Page 7 of Dr. Brandt
Maybe he’s right. Maybe my hormones are fucked up, and that’s why I’m not that into sex or intimacy with him anymore.
He had to be correct. I loved Warren, and I knew how lucky I was to have him. Any one of the rich ladies at the gala tonight would’ve given their last fur coat to be with him. His dark blonde hair, muscular body, and soft jade eyes should’ve been enough to revive how I felt about this man during our first year together. Now, it was as if my body didn’t have any fucking hormones at all.
I felt his hand slide under my dress, his fingers going to the spot that should’ve made me melt like butter while his teeth nipped at my lips, aggressively and seductively working to bring me under his sexual control. But he wasn’t turning me on. In fact, I was fighting the urge to pull his hand away so I could get the fuck out of this room and to the party already.
Fake it to make it, I told myself, wanting to get this over with. It was either now or later when I was exhausted from the party. Might as well wrap it up now, so I could fall into bed after we got home tonight. Warren would be satiated since he hadn’t gotten a piece of ass in the week Jackson had been in Seattle at my parents’ house.
I hated that I felt this way, but I guess I should’ve been grateful that it was the only issue in this relationship—a relationship that I seemed to be forcing myself to be a part of since I saw Cameron again.
“Jessica, you look ravishing, glowing actually,” Francis said, tipping a flute of champagne to her lips. “How’s that handsome son of yours doing? He’s in a private school now, correct?”
I looked at Warren’s coworker’s wife and grinned. “Actually, no. He’s not in a private school. He—”
“Good lord, Jessica,” Stevie said, another one of the wealthy ladies, as she snatched my arm, damn-near shouting for the entire room to hear. “We don’t use the word public school in this circle.”
I plastered on my best smile. I only had to tolerate these women at these particular gatherings. I always felt like I was suffocating by the end of them, unable to open up like I would around my friends. I was fake when these people surrounded me because their judgment knew no bounds, and I hated it.
“We don’t?” I spoke.
The other ladies stared at me like I’d grown a second nose. “No,” said another woman I hardly knew. “I’m shocked that Warren would allow that. While your son might have some issues, you two can afford to—”
I leveled the woman with an expression to match my rising anger. “Why don’t we get off the topic of where Warren and I choose to send our son to school? I’m not going to listen to anyone tell me where I should send my son—with all of his issues—to school. Jackson is playing football again. The team loves him, and he’s a huge asset to them.”
“Jessica, darling,” Francis said, her silver hair shimmering under the room’s lights. “No one is attacking you. It’s just that everyone here knows that private school is better for advancements in college and careers and such.”
“While I can appreciate all your humble opinions on what’s good for my son and what’s not, Jackson is happy where he’s at. That’s all that matters. He’s thriving in education as well as in sports.”
“Well, then, we’re wrong,” another woman said. Her black hair was pulled back tightly, showcasing what must’ve been a hundred-thousand dollars’ worth of Harry Winston diamonds. “Ladies,” she eyed the group while her blush lips pulled up coyly on one side, “I’m sure there are better conversations to have over champagne than talking about public schools, private schools, and Jessica’s son.”
“Indeed,” Stevie spat out in defeat.
These women and I were different breeds. We came from entirely different worlds, and it seemed like they could sniff me out instantly, no matter how expensive my gown or elaborate my jewelry was. They weren’t the type to embrace people from different backgrounds, and the pretentiousness made me uncomfortable.
What the hell time was it anyway? It felt like it had been hours since we arrived. Awards had been handed out, leaders of divisions were recognized, dinner had concluded, and now, this conversation had gone on for too long.
I rubbed my forehead, feeling my palms grow clammy. Thoughts of Cameron and my feelings for Warren rushed around in my head. I needed air. I wanted out of this fancy hotel and would gladly welcome the noise of New York City’s streets.
In a rush to get outside, uncertain if I was falling apart for no reason, I moved briskly out of the room, down the grand staircase, and out the main entrance of the hotel.
“Madam, is there a—”
“No, no,” I raised my hand at the valet, cutting him off. “Just coming out for some fresh air. No need to call for the car.”
This was the most foreign invasion of emotions I’d ever experienced. Damn you, Cameron Brandt. You had to be at that resort, didn’t you? I was just fine before I was reunited with you, of all the people in this world.
I felt a tear slip out of the corner of my eye. On top of everything, the women inside reminded me of how lonely I was. I’d spent a fantastic week with old friends from Seattle at the resort; now, I was back in Manhattan. Moving to New York for Warren’s promotion had taken me away from my friends, and on a night like tonight, I wished I could be with any one of them instead of being here.
I needed to knock it off. For God's sake, Warren and I were getting married—well, once I finally settled on a wedding date. So why was I feeling like some emotionally broken woman suddenly? Fuck this noise in my head. I had a son to think about and a decent man in my life. And yet, here I was, leaning against a brick building, hidden in an alley, watching the steam cover the dark road. I watched as it rolled and crept like a ghost blanketing the ground.
“No, I’m not going down this road,” I said aloud. “Jackson loves his school. I was all about supporting Warren’s career move to come here, and now I’m having an emotional crisis because I saw Cam? No way.”
I stood up straight.
I was fine. More than anything, I was ready to see Jackson again. Only two more days before my parents would fly him home from Seattle, then everything would feel normal again.
Chapter Four
Cameron
