51. It’s Supposed to Be Me
it’s supposed to be me
sabrina
I was going to manifest Julian by the end of the night.
I had a life coach who taught me this. Two coaches, actually. The first one had been my mentor when I was building my brand, and the second one was a woman I’d paid nine hundred dollars an hour to who taught me that the universe sends you only what you prepare yourself to receive.
I had been prepared for Julian Wade for years.
Three years of being elegant and patient.
Of being the woman who did not push, or embarrass herself with the kind of obvious wanting that scared men like Julian off.
Years of attending the right events, bidding on the right charities, and running into him at the right places, saying the right things.
And then a woman with a son and a dead husband moved to town, and suddenly he’s giving her, in a matter of months, what I had been patiently earning for years.
I didn't have to hear about their breakup.
I watched it happen. I'd been paying attention, and attention tells you everything a rumor can't. The lunches at Maple's that stopped being two people.
His morning runs back to being solo. All the little standing things they did together like clockwork around town, just…
stopped. I recognized the shape of it. And then I watched her at Maple's, alone, looking pathetic, picking at a plate she hadn't touched.
When I approached her, I watched her face confirm the rest. They were done.
I’m sure he’d been the one to break up with her.
Julian had a pattern, and despite the fact that his pattern shifted a bit with her, old patterns do die hard.
At the end of the day, Julian Wade is not a man who goes deep.
She had done what women like her always did: demand a man be something he’s not.
But I knew better. Julian did not bend. I had built my entire approach with him around that fact. I made myself the woman who was always there, and the universe was finally about to deliver. Alyssa Carter was just a detour. Now she was out of the picture, and I was not going to waste the moment.
I had been planning this night for a few days.
My lingerie was La Perla. Four hundred and fifty dollars.
My robe was pure silk, and it tied at the waist in a way that fell open without my having to do anything about it.
My heels were Louboutins I had bought for my birthday last year and hadn’t worn yet.
My coat was camel cashmere. Julian had complimented it once.
I had been at his condo a few times over the years and knew the rhythm of his building.
The doorman who worked the night shift stepped away between nine forty-five and ten fifteen for his break.
I had timed it. I tested it last night just to confirm, and walked through the lobby without anybody stopping me.
Tonight I parked a block away, then walked in my coat with nothing but my lingerie underneath. I dipped through the lobby and rode the elevator behind a couple whose keycard allowed me on.
I arrived on the penthouse floor and walked down the long hallway to Julian’s double doors.
I knocked a few times, but there was no answer.
Okay, I will just wait outside his door until he gets home.
Instead, I found myself with my hand on the keypad, thinking about what I was about to do, trying to talk myself out of it.
I punched in the code.
I had memorized it the last time I was there, over a year ago.
He had punched it in front of me, casually, the way men did things around women they don’t realize are paying attention.
He hadn’t bothered to angle his body away from me when he entered the six digits at the door.
I watched and logged it without him knowing I was the kind of woman who would.
I heard a satisfying beep and a click and pushed the door open. I didn’t expect it to still work. When it did, the little beep felt like permission.
It was nine fifty-three at night and his condo was dark. It smelled like his cologne, and the leather of furniture, and the faint hint of hazelnut coffee. I stood in the foyer for a moment with the door closed behind me and I let myself breathe him in.
This was going to work. This was going to be the moment I got my man back. I took off my coat and hung it on the rack by the door as if I lived here. I adjusted my robe at the tie, and walked through the living room without turning on any lights, and went down the hallway to his bedroom.
I sat across the end of his bed, legs crossed and waited.
Twenty minutes later, I started to worry that maybe he wasn’t coming home.
I knew he wasn’t out of town because I’d called WadeHouse earlier asking for him, then hung up when I got confirmation he was there.
So he was either working late or in some hotel room with his next woman du jour.
But Julian did not do overnights with women, so if that was the case, he would be back home soon enough.
Soon, I heard a chime and the small electronic note of his alarm system registering a door opening. I stood as I heard his voice, my heart pounding with anticipation.
“Watch your step, Gorgeous.” His voice was warm.
I heard a woman laugh. Gorgeous?
“I may have had one too many amaretto sours,” she giggled.
“It was your night, Lyss. No such thing as too many.”
Alyssa? Why the fuck is she here? Shit! I panicked, and slipped off my heels, carrying them as I frantically looked around his room for an escape route.
I could hear their voices getting closer, and did not think. I was in his closet before I could decide.
I pulled the double doors behind me slowly, not all the way shut.
I left an inch cracked so that the latch would not make a clicking sound, then I pressed myself back against the row of his suits at the back of the walk-in.
I squeezed my eyes closed praying he didn’t enter the closet, and wishing I could just disappear, and I listened.
I heard him say something low that I could not make out, and I heard her laugh again as their voices moved closer until they were in the bedroom, flipping on the lights.
That’s when I realized his louvered closet doors had slats that were partially open, the light from the room filtering through.
I sank back further into the closet, and still had a perfect, unobstructed view of his bed.
It was a king-sized monstrosity with slate-gray sheets, about to be occupied by the man I loved and the woman he had replaced me with.
She was in a floor-length strapless dress and her hair was pinned up. There were small diamonds at her ears. He was in a suit with his tie loosened. The jacket was in his hands and he came in behind her, looking at her with an expression that was almost unbearable for me to see.
He put his hands on her face and he kissed her, passionately.
I had to swallow my gasp. Julian did not kiss women like that.
I knew this about him. He told me as much.
He kissed during sex, because the act required it.
He did not stand a woman up in the middle of his bedroom and put his hands on her face and kiss her just because.
He did not kiss as a beginning, or an end.
But there he was kissing her in his bedroom with both his hands on her face. When he pulled back, he stared into her eyes.
“I am so proud of you, Lyss.”
He kissed her again, sweetly at the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then her temple, then back to her lips.
“Thank you Julian. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“You could have. But I’m glad to be with you on your journey.”
She leaned up and kissed him. Then pulled back, “Oh! The staffing company. I forgot to tell you. They sent —”
He started kissing the side of her neck. “Mm-hm.”
“They sent the contract over. I have to review and sign it tomorrow.”
“Mm-hm.” He kissed her again.
“And Cheryl told me we already have an interest in the second-floor space and the third floor tenant renewed. Also, I was thinking maybe I should reserve the sixth-floor for a while, in case I want to expand.”
“Mm-hm.” He pulled the top of her dress down slightly and sucked the meat of her breast.
She laughed, caressing the back of his head. “Julian. You are not listening to a thing I’m saying.”
He kissed her lips. “I heard you, Lyss. HR company sent the contract.” He kissed her again. “You have to sign it tomorrow.” A kiss. “Cheryl has a tenant for the second-floor space, and the third floor renewed.” Another kiss. “You may want to expand to the sixth.”
He went back to her neck. “…and you want me to get you naked, lay you down, and not let you up until you’ve come at least twice.”
She giggled as he nibbled her ear.
“Isn’t that what you said, Gorgeous?” He kissed her again.
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
Her eyes were closed and her smile was that of a woman who was being loved on by a man who knew her well.
My heart raced as I watched them undress, fearing he would come to the closet to get clothes.
Instead he laid his suit across a chair, and held his hand out for the dress she had just peeled herself out of.
“I’ll have Lucia take these to the dry cleaner tomorrow,” he said to her.
Then walked back to her, both in their underwear, and he reached into her hair, pulled pins. Her hair came down all at once, and he made a low whistle.
“I like this look on you, too.”
“Thank you. Wanted to change it up a little more drastically for tonight.”
I rolled my eyes. This bitch had a short bob when I ran into her the other week. Now she had hair down her back and there he was marveling at it, like it grew out of her scalp. My hair was just as long and was home grown.
He looked at her with his hands on her hips, and the look on his face was a look I had not seen on his face ever. Julian Wade was looking at the woman in front of him with reverence.