Chapter 9
“Stay Away from My Wife”
Ugh. Their anniversary.
Due to her health, Lara could not join Kennedy for their reservations at their favorite restaurant in town.
They also had to cancel their plans to occupy a honeymoon suite at the Presidential Hotel, something they had been planning all year – the equipment they had accumulated remained unboxed in the closet.
The last thing Lara wanted to do was have kinky sex with her spouse.
Something Kennedy caught wind of fairly quickly, often asking Lara if she wanted to go to a doctor – any kind of doctor.
Her therapist was away for the holidays. Too bad. I’m sure he would love to hear my recent paranoid ramblings.
“Bunny,” Kennedy said on their anniversary, sitting on the bed and patting her wife’s hand. Lara turned off the TV to hear what she had to say. “What’s wrong? You’re worrying me.”
She shrugged, as if how she felt meant nothing. I don’t want to talk about it right now. She wanted to sleep, to play mindless games on her tablet, and read all those literary classics she had yet to catch up on.
“Perhaps it’s seasonal depression,” she offered.
“You’ve never been this bad before.”
How kind of Kennedy to notice over the years.
“You’re not… depressed depressed, are you?”
Oh, Kennedy… She had such a way with words. Sometimes. Not all the time. “Maybe. I don’t know, Kenny. Things are weighing me down right now.” Tears formed at the corners of Lara’s eyes. “I’m sorry I ruined our big anniversary…”
“Don’t do that. You haven’t ruined a thing.” Kennedy wiped away one tear, but missed the other one. “I don’t care what we do, as long as we’re together. Besides, we can make up for it on our honeymoon next month. Are you still looking forward to that?”
She nodded. I had been, anyway.
“You can tell me what’s bothering you. When have you not been able to tell me anything?” Kennedy squeezed her hand, a touch Lara would usually welcome with everything she had. “You know I like knowing what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours. Please, Lara, you’re starting to scare me.”
Scare her? Scare her? Lara was the one wasting away here.
She was the one battling her subconscious in a game of wills she could not afford to lose.
She had hoped to have the air cleared regarding her partner’s fidelity by now, but her illness put her behind schedule to the point she refused to let Chloe into the primary suite, citing that she didn’t want to possibly spread anything.
Either Roberta brought things directly to her or Kennedy took care of everything when she got home.
She didn’t even complain when Lara was too sick to go to an important business meeting right after Christmas.
“Lara?”
She squeezed Kennedy’s hand back. “I’m worried that I’m seeing things that aren’t there.”
Her spouse sat back with a start. “What do you mean by that? Do you mean like…?”
“I don’t mean mental illness.” She snorted.
“Unless I really am depressed or anxious, I guess. I’m not turning into my mother.
” Another snort, this time of derision. “I mean, I think my brain is fabricating situations that aren’t really there, because it can’t believe that happiness lasts this long. ”
Although her face said she didn’t understand a damn thing, the words coming out of Kennedy’s mouth were completely different. “Bunny,” she began. “Come downstairs. I have something I want to show you.”
She helped Lara into her nicest silk robe and led her down the hall, down the stairs, and into the dining room, where an elaborate candlelight dinner was set. Lara sat down, shocked but unable to express it. Kennedy sat next to her, her hand never letting go of Lara’s.
“Happy anniversary, Bunny. Here’s to ten more.”
Champagne, a delicious meal, and their favorite chocolate pecan pie.
It overwhelmed Lara, who started sobbing halfway through their meal.
Kennedy didn’t say anything. She held her hand and cleaned up the carrot she had dropped with her fork.
I don’t deserve her. Even if Kennedy were cheating on her, Lara didn’t deserve her.
That was a dangerous thought.
Luckily, Lara was a woman who could get over herself as quickly as she fell into the trap of being so into herself.
By New Year’s, she was better. Out of bed and back to work, at least. She and Kennedy attended a party at Le Manoir with most of the other patrons.
They were congratulated on their tenth anniversary and asked if they had any advice for the budding couples around them.
Kennedy said it took “a lot of patience and communication.”
Their love life returned to somewhat normal. Not as kinky, but at least Lara was in a place where she felt good letting her partner back into her body. Kennedy did not complain. It tired Lara having the model spouse who only served to make her feel guiltier for her suspicions.
By the first week of January, she was back downtown, attending meetings and having lunch dates with people besides her partner. If it weren’t for the ghost haunting her brain, Lara would consider herself back to completely normal and business as usual.
Except that things could never be left alone. Not when she and Chloe lived in the same house.
More than once, she considered firing the girl, giving her a nice severance check and referral, and hiring a butler – not that it would stop anything.
If Kennedy had been cheating on her with the maid, she would move on to someone else – including the butler or the gardener.
Her partner’s tastes for men were nowhere near as strong as they were for women, but with Lara’s paranoia cranked to the max, she trusted no one, man or woman.
Her best bet was hiring an older maid who had the sex drive of a eunuch.
She saw her chance to tackle things, however, on one sunny – but cold – day the second week of January. It was one week before she and Kennedy boarded their flight for their second honeymoon, and she was not going to let certain opportunities pass her by.
Especially when she found Chloe sitting on a bench during her break, flipping through more of Kennedy’s personalized stationery.
“What is that?’ Lara demanded, swiftly approaching the young maid before she could see the oncoming storm and put the evidence away. “What has she given you?”
Chloe gaped at her, caught red-handed. God, she looked barely a day over eighteen.
In truth, she was in her early twenties, but had such a babyface that Lara wouldn’t blame her partner for lusting after her.
In another situation, Lara may lust after her as well.
We would both devour you, girl. Lara didn’t want to consider the thought right now.
“It’s nothing, ma’am. Just a list of instructions.”
Bullshit. Chloe made a grave mistake by not hiding those papers.
Lara attempted to snatch them right out of the maid’s hands…
but Chloe’s grip was so strong that the papers tore in half.
All Lara had to show for her tantrum was the letterhead and the tops of words she could not make out in her wife’s cursive writing.
“Look here,” she growled, pointing a steel-tipped boot in Chloe’s direction.
“I know what’s going on here. You’re staying low for now, but a wife knows when hanky-panky is underfoot.
My partner is an idiot who thinks she can get away with it.
You?” Lara cackled. That same cackle that sent so many of her colleagues running and calling her a “crazy bitch” behind her back.
Or right in front of her. “You’re nobody.
I can wipe the floor with you. I can make sure nobody hires you in the city for as long as you live. Got it?”
At first, Chloe looked petrified. Lara did not enjoy scaring a girl shitless. It wasn’t as satisfying as, say, scaring a fellow CEO. There was no joy, no pride in making some little no-name girl quake in her flats and act like she was about to relieve her bowels in front of the boss.
Then Chloe changed. Knowledge overcame her. Soon enough, she knew exactly what her crazy-ass boss was referring to.
“Oh, my God!” she cried, crumpling the yellow stationery in her hands. “I swear I’m not… no… you have the wrong idea, Mrs. Anderssen!”
“Do I? You think I haven’t played this game before?
” A part of her wished the change in Chloe’s demeanor meant a tiger cub was about to burst out.
Threatening, but nothing she couldn’t deal with.
Instead, she got a scared and defensive little girl who probably really believed what she was saying.
“You would be remiss, Chloe. I know exactly what my partner is up to.”
“You… do?”
“Oh, yeah. And I know your role in it, if you know what I mean.”
Now the maid was simply confused.
“Mind yourself,” Lara said as a final warning. “I wouldn’t merely destroy you, girl. I would make your life such a living hell that you would have to move to the other side of the country to get a break from me. And even then? I would find you. Stay away from my wife.”
The word wife hung between them. I said what I said.
Lara did not call Kennedy her wife flippantly.
It was a word she had adopted for herself upon marriage, after all.
I am “the wife” in this relationship. The feminine yin to Kennedy’s more masculine yang.
The one everyone underestimated. The one with so much female baggage in her ovaries that she still felt like a bad wife for being forty and childless, despite her and Kennedy’s lack of desire for children.
To call Kennedy her wife was to share that load. It feminized her. To Lara. To Chloe.
“I…”
“Shut up.” Lara turned, a satisfied grin taking over her pale complexion. “Oh, and I believe your break is now over. Roberta has some things for you to do.”
Lara learned nothing from that encounter, but damn if she didn’t feel better!