9. Daphne
Very bad things…
The words permeate my thoughts for days. I find my gaze drifting when I do dishes, when I’m on the train, while I’m grocery shopping. It’s like my head is a balloon, floating above my body.
I haven’t felt a fire like that in my veins since… forever actually. Guilt creeps back in at the realization. The relationship I had with Carson grew from friendship and trust; it didn’t start out with lust or desire. It transformed over time into love and passion, but it was vanilla and I was more than okay with that. What Carson offered me was different, it was what I needed. Love, loyalty, honesty, and security.
What Weston offers me—is lust, desire, the kind of sinfully good temptation that we both know we shouldn’t give in to. Then again, I don’t think he’s actually offering it. He made it clear that he wants me but also said that’s why he couldn’t stay. Maybe this is just a game to him, his song and dance of seduction. To kiss me, make me feel what he could give me for a night? A long weekend on his yacht in the Bahamas? Until he’s bored with me and on to the next?
I’ve never even entertained the idea of a fling. Xana tried to encourage me a few times over the last year to try it out. To just have fun and let loose but that’s never been my style. I crave connection; I long for intimacy rather than just sex. That’s why it never bothered me that my sex life with Carson wasn’t fireworks and exciting new positions. It was reliable and fairly consistent, and while I didn’t get off very often, he made me feel so loved. He would make sure that even if I couldn’t finish with sex, I got there some other way.
Thoughts of taking Mr. Vaughn up on the offer to accompany his family on their long weekend on his yacht continuously plague me. “It’s a dumb idea,” I say to myself over and over but I’m not sure I’m convincing myself. The reality is I want to go; I want to know what very bad things he wants to do to me, and I want to experience them.
I drill my fingers on my desk as my students gather their things and prepare to leave for the weekend.
“Hello, Mrs. Vaughn.” I smile and wave as she approaches my desk.
“Regina dear, call me Regina. My son tells me you’re going to be joining us on his yacht next weekend.”
“Oh.” I stare at her for a second. “Um, well, I didn’t realize it was decided yet but yes, he did extend an offer.”
She smiles, looking back at Daisy who is talking animatedly to one of her friends. “I can’t tell you how excited Daisy will be when she finds out. She talks about you nonstop, you know?”
“That’s very sweet of her. She is a wonderful little girl and an absolute pleasure to teach.” I’m worried that I’m now obligated to go on this trip… not that I would be terribly upset. “Did you or Mr. Vaughn tell Daisy yet?”
“Oh no, dear, I think that he wants it to be a surprise for her. He gave me strict instructions not to tell her yet. I think it will be wonderful for her to have a young woman who is engaging with her. I know her recent nanny did a fine job, but she just didn’t connect with her the way you do.” I look over at Daisy, my heart melting a little. Something about that little girl tugs at me. “Plus, I think it would do my son some good to see Daisy fully enjoying herself. Ever since his wife passed, he’s become much more reclusive, consumed by work. I think it bothers him that Daisy doesn’t have any siblings to play with on these family trips, not even a mother to engage with. No pressure though, darling. I look forward to seeing you.”
My chest feels tight, stress making it hard to swallow for a second. That’s a lot of pressure to live up to. “Uh, Regina?” She turns back around. “I don’t want to confuse Daisy about who I am in her life.”
She gives me an understanding look. “I know, dear, and Weston doesn’t want that either. But having a figure like you in her life, even if it’s only for this school year will do more for her than you realize. Do you have a favorite teacher who impacted your life? One you look back on fondly?”
“I do actually. Mrs. Knight. She was my fourth-grade teacher. I even went to her funeral when she passed a few years ago and kept in contact with her children.” She gives me a reassuring smile and I realize that she’s right. This doesn’t have to be anything more than it is, a chance to give a little girl some happiness and make a positive impact on her life.
* * *
“What is with you lately?”
“Hmm?” I turn to Xana as I run my fingers over the silky belt of a bathrobe.
“Seriously, girl, what has gotten into you? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in loooove,” she jokes and I can’t help but laugh, my cheeks growing warm.
“Definitely not in love. No, I think I’m just really happy with life right now. Work is great. The weather has been fantastic.” I pick up the robe and check the price tag before putting it back. “This store is outrageous.”
“I know. It’s fun to look though.”
We walk through the outdoor mall, mostly window-shopping, but I’m also on a secret mission to find a bathing suit and some updated vacation wear… if I can find it this late in the summer.
“What do you think of this?” I hold up a white linen dress. The capped sleeves are small ruffles, and pearl buttons adorn the front all the way down to just above the knee where it parts into a slit.
“Super cute. Might be a little cold going into fall.”
“What about for vacation though?”
“Yeah, for sure. You could even wear it as a cover-up if you go someplace warm.”
“That’s what I was thinking. Now I just need to find a swimsuit,” I mutter half under my breath as I glance around the store for the end of season clearance section.
“Swimsuit? Where are you jetting off—wait, oh my God, are you going?”
“Going where?” I play dumb, running my hand over the small selection of remaining swimsuits.
“Daphne Jane Flowers.”
“Don’t full name me,” I tease as I pull a white swimsuit from the rack and hold it up against myself.
“Look at me.” I glance up at her. “Are you going to the Bahamas?”
“Yes, maybe, I don’t know.” I shake my head, putting the swimsuit back. “Ugh, I don’t know what to do.”
“What do you mean? I thought you had made up your mind you weren’t going?”
“I did but now I’m second-guessing it. I mean, a free luxury vacation where I’m also getting paid probably some ungodly amount of money to sometimes babysit? Plus, I love hanging out with Daisy so it’s not like it would really be considered work.I’d be stupid not to, right?”
“I think you would be, but then again, you were the one who was wildly offended that he would make such an offer. Where did this come from?”
“He didn’t offer, he demanded; that’s why I was frustrated. I didn’t appreciate his arrogance, like just because he has money he can tell me what to do. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. His mother told me when she picked up Daisy yesterday that she was so happy I was coming on the trip and that Daisy would be thrilled.”
“Wait, so he told his daughter and family you’re coming when you specifically told him you aren’t? That’s kind of a shitty position to put you in.”
“Yeah, well, I guess he hasn’t told Daisy yet; he wants it to be a surprise which tells me he won’t tell her unless I actually do show up. Maybe his mom misheard what he said; maybe he told her that he invited me and I just hadn’t decided yet. I’m not sure. Either way, I think he’s trying to get to me, having his mother convince me to come.”
“Do you actually want to go or do you feel obligated now, like you’re letting Daisy down if you don’t?”
“At first yeah, but I know that she doesn’t have her hopes up since she has no idea I’ve been invited. Now, I think I really do want to go.” I chew my bottom lip, the memory of Weston’s tongue slowly slipping past it rushing back.
“Hmm, any other reason you suddenly want to go?” Xana eyes me suspiciously. If there’s one thing she’s never wrong about it, it’s reading people, mainly me.
“Sooo about that,” and before I can finish the sentence, she gasps. “Calm down.” I laugh. “Help me find a swimsuit or two and when we go to lunch, I’ll tell you about something that’s transpired.”
* * *
“He wantsto do bad things to you? Oh. My. Gosh.” She leans across the table, her eyes as big as saucers before grabbing her napkin to fan herself.
“Very bad things,” I correct her slowly.
“That has to be the hottest thing I have ever heard.” She takes a sip of her ice water. “Hot damn. Very bad things?” She giggles. “I’m going to make Ryan say that to me.”
“Yeah, it was shocking to say the least.”
“So he kissed you, told you that, and then what?”
“He left.”
“You let him leave?” Her eyebrows shoot upward. “Girl, I would have climbed that man like a tree. No way he’d get out of my death grip.”
“I was stunned and honestly this is where I’m left confused. Did he say that to tease me or does he seriously not want to cross that line?”
“He clearly wants to. He’s trying to tease you, seduce you. But that’s actually so much hotter than just hooking up. That’s the thing about older men—they don’t feel this need to just bed you and bail like the twenty-somethings our own age do. It’s an art to them at this point, especially the rich ones.”
“And you know this how?”
“You remember Mr. Daniels when we were in college—that rich guy who always came into the coffee shop I worked at?”
“Oh right, Trent Daniels’ dad. Yeah, I remember him.” I laugh, recalling that when Trent, one of our friend of a friend acquaintances found out that Xana went out with his dad, he almost lost his shit. “I thought you only hooked up with him like once?”
“It was a few times, but the point is, he wined and dined me. He took his time flirting, took me dancing and out to fancy dinners. It was so much nicer than being tossed a beer at a frat party with a ‘you wanna, like, see my room or whatever?’ line and then getting berated if I said no.”
“So why didn’t it become something more with Mr. Daniels?”
“Well, that’s the great thing about older rich men like him and Mr. Vaughn. They aren’t looking for long term because they don’t need it. It’s like Leo DiCaprio; he can have a new girl any night of the week so why settle down?”
“Sounds kind of icky actually.” I scrunch up my face, thinking about Weston turning around and doing this to the next younger woman who crosses his path.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that Mr. Vaughn is doing that. I’m just saying in general. I mean, neither of us saw him being a man-whore in any of the paparazzi photos we found online. Seems like he’s actually kept a low profile since his wife passed away.”
My stomach churns a little thinking about the headline I saw of him with the mystery blonde. I guess she isn’t a mystery anymore since he told me who she was. What I didn’t mention to him was that the paper stated that they were seen again, so clearly this isn’t the first time they’ve gone out… business related or not.
“The question is, do you want anything to happen?”
“I do but I’m not sure it’s a good idea. Actually, I know it’s not. I’m pretty sure the school would not appreciate me sleeping with one of my students’ parents.”
“How would they even know?” I give her a look and she quickly realizes how. “Paparazzi… right. You know, even if you go with him as only a paid babysitter and nothing happens between you, people will assume it did anyway if pictures of you on his yacht are released.”
“Okay, it’s official, I’m not going.” I toss my napkin on the table. “Guess I can return the swimsuits then.”
“Wait, hold up. Is there potential for this to be something more? The school can’t tell you to not fall in love with a single parent who is available and pursuing you. Plus, you won’t be Daisy’s teacher forever. If you guys could keep it low-key for the rest of the school year, it’s worth it.”
“He just kissed me, Xana; he didn’t propose. Like you said, I think he’s just looking to get laid. Besides, I’m not so sure I’m ready to jump back into something yet.”
She gives me a look of pity. “I thought you were ready to move on and explore things with other people?”
“Explore, yes, but jumping into another relationship right away ju?—”
“Right away? Daph, it’s been two years.”
I fiddle with my fork, my shoulders dropping as I exhale. “I felt something.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the way he kissed me, held me, looked at me. It made me feel—I’ve never felt that way before and it scared me.”
“Is it fear or guilt?”
“Both. I think I feel bad that I’m interested in someone else. That I can’t help but compare how he makes me feel to how Carson made me feel. What I had with Carson was completely different. It was emotional, but I’d be lying to myself if I said that Carson could ignite this passion and fire inside me with a single touch or kiss like Weston has. It’s all so new. Do you have that with Ryan?”
“Yeah.” She nods. “With Ryan, it’s exactly like what you’re describing but it’s also emotional. In fact, I think that’s what makes it so fiery and exciting, knowing we connect on all levels. I’m sorry you didn’t have that with Carson; I didn’t know that.”
I give her a half smile. “It’s not like our sex life was bad. I loved it. It’s like not realizing what you’re missing because you don’t know what you don’t know. I wouldn’t say that was one of strong points. I would have liked to explore that side of myself more with him but when I would try, it was usually shut down.”
“Is that why you loved those romance novels?” She laughs and it makes me laugh.
“Yeah, actually.”
“Hey.” She reaches out and takes both my hands in hers. “Don’t worry about what me or anyone else thinks when you’re deciding about this trip. If you want to go, have a fling for two or three days, and never speak of it again, then fine. Or maybe you are falling and maybe there is the potential to have the fire with the emotions. Just listen to your heart, babe.”
I think about Xana’s words the rest of the weekend and all through next week. I bounce back and forth between being convinced I’m going to absolutely not going.
I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling as I hum a song to myself. I haven’t seen or heard from Weston since the night he kissed me in my kitchen. Tomorrow is Friday and we not only get it off, but also Monday for the holiday. I roll over and look at the clock; it’s just after ten and I can’t fall asleep. I flip the covers off and walk to the living room, grabbing my Kindle and flipping open the latest romance novel I’ve been reading.
I don’t realize how long I’ve been reading until my head lulls forward, my eyes closing. I jolt awake, rubbing my eyes and squinting to see the time on the microwave. It’s almost one now. I yawn, shutting my Kindle down and trudging back to my bedroom. I grab my phone, about to silence my alarm for tomorrow since I’m off work when I see a text from Weston.
Weston: In case you change your mind. Here are the departure details for my private jet tomorrow. And don’t forget… doors close FIFTEEN minutes before departure. ;)
I stare at the text with the directions to the private terminal his plane is leaving out of and the time it departs. I reread it three times, his comment about the departure time making me laugh, something that before would have made me roll my eyes. Now, I can hear the playful mocking tone of his voice in my head.
I look over at the bag that’s still sitting in the corner of my room with the dress and swimsuits I purchased this past weekend. I sit on the edge of my bed, adrenaline coursing through me, making me way too wired to sleep now. I bounce my leg up and down, staring at the bag as if it’s going to tell me what to do.
“Screw it.” I stand up and walk to my closet, pulling out my suitcase from the back where it’s been buried since I moved into this apartment. I pull open drawers, grabbing underwear and bras, shorts, shirts, and shoes. I tell myself not to think, just pack.
“Shit, shit, shit!” I search through my nightstand, almost panicking when I can’t find my passport. “Oh.” I drop to my hands and knees, reaching under my bed to pull out an old shoebox. “There you are.” I locate it under my birth certificate, completely forgetting I had put it in this box when I moved. I’m about to put the lid back on when my eye catches the corner of a small maroon box sticking out from beneath a stack of photos. I know what the box is; it’s my engagement ring. I’m tempted to pull it out and put it on, something I found myself doing almost weekly after Carson died. I would wrap myself in one of his sweatshirts and sob on the floor for hours until my body couldn’t shed another tear.
“Now isn’t the time,” I say to myself as I close the lid, sliding the box back under my bed. By the time I’m finished packing in a flurry, it’s well after two and according to Weston’s text, his plane will be departing at eight sharp. I set my alarm, triple-checking it before falling into bed.