Chapter Twenty-One
I am pleased to say that I don’t stumble over my spa menu selections. I have the manicurist shorten my nails just a little, and then enjoy a total body scrub and a divine hot oil Swedish massage from a man named Bern whose hands are so strong I think he could crumple me like a piece of paper in his fist. The pampering lasts about three hours, and at the end of it, I smell amazing and am slippery enough to fit through a boba straw.
The spa hostess leads me to the relaxation area, handing me a glass of ice-cold cucumber water. “Please, enjoy all of our amenities for the rest of the day. The steam room and sauna are down that hall. The mineral pools are this way.” She gestures down a second hall. “We recommend starting with warm and working your way to the ice-cold plunge.”
“Plunge,” I repeat numbly.
“We’ve put your belongings in a locker.” Gently, she fits the elastic key ring around my wrist, predicting, accurately, that I’m unable to coordinate motor functions beyond holding my arm out for her.
For a few seconds after she leaves, I’m overwhelmed with options. Mineral pools? Ice plunge? A sauna? In this main room, a hot tub gurgles invitingly. I want to live in this boneless, jelly feeling a little longer but am worried if I slip into that warm water, I’ll pass out and drown.
Steam room it is.
Inside, I find something unexpected: Janet Weston, completely naked. And, on the other side of the long, narrow room is Blaire Weston, also completely naked but perhaps less of a surprise. They’re sitting on their towels on the teak benches, eyes closed and heads resting against the wall, but when I enter, their eyes drowsily open.
“Hello, Anna,” Janet murmurs sleepily.
“Hi. Okay if I join you?” I ask, because it feels like nakedness requires an invitation, and it’s not like I can just turn around and leave without making it weird. But do I get naked, too? Wouldn’t that also be weird? Or would it be weirder to sit down in this thick, fluffy robe and slowly sweat to death in it?
“Come on in, hon,” Blaire says, patting the bench right beside her, even though there is a long, unoccupied bench between them.
With my breath tight in my chest, I loosen the tie at my waist and quickly slip the robe off, hanging it on the wall peg beside Janet’s and Blaire’s. Working to not crouch over with an arm over my boobs and a hand over my privates, I ignore the press of their eyes on me as I quickly walk to the empty bench, laying a towel down, and sitting. I’m positive they saw my butt crack and am so thankful eighteen-year-old Anna never got the Elmo ass tattoo she’d fallen in love with while high on mushrooms. My heart is a squirrel in my chest, scrambling madly.
How does one sit naked in a steam room, postmassage? Not with their legs crossed, as I very quickly learn. My legs slide apart the moment I try, my left one making an audible slap as I return it to the bench. I glance at Janet and mimic her posture but am convinced I look like I’m sitting miserably in the principal’s office.
“Mmmm,” Blaire moans, a little too sexually to not be awkward. “This is heaven.”
“It sure is,” I agree brightly, like we’re sipping lemonade on the veranda. I wipe a drop of sweat when it rolls down my forehead and onto my eyelid.
“About your anniversary dinner,” Janet cuts in, her voice rising out of the quiet. “Unfortunately, I don’t think there will be time for a big to-do. We’d like to keep the focus on Charlie.”
I stammer out a few sounds before settling on “Of course you would. It’s her wedding.”
She opens one eye, studies me coolly, and then closes it again. “I hope you’re not too disappointed.”
Blood rushes hot to my cheeks, making me feel lightheaded. Is this gaslighting? I think this is textbook gaslighting. “Oh, to be clear, West and I didn’t expect you to do anything.”
“No?” She adjusts her hands on her lap. “I must’ve misunderstood you the other night.”
I don’t even know what to do with my face right now. I glance at Blaire, who is looking right at me. When our eyes meet, she mouths a sympathetic “Don’t worry about it,” and I feel better, but still stunned.
“I did order a case of Liam’s favorite wine,” she says and seems to wait for me to provide the name, though the only wine I can think of is Boone’s Farm and I’m pretty sure that’s not it. “Mount Brave cab,” she supplies, finally.
“That’s the one.” I snap, but my fingers just slip across each other soundlessly and I really fucking hope neither of them watched me do that. “That’s very nice of you.”
“Any thoughts on grandchildren?” she asks, a hard-thrown curveball, and this time I know there’s no use schooling my expression. I look over at Blaire, who is just laughing quietly to herself.
“We, uh,” I say, before coughing. “It’s been busy. With the doctor things I have on my calendar. But we’re definitely trying. Very hard.”
“I bet y’all are,” Blaire says, and winks at me. “You’ve got that newlywed glow, even after all this time.” She adjusts her posture. “The quiet ones are the wildest, aren’t they? I’ve seen Liam’s arms. I bet that man hoists you up and—”
“Blaire.” Janet reaches up, delicately wiping her brow. “Honestly.”
Blaire winks at me, and I’m glad we’re in a steam room and that I’m already red. The idea of West hoisting me up in his arms during sex is… whew. It’s a lot.
“What was he like when he was younger?” I ask Janet.
“Liam?” she asks. “Oh, he was a good boy.” She pauses, smiling to herself. “The best boy, in fact. Protective, loyal, devoted.” Her expression straightens, and after a moment of silence, she stands, sauntering in her impressive nudity to the wall. “He would do anything to protect the people he loves. Remember that.”
Janet slips on her robe and then looks at me levelly, saying, “Be good to him, Anna,” before ducking out of the room.
I don’t know why this hits me so hard, in such a tender place. I remind myself once again that West isn’t my husband in the ways that matter. I shouldn’t let myself get wrapped up in this complicated, fucked-up family, especially since I have so much of my own complicated, fucked-up nonsense to figure out the second I land on US soil. But my heart doesn’t care that this isn’t my business; the odd combination of sadness and brittle love in Janet’s voice still makes me want to cry.
BLAIRE CHEERS ME UPwith more anecdotes about what Janet was like when Blaire and Alex first went public with their romance. There were holidays that felt like final exams, miscommunicated dates and times meant to make Blaire look disorganized and irresponsible, and cutting insults murmured under her breath. I can imagine myself pledging my undying devotion to Blaire, but then she loses all credibility when she reassures me that, despite how prickly she can be, Janet is one of her best friends now. Which is a nice enough lie but frankly does me no good, since I don’t plan on being around long enough to get us out of the Mother-in-Law Hazing phase anyway.
When I start feeling a little lightheaded from the steam, I slip back into the security of my robe and duck out, finding my way back to the relaxation room.
The dim retreat smells like eucalyptus and mint, has candles flickering on every flat surface, and includes a large assortment of inviting couches, chaises, and plush chairs. It also has only one occupant now, one Dr. West Weston in the back corner, wearing a fluffy robe and resting with his eyes closed, head settled against the back of the broad chair. I don’t want to wake him, but the bamboo-wind-chime-vibe music playing in here doesn’t cover much sound, and my fresh glass of cucumber water and ice tinkles in my hand when I lift it for a sip. West opens one eye, and then two, and his face breaks into a smile that looks so genuine it makes my heart hiccup.
“Hey,” he says, all warm honey and sex.
“Hey.” I shuffle over to him and set down my glass. “Don’t you look cozy.”
“You look like you’ve been sleeping in the forest for a month.” He bites his lip. “Your hair is a pink bird’s nest.”
I reach up, touching it. “It is, in fact, a newly protected Indonesian wildlife habitat.”
He laughs, reaching for my hips and angling me down onto the chair with him.
“Hello, what’re you doing?” I ask, grinning slyly as he coaxes my legs over his thighs so I’m sitting sideways on his lap.
West sets a hand on my hip and shrugs. “It’ll be easier to talk quietly in here if you’re closer,” he whispers, nodding to the sign nearest us that reads, THIS IS A ROOM FOR RELAXATION. PLEASE REFRAIN FROM CONVERSATION.
“That’s some good thinking.” I reach up, brushing his hair off his forehead.
He looks so yummy, especially with the robe spread open down to his sternum. I get a hint of those gropable pectorals and want to dive in there and fall asleep like a cat against his torso.
“Did you get the treatment names right?” he teases quietly.
“I did. But then again, I just had a body scrub and a massage.”
“Nothing up your nose?”
“Correct.” I pull in a deep breath as if to demonstrate and feel him shift beneath me to pull me deeper onto his lap. “I feel like I’ve been transferred into new skin. Plus,” I say, brandishing my shorter nails. “I had the claws trimmed.”
I can’t be sure, but I think he looks a little disappointed. “Ah. What will I do with all the free time I have not helping you get dressed?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe spend the time in front of the mirror practicing new ways to be clever?”
“Good call.”
“Did you get your feet scrubbed?” I ask.
“I think I got everything scrubbed.” I quirk an eyebrow at this, and he laughs. “Yep. Even my ass.”
“Your mom’s boobs are really great,” I say. “No wonder you breastfed until you were four.”
West’s bursting laugh is definitely too loud for the relaxation room. “I’m not sure my mother even fed me a bottle.”
He runs his hand up my shin. Goose bumps break out on my thighs.
“Well, with both her and Blaire naked in the steam room with me,” I begin in a whisper, “Blaire speculated that you often hoist me in your thick, muscled arms during coitus.”
This time, West laughs deep in his throat. “Wonderful.”
“To be fair, Janet started it.” I send a hand up around the back of his neck. “She asked when you were going to knock me up.”
“Oh God. She didn’t.”
“She did. So I basically said we were doing our best and hit it daily.”
His eyes drop to my lips. “We would.”
“Oh, we totally would.”
I would have expected the pause that follows to be awkward, but it isn’t. West slowly strokes his big hand up and down my shin before sliding it around to cup my calf.
“My dad showed up,” he says then, quietly.
My stomach grows twisty and protective again. “Oh. And?”
A small shrug. “We had to keep it civil because we had gentlemen’s facials and massages scheduled.”
“Does that mean you had them together?”
West nods. “Charlie booked them for us. Charlie is the one person Dad would never say no to. But he mentioned every two minutes how weird it was to be in a room with his sons while he was getting massaged.”
I grimace. “Like he’s usually getting a different kind of massage?”
“I don’t really want to think about it too deeply. I’m not sure I’ll ever forget the sound of oil being slathered on my father’s chest.”
I cup his cheek. “Well, your skin is very soft.”
“It felt good.”
“It does feel good.”
Silence stretches again. My attention is dragged down to the tiny, glorious hickey, and I’m unable to stop stroking his freshly facialed cheek. West looks at my lips, and his fingers move to cup the back of my knee, just beneath where my robe has drifted open. Heat engulfs my skin.
“I was thinking earlier that we shouldn’t do this again,” he says, his thumb running in soothing circles just beneath my kneecap.
“You mean the way you’re casually fondling my knee?”
He nods, laughing quietly, his eyes still fixed on my mouth. But I notice he doesn’t stop stroking my leg.
“I’m finding it hard, however,” he says. I grin saucily and he closes his eyes, his head falling back with a quiet groan. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
“Someone could come in,” he says.
“Which wouldn’t be an entirely bad thing. The ruse, and whatnot.”
West frowns and seems to work through a few words before getting any out. “That’s one reason maybe we shouldn’t do this.”
“Isn’t that the point?”
“Kissing for show is one thing,” he says. “We—earlier—” He tries again. “It was more than kissing.”
“It sure was.” I wink dramatically and whisper, “Boner.”
He laughs. “It’s just that… I don’t want you to feel obligated.”
“What?” I gape at him, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I don’t.”
“Okay.” His forehead relaxes. “That’s good.”
“I mean, I do, in the sense that I’m being paid to pretend to be your wife. But you were very clear that the physical side wasn’t part of that. And, West?”
“Yeah?”
“It isn’t a hardship, you know. Kissing you isn’t a chore.”
He nods, fingertips gliding seductively down my calf and back up again. “Yeah. But the money makes it—”
“Makes it complicated,” I finish for him. “I get it. But allow me to be completely honest: Now that I’ve spent some time with you? And now that I’ve seen your crazy family? I want to be here on your team.”
His eyes search mine.
“Even if you told me the offer was all fake, and you don’t actually have two nickels to rub together,” I tell him, “I’d still stay and help you pull this off. I’m your ride-or-die, West Weston.”
West’s expression crashes, features going slack, and I quickly amend with a laugh, “Oh my God, I’m not saying you’re lying about being loaded! It is very obvious to me that you are superrich, West. What I mean—”
“Anna.” His voice is low and emotionless.
“—is that I’m here for you,” I babble, even as he’s shifting me off his lap. “I’m saying I like you. Kissing or no kissing.” Why am I still talking? He’s standing up and tightening his robe around his hips. He’s moving toward the door.
He’s leaving?
“West?”
Stopping, he turns and looks in my direction, his gaze landing somewhere just past my shoulder.
I open my mouth, but at first nothing comes out. Finally: “Are you mad that I implied you don’t have money?”
He gusts out a disbelieving laugh. “No, Green.”
“Then what?” I ask. “What did I do wrong?”
He swallows thickly. “Nothing.”
But he turns anyway and disappears down the hall.