Jon
“I want you to call me as soon as you land,” I told Maritza while hugged her. “I mean it, alright?”
“I know.” She huffed and pulled away from me. “It’s not like I’m flying the plane myself.”
I sighed and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Alright, well, I’ll miss you. Do you have a ride to the airport?”
“Yeah, Allie’s gonna take me when she gets back.”
Allie. I’d gotten Lydia’s text that Patrick wasn’t home yet and she was out with Alison. It was incredibly awkward to hear them both talk about her in such wildly different ways. She used to call Alison pretentious, I thought, suddenly fighting to hide a smile. I remembered meeting the Montgomery’s once or twice, Christine was friendly with Alison’s mother – whatever her name was – and I knew they were popular socialites, but I’d never actually met their daughter. Now I heard Lydia and Maritza talking about her all the time and I felt like I was watching the next generation of country club socialites starting to form. Lydia would be the extremely involved mother that brought her kids to play whatever sport they were into that week; I could already see that. Maritza would die before she let her kids step foot on a tennis court. Fuck me, I’m not ready for grandchildren.
“Papa?”
My attention snapped back into focus and I realized I was still holding her hands. I let her go reluctantly, feeling her take that piece of my heart with her that she always took when she left. “Call me,” I pleaded again. “Please.”
She rolled her eyes but reached up and kissed my cheek. “I love you, okay? I’ll call you at some point.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled and headed back down the stairs, turning to give me a wave before bounding out onto the street. I was never going to get used to her just being gone, no matter how many times I watched her leave, it always felt like the first time. Christine told me that was my guilt for not being there more while Mari was growing up. I didn’t know how much I believed her, because I was there every moment that I could be, but I still felt like it wasn’t enough.
I turned towards the elevators and dragged my feet going back up to the apartment, not wanting to be alone and still unsure where Lydia was since she hadn’t answered my most recent text. I wonder when she’ll be home. I wonder if Pat’s with her. I hadn’t heard from him either, I just hoped that he wasn’t still with Charles having some top-secret meeting in my office. Stop it.
I clenched my jaw and unlocked the door to the apartment. I would work out until she got home, hopefully then I would be calmer about the whole situation. I generally preferred working my stress out on former interns with a crop or a cane or a belt, but I was shit out of luck for now. My phone buzzed and I pulled it out immediately.
9:01 PM Patrick
I’ll be back in a bit, I’ve got Italian tonight.
Probably from Fabrizio’s. Patrick knew I loved pasta and I was immediately suspicious about the meeting with Charles. I brought him Chinese food when they got back from Poland. We’d eaten lunch together just about every day for more than a decade, we knew exactly what the other person looked for after shitty depositions, hearings, and court dates. I wasn’t going to like whatever he had to say.
I didn’t respond, instead I just continued upstairs. As I reached the landing I turned toward the media room and paused; my office door was slightly ajar, the keys hung from the doorknob. Lydia? Where did she find those? Oh, holy fuck, no! I rushed down the hall and pushed the door open in a panic, realizing that she had probably, definitely seen the photos in my bureau.
Lydia sat in my chair with the desk lamp on, one of my fountain pens caught between her lips. My heart rate slowed considerably and I leaned against the doorway with my arms crossed, watching her scrawl something across the paper. She was beaming, lost in her own little world while I stood there taking in the sight of her in sweats with her hair pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head. I remembered how horrified she was at the idea of walking around not dressed to the nines and completely made up, that all changed in the Bahamas. So did she. She melted down when we left my beach house but there was something different about her ever since she came home from Monterey, something more grown up and harder. She was maturing in front of our eyes and I barely even realized it, until now.
“What are you up to?” I called to her. Besides going through my stuff. I couldn’t be upset with her though, she lived with Pat and I now and that she had full reign of the apartment. I just hoped she hadn’t been freaked out by the pictures I had of her.
Lydia’s head snapped up and her gaze met mine instantly. If anything, her smile only got wider as she jumped off my chair and came over to hand me the paper. “This is for you,” she said, holding it out. “This one is for Pat, and you have to open them together. Okay?”
It was an envelope I realized. For what? I frowned and weighed it in my hand; it was light, there couldn’t be more than a single piece of paper inside. “What is it?”
She shook her head adamantly. “That’s a surprise.” Taking the envelope out of my hand, she opened my jacket and slipped it into the inside pocket. “You can’t open it yet.”
I glanced down at my pocket with growing confusion but eventually just nodded. “Alright, if you say so, Miss Morrison.”
She looped her arms up around my neck and pressed herself to me. I cupped her face, letting my thumbs run across her cheekbones idly as I stared into her grey eyes. With the slightest hint of pigment, they could have been a baby blue colour.
“Do you miss being Mr. Harris?” she asked quietly, her eyes searching mine.
She could have been asking if I missed her calling me Mr. Harris, but I knew that wasn’t at all what she was getting at. “Sometimes.”
“Like today?”
“Most days, if I’m being honest. I miss being powerful, feeling like a king and doing whatever the fuck I wanted. I miss the structure.” I paused, realizing that none of us had one. “You’ve been doing well without a routine, you’re a lot more stable.”
She smiled and her eyes sparkled in a way that made my heart stutter in return. “I have a good routine; Anne or Kathleen will let me help them when they’re here in the mornings, I usually go for a run on the treadmill for an hour, and then I do some writing for my blog in the early afternoon. Usually we have dinner around the same time, it’s just today that’s a little screwy for me.”
“Do you ever miss the office?”
“Sometimes,” she replied with a wink.
I laughed and pulled Lydia up, letting her legs wrap around my waist. She was lighter than usual, probably due to her new work out regime. I should show her how to properly use the rest of the equipment if that’s what she’s interested in. I sat her down on my desk and dropped down into my seat in front of her.
Her tank top was pastel pink and tight, it rode up and a small strip of skin was visible between the waistband of her light grey sweats and the hem of her shirt. How long ago did we make those rules for her? Was it really back in April? Or was it March? God, time was moving too fast, Halloween was two weeks away and I still felt like this was all new. It was so many months ago that I was trying to distance myself and let Patrick have her.
I slid my hands up her legs to her hips, pushing her shirt up just a bit higher, until her navel was visible.
Leaning forward, I pressed a soft kiss to her knee. “How’s your hand doing?” I asked as I pulled away.
She held up her bandaged finger and let me see it better. “I took some Tylenol for it earlier, it feels pretty okay right now.”
“Did you take Advil too? You said Dr. Auyeung told you to.”
Her smile faltered for the briefest second. “No, it’s fine for now. If I need it, I’ll take some later.”
I nodded and kept my smile plastered on. What isn’t she saying? It wasn’t a big deal that she wasn’t taking the Advil, it was just her reaction to it that had me curious.
“Do you make a habit of coming in and out of my office?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
Her tongue ran along her bottom lip and there was a wicked glimmer in her eyes. “Why? Are you worried I’ve seen something you didn’t want me to?”
She’s definitely seen the pictures. “I promise I wasn’t trying to be creepy,” I explained, fighting not to become as embarrassed outwardly as I was inside. “It was just the one and then it just kept going—”
“Jon, it’s fine,” she said with a smirk. “I’ve only been waiting like three months to talk to you about it.”
I had never in my life felt so disarmed with Lydia. When she first became my submissive, our submissive, I found it easy to keep my wits about me, to omit things to protect myself, but it was harder now and I couldn’t help but feel nervous about her.
“Please tell me that you don’t think I’m a fucking psycho,” I pleaded, looking up at her. I knew how those photos looked, I knew that keeping them in the bottom drawer had been a terrible idea, but I just wanted to remember what it felt like to be around her when she was gone. “I promise I’m not a murderer.”
She laughed and grabbed my face before kissing me hard. “You’re a creepy old man, Mr. Harris, but it hasn’t chased me away yet.”
“Oh god, I love you,” I mumbled against her lips, crushing her to me and pulling her into my lap.
She laughed and wrapped her arms around me as she leaned in to whisper in my ear, “I’m helping you to add to the collection, but you still have to wait for Pat to open his as well.”
“What?”
She shook her head and pulled away slightly, the chair beneath us creaked with the shifting weight but I refused to let go. I heard the door slam shut downstairs and Lydia’s head whipped around and she immediately squirmed out of my grip excitedly.
“Speak of the devil,” I said with a chuckle.
She ran for the stairs and I reluctantly pushed myself up from the chair. Slowly, I made my way down to the foyer and listened to them laugh out in the sunroom. Patrick kissed her cheek and leaned against his side affectionately. He and I hadn’t been affectionate since Poland, he focused that attention on Lydia and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of resentment. I wanted to be able to touch him without it being sexual, it made me feel less jealous of his time with Lydia.
“I’ll be right back, I’ll get us drinks,” she said, heading off towards the kitchen.
“Grab the Hudson Box whisky from the shelf for me please, dove.”
She gave me the thumbs up and I set to helping Patrick unpack the dinner.
“How was your day?” I asked quietly.
He shrugged and glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “It could have been better, but I’m glad to be home.”
I dropped my voice lower, not wanting Lydia to overhear. “Are you going to be up late tonight?”
He stopped and turned to me. “If I didn’t know any better I might think you were propositioning me,” he replied dryly.
I took a step towards him, ignoring the clanking sound in the kitchen and focusing on the way his eyes scanned my face. Men always had a special appeal to me, I always justified it with them being my heroes or being impressed with whatever job they had, but by the time I reached my twenties I could admit to myself that I wanted more. Patrick and I had fucked plenty of women together, and I’d been careful not to openly gawk at him, but inside I was fucking thrilled that could touch him without there being any pretense about it. We just didn’t do that in front of Lydia all that much.
“Stay up late,” I urged, reaching out to grasp his belt and pull him close. “I want to take a shower with you.”
“You want to hate fuck me for seeing Charles.”
“I want to take my anger out on your ass,” I confirmed with a wolfish grin. “You know you want me to.”
“What is it going to take for me to bend you over?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.
Nothing. Only Christine did that, she was the only person I trusted to do that. “Absolutely nothing, but don’t act so disappointed.”
He grabbed me hard and I reached up to fist my hand in his hair. He didn’t kiss like she did with her love and affection and obvious want, he kissed me like a cheap date in the back of his car, like he wanted nothing else from me except for a quick fuck. I loved that.
“Alright you two, don’t make me get the spray bottle,” Lydia warned as she came back.
Pat and I broke apart and I took note of the flush creeping up his neck with glee. He helped her pour some drinks and I lit the fireplace. It wasn’t that cold yet, but it still made it more comfortable out here.
Lydia took a seat next to Pat and I sat on the other side of him. It stuck out to me that she didn’t fight for the middle seat but I could see that she wanted to cuddle up to her fiancé. He turned and kissed her nose when she wasn’t expecting it, making her drop some spaghetti on the edge of her plate and down her chin. Her eyes went wide and she covered her mouth while fighting to get a napkin from the pile. I grinned down at my plate and scooped up some more cheese cappelletti.
“You could have gotten a bottle of wine if you wanted,” I offer her, noting the glass of water she has.
Patrick glanced over at her drink as well. “You don’t want a drink, sweetheart?”
“No, I’m good!” she answered quickly, her voice oddly high pitched. “How was the meeting with Charles?”
My eyes slid from her to him and I refused to look away. “Was it just him?” I asked casually.
“No, Christine and Morgan were there,” he answered, holding my gaze. “And I saw Norm.”
Chills washed over me and my palms were suddenly clammy. What the fuck was Norm doing there? Charles was acting CEO right now, and while Norm had always pulled strings behind the scenes, he’d never had any meetings without the entire board.
“Who’s Norm?” Lydia piped in.
“Norman Bower, Christine’s father,” I answered. “What did they want?”
Lydia set her fork down and turned her full attention to Patrick; the corner of her bottom lip was caught between her teeth and it didn’t take a genius to see how anxious she was.
“They wanted to apologize for what happened last June,” he said slowly, measuring his words. “And they had an offer for me… They want me to take over as CEO immediately.”
My stomach plummeted and I dropped my glass, it clattered to the floor and glass scattered everywhere as the amber liquid spread over the tile. She couldn’t do that to me, Christine wouldn’t do that to me – not over this, not over a divorce that she initiated, not over me choosing someone else instead.
Lydia jumped to her feet and grabbed napkins while Pat scrambled for a broom.
“You didn’t take it though,” I said more than asked. “Because you’re not that kind of person. Right?”
“Well I—”
I got up and Lydia suddenly looked panicked. I turned and headed for the foyer, I needed out, just for a few minutes, maybe an hour, I just needed fresh air and space and away from all of this.
“Jon, wait!” Lydia cried, running after me.
She grabbed my arm as we reached the foyer, and I spun around to see her and a frantic looking Patrick trying to stop me.
“Don’t go,” he pleaded. “We can talk about this; we can work it out—”
“There’s nothing to fucking work out if you take that offer,” I snapped.
She grabbed my jacket and pulled the envelope out. “Please,” she begged, pressing the envelope into my palm. “Before you go, before anything else – just open it.”
I looked down at my name scrawled across the top, the letters were elegant and swirly with a small heart in the corner. She turned and handed Pat’s his, my eyes met hers and I could see the pain and fear as she tried to keep us held together. Looking over her shoulder I could see Patrick scrutinizing his own envelope and running his fingers over the letters gently. Lydia turned and reached for his hand, squeezing it in her own and doing the same to mine.
Letting go, I popped open the seal and waited for Patrick to do the same before pulling out the small paper inside. It was a small black and white photo, and my heart skipped a painful beat. It was an ultrasound, a very early ultrasound. I couldn’t hear anything, my throat felt tight, and my hands prickled where I touched the image. Ours.
I stared down at the photo, completely blind to it and just trying to wrap my head around the fact that she was pregnant. A squeal caught my attention and I finally looked up; Patrick had Lydia in his arms, his face was hidden against her neck, and her hands grabbing fistfuls of her shirt. Their baby. They were getting married, they were moving in, and Patrick was getting my job. He won.
I looked down at the ultrasound again felt my eyes start to burn. I lost everything. Tears came hot and fast, running down my face in angry streams that I couldn’t stop no matter how hard I tried. I need out. Turning away, I wiped my face and stuffed the papers in my pocket.
“Jon?”
I froze at sound of my name, Lydia sounded so happy and bubbly. I was happy for her, for getting everything she wanted and deserved and more, but this wasn’t going to work.
“Congratulations,” I told her hoarsely.
“Jon, are you okay?” Patrick asked tentatively.
I shook my head but couldn’t turn to look at him. “I’ll be back.” I took off for the door, not stopping when Lydia called my name in a panic for when Patrick begged me to stay. “I just need air,” I choked out, throwing open the door.
Slamming the door behind me, I unlocked the private elevator and got in, locking it again from the inside so they couldn’t follow me. I laid my head against the mirrored wall and forced myself to just take some deep breaths. It was always him. Always, and I was an idiot for not seeing that.
Lydia and I had the physical connection, but he always had the emotional one with her. He never had to hold back and now I felt like I was the interference. That could be my baby. Could. That wasn’t a for sure thing, and Patrick was younger, they had sex more often, why wouldn’t it be his?
When the elevator doors opened again I ran to the car, desperate to just leave and find somewhere to calm down, to get myself together – to feel better. I’m sorry, dove. I’m so sorry.