yet.”

  “Get lost buddy,” Kat said, pushing past him.

  “Emily, is it true that the Lewis’ marriages are all arranged?”

  I tried to walk past him but he grabbed onto my hand.

  “Let me go,” I yelled.

  “Hey, no harm intended, I just want to ask…”

  “I’m not answering any of your questions.” I grabbed onto his arm and pushed it away.

  Then he stepped toward me. I looked up at him, glaring and stepped back. He tilted his head down. “I’m onto you. I know a friend of Charlotte’s and she’s been telling some interesting stories.”

  I lifted my hands to his chest and pushed him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He laughed and stepped to the side. “I’ll be seeing you around Emily.”

  Kat and I quickly walked back toward the car, where Greg stood talking on the phone.

  “Where have you been?” I said more forcefully than intended.

  He frowned at me and ended the call. “I needed to make a call,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “No, Greg, we’re not okay. We just got harassed by some idiot gossip reporter and you were nowhere to be seen.”

  “I’m sorry, Emily, but…”

  “Just take us home.” I said, still upset and scared.

  “Sure Emily, and again I’m really sorry.”

  I stood at the stove stirring some vegetables into a frypan. I was making a beef stir fry, it was really too hot to be cooking but I had found a fondness for it and it turned out I wasn’t such a bad cook.

  My phone rang. It was Fraser. “Hey,” I answered.

  “Where are you?” he asked. His voice was tense.

  “I’m at home. I’m making…”

  The line went dead.

  I went back to making our dinner.

  Fifteen minutes later the door swung open and closed with a bang.

  “Emily!” Fraser yelled. I heard him walking toward the kitchen.

  “I’m back here,” I called out. “What’s wrong?” I turned the stove off and moved toward the entry to the kitchen.

  “Maybe you can tell me that.” He slammed his iPad down on the bench. “Care to explain those pictures?” He was angry, his jaw clenched, his eyes wide and his breath shallow.

  I looked down at the screen. My mouth fell open at the sight.

  It was a photo of me and the reporter, it looked like we were kissing; his head tilted down to mine, my hands on his chest.

  “No, Fraser. These photos have been shopped. That’s not what happened.”

  “Who is he?” Fraser
asked.

  “I don’t know. Kat and I…”

  Fraser stepped forward and grabbed onto my arm, above my elbow. “Who is he?” he yelled.

  “He’s a reporter from a gossip magazine. Umm…” In my fear I couldn’t recall his name or the name of the magazine.

  “How long have you been seeing him?”

  Like a punch to my stomach, the wind left me at his accusation. “Fraser I’m not seeing him.”

  His grip tightened on my arm. “That’s not what the pictures are telling me.” He scanned to the next picture, the reporter and I standing close together, holding hands. The next one was of him laughing, while I smiled up at him.

  “Fraser,” I looked up at him. “These photos have been edited. Ask Kat. She was right there.” I pointed to the screen where Kat had been removed from the scene.

  “Don’t lie to me,” he yelled again.

  “I’m not lying to you,” I yelled back. I tried to pull free from his grip but it held me tighter. “Fraser you’re hurting me,” I said as tears came to my eyes.

  He looked down to where he had a hold of my arm, his knuckles white and let go. He started to walk toward the front door.

  I rubbed my arm as I followed him. “Fraser, please. Call Kat. Please. It’s not what it looks like. I was trying to push him away.”

  “Why were you touching him at all?”

  “Because he was trying to touch me,” I said quietly.

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Fraser…” And he was gone.

  I stood frozen in fear staring at the front door for I don’t know how long. When I tried to call Fraser, his phone rang to message bank. I left dozens of messages asking him to call me or to come home and that I loved him. I sat alone in the living room, looking toward the front entry until the sky darkened and I couldn’t fight my fatigue anymore. I curled up on the couch and fell to sleep.

  I woke up to being softly jostled. Someone’s hands were on me.

  “No, no,” I said, pushing the hands away.

  “It’s okay, it’s me,” I heard Fraser whisper.

  “Fraser. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I know Piglet, I’m sorry.”

  He carried me upstairs and put me into bed. He climbed in next to me and held me. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing my head. “I’m so sorry.”

  I turned in his arms and faced him. I kissed his lips. “Where have you been?”

  “With my lawyer and the publicist and I spoke to Kat and Greg. The photos were shopped. I’m so sorry Piglet. I couldn’t think straight when I saw those pictures.”

  “I would never cheat on you Fraser.”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” His voice was desperate.

  I lifted my head to kiss him softly, but he pushed his lips against me with force.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over until his apologies became lost in our moans of pleasure.

  *****

  Fraser kissed me softly as my eyes opened. “Good morning,” he smiled down at me.

  With last night’s misunderstanding forgiven, I smiled back. “Good morning.”

  “I have to work today, but I’ll be back at six. We have to leave by six thirty. You’ll be ready?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be ready.” I rubbed my eyes.

  “Okay.” He leant down and kissed me again. “Are you going out today?”

  “No, I’m staying here, the hair and make-up artist will be here at three, and I’m just going to rest.”

  “Okay, good. I’ll see you later.”

  “Bye.”

  Once Fraser had left, I made my way to the wardrobe. I pulled out my running gear and threw it onto the bed before I went into the bathroom.

  Fraser had a small gym set up next to the garage, I ran on the treadmill on the days Fraser didn’t run. He didn’t have a pool though, and I missed my evening swims. I’d been on my own a few times to the Lewis’ but it felt weird being there without Fraser.

  Especially the last time I was there. I overheard Mr and Mrs Lewis arguing over the fact that Fraser and I were living together.

  “They’re not supposed to live together before they’re married. It complicates the legal side of things,” Mr Fraser had said.

  After hearing that, I decided to keep my visits to their house minimal.

  It wasn’t until I was standing in front of the mirror that I saw it, my mouth fell open and my eyes opened in shock.

  “Oh my goodness,” I whispered. My arm, where Fraser had grabbed me, was purple with bruises. A dark, dark purple. I couldn’t let Fraser see it. I couldn’t let anyone see it.

  I pulled out my make up kit and found my foundation. I smeared layer upon layer of make up onto it, but couldn’t hide it. I cursed under my breath. What was I going to do? The gala was in less than twelve hours. It wasn’t going to fade before then. And I couldn’t buy another dress, the one I had cost a fortune and I didn’t remember seeing any dresses with long sleeves. Besides, it was forecast to get into the high thirties temperature wise, with a warm night, so I didn’t want to wear long sleeves. I’d be a sweaty mess before we even got to the gala.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed and looked down at my bruised arm. Maybe I could fake illness; period pain or a headache, a migraine. But I’m pretty sure I’d never complained of those things before and Fraser would get suspicious. And I really wanted to go with Fraser to the gala.

  Then it came to me, one of the mannequins in the store wore a dress similar to mine with long armed gloves. I might get away with wearing gloves.

  I quickly called Greg, telling him I needed a ride back to the dress shop and to pick me up in an hour.

  I showered and dressed; wearing a three quarter length sleeved top and after a quick breakfast, ran out to meet Greg.

  The shop was still closed when we got there, but Greg got a car park right out the front. And as soon as the stuffy sales woman opened the store, I jumped out of the car and went into the store.

  “Need another dress?” she asked when she saw me.

  “No, I would like some of those gloves,” I answered, pointing to the mannequin.

  “Darling, your dress doesn’t need gloves. It’s perfect on its own.”

  “I need the gloves,” I said firmly. “Please,” I added softening my tone.

  She rolled her eyes at me and went behind the counter, where she produced a packet of white gloves.

  “Thank you,” I said. After trying them on, in the change room, which resulted in more strange looks, I purchased the overpriced gloves and went back out to the car.

  “Home please, Greg.” I was exhausted, and it was only nine thirty.

  Fraser looked a million bucks in his black tuxedo. But I looked a billion bucks. I couldn’t stop smiling at my reflection. My dress was deep blue silk, a halter neck line which accentuated my small bust. A wide diamond encrusted belt bought the dress in under my breasts and from there the blue skirt fell elegantly to the floor.

  With minimal makeup, my hair fell in soft curls down my back, showing my diamond drop earrings.

  I pulled my gloves on, Fraser still hadn’t seen the bruise and I had no intention of letting him see it until after the gala. If I could I would’ve hidden it from him forever; he’d hate himself for hurting me.

  “Piglet, are you ready to go?” he called from downstairs.

  “Yeah, I’m coming down now.”

  I picked up my small clutch and made my way down stairs.

  Fraser stood waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. His smiled widened the instant he saw me.

  “Emily, you look amazing.” He held his hand out to me as I took the last few steps. Once I was on flat ground, he pulled me into him and kissed me. “You are so beautiful,” he said looking down into my eyes.

  I could only smile back up at him.

  “What’s with the gloves, it’s warm out.”

  “I know, but they look good with the dress.”

  “You look gor
geous, but I like to see more of your smooth skin.”

  “Later,” I whispered my promise.

  His hand took hold of my arm, where he’d grabbed me the day before. I flinched at the touch, the tender skin aching.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I smiled up at him.

  He looked down to where he had a gentle hold of my arm. His brow burrowed as he looked at me then back to my arm.

  “Em, did I hurt you?” he asked.

  I shook my head. His fingers moved to the top of the glove and he tucked his fingers into the material between my skin, and pulled down.

  I couldn’t look at him.

  The word that came out of his mouth made me flinch. “Emily, did I do that?”

  “You were upset, it’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay.” He pointed to my arm. “That is not okay. I hurt you.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I…” He let go of a deep breath. “I’m so sorry Em. I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “I know, I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “Were you going to tell me?”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t hide it forever.”

  “You should’ve told me. I’m so sorry.” He pulled me into his embrace again. “I’m such a stuff up.”

  “You’re not Fraser.” I reached up and kissed him. “You didn’t hurt me, okay.” I pulled my glove up my arm, hiding the bruise. “I don’t want this to ruin our night. Forget about it, okay?”

  He shook his head but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to forget it.

  He gripped my hand tightly as we walked the red carpet. Reporters asked questions about the newly published photos but Fraser didn’t stop to defend them. Neither did I. We smiled for the photographers and made our way toward the entry.

  Once inside, he didn’t let me out of his reach. His protective behaviour let me know just how sorry he was. He introduced me to celebrities, most of whom I recognised, and businessmen, none of which I recognised. My eyes kept scanning the room for Kat. I hoped to be seated at the same table, but I knew deep down the Lewis’ would all be seated at the same table.

  Fraser handed me a second glass of champagne.

  “I think the bubbles are going to my head,” I said quietly.

  “You need to eat something.” He got the attention of one of the waiters and handed me a small savoury, it was delicious, salmon and cream cheese and capers and dill. I thought about stalking the waiter all night.

 

‹ Prev