“We can figure out the logistics and length of the vacation as it gets closer, Sunshine,” he placates her.
Surely I don’t have to stay with them in Italy, as what I imagine will likely be a third-wheel situation, for two weeks. Plus, that’s two whole weeks where I wouldn’t get to see Dakota.
Woah. Where did that come from?Maybe some time away would do me some good.
Yeah . . . no. Not only am I highly suspicious of what’s going on in her marriage ever since Halloween, but now that I’ve gotten used to having her around and I’m getting to know her, that much time without Austen just won’t do.
7
December
Aaron is waiting for me in the foyer of our house with my black dress coat and a black sequin clutch when I’ve finished getting ready. Right, I guess I won’t wear my favorite beige, knee-length coat then.
Slowing my steps, I pause a moment to take him in. At thirty-four years old, Aaron’s once-dark hair is somehow already peppered with grays, and his lean runner’s frame is looking like he’s skipped one too many meals in favor of working through lunch. He was a third-year law student at Abbott University when I met him during the spring semester of freshman year. I used to appreciate our six-year age gap. He was more mature than the other guys I had dated—more grounded—and he knew what he wanted. I just didn’t realize that when he said he wanted me, it meant he wanted to add me to his collection of possessions.
It didn’t take long for him to propose, he even said he wanted to lock me down before I could realize I was too good for him. I naively thought that meant he knew what he had and he would always treat me like the queen he put on a pedestal while we were dating.
I wasn’t quite so off-base. He did treat me well at the beginning of our marriage. But looking back on it, we married so quickly that I didn’t wait long enough for him to show his true colors.
When he spots me approaching him, a deep frown spreads over his face. “What are you wearing?”
Smoothing my hands down the silk fabric of my floor-length, emerald green dress, I tense from the tone in his question. “D-didn’t you say it was a black tie dress code?”
“I did.”
“This is a black tie gown I got from that boutique you love in the city. The owner said it was on the list of the dresses you had pre-approved.” That’s a stretch. She said it was on the list of approved colors Aaron had given her. This specific dress, however, was not on the rack of preselected dresses he had chosen.
He scoffs. “I think I would have remembered selecting such a scandalous gown for my wife. Come,” he commands, holding his arm out for me.
I press my shaking hand in his as he guides me toward the door.
Everything is fine. See? He’s even holding my hand and letting the dress slide.
Those optimistic thoughts are quickly put to rest as soon as he shoves me in front of the floor-length mirror, the statement piece of our foyer.
My body turns rigid as Aaron stands behind me, his gaze running over my reflection in the mirror. “Do you want to know what I see when I look at you in this dress?”
I don’t. I really don’t.
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond either way. “I see a pathetic little housewife, who is so lonely and needy for attention that she’s decided to act out. What do you think the partners at my firm will think when the man they’re grooming to join them as a partner shows up with such a stupid slut on his arm?”
His words cut deep, but they are nothing he hasn’t called me before.
But what cuts deeper than his words is the harsh reality that’s reflected back at me. He may see me as those terrible things, but what I see is so much worse. I see a woman scared, tired, and desperate to escape. I see a woman battered and willing to wave the white flag. I see a woman who has become so dejected that she might just give up.
Aaron scowls. “Unfortunately, we don’t have time for you to change your dress. Being late is an even bigger sin than dressing like an escort.” He roughly shoves my coat at me before opening the door for himself, not bothering to lock up or walk with me on the slick cement that leads to the town car waiting for us in the driveway.
One more week. That’s all. And then I’m free.
I’m not sure how in the hell I didn’t notice it before. Of course, Carson’s father, the man in an expensive black tuxedo smiling next to his mother, is one of the founding partners of Procter & Wilder LLP. The very law firm where my husband is a senior associate. The same firm where one of the partners is set to retire in the next year. And the same firm that is hosting this very swanky end-of-the-year celebration on New Year’s Eve.
Shit, this is so bad.
I’ve met Carson and McKenna’s mom a few times, and I met their father at Carson’s first hockey game. But up until this moment, I hadn’t pieced together that their father was also the very man whom my husband plans to take over for when he retires. Carson doesn’t know Aaron works for his father’s firm, and he can’t find out. He saw the cracks in my facade on Halloween, and he’s been paying far too close attention to me since then.
I need to get out of here.
Excusing myself to the lady’s room, I turn and take a few steps before I run right into a very broad chest. His black, velvet tuxedo jacket smells like notes of a spicy cologne I’ve become far too familiar with lately.
