Waking Up With You (8 page)

“Oh. I always thought it was odd that he would want such a big house for himself.”

“Well, at the office they say that he bought it because he and Christina Sawyer were preparing for their nuptials.”

“Christina Sawyer?” I ask blankly.

“You’ve never met her? I thought that because you’ve been friends for the longest time…” he pauses.

“No, we didn’t run in the same social circles. I’m sure my brother would have known her, but I’ve never had a chance to meet her. Anyway, does she work with him?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

“Christina is a top attorney at Shaw and Robertson. Their practice represents architects and other design professionals all over the country. Harvard class of 2006, I think. A litigation expert. She once represented Jake in a breach of contract case. Needless to say, Jake won.”

“Were they ever engaged then?”
Tell me now
.

“I have no idea. There have been no formal announcements, but I kind of get the impression that they have a committed relationship. I mean, she’s in and out of the office almost every week. And you say you’ve never met her?” He looks intrigued, though, of course, he doesn’t say anything.

“Nope, never had the pleasure. I guess I will meet her one day. After all, I am temporarily living at his residence. We’re bound to run into each other.” I say this almost with malicious glee.

“Definitely. So, if you’re not working at the office, will you be working from here, then?”

“Yes. I go back to school in two weeks so it’s really more convenient for me to work from here. Why, didn’t Jake say anything about that?”

“No. It’s just that when I asked him if you’ll be occupying Elise’s office, he said no, so I just assumed that you’re working from home.”

“I am very lucky to be able to do the work from here. I get to work in my pajamas, raid the fridge for snacks, and pretty much play hooky any time I want,” I say with a laugh.

“You’re right. I’m in the wrong profession. I should have just majored in internet marketing or something like that. Problem is, my home is not anywhere as grand as this.” He throws back his head to laugh.

“Matt, I’m sure you are very good at what you do. Otherwise, Jake would never have hired you.”

“I think I got hired mostly because I have a background in architecture. What about you? What’s your major in college?”

“I’m actually only in my first year. But I would very much like to become a doctor.”

“I’m sure you will. And your part-time job will help with the tuition fee.”

“Believe me, I am incredibly grateful Jake is letting me do this.”

“Well, you already know that he’s an astute businessman. He wouldn’t have given you the job if he thought for one minute that you won’t be good at it.”

“Or it could just be a case of nepotism,” I surmise frankly.

“Not that kind of guy. Everyone at the office carries his weight. He hires only the best, Emma.”

If only he knew how I really got the job. I smile slightly and say with humor, “It appears you have just admitted that you are very good at what you do. I was right all along.”

“Touche,” he says with a bow. “Sadly, given that you have completed the paperwork, I have no choice but to leave,” he says, pretending to sulk.

“You should have told me to write more slowly,” I play along with his joke.

“That’s okay. Let me make up some more forms for you to sign so I can pay you a visit once again,” he gleefully says.

“You do that. I’d welcome the interruption any time,” I assure him.

“Are you sure?” he asks while meaningfully staring at my wedding ring.
Yikes! I had forgotten about that.
I scramble for an answer.

“This is my mother’s wedding ring. And this,” I say while pointing to my watch, “is my brother’s watch. I just wear them to keep their memories alive.”
Whew! Okay, I was only half-lying.

He flashes a big smile, relieved at my response.

I walk him to his Lexus and he leans towards me as he shakes my hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Emma,” he says sincerely.

“Drop by any time,” I say with a warm smile.

“I certainly will,” he says as he gets into his car. He waves as he makes his way out of the property.

As soon as he’s gone, I literally run to my laptop and google Christina Sawyer. It turns out that she’s one of the gorgeous women in the photographs I saw yesterday. Christina Sawyer is the daughter of the late Justice Zachary Sawyer and the philanthropist Ruth Sawyer from the famous Mead clan in Philadelphia. Quintessential California blonde beauty, blessed with intelligence, savvy, and flair. She is exquisite, rich, and well-connected.
Kill me now.

I go through every site that mentions her. Graduated with honors from Harvard. One of the top twenty sexiest lawyers in America. Stunning in a red bikini. Sings Nessun Dorma at a fund raiser.
She’s also a gifted soprano?
Awarding scholarship winners with her elegant mother.
Abundantly favored with good genes
. This woman has everything, including Jake. Talk about a grand sweep.
Ah, there it is.
She’s photographed with Jake. The caption: ‘The gorgeous Christina Sawyer with equally hot boyfriend, architect Jake Morgan. Is a walk down the aisle imminent?’ There are other photographs of the two of them – walking up the steps of the courthouse, attending a gala, dancing at yet another fundraiser.

When I didn’t know about her, I could distract myself from the attraction I felt towards Jake. Now that I know about her, I know I’ll be fixating on her endlessly. What’s worse is that I think I’m even more attracted to him now. Is this a case of wanting what you can’t have?

OMG.
It must have been her calling him right after the wedding ceremony at Norwalk. No wonder he looked rather evasive. I consider my thoughts carefully and come up with no acceptable resolution.
Game over, Emma
.

I hie off to the kitchen to find comfort in cooking. My mother taught me how to cook when I was only seven years old. She was old-fashioned that way. She believed that women should master the skill. Charlie was my biggest fan. From the very beginning, he was always clamoring for my meat pies. He loved my pastas and chicken dishes. After our parents died and I took over the kitchen, he encouraged me to experiment with the more complex recipes. I guess I could apply for being a sous chef, if I really wanted to. But I don’t see baking and cooking as work. I find them incredibly soothing. When I chop, mix, and stir, I am in the zone. I think about nothing but the end result. The activity is a kind of therapy for me.

Today I want to prepare coq au vin and chocolate soufflé for dessert. I get the large dutch oven from the pantry and start gathering the ingredients. I have no choice but to defrost the chicken in the microwave, after which I cut it into eighths. I slice the onions, carrots, and mushrooms. I brown the bacon and chicken pieces, combine the other ingredients, and pour the cognac and chicken stock. I put the pot into the oven. I find myself considerably relaxed after going through the exercise.

I check the clock and see that I still have enough time to prepare the soufflé. I brush my ramekins with soft butter and then put them in the freezer. After I set aside the melted chocolate, I beat the egg whites until stiff. I’m on auto-pilot after folding the egg whites into the chocolate. I’m in the process of ladling the mixture into the ramekins when I’m startled by the loud slam of the front door.

I turn around and see Jake with an expression of rage on his face. He comes towards me in giant strides.

“You’re early tonight,” I mutter.

“What the hell did you say to Matthew?” he says in an accusatory tone.

“What did I say to Matthew?” I repeat, clearly not understanding what he’s upset about.

“Dammit, Emma. It was your idea not to tell anyone we were married. I didn’t know it was because you wanted to sleep around,” he spits wrathfully.

“What the hell, Jake! What are you talking about?” I’m now agitated.

“Matthew basically asked me today if he can come around to invite you out sometime soon.”

“And?”

“And nothing. You told him you were here for the meantime and that we’re just friends.”

“So?” I am now consciously goading him to anger.

“What do you mean so?” He looks like he wants to shake me.

“I didn’t say anything that’s untrue though I had to make up something about my wedding ring. I am here for the meantime. It is a marriage of convenience, so it’s bound to end one day. And we are just friends! Or at least, that’s what I thought until you came home, accusing me. Now, I’m not so sure anymore,” I calmly explain myself.

“You encouraged the man to think he has a chance with you,” he says with distaste.

“Doesn’t he? Only I can tell for sure, and it’s none of your business.” I’m saying this to get under his skin.

He squeezes my shoulders with both hands, forcing me to look at him. “Listen to me. I am your husband and you will not do anything to make me a laughing stock. Marriage means honoring your vows. It doesn’t mean having sex with anyone you choose, no matter how discreet you may be,” he tells me in a loud, ominous voice.

“So what’s sauce for the gander, is not sauce for the goose?” I mock him.

“What are you talking about?”

“You figure it out, my honorable husband,” I whisper, each word a staccato.

“Emma, I am getting very close to losing my patience with you,” he warns.

“I am not a slut, Jake. I don’t sleep around. In fact, I’ve never…” I stop, not wanting him to know the extent of my inexperience. I continue talking in another vein. “I was being friendly to Matthew when I told him to drop by. He’s a nice guy, and I saw no harm. I don’t understand why you have to jump to the wrong conclusions.”

He looks suitably chastened. After a very long period of silence, he mutters, “I’m sorry, Em. The blood just went to my brain when he asked me. I left the office and drove like a maniac to confront you. I was thinking he’s a good-looking young man, and you’re probably attracted to him, so you…” He sighed heavily.

“And if I’m attracted to him, is that going to be an issue?”

“Not if you don’t act upon it,” he censures me.

“I see. I can look, but not touch.” I know I am treading on dangerous ground now.

He says nothing, but his eyes darken.

“You are forbidding me from having anything but an innocent relationship with a man.” I dare him with the glint in my eye.

“Yes,” he says with force.

“Can I forbid you to have sexual relations with another woman?” I ask softly.

“Where are you going with this, Emma?” He seems to be confused by my question.

“Aren’t you in an intimate relationship with Christina Sawyer, and yet you have the audacity to stop me from being with another man?” I move in for the kill.

This time, he gives me a raking gaze and his lips swiftly descend on mine in a punishing and angry kiss. I am burning with fire, but I steel myself from responding to his onslaught. He is chastising me for my rudeness and I refuse to surrender. I so want to give in to the desire that’s flooding me, but I quietly pray for strength. I stand still until he lifts his face and I see his eyes fill with contempt.

“If what you want is a tumble in bed, my room is next to yours, though I can see you’ve taken a fancy to my employee,” he says with acerbity. “But, I’m warning you. Don’t ever bring other people into this. Matthew is a nice man. Don’t toy with his affections. And leave Christina out of this. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He looks like he’s about to say something else, but changes his mind and walks away.

I hold my hand to my chest as my tears choke me.
What is happening? How did I become the antagonist?
I have a friendly conversation with someone and he’s thinking that I’m luring the man into bed. He’s sleeping with his girlfriend and I’m not allowed to talk about it. What’s going on? I have nothing to feel guilty about, yet he looks at me like I’m some two-bit whore. I am beyond incensed. I feel murderous. I won’t let him have the last word. I march to his room, determined to make him listen. However, I notice his door is slightly open, and can’t help but overhear him talking to someone on his phone.

“I know. I lost my temper…I don’t think I can do this anymore…Yes, but it’s eating me alive…”

The person on the other line is talking now because he’s quiet for a long time.

Jake starts talking again. “No, I guess not. I will never do that to Charlie. I just have to find a way to…” He opens the sliding door and goes out into the garden, so I don’t hear the rest of his words.

My heart is pounding. He’s probably talking to Christina. It hurts to know he’s running off to his girlfriend to discuss me. And, to add insult to injury, it sounds like she’s pacifying him, asking him to be patient with me. I’ll bet she wouldn’t be so understanding if she knew her boyfriend has been kissing me.

Only four days married to him, and I have turned his life upside down. If I have any pride left, I should leave him now and let him be happy with the woman he loves. But a raw, primitive grief overwhelms me at the thought.

I amble to my room like a wounded animal. I search for a chain from my small jewelry box, take my wedding ring off, and insert the chain through it. I will wear it dangling from my neck from this day onward. The world may not know I’m married, but I will.

The next few days, we hardly say anything to one another. Polite hellos and good-byes. Mostly very small talk at breakfast. “The weather is perfect today,” or “I like your scones.” This sort of exchange makes me uncomfortable, but I don’t detect anything on his part. I can only assume that he feels better when he spends less time interacting with me. He promptly leaves for work at eight and doesn’t come home till late at night. I don’t even bother to cook dinner. I mostly just have a small salad, and he probably has a meal at work or with Christina.

I get phone calls from Elise on a daily basis. She’s leaving this weekend so she has no time to meet with me. She gives me detailed guidelines, access to the social media accounts, passwords, and a run-down on what she’s been doing previously. I get emails from Jake’s assistant, Dan Abernathy, about upcoming events in the firm’s calendar. I guess Jake doesn’t want the risk of sending another of his employees to meet with me, his man-hungry wife. Yes, the bile still rises in my throat whenever I think about how he denounced me and then went running to his girlfriend for consolation.