Chapter 7Billie-Jean
Chapter Seven
BILLIE-JEAN
Ivy was furious and all of her animosity was directed at Emmanuel, like a hollow-point bullet. The build-up had been slow, but she was finally voicing her feelings.
“You want me to believe three DNA tests are wrong?! Including one test which was administered at the lab that I oversee, and I personally drew the sample for. Science all of a sudden holds no meaning because you got caught. Man up and admit you fathered a child with another woman.” Her breath was short by the time she finished, and her nostrils were flared. Worse were the daggers her eyes shot at him.
Yeah, they had had disagreements throughout their marriage. Nothing like this though. Ivy pulled at the roots of her hair, but her wedding ring got tangled in her curls. She glared at it as if the symbol of the marriage was now offensive to her. “Just leave me alone and be a father to your children.”
That struck a nerve, a deep one too. Other than being a good husband, Emmanuel prided himself on being a good father. Any other accomplishments could vanish into thin air for all he cared, but those two things were the pillars of his life. He had been patient. Hadn’t he? Trying to put himself into her shoes. Walking on eggshells. All so that the woman he loved more than life itself could talk to him like some deadbeat stranger. That band of patience stretched and then snapped.
“I don’t give a fuck what the test says. I’m asking you to believe me! The man you’ve known for almost three decades. I swear to God I’ve never ever touched another woman while we’ve been married, or even before. Once I touched you. That was it.” Emmanuel took a deep breath, regretting going off on her. It was short-lived. He reached for her hand, and she pulled away from him. His heart broke as she yanked the rings off of her finger. Nooo! This couldn’t be happening. He wouldn’t allow it.
“Hell no. I will never leave you alone. You’ve been mine since I was twenty-one and you’ll be mine till I take my last breath. I don’t know what the fuck is going on. I just know that child isn’t mine.” He shut his eyes to the anger pulsing in the air… his and hers.
The sound of something crashing, caused him to open his eyes. “I swear to God Emmanuel, I’m not going to allow you to make a fool out of me! Take your Michael Jackson ass outta here, with your bullshit Billie Jean drama.”
“Doc, please,” Emmanuel implored.
“Don’t Doc me. I can’t do this… won’t do this anymore! It’s over. I want a divorce.”
Ivy’s image became translucent, then transitioned into smoke before she disappeared altogether. Emmanuel’s eyes flew open as he took a deep inhale and sat up.
“Baby, are you okay?” Her sleepy voice was full of concern.
Emmanuel felt regret that she was now up. He reclined back onto the bed and reached over and placed a kiss on her temple.
“Yeah, Doc. I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” By the time his words were completely out of his mouth, she had wrapped her arm around his torso and was following his instruction.
Nightmare.
This whole situation was a fucking nightmare. Almost as bad as the dream he just had. Things between them were… tense. Emmanuel noticed Ivy struggling… tried to get her to talk about it. She brushed it off. Although he had direct evidence that things between them weren't right. A few weeks ago, when she returned from her girl’s day out, he had tried to kiss her in greeting. It had hurt like fuck when she turned away slightly, and his lip brushed the corner of her mouth instead. Sure, she had apologised later that night, but the fact remained she had turned away from his affection. He couldn’t help but wonder if that was just the beginning.
It wasn’t just Ivy. His parents hadn’t taken the news well. For decidedly different reasons. At least his mother gave thought to his family and how this could be affecting them.
“Emmanuel, I know you are saying that you didn’t do this. No, one wishes more than I do that is true. Just, think of Ivy in all of this. I know she is standing by you. Don’t let it be in vain. Okay?”
It had hurt to hear the doubt from his mom, but he took solace in the fact that they both loved Ivy. His mother did. Very much so… almost from the moment his mother met Ivy.
“I can feel it. She’s the one, Emmanuel. I am so happy.”
While his mother seemed uncertain. His father held no such belief.
“This has to be the dumbest shit you have ever done. You realise that woman ? —”
“My wife, Ivy. Or if you want to be formal Dr. Ivy Scott. Don’t you ever refer to her as ‘that woman’ again.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. All I am saying is IVY could take you for everything.”
“It doesn’t matter. If I lose Ivy, I lose everything anyway.”
“Well, Christ! For a man that thinks that way. You should have kept your pants on. You are lucky revenue is at an all-time high. Otherwise, the board wouldn’t be so laid back about your predicament.”
Although Emmanuel didn’t have proof that his father was being an absolute hypocrite. Despite the devotion over the years he suspected that his father had a wandering dick. Ultimately, all Larson Scott cared about was the legacy of his company. So far, the paternity issue wasn’t negatively impacting the company’s bottom line. Emmanuel knew if it ever did, his father would not be standing in his corner. The only thing that would stop him from actively working to have him removed would be a Scott needed to sit at the head of the board.
On the upside. Frank had done a one-eighty. Over the holidays he had gone on a retreat to get in touch with ‘your inner self’. A lot of focus had been made on trusting your gut despite the appearance of things.
Armed with that belief, Frank was one hundred and ten percent team ‘the baby isn’t yours’.
“You are being set up man. Now I don’t know how, but I know you are.”
It was good to have his best friend by his side after everything they had been through.
After what was arguably the worst dream Emmanuel ever had, his mind wouldn’t allow him to ease back into a peaceful slumber. The only thing that kept him from fidgeting was the woman on his chest. Moments like these were always the best part of his day. Having her wrapped in his arms was a guarantee to keep the outside world and troubles away. Now the comfort of her wasn’t enough.
Gah… Emmanuel must have finally drifted back to sleep. Ivy was standing beside the bed with a cup of coffee.
“Here, I thought you might need this.”
He sat up and took it from her. “Thanks, Doc.”
The first sip of the black bitter elixir made him sigh in contentment. For a moment all the worry was pushed to the side. Especially when Ivy slipped in beside him and cuddled up to his side. This moment of quiet was all theirs. The first Saturday after the New Year and the sun was barely up. They had nowhere to be until the evening. So, they could just be. Her hand traced his tattoos like she often did when they were in this position. It was an artistic ode to the love Emmanuel had for Ivy. A chronicling of their commitment.
As a couple in their infancy, they had come across a couple, and the man had the woman’s name tattooed on his neck.
“That is the stupidest shit I have ever seen. Not to mention that that is the kiss of death. You don’t put your partner’s name on your body, it’s a surefire way to guarantee your relationship will fail. If anyone I was with did that foolishness I would walk.”
Ivy had been clear about her feelings. So, when Emmanuel had felt the urge to immortalize his commitment to her. He found an imaginative way to do so. Rather than ink her name on his body, he used a symbol to replace the name. Their first wedding anniversary. He came home with an ivy leaf tattooed on his chest. She had looked at him in disbelief.
“You think you are slick, don’t you?”
“What? It isn’t your name.” He had found a way around her rule. It was the first of many. Every anniversary Emmanuel had a new leaf added. Twenty-six leaves in total. He had been so certain of their coupledom, that a few years back he and his tattoo artist had designed a plan for once both pecs were filled. That’s how confident he was in what they shared.
So, God help whoever it was that was behind this. Once Emmanuel Scott discovered who it was, he was going to rain a special kind of hell on them. Their lives would be in tatters.
O h, Christ! Was Emmanuel’s first thought as he arrived home after gruelling back-to-back meetings. Unlike most men, finding his wife in the kitchen wasn’t a source of happiness. Oh no! It was a loud, extremely loud, warning bell.
Dr. Ivy Burton Scott was brilliant. Beautiful. Sexy. Kind. Loving. She could do anything she set her heart to. Except cook. She was an absolute disaster in the kitchen. Emmanuel’s unconditional love did not extend to subjecting his stomach, fuck that… his well-being to her cooking.
After the disastrous meal he called ‘salmonella stir fry’ due to the charred vegetables and undercooked chicken that was pinker than a blushing cherub when cut into, he asked her not to attempt cooking again without proper training. Ivy had been gifted with cooking classes from professionals. His mother had been convinced she needed a personal touch and called in their old cook.
After half a day, Ms. Fara had called it. “No boy. That woman shouldn’t be in the kitchen.”
Ivy had been devastated.
When she was pregnant with Oliver, she had become fixated on trying again. The success remained elusive. While holding his crying very pregnant wife, inspiration had struck. Maybe cooking wasn’t for her. But. Nothing said she couldn’t bake. Hell, baking was basically chemistry. And if there was one thing his brilliant wife knew, it was science.
It turned out that he was right. The woman who could burn and undercook food simultaneously could bake her ass off. Here was the thing though. She only used that skill for, the holidays or dinner parties. (Which it was neither, nor was one coming up). School bake sales, (Sage’s school preferred big cheques). Or when she was distraught.
Shit! Not a Coconut Rum Pound Cake. Ivy was not in a good place!
“Hey, Doc,” Emmanuel’s greeting was cautious.
“Manny.” Ivy nodded in his direction and continued whisking vigorously. Her head remained down as she concentrated on the bowl. Walking into the kitchen he realised that one cake was already on the cooling rack and each of the double wall ovens contained a cake. As he approached her the whisking seemed to become more vigorous. This time when she turned away from his kiss, it was more deliberate. The whisking was abandoned as she walked away from the counter. Away from his display of affection.
This morning, they had parted ways on relatively good terms. They’d kissed after he had escorted her to the vehicle and held the back door open for her. Things weren’t exactly as they were before but this… this shit hurt. Ivy had never turned away from his kisses before. No, she hadn’t turned away. That was an out-and-out rejection. Their first kiss had bonded them, and every kiss after it had solidified their connection.
Knock, knock. The two pounds were loud and deliberate.
“What the hell?” Ivy grumbled answering her door. “Hey, Emmanuel.”
“Can I come in for a second?” He stood a respectable distance away. It was becoming harder to fight the urge to touch her when he was in her presence.
“Um, sure?” She squinted at him. “What do you need?”
“I was over there—” he said pointing back at the closed door of his condo.
“With all your guests,” Ivy interrupted.
Well, yes, he had a few people over. However, his thoughts weren’t with them. Hence his little excursion across the hall.
“And I got to thinking about something. Now that we are friends ? —”
“We aren’t… but go on,” Ivy interrupted, again.
“We are friends, we have breakfast all the time. At this stage, I’m ready to start braiding your hair.”
Ivy gave an unladylike snort. “What’s wrong with you?”
She moved to close the door, but he stopped it with his foot. Then he walked in as bold as he pleased and closed the door behind him.
“Why are you over here again?”
“Hm, I was wondering how I could be a better neighbour.”
Ivy arched her eyebrow and pursed her lips as she was backed against her closed front door.
“See, I was concerned about the noise level and how it was affecting my favourite neighbour. Now that I’m here…” He tilted his head this way and that. “Weirdest thing.”
Emmanuel paused waiting for Ivy to ask what it was. He watched as the realisation dawned on her that he wouldn’t proceed until she did just that.
With a huff, she prompted, “go on, tell me the weirdest thing.”
“Well Ivy.” Now he had her trapped between himself and the door. He stretched both of his arms up and above her head, bracketing her in. “Funny thing. Now that I’m in here I can barely hear anything.”
For his astute observation, he was rewarded with a smouldering glare.
“You don’t have it as loud as you usually do. And maybe my hearing is better than yours.”
“Or. Hear me out. You like having an excuse to come over… to see me.”
“Don’t you have a party to get back to?”
“I’m exactly where I want to be, Ivy.”
The air seemed to shift as her chestnut-coloured eyes abruptly broke their eye contact. Maybe that was for the best, because as his eyes trailed to her mouth the tip of her tongue snaked out and wet her lips. It was the oddest sensation to realise that you had been fighting a battle and lost it all at the same time.
“Ivy.” That was the only warning Emmanuel gave her before capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. The fog of lust that blanketed him as she moaned her approval into his mouth… shocked him like an electric bolt. Rather than put an end to the mating of their mouths, her surrender urged him to capture more of the taste of her.
This would not be the demise of all that they were. First the rejection of one kiss, then another, until one day they looked up and they were too far apart. He had to figure something out.
“What’s the matter?” Emmanuel asked. Ivy’s back was to him, but he didn’t miss how her shoulders tensed before she turned to face him.
“Nothing.” Her tone was frosty… no. Frostier than the sub-zero temperature outside.
Emmanuel scanned the kitchen, regarding the evidence that it was indeed something. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what it was. Or suspected. No, he wasn’t looking forward to the answer. But hell, he refused to continue on the path that they were on.
“I don’t know Doc. Our kitchen says otherwise.”
At first, she didn’t answer. Ivy disappeared into the pantry and returned with a glass cylinder containing a vanilla pod.
“I felt like baking.” Ivy shrugged, as she walked back over to the counter.
He stepped back to allow her access to the counter.
“I went to a bunch of places, so I could get the good coconut chunks and the rum I use is in short supply. I had to go to three liquor stores before I found the right one.”
“Ivy.” Something in the way he called her name, made her turn to him.
She squeezed his bicep. “I’m fine, Manny.”
“No, Doc. You aren’t. It looks like a bakery in here.”
“I felt like baking.” Her voice was soft and small.
“But why?” He realised how quiet the kitchen was. The absence of music or television was a further sign of how wrong things were.
“You love when I bake. I’m actually good at it.”
“Yes, I love when you bake, and you are very good at it. But Doc, baby you only go full-on like this when you are feeling out of sorts. I keep asking?—”
“Please stop!” Ivy shut her eyes tight and shook her head. She opened her eyes then.
The pain there rocked him on his feet.
“The constant checking in is driving me insane. It’s hard enough.”
The need to have Ivy give voice to what was bothering her was an ache that throbbed within him. Maybe that was why he kept asking her if she was all right, and if they were all right. He knew his fucking wife. Understood that on some level an internal war was raging. It had to be. She was all logic and facts. Science was her first love. Now he was asking her to ignore it. So yeah, Emmanuel kept asking.
“I’m asking because I want you to be honest with me. Please.”
“How can I be? Huh?” Ivy wrung her hands together. A pool of unshed tears distorted the colour of her eyes. “How do I tell you, that despite the fact I believe you with my whole heart. Because I do. I know you. The man that you are. The facts. The facts do not lend themselves to that belief. So, in spite of my best efforts. I can’t keep the doubt at bay. I don’t know how.” The pool of tears found their escape as they meandered down her cheeks.
Christ. Her pain was palpable. For the first time, he wondered if his instinct to comfort her was right. Emmanuel pushed down the errant thought. He wiped away her tears. Then he pulled her into his embrace. “I’m so sorry, Doc. I know this has been hell on you. You don’t ever have to be afraid to tell me anything. How you feel. I… get it. Your feelings are valid.” His large hands drew comforting circles on her back. She sobbed quietly as he held her.
“Manny, I have something to tell you.”
“Yeah.”
For a moment he thought that she wasn’t going to speak. Ivy burrowed herself deeper into his embrace. “Today. I, uh. I gave way to the doubt.”
Emmanuel remained quiet and waited for her to continue.
“I had a panel drawn for STIs.”
His first instinct was to let her go because her words clawed at his insides. Her doubt was one thing. It was perfectly natural. It was something entirely different to act on it. The very act implied, not only did he risk the life that they built together… but he put her in danger.
“Manny, say something,” Ivy implored as she pulled away.
He hadn’t realised that he was crying until he felt her wipe his tear away. God, he didn’t mean to be a selfish prick. He shouldn’t be hurting her. But the fact that she’d taken the test. Not just that she had taken it, but without speaking to him about it first… triggered pain to blossom in the pit of his stomach.
It caused Emmanuel to take an involuntary step back. He’d somehow convinced himself that he could handle her feelings. Ivy would tell him how she felt, and they would work it out together. An STI test never entered his mind. Now the fact that she’d already taken one… was an open wound.
Wait! Ivy had taken a test. Did that mean… she wanted him to take one too?