“I think I’m going to spend it with mom,” Charlie says, not looking up from his laptop.
His dad’s head snaps up and he stares intently at Charlie. I catch the look on his face and how he’s trying not to look disappointed by the news. This uncaring man seems to have a heart after all.
“She’s coming to town? I know you have Jack’s party tomorrow night.”
“Yes. She’s visiting Brad for the holidays.”
I start to feel bad that he will have no one to spend Christmas with, but then I remember that he called me a strumpet and objectified me in front of his son, and the feeling passes.
“Wish your mother and brother well for me then. Are you taking the girl?” his dad asks.
“Stop pretending like you don’t know her name. I’ve mentioned Elia plenty of times in the last few months. You have known her name and exactly who she is,” Charlie objects, his tone low.
“Look, she’s sexy and I understand why you want a woman who answers the door dressed like that, but she’s not wife material. She’s definitely not your wife material,” Charles Senior continues, popping another soup dumpling in his mouth.
“Stop. Right now,” Charlie warns, his voice flirting with anger. He’s trying to keep a level head for his father, his boss, but I’m not sure how much more he can hold back.
I try to let his father’s words roll off my shoulder like I’m Teflon, but I can’t pretend the dig about not being wife material doesn’t hurt. I’m trying my hardest to do what I can to help Charlie when he comes home: keeping the apartment clean, taking care of the laundry, and even trying to have meals ready. I told Charlie that having a housekeeper was redundant before we left for Bora Bora. The need to feel like I was contributing meant that I kept things clean before our relationship became more. After we got back, I insisted that I could manage doing something like cleaning up after the two of us. Still, his housekeeper comes once a month to do a deeper clean.
“You know it’s true. Jack’s told me some things about her and I don’t know if this whole amnesia thing is for real. It’s a little too convenient that she’s some freelance artist and now she gets to restart her life? Maybe it was true after the accident, but I doubt she still doesn’t remember,” his dad says, barely below his normal speaking voice. He wants me to hear what he has to say about me. “I heard Ainsley has been asking about you.”
“Enough,” Charlie’s voice is lethal. “If you want to work on the deal, then stay and work on the deal. Otherwise, you can get out of my house.”
His father leans back, looking at his son, trying to see him in a new light.
Quietly, I close my laptop, calling out that I’m headed to bed as if I hadn’t heard a word of what was said.
Charlie calls out a brief goodnight, his father seeming to have taken the offer to keep the focus on work. One glance at his father confirms that he wants to make sure I know where I stand, that he sees me as a distraction. I offer him my best fake smile.
Closing my eyes, fighting the tears back, I tell myself that it doesn’t bother me, when it completely does. I’m left wondering what Jack knows about me that I don’t.
Chapter 17
IgettoVivian’sapartment fifteen minutes early and I debate if I should go in early or just wait. The doorman, annoyed with my loitering, asks what I’m doing there and when I state my intended destination, he waves me up. I can’t wait to see her apartment and as the numbers go higher, my excitement rises as well. When I get there, she’s standing in the door, waiting for me while directing people where to put things in the grand space. Someone, the caterer I assume, is setting up in the kitchen area and grumbling about preferring to be behind closed doors. The apartment is an open concept with the entry flowing easily into the living room, which is hugged by the kitchen.
She’s across the park from me on the West Side and I’m glad that I have her this close. Vivian welcomes me with a hug while I check out the rest of the apartment. The living room has a set of double doors leading to a balcony where space heaters are being set up if anyone wants to brave the cold. From what I can see, it offers a sweeping view of Central Park, nearly directly across from Charlie.
“So, I know I told you I needed you here early for prep stuff, but I really just wanted some time with you for myself.”
I hope my relief isn’t visible. I’m glad she doesn’t want more from me; my muscles are quaking from physical therapy that morning. After telling Dan that I had gone to my old apartment, we discussed what I felt like during that endeavor and how best to strengthen those muscles. As a result, he worked me a little harder than usual.
Vivian and Jack’s apartment is spacious, but only one level, unlike Charlie’s place with the loft area. She tells me there are three bedrooms and two bathrooms so they have plenty of space to grow into it. This is the kind of apartment people dream of when they come to New York before being faced with the reality that they’re only able to afford a 450-square-foot shipping container unless they want weird roommates they found online.
She’s had their living room furniture put in storage for the night and there are tall tables set up for mingling, with chairs interspersed for people who become too tired of standing in their heels. This is a classy affair and I doubt that I’ve ever owned anything fancy enough for tonight. About thirty of their closest friends are coming to this party, a combination of work friends or, in the case of Jack, his fraternity brothers.
I hadn’t realized that dating Jack had thrust Vivian into the upper echelons of society where there was this expectation to be perfect at all times. By extension, through Charlie, I was now in that league too. Grateful doesn’t cover it when Vivian tells me she’s having a hair and make-up trial for the wedding before tonight’s affair and she asked if they could work on me too.
“Not that you need it,” she says, settling into a chair for her hair and make-up with a glass of champagne in her hand.
I laugh, taking a sip of my own drink. “Sure, I’ll believe that someday,” I agree with a laugh, but I’m not overly worried. The jet lag has passed and my tears last night weren’t enough for me to look swollen this morning. “Who is coming tonight?”
“I do want to warn you, and I cannot be clear enough that Charlie didn’t know, but Ainsley is going to be here.”
I pause, the champagne flute lifted to my lips but not quite touching them. Charlie’s fathers words still ring in my mind: I’m not wife material, Charlie should move on from me and settle down with someone else. I don’t blame Charlie for not kicking his dad out immediately; I would have had a hard time balancing the urge to respect my parents and stopping the disrespectful things coming out of their mouths. He shut it down as quickly and respectfully as he could, considering the man speaking the words is also the man who signs his checks at the end of the day.
I have no reason to think that Charlie would stray, regardless of his shared history with Ainsley. We still haven’t spoken in depth about it because it is something I feel like I shouldn’t push. If he wanted to be with Ainsley, he would be with her and not playing house with me.
Vivian reaches her hand out to tug at my blonde tresses. “You should go back to your dark hair; this blonde does not suit you,” she says, wrinkling her nose. The hair stylist grips her face sternly to try to get her to stop moving but Vivian was never any good at sitting still.