Chapter 22
Damien
After we return with Luke from the hospital, Ivy and I enter a strange unspoken routine. We both go to work in the morning and then come back home and pretend to be a loving mother and father for Lake. We play games, watch his favorite cartoons, and talk about his day. When we retire to bed, the routine shifts from PG to straight-up X-rated. Ivy and I rarely speak, if at all. All the talking is done by our bodies. Their language transcends any feelings, good or bad, we have for each other. In bed, at night, I can give up myself to Ivy and surrender to her mind-blowing lovemaking and she surrenders to mine. Each time feels better than the last, and yet something is still missing.
Every time we finish making love, my mind goes to our night at Hamptons. The humiliation ritual I had planned for her. It should have satisfied me enough to end whatever hold she had on me and yet, Ivy Hawthorne has me in a chokehold still. I still want her. And worse, I feel guilty. I did not get the satisfaction of humiliating her I was hoping for. When she looked at me with tears in her eyes when I told her it was her father’s bed, I should have rejoiced. But I wanted to wipe them away and tell her I was lying. But I wasn’t. And I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come out.
And now, days later, I still feel guilty. It's difficult for me to describe. I should be running laps celebrating my victory over her. I should be over her by now and not worrying about what she thinks about me. About the hurt I caused her.
We barely talk when we are alone. Even when we sleep together. Tonight was the same deal. I came back from work to find Ivy and Lake already home. After the allergic episode, the nanny quit and so Ivy and I have been taking turns going to work with Lake. She said little to me even though she was speaking animately with Lake. And her mood was the same for the rest of the day. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want me, though. Because when I went to bed, she came in and joined me. I did not refuse her. I could not refuse her. It was as though we were two people obsessed with being with each other for no other reason than sex.
When the following morning came, her side of the bed was empty, but I could still sense her presence. By the time I shower and change, Lake and Ivy are already having their breakfast in the breakfast room.
“Mommy said I am going with you today!”
Ivy drops the piece of toast she was buttering into our son’s plate. “Lake,” her voice stern, “What did we say we do when we see someone first thing in the morning?”
“Sorry. Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I reply.
“Mommy said I will be going to work with you today.”
“It’s your turn today,” Ivy says. Greta sent in her resignation the morning after we came back with Lake home and ever since then, Ivy and I agreed to take turns taking Lake to our respective workplaces. She looks stunning in a white pantsuit and pink blouse beneath. She looks more formal and dressed up than I’ve usually seen her and a strange feeling of jealousy grips me as I wonder who she is trying to impress.
Afraid that I will drag her out of the room and rip off her clothes, I turn to the breakfast bar where there’s an array of breakfasts the chef has made for us. I don’t feel like eating and take a pot of coffee with me to the table.
“Aren’t you afraid of butter and chocolate messing up your pristine suit?” I draw out the only unoccupied chair at the small round table near the window overlooking a beautiful, golden skyline and plop myself onto the seat. Our legs brush as I extend mine and I feel an electric rush course from my foot to my groin. From the slight jump she makes, I can tell she’s just as affected as I am.
She cuts into her egg, saying, “I won’t be at the shop today. I have a meeting with a potential client.”
I grab a cup and pour myself some coffee, trying to look casual so as not to show that the little jealousy bug growing inside of me is turning into a monster. “Whoever he is, he going to buy whatever you’re selling looking like that.”
“Thanks, but it’s a she. The youngest Atkinson is getting married and wants us to do her wedding cake.”
I feel like a fool and simultaneously relieved. The Atkinsons are one of the oldest among the rich families in New York. I am pretty sure they can trace their ancestry to the Mayflower. And the woman who wants a wedding cake is a popular socialite. The society pages and gossip blogs have been abuzz about her upcoming wedding to a New York Giants footballer. Getting to do the cake for such a wedding would be great for any bakery.
“Well, good luck.”
She scoffs. “As if you care.”
I care. But I doubt she would believe me. Haven’t I proven that multiple times? Even though I don't care about her business, I want to see her succeed. I don’t know what changed between our date and now, but ever since then, I have been caring way too much about her well-being and what she does. I don’t know how to explain it to myself, much less to someone else, so I choose to do what I usually do with Ivy. Put the feelings in a mental box marked Ivy Hawthorne and change the subject.
“I was thinking of taking Lake to see his grandmother this weekend.”
Ivy stiffens, stops chewing, and then slowly relaxes. “Fine by me. I have some supplies I need to buy, anyway.”
“You’ll be coming along. Send someone else to do that.”
“I don’t think your mother wants anything to do with me. I’m sure she hates my guts.”
“You’re the mother of my child. You need to be there when he visits his grandmother for the first time.”
The conversation dies there and we return to our normal state of only speaking through Lake. She gets up and leaves as soon as she finishes eating Lake and I leave a few minutes later.
***
“Your ten o’clock has been delayed, freeing up your schedule until twelve.” Nicole looks up from her iPad when she hears a crash behind her. Her second assistant, Meg, practically jumps out of her chair and turns to see the cause of the chaos. Lake is in the sitting area holding a piece of rectangular wood as he watches in shock as blocks of tiny wood clutter on the table. I chuckle. Lake asked to bring his Jenga blocks with him, and I couldn’t refuse him. I was having fun playing the game with him while I waited for everyone to come into the office and had taken out a block that left the wood tower in a precarious state. I left him struggling to remove a block without toppling everything until he did.
“Lake!” Nicole says, “I didn’t know you were here?”
Lake’s gaze darts to me, his face cutely marred with guilt. “I’m sorry I tried to be quiet.” I shrug. And turn back to my assistants. Meg balances her laptop in her lap and adjusts her glasses, getting back to the meeting. Nicole’s attention is still on Lake though as she asks him, “I heard you got sick. How are you?”
I feel my body stiffen as I remember Ivy’s accusations. I told Nicole to look for a new nanny because Greta had resigned over the incident, but I didn’t tell Nicole what had caused it. Nicole doesn’t seem like someone who deliberately poisons a child. I don’t know anyone who would do something like that. I watch their interactions closely.
“I’m fine,” Lake says, his attention on stacking back the blocks. “The doctor told me to drink lots of water and stay away from nuts.”
“Nuts?” Nicole twists to face me.
“He has a pistachio allergy.” I lean back into my chair. “Same as me.”
Nicole’s face is blank. “Right. Of course.”
“Someone gave him some pistachio candy, and he had a nasty reaction.”
Again, nothing. Not a trace of guilt or anything to betray any deliberate wrongdoing she might have done. Maybe she’s better at hiding it. Maybe I’ve just never realized what a brilliant actress she is. Or maybe I am letting Ivy’s words get to me.
We get back to the meeting and after we’re done, I instruct Meg to take Lake to the in-house day care center. “There are three girls your age you’re going to like playing with there,” she says to him as they leave.
“You’re staying.”
Nicole clutches her iPad and stands obediently like a schoolgirl. I think about the conversation Ivy and I had. She was jealous of my relationship with Nicole and thought we slept together. Looking at Nicole now, it’s striking how I’ve never given her a second look because she is a beautiful woman. Plenty of men would drool over a tall and lithe woman with an elegant poise such as hers. Not a hair is out of place in her tight French bun. Her makeup is perfectly done. Her clothes are immaculate and professional. Nothing is out of place. She’s too perfect. Ivy’s imperfections are irritating. She can be messy, impulsive, and wild. In all my eight years working with Nicole, I don’t think she’s ever been late or done anything out of the ordinary. Nicole was not the type of woman to work her way into one of your clubs just so she could get a chance to talk to you. She was also not the type of person to seduce you in a maze.
“I wanted to ask you something about Lake.”
“Oh.”
“The allergic reaction he had. We have no idea what caused it. It's possible that it's related to nuts since I have the same allergy, but we're unsure. We only told him that to make him feel better.”
“The doctors couldn’t work it out?”
“They think it might be a number of things, nuts being at the top of the suspect list, but one can’t be sure.”
“Maybe the nanny gave him something.” Nicole is as impassive as ever. Giving nothing away. I feel a prickling sensation at the back of my neck. She has never been so obviously invasive. I think of Ivy again.
“Maybe,” I say, “She also told me that you came to my place that night and played with Lake for a while.”
I see a small flicker of emotion contort her face and as quickly as it comes, it goes. “That’s right.” Her voice is almost breathless. “I was dropping off your dry cleaning. It came to your office after you were gone and I thought to bring it to your place.”
“And you didn’t give Lake anything?”
She shrugs. “No. Nothing at all.”
This is the first time I am seeing her in a different light. She’s lying to me now. I don’t know why she would lie about such an innocent thing if she it happened by accident. She didn’t know that Lake was allergic. No one did. There’s no reason to lie and if she’s worried about me reprimanding her, she knows I would never fire for something as simple as this. I offer her one last out. One last way to dig herself out of the grave she’s burying herself in.
“Huh. She was sure you gave Lake some candy.”
“Candy?” Nicole shakes her head. “Maybe she is accusing me so she can get off the hook for something she did? I don’t know.”
Invasive again. Now she’s even more suspicious, and I hate that she inadvertently proved Ivy right. Something niggles at the back of my head. Ivy’s other accusation rings in my head. That fucking note she waved at me, with my handwriting on it. It couldn’t have been Nicole who wrote it. If she’s hiding this, what else is she hiding? I let the matter drop.
“Huh, maybe you’re right. That’s probably why she resigned.”
Nicole nods her head. “Some people don’t know how to take responsibility. Is that all?”
“There’s another thing I want to discuss. Remember when Ivy was pestering me all those years ago?”
Nicole scoffs under her breath. “She was very persistent. How could I forget?”
“Right. Great, because there’s something I want to ask.” I open my desk drawer, take out that piece of paper Ivy gave me, and hand it to Nicole. “Ivy gave me this. She told me I gave it to her.”
Nicole picks up the note and reads it. There isn’t any change in her expression and for a minute, I wonder if I am wrong, but then recognition registers on her face before she quickly masks it with her usual blank expression. She puts the note down. “You wrote this?”
“I didn’t.”
Nicole scoffs a little louder. “Ivy forge it? Typical.”
“That’s not her handwriting though, is it? I think we both know that it’s you.”
Her laugh is choked and nervous. “Why would you say that I’ve never--”
“Really? You’re the only person who can imitate my writing perfectly. Well, not perfect enough to loop the ‘u’s and ‘w’s but good enough.”
Her face goes red. “Damien, I would never do such a thing!”
“I mean, if you insist.” If she’s going to be stubborn, I guess I’m going to have to give her more proof. I open the drawer again, take out a few office documents, and throw them on the desk. “I’ve never signed these and yet somehow they have my signature on them. How did that happen?”
After Ivy told me about the note, I did a brief investigation of my own, hoping to prove Ivy wrong and clear the niggling doubt I’ve had of Nicole, but I found out she’s been forging documents in my name for quite a while. Most, if not all, the forgery is innocuous. It’s just her approving things I would have approved of anyway, but the note… How could she?
Nicole shrugs her shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe Meg has something to do with this?”
“Some of those documents are before Meg’s time. You can check if you don’t believe me.”
She doesn’t. Instead, she pleads, “Okay, maybe I did do some light forgery, but that was so I could make work easier when you weren’t around, that’s all.”
“And the note? That’s your handwriting.”
She’s dumbfounded for a moment and then she says, “I was only doing what I thought you wanted me to do.”
“Fuck Nicole! She was pregnant! With my child!”
“You said she was a liar. You’ve always called her a liar.”
“You saw her pregnant, and you turned her away! You didn’t think I needed to know that kind of information!”
Nicole moves over to my side of the desk and takes hold of my arm. I’m too shocked to react to this sudden show of emotion from her. “I was doing it for you. For us.” Her eyes are watery.
“Us?”
“You can’t tell me you’ve never realized that I have feelings for you. Why would I stay by your side all these years.”
I snatch my arm away from her grip and she winces. “I never asked you to.”
“Did you poison my son?” My voice is menacing enough to scare her into stepping back.
“I wasn’t thinking straight when it happened. I went to your place, and I had a packet of nuts in my hand. I offered him some. I swear I didn’t mean to harm him.”
“And yet you lied to me when I asked you.”
“I was scared.”
“Nicole. I’ve known you for years, so I would rather not fire you, so I think it’s better you hand in your resignation instead.”
Her eyes widen. “No Damien! You can’t!”
“I can’t?”
“I mean, please don’t do this to me. This job is my life.” She steps forward and grabs my waist this time. “I love you!”
I shove her away, and she stumbles, but she doesn’t fall.
“If you did, you wouldn’t have done what you did. Please clear your desk. If I see you ever again, I won’t be responsible for what I do to you.”