Chapter 29
Thalia
CAREY’S BEACH HOUSE was beautiful. Unlike the oppressive MacMansions that littered this area, Carey’s was a neat, dutch colonial style, four bedroomed house that, while not small by any measure, was not overly large and grandiose. It was between a white sandy beach at the back and a green, well-manicured lawn. No wonder he spent most of his weekends here. I would never leave if I were him. And for a sailor, I have to imagine this was the perfect house to live in. The interior was all him. It had the regular beach house style one would expect, but there was also an understated elegance to the deco and a sharpness that reminded me of Carey. I wondered if Gemma had a hand in styling it. She was an interior decorator after all.
Mae and Arther had the same view as I. They were awed by the house and loved everything about it. As Carey led them to their room, I went to ours and almost got lost on my way there. I have only been here a few times, and that was a while ago. Before we got married.
I would love to raise our children here. He had whispered after we serenaded the house. Two. Maybe three. However many you want , I almost said until I remembered what our marriage was going to be like. I cast the memory to the recesses of my mind where it belongs and entered the master bedroom. My heart clenched at the sight of the white four-poster bed and the blue and yellow bed linen. His favorite colors. Does he whisper the same sweet nothings to Gemma? Telling her how many kids he wants to have with her when he finally leaves his gold-digging wife?
“You’re going to have to put away your own clothes.” Startled, the bag I was holding thudded to the floor as I turned to see Carey standing by the doorway. “There’s only two people, a cleaner and a chef. There aren’t going to be any staff to put away your things.”
“Of course. I was just…” Tell him I was thinking of the things he does to his mistress on that bed? I still had some pride left in me. “I was wondering about the sleeping arrangements.”
He entered the room and closed the door behind him. “We sleep on the bed. It’s big enough for the both of us.” He was right. It was king size. And yet. Another twisted vision of Gemma and Carey tangled on in sheets flashed through my mind and I shook my head. “It’s fine.” I gestured to the couch opposite the bed. "I’ll sleep there."
“Can we be adults about this? There’s no way in hell I am touching you.” His gaze raked over my body as though undressing the jeans and blouse I was wearing and finding it wanting, “Asleep or otherwise.”
My cheeks heated. “Did you change the sheets at least?”
The subtle implication was not lost on him. His eyes narrowed. “The sheets get changed every time I come here.”
I picked up my bag. “Good. I wouldn’t want to catch whatever someone else left there,” and marched to the closet. There were only his clothes in there, I noticed. Nothing of any other woman, and that included the bathroom as well. The only toiletries were his, and that included everything from the toothbrush next to the sink to the hair oil in the medicine cabinet. He did a good job of removing any trace of anyone staying here except himself. That was some kindness, I guess. Say what you will about my husband. He was discreet.
I took a shower after I was done putting away my stuff, changed into a breezy dress, and joined the rest of the company on the terrace. Mae and Arther were sitting on the lounge chairs, a glass of tequila sunrise in each of their hands, while Carey leaned on the porch rail with a cocktail of his own. He was facing the French doors and was the first to notice me. With the setting sun and the purple waves behind him, he looked like a romantic hero of a small town beach romance. His eyes gleamed, and he smiled, waving me over to his side. My heart stuttered. His charm was undeniable. After five years of playing the loving husband, he had gotten so good at the game that sometimes it made me think it was all real. I took a deep a breath and strolled to over to him. He wrapped his arm around my waist and whispered, “you smell so good,” before kissing my nape. I doubt Mae and Arther heard a word he said, but it was an act good enough for Mae. “Young love,” she sighed. “I was just telling your husband how Arther and I met,” she chuckled, “It was not as romantic as your own meet cute.” Even though her English was excellent, her Greek accent was still thick and emphasised every ‘r.’
“I was in London doing some modeling work for this small and up coming designer…” I was sure I heard this story before, but we all indulged her while Arther filled in a few gaps in the story here and there. “He was still skinny English boy back then, skinnier than Mick Jagger, and hadn’t put on the weight.”
Arther let out a hearty chuckle. “I blame your cooking.”
Carey nudged his drink to my lips, and I tipped my head forward and took a sip. It was delicious. “Want some?” he asked. I nodded. He raised the glass to the chef indoors, who nodded and retreated to the kitchen. It’s all pretend, I reminded myself when he gave me another sip of his drink. My skin tingled where his hand rested and I cursed myself for picking a dress with cutouts at the waist. His scent wafted into my nostrils, making me want to lean against his chest and let him envelop me. It was only when the chef came with my drink did I realize how much I had pressed myself against him. Practically plastered my entire body against him as I listened to Mae and Arther speak.
I stepped a little to the side as I received the drink, but Carey immediately pulled me back to him. Shocked, I turned to him, but his attention was on Mae. It must have been instinctual. Mae finished her story, then her gaze jumped from Arther to Carey and I. The corner of her eyes wrinkled when she smiled. “Listen to me yapping about our story, but I have just realized you two never told us how you met.” Carey and I turned to each other. “We’ve always known each other,” Carey said, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Or at least that’s how it felt like,” I said. It was almost like a well-rehearsed play. We both knew our lines. When to jump in and when to let the other talk. We’ve never sat down to discuss it, but we’ve naturally gravitated to one story over the years.
“Her father worked for us and would drive me to school. And since her school was on my route, she would tag along.” He rubbed my waist. A move that was meant to be affectionate but almost made me jump with the electric shock that ran down my body. “I had a huge crush on her back then, but I was a dumb teenager who couldn’t voice his affections without stammering.”
I playfully ribbed him in the gut. “Liar. I was the one who had the crush. Every time I would look at him, I got tongue-tied. I would look forward to those early morning rides and hate them the same.”
Arther and Mae chuckled. “I know exactly what you mean,” Mae said.
“Okay, fine,” Carey said his line. “We both had a crush on each other. We drifted apart over time with college and work and then one day, guess who shows up at my birthday party?” No one else except me heard the acerbic tone in his voice when he said, “guess who shows up.” We had changed the party from a work event to a birthday party to make it more romantic. Carey then added the final line that makes every woman listening swoon. “The best birthday present I have ever received.”
The line got Mae too, who clutched her chest. “Awww.”
I pressed my hand into chest and gazed into his eyes like a lovesick fool. “A friend of mine invited me. I didn’t know I was going to meet the love of my life again.” That was the most convincing way I’ve ever said the line.
Mae sniffed. “I am a sucker for childhood sweethearts.”
“She’s a romantic at heart, my wife,” Arther said. “Are you thinking of having kids anytime soon? You must hurry. You think you have all the time in the world then whoops you’re forty and you have a hard time getting it up no matter how hot she looks.”
I felt Carey’s grip tighten, only to loosen in a split second. He seemed to have frozen, so I answered. “We are thinking about it.”
Mae ribbed Arther in his big belly, who gave another hearty chuckle. “Not to put you two on the spot. I know kids these days don’t want to rush it like we did back in the day. All I’m saying is we spent all our energy on building a company instead of focusing on the real stuff. Life. Family.”
Mae nodded. “Our son is going to college next year. Can you believe it at our old ages going around looking for colleges? Do not recommend.”
The sun was almost on its way to fully set and the sky had gone from amber to blue and purple. The terrace was feeling a bit chilly and Carey suggested we head inside. Mae staggered forward and almost lost her balance if it weren’t for Carey who caught her arm. She giggled like a schoolgirl and apologized for her drunkenness. “Lightweight,” muttered Arther, but he too stumbled as he was getting up. They both held onto each other as they shuffled into the house, leaving Carey and I to follow.
“I like them,” I said to Carey.
Carey thrust his hands into his pocket. “Looks like it won’t be that hard to convince them to sell. They want to spend their money and not be burdened by business.”
“That’s good, right?”
He shrugged. “As long as we don’t have to live this farce for a day longer.”
I scoffed. “You make it sound as though I forced you into this marriage when you could have simply not married me when you found out.”
He took hold of my chin. “Artifice doesn’t suit you.You know what my father was like.” Carey's eyes sparkled in the low light. His breath hot on my cheeks. His head drooped and my center clenched as I waited for his kiss. My eyes fluttered and just as I was about to close them, he dropped my chin like it was hot coal and left me standing alone on the terrace.