Chapter 32
Then
Christmas season had just begun, and Michael’s company was hosting their annual Christmas party.
I was surprised he had asked me to go because he had gone by himself for the last two years, telling me it was all business and that I wouldn’t enjoy it.
This year, he told me to buy a lovely dress and asked if Mom or Tammy could watch Monica.
Ever since the Drake incident, he had become more attentive toward me.
I had now graduated from school and started my internship at the hospital. Michael didn’t like the fact that I worked three twelve-hour night shifts. This meant he had to pick Monica up from daycare and have dinner ready when I walked through the door at 7:30. I felt things were moving positively for our marriage and family. I was now contributing to the household income, and Michael showed a bit more respect toward me.
Tammy and I were shopping at the mall, like we had in the old days, as teens.
Now, here we were, married and employed.
And to tell you the truth, I couldn’t believe Michael and I were still together after three years.
Maybe we had defeated the odds.
I wanted a dress that spoke, classy, elegant—that little black dress.
I found exactly what I was looking for—short, sassy, yet sexy.
It had a scalloped hem that was mid-thigh, tight waist to show off my slender curves and snug in the bust.
It was perfect.
“Damn! Are you sure this is a Christmas party?”
Tammy stated as I swung around stepping out of the fitting room.
“Too much?”
“Too perfect.”
I glanced from every direction in the three-way mirror, swinging the dress side to side.
It was perfect, and I couldn’t wait for Michael to see me in it.
Ever since Michael’s scrub comment, I constantly changed as soon as I returned from work.
I did my best to remind him continually of the lovely wife he had, even though he didn’t mention it too often.
But what man does? I hated when men could brag about another woman but feared their tongues falling out when complimenting their wives. This dress was sure to get his attention. I wanted him to know I was a woman, his wife, and not just the mother of his child. But I was pretty proud of that also.
Monica was three now.
She was running and talking up a storm.
She was everything I ever dreamed of as a daughter.
Long, blonde curls.
Golden, peachy baby skin from playing in the backyard all summer and the bluest of eyes you’ve ever seen. They were Michael’s eyes. She was the poster child of the beautiful baby. Everyone complimented her wherever we went. I loved when Michael would smile at me and then tell them thank you. It made me proud that I gave him such a beautiful daughter.
“Are you sure Monica can stay with you and Ryan this weekend?”
“I’m sure.
It will give us some practice.”
There was a little something in her voice.
I looked at her, and her eyes widened.
“No way! Are you?”
“I think so,”
she said, and there were tears in her eyes.
“I’m almost three weeks late but haven’t taken a test yet.
I want to make sure this time before I tell Ryan.”
“Oh, my God.
We must get one today.”
She took a deep breath and nodded.
“Okay.
But if I am, you can’t tell Ryan you already know.”
I held up two fingers.
“Scout’s honor.”
We quickly found shoes to go with the dress, paid, and ran to the drugstore.
This was now the hot topic; to find out if Tammy was pregnant overrode my need to look sexy at the party.
Maybe Michael and I could start planning another baby soon, and Tammy and I could be pregnant together this time.
We were in and out of the drugstore in record time and back to my house.
Michael was feeding Monica lunch when we ran through the door. “Mommy,”
she squealed.
“You’re back early.
Did you find a dress?”
Michael asked, cutting strawberries up for Monica.
“Yes, I did.
I can’t wait for you to see it,”
I said and kissed Michael.
I loved him more than ever and hoped he was ready for another baby.
“Hey, Munchkin.
Daddy’s giving you strawberries?”
She picked one up and handed me a berry.
“Mmm, good,”
I said, chewing the juicy berry.
“Hi, Tammy,”
Michael said as she stood in the doorway.
“Hey, Michael.
Hi, Monica.
You’re gonna come stay with Auntie Tammy tonight?”
Monica smiled and handed Tammy a strawberry. “Yes,”
she said in her little, baby voice.
“I can’t wait for you to stay.
We’re going to have so much fun.
You bring some of your toys.”
“Whatever toys you take, leave them at your place.
Make sure they’re the ones that make noise,”
Michael said as he placed the strawberries back into the refrigerator.
“Thanks for keeping her tonight.”
I wrapped my arms around Michael’s waist and smiled into his eyes.
He looked at me and questioned my look.
“Tammy thinks she might be pregnant.”
He looked over at Tammy.
“Well, I hope this is what you want,” he said.
“Of course it is, Michael,”
I said teasingly, slapping his chest.
“Well, congratulations then.”
“Come on.
I can’t take it any longer,”
I said, grabbing Tammy by the elbow.
“Let’s get to the bathroom.”
Michael took Monica from her chair and cleaned her face at the sink.
“Now, you little girl, wait as long as possible before you start having babies.”
“Babies,”
Monica repeated.
“No babies,” he said.
“I want a baby, Daddy.”
“No, you don’t.
Trust me.”
“I want a baby,”
Monica said again.
“No. Babies.”
His finger tapped her little lips with each word.
I hoped his comment was meant for her, and her only, for when she grew up—and not for us to have another baby.
We shut the bathroom door, and when I turned around, Tammy said, “You’re not staying in here with me as I pee.”
“All right.
I just got excited.
But hurry up.
It’s killing me.”
I handed her the box and stepped out.
Sitting on the bed, I waited for her to come out.
The door opened, and I jumped. “Well?”
“We will know in five minutes, Jill.
Remember when we did yours?”
“Oh, yeah.
The longest five minutes of my life.”
We both sat on the bed and then couldn’t stand it.
We began pacing around the bedroom.
“Has it been five minutes?”
Tammy looked down at her watch.
“No, it’s been one.”
“One!”
I began pacing some more.
Finally, she got up and started toward the door.
“I can’t.
I’m too nervous.
You look for me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
It didn’t take me a second to run into the bathroom, spot the stick, and walk out with it covered in tissue. “Well?”
My smile was beaming.
“Positive!”
. . . . .
We dropped Monica off at Tammy and Ryan’s, along with her overnight stuff, horsey, and blankie.
Since they just found out they were pregnant, I asked again if they wanted to be alone and celebrate and if I could ask my mom.
They insisted it couldn’t have come at a better time and were so excited to have Monica for the weekend.
Ryan whistled as I came through the door.
“Why thank you, Ryan,” I said.
“I was referring to Michael.”
I rolled my eyes and handed Monica over to Tammy.
I had to admit: Michael was stellar in his dark suit.
I was indeed a lucky woman.
I only hoped he felt the same.
His only remark about the dress was, ‘It’s nice.’ And that was after I had asked him while helping with his tie. I thought of the suits he bought years ago at the mall; I was so fascinated with him the day Tammy and I were shopping and ran into him at the food court. The day he told me never to change. Had I changed? Was I what he still wanted?
We kissed our daughter goodbye and left for the car.
Since it was December, winter covered the ground with snow, Michael had the Corvette stored away and took the newer family SUV to the party.
I hoped he’d make an exception and we could take his corvette—no such luck.
That was his summer car only.
We arrived at the president of Whirlpool’s home, and my eyes fell back in my head.
The place was a castle.
Complete with a moat and bridge.
We pulled up to the circle drive, where a valet waited to park our car around the back.
Michael handed over the keys and lifted his elbow for me to take. “This place is amazing,”
I said as I smiled at my handsome husband.
He winked and smiled back.
Jazzy Christmas music played as we walked through the grand entrance; my eyes went to the twenty-foot Christmas tree next to a winding staircase.
Everyone wore tailored clothes for the occasion, and it was easy to see why Michael wanted me to buy a flashy dress.
I hoped it was enough.
“Welcome,”
an attractive lady in her fifties greeted us as we walked through the parlor.
“Hello,” I said.
Michael raised his hand to shake hers, but she kissed his cheek instead.
“Nice to meet you.
I’m Michael Danforth, and this is my wife, Jill.”
I loved to hear him call me his wife.
“Yes, I know.
I make sure to know the guest list.
Please, enjoy yourself with some cocktails.”
“Thank you,”
Michael said and slightly bowed.
“Yes, thank you,”
I said, feeling like that shy schoolgirl again.
We walked around as Michael introduced me to several of his office friends.
Everyone looked at me as if they didn’t know he was married.
I questioned Michael about it, and he said it concerned how young and pretty I was.
They knew he was married.
Though, Michael didn’t wear a ring. We still hadn’t bought any, not due to my lack of asking. And we still hadn’t taken another family picture since he destroyed that one. I was waiting for him to take the initiative. I’d be waiting for a long time.
A man came over with a tray of champagne, and Michael grabbed one for me.
I was six months shy from turning twenty-one, and standing next to Michael in that little black dress, holding a glass of champagne, felt like a fairy tale—my fairy tale.
The one I dreamed me and Michael would have someday.
As I took a sip, I noticed a woman with her eyes fixed on Michael and then on me.
She was with a man, but it didn’t seem to matter.
She was ogling my husband with an agenda.
I couldn’t spot a ring on her finger and wondered if she was who Michael had stayed with when we separated a few years back.
Of course, every woman I encountered who stared at Michael was the one I thought could be. She eyed me up and down, sizing me up. I was going to play her game. I smiled at her and walked across the room. Looking back, Michael watched as I walked away. He looked nervous and then returned to the man he was talking with, turning his head again in my direction.
“Hello.
Do we know each other?”
I asked most pleasantly.
“You were looking at me as if you may know me.
I didn’t want to appear rude.
Have I forgotten that we have met before? Maybe college?”
She suddenly appeared guarded and gave me a nervous smile.
“Ahh, I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure? I mean, college was so hectic, and I did graduate early.
Did we run in the same circle?”
“Again, I don’t think so.”
“Where did you graduate…college?”
I asked and took a sip of champagne.
“Um…I didn’t.”
She looked around for the man that was with her earlier.
Now that I was closer to her, she wasn’t as pretty as I gave her credit for a few seconds ago.
She was apparently in her thirties.
Her face was dull with dry skin.
The fine lines around her eyes and cheeks gave evidence of excessive sun and lack of elasticity.
“I’m Jill,”
I said and held out my hand.
She looked at it as if it would bite and slowly gave me a puny shake.
“Denise,” she said.
“Denise,”
I parroted, feigning my memory of a Denise.
But I knew no Denise.
“Sorry, maybe we don’t know each other.
Do you work with Michael—my husband?”
“I’ve…seen him around.
He works on the upper floor,”
Denise said, still with a nervous edge in her voice.
She was definitely the woman he stayed with, and I wanted her to know that I knew it.
“Oh, now I remember.
Michael told me you helped him a few years back while we separated. Men,”
I exasperated, “Just don’t like to give us credit.
But when he came begging me to take him back—what could I do?”
I smiled and glanced over at Michael.
He smiled and walked our way.
His arms wrapped around me, and I leaned into his chest.
“What are you ladies talking about?”
he said, his eyes begging Denise.
“Wouldn’t you love to know,”
I said, kissing his jaw and taking another sip of champagne.
I felt his chest rise as he took in a breath.
“Jill, I would like to introduce you to my boss,”
Michael said, and I knew it was an excuse to get me away from Denise.
“Oh? Okay.
It was nice meeting you, Denise.”
Michael’s eyes cast from me to her in a panic.
Good.
Let them know how it feels to be on the other side of the unknown.
As we walked away, his tight hold around my waist wasn’t from his sudden urge to adore me.
He was pissed, but I didn’t care.
“What the hell was that all about?” he asked.
“I was just being friendly.”
He eyed me surreptitiously, and I only returned his look.
“She was looking at me like she knew me.
So, I went over and said hello.
I didn’t want to be rude.”
I lifted my glass, but before I took a sip, I said, “She was rude by staring at me…and ogling you.”
When I brought my glass back down, I said, “She is the one, isn’t she?”
His eyes threw me daggers and then pleaded with me.
“Jill, please,”
he said, and just for a second, I felt pity for him.
I didn’t know why.
He didn’t deserve my sympathy.
Just being in a room with another woman who slept with my husband elevated my boldness, and I felt my backbone come to life.
But I knew it was long ago and I wanted to enjoy this Christmas party with Michael.
“I’m sorry,”
I said, kissing him on the cheek.
“So, where’s this boss you want me to meet?”
“Over here,”
he said, walking me across the room with his arm around me.
I hoped Miss Denise was watching.
“Mr.
Hayden, this is my wife, Jill.”
Again, I loved the word wife flowing from Michael’s lips.
I smiled and looked up at the gentleman.
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.
Thank you for inviting us.
This place is lovely.”
The man looked at me with a strange look on his face.
At first, I thought maybe he was deaf or perhaps spoke another language, but I knew he didn’t.
His gaze was confusing.
I looked up at Michael.
“I’m sorry, forgive me,”
Mr.
Hayden said.
“I wasn’t expecting Michael’s wife to be so young.
You’re just a child, my dear.”
I batted my lashes, suddenly feeling shy.
I thought I looked grown up tonight; so much for the little black dress.
“Jill is a bit younger than me,”
Michael said.
And as he talked to his boss, the man’s eyes never left me.
He was handsome in an Italian sort of way.
Dark, thick hair glossed back, and his face appeared powerful and controlling.
He stood a few inches taller than Michael, and his Armani suit fit his body like art. It was most likely tailor-made.
My eyes moved to the floor, and I bit my bottom lip.
I was afraid I was embarrassing Michael.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,”
he said, and I looked up at him.
He offered his hand, and when I extended mine, he kissed the back of it.
Instead of letting go, he held my hand throughout his conversation with Michael.
I finally made a fake cough and pulled my hand from his. “Sorry,”
I said.
Still, his eyes remained glued to me.
The man with the tray of champagne appeared, took our empty glasses, and offered us more.
“Are you even old enough to drink, my lovely?”
Mr.
Hayden teased.
But I thought he was serious and moved my hand away from the tray, holding my waist uneasily.
“I’m only kidding, Dear. Here,”
he said, grabbing a glass for me, “please, take.”
I took the glass like an offering, and his fingers trailed over mine with the exchange.
“Thank you,”
I said and sipped while his eyes watched my mouth.
As Michael talked, I looked around at the party, busy with the festivities, to avoid feeling the stare Mr.
Hayden still had on me.
“Michael,”
a man hollered.
Michael looked back at the man calling his name.
“Hey, what’s up?”
Michael said in that buddies-watching-football-together voice.
He stepped away and began talking to the man.
As the two men were engrossed in their conversation, slapping backs and shaking hands, I waited for Michael to call me over.
I looked up at the man still ogling me.
I smiled to excuse myself. But before I could get the words out, he took me by the arm and began walking me away.
“Let me give you a tour of the place.
Have you ever been to the Whirlpool mansion before?”
“Ah…no,”
I said, my voice shaking.
I looked back at Michael, still oblivious to the man walking me away.
“Well, let me give you the grand tour.”
He smiled, and his teeth seemed to gleam with his toothy white smile.
As we left the room, his hand went to my waist, and I felt the heat radiating off him.
The man towered over me.
“You like to read?”
“I do—when I have time.
I have a three-year-old.
So, most of my reading is for her.
But I try to get a few books in for myself,”
I added to appear invested in the conversation.
“Let me show you the library.
What do you read?”
“Fiction.
Suspense and thrillers.”
“What? No romance for such a beautiful young girl?”
he asked as he opened a massive double door and waved for me to enter.
I did read romance but didn’t want him to know that.
Michael made enough fun of me for reading them.
“I do read…romance,” I said.
The door shut, and I was now alone with this vast Italian man who looked like he wanted to bed me.
He was at least twice my age.
I looked around the historic library, books from floor to ceiling.
“How’s the champagne?” he asked.
I looked down at my glass.
“It’s good.”
“Something a bit stronger for my needs,”
he said, walking over to a cart with decanters filled with bourbon—I guess.
I heard the pop of the decanter as he poured himself two fingers full into a small glass.
“Would you like a bourbon?”
I was right.
“No, thank you.
The Champagne is fine.”
Mr Hayden poured his drink and walked over with that look in his eye again.
I swallowed and looked around.
Couldn’t he see he made me nervous? But maybe that was his plan.
Where was my backbone now?
“Michael is a fortunate man,”
he said, sipping his bourbon.
“Thank you.
I’m lucky too—to have Michael,”
I said, letting him know my devotion to my husband.
“Yes.
Michael is quite the lady’s man.”
I didn’t like what he was referring to.
“A player.”
All while he talked, his eyes lusted all over me.
“Excuse me; I need to get back.
Michael is probably looking for me.”
He grabbed my arm.
It was not hard, but enough to stop me.
“He’ll find you.
Trust me.”
He winked, set his bourbon down on a table, and pulled me to him, pressing me into his muscular chest.
“You’ve met Denise?”
My eyes scanned across his face.
What was going on? Was he and Denise in on something together? Was there more about Michael? “I think you should let go of me.”
I forced authority in my voice.
But next to him, I still sounded like a lost fawn.
“You know, Michael likes his women.
I see now why he has kept you hidden.”
“Mr.
Hayden, Michael and I have had our problems, and that was a long time ago.
We have a child and are working hard to keep our family together.”
“That’s not what this is about, my Lovely.
I would never bust up your family.
I just would like to enjoy you for a little while.
I can share, and I’m sure Michael is keen on the lifestyle.”
“Stop it.
Let me go.”
I struggled to get out of his hold.
“Or, we could keep this just between ourselves.
Wouldn’t you like a man to worship you? Trust me, I would worship every inch of your body.”
Was Michael into that lifestyle, which was why he brought me? If he was, then why was he upset when Drake kissed me? Michael displayed nothing but ownership over me in front of Drake.
“Please, let go of me.
Michael and I are not like that.
We love each other,” I begged.
“Jill!”
Michael’s voice echoed in the room.
I turned and saw him running toward me.
Mr.
Hayden quickly released me from his embrace.
“What’s going on?”
“I was just making Jill an offer.
But maybe I should ask you.
I want to sleep with your wife,”
he said, like I was a bike he wanted to borrow.
I ran into Michael’s arms, and he looked confused and then angry.
“What the hell are you talking about? No, you can’t sleep with my wife.”
“Oh, come now, Michael.
Like you’ve been a saint in your marriage.”
I looked into Michael’s eyes, and even though I didn’t want to believe it, I knew it was true.
“You know nothing about me and my marriage. Come on,”
Michael said as he guided me from the room.
“We’re leaving.”
Once in the car, I began to cry.
Michael punched the steering wheel.
“What the hell was that in there? How did you end up alone with that man?”
Was he accusing me? “You left, and he wanted to show me around.
I didn’t know things would end up like that.”
I wiped my face.
The tears were streaming down, and I knew my mascara was running.
My fairytale night with Michael was ruined.
“Why did you want to introduce me, anyway? Was it a setup? Is this what goes on at work? Are men swapping their wives? How many women have you slept with—since we’ve been married?”
“Don’t make this about me, Jill.
I wasn’t the one seducing an old man.”
I turned and slapped his face.
“How fucking dare you,”
I hissed.
“All I wanted to do was make you proud.
I did nothing to provoke your boss.”
He pulled me over, picked me up and planted me on his lap.
“Did you like it? Did you like him touching you? His eyes and hands all over you?”
His eyes were crazed.
“NO!”
I was crying even harder.
I couldn’t get control of my emotions.
“You’re mine, Jill.
You understand that?”
“I told him that.
I told him I was lucky to have you.”
He pulled my dress up and yanked my panties to the side.
Grabbing my face, he kissed me hard.
“Undo my belt,”
he breathed and kissed me harder.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard, reminding you how lucky you are.”
My hands trembled with excitement and apprehension as I unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants.
Within minutes, he was inside me, grabbing my hips and pushing hard.
He held me tightly, and I felt his ownership once again as his emotions unraveled, and he repeated my name with demands.
“You’re fucking mine, Jill.
You get that?”
“Yes,”
I breathed out.
“No man will ever have you.
I may be a fuckup, but I can’t give you up.”
Please! Please say you love me.
Michael’s form of love came in ownership, his transgressions, and fucking me hard.
And I accepted it as his love.
He did love me, and this was his way of showing it.
“I want to take you back inside and fuck you in front of him.
Show that bastard who you belong to.”
I knew I should have taken offense to the way Michael’s love was displayed as ownership.
But I didn’t, and his out-of-control lovemaking would somehow shift and give me a sense of power over him.
If only I could have controlled Michael’s values of me and kept it alive during the grind of everyday life.