947 A.M. #7
“Hmph, I don’t understand wanting that,” he answered, tugging a blanket off the back of the sofa and covering himself. “But my people are Cuban and I grew up in Miami so…”
She chuckled politely, hoping he would get to the point. “England must be too cold for you then.”
He nodded. “Yes, I’m always freezing. I should have fallen for a rich man from Portugal.”
“If only it were that simple, right? Choosing who to fall in love with, rather than having our hearts do it for us.”
“Amen, sister,” he answered. “You know where I’m definitely going to be too cold to function?”
“No, where?”
“Canada.” Miguel nodded gravely. “Oh yes, I might die from the cold. I never should have agreed to do the show.”
Mercy blinked a couple of times wondering what the hell this was all about.
She didn’t have to wait long to find out, however, because Miguel immediately launched into a long, woeful tale about how he was so thrilled when Enid called him with the offer.
Do you know Enid Stoll? Of course you must. Everyone knows Enid. Anyway…
He went on and on about how Winslow had said no to him straight out of the gate.
Not ‘let’s talk about it’ or ‘here are my concerns,’ but no.
N.O. Not happening. Ever. And what could the poor man do but to book himself into a suite at the Plaza for the night so he could think.
(Pout, was more like it.) But seriously, who says no to your dream? Who does that?
After five long, meandering minutes, Miguel spilled the proverbial tea.
He was lying to the love of his life about their future, and, about to get caught, he had begged Travis for help this morning.
Begged, Mercy. Begged. But Travis was the second powerful man to tell him no, only this time, it was no, I won’t let you swap out the mansion the network already bought for one we don’t have, and no, I won’t help you lie to Winslow and pretend you turned it down but now are being forced to go to the Canadian wilderness.
“So, I am here, hat in hand, to ask for your help. Do you think you could talk your husband into helping me save my marriage? I love Winslow so much, it would kill me to lose him.”
She stared at the handsome man. He was roughly her age, and like her, he came from nothing.
She should want to help him. In his own words, he’d been impulsive, and now was filled with terror and regret.
She wished she had it in her to care, but the last thing she needed was yet another problem to solve.
Especially not an unsolvable problem. Travis would never allow her to sway him to do even a tiny favor for someone he cared about, let alone helping someone he’d call ‘new talent.’ She couldn’t even get him to have an ounce of patience for their own children, and they were his flesh and blood.
And she didn’t want to think about that right then.
She didn’t want to face the fact that she was married to someone so cold.
She pushed that thought aside, telling herself it wasn’t true.
He was complicated and extremely busy. But that’s how powerful men are.
They don’t have time to coddle anyone. Even their own children.
“God, you’re so quiet. I am sorry to ask. I know you’ve got problems of your own. But I am begging you for mercy.”
She let out a chuckle she didn’t mean. “You know what, Miguel? I have always hated my name.”
“Really? I think it’s lovely.”
“It’s terrible. It’s not a name, it’s a directive. Be merciful. Be kind. In other words, be a doormat. My little sister’s name is Faith. When we’re alone, we call ourselves the ‘walk all over us’ sisters, but there’s really only so long a person can keep giving, you know?”
His face fell. “I take it you’ve reached the end of only so long?”
“Yes, Miguel. To be completely honest with you, lately, I’ve been having more ‘I’m going to snap and kill someone’ days than ‘do unto others’ days.
Actually, now that I think about it, I can’t remember the last day that went by without me thinking of strangling someone.
” Specifically, her husband. Some days it was his parents.
Often it was all three of them. Occasionally it was one of those awful gossipy moms at school drop-off, and let’s face it, every time she was obliged to go to the River Oaks Country Club to play tennis with a wife of some important executive, Mercy was tempted to beat someone to death with her racket— mainly the other women who looked down on her because they knew she had ‘married up’ whereas they’d been born to rich daddies. As if that was their own doing.
“I see.” He stood up and began folding the blanket. “I should leave you to relax. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
Immediately, her sense of guilt kicked in. “Oh Miguel, I’m sorry. I’m just…tired today.”
“Yes, which is why I should leave you to rest.” He offered her a small smile, but she could tell he was panicking.
“Look, here’s the truth,” she said, not sure what the truth actually was.
“Travis is…well, he’s a very powerful man.
Extremely busy making million-dollar decisions all day long.
He’s got thousands of employees relying on him to keep things running so they’ll all have jobs next week.
Which means he can’t just say yes to everyone who wants something.
Those employees and their families are counting on him.
And no offense, but their needs have to come first. And they certainly come ahead of someone as privileged as you, who said yes when he should’ve said no. ”
Miguel ran his tongue over his teeth. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry to have bothered you.
” He turned to leave, but once he reached the door, he spun around again.
“Wait. I do have one last thing to say, and then I’ll go.
I am privileged, yes. But only because I’m with Winslow. Without him, I have nothing.”
“Then do the show and you’ll have more than enough.”
“But I’ll lose him, Mercy. And he is the love of my life.”
Oh lord, he was piling on the guilt. “Listen, here’s how I see it.
You did the wrong thing by lying to your husband, but he did the wrong thing too, by saying no to you like that.
It seems to me he backed you into a corner by refusing to consider the idea.
And in my book, that gives you a leg to stand on.
If I was you, I’d tell him the truth, but also make it clear that you never would have done it if you felt like you had a voice in your marriage. ”
His eyebrows drew closer together, and he looked anything but convinced by her mediocre attempt at a pep talk. “That’s good advice. Thank you.”
He pulled open the door, but Mercy stopped him with her voice. “Miguel, if I could change his mind for you, I would.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sure Winslow will understand. He might be upset at first, but then he’ll—”
“No, he won’t.” Miguel shook his head. “But that’s okay. I’m a big boy who messed up his bed. Now I have to lie in it.”
He walked out, leaving Mercy alone again.
Only this time she was too upset to read.
And it wasn’t because Miguel had interrupted her solitude to ask for a favor.
It’s because even if she had wanted to, there was literally nothing she could do or say that would change her husband’s mind.
It was she who had no voice in her marriage.
And now that the thought had popped into her mind, she knew it would follow her everywhere she went.