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“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not interested in other women.”
But I knew that look. The determination in his eyes. No one told Jackson Parrish what he could and couldn’t have.
Sixty-Three
Duplicity suited me. All the years of living with Jackson had taught me a thing or two. It was hard at times, knowing that Amber believed herself so clever and me so stupid, but it would be worth it in the end. It had been tortuous that weekend she was at the lake house with the girls and me. I hated going to that house, period. My mother was really only an hour away, and he wouldn’t let me invite her. He chose it specifically for that purpose—to make my mother believe that I was so self-absorbed that I didn’t think to include her. She had too much pride to ever ask to come. But inviting Amber to the lake had been necessary for moving my plan along. That was the weekend I gave her the vital tidbit that I hoped she would pounce upon—the fact that Jackson desperately wanted a son, and I couldn’t give him one. I also gave her a key to the New York apartment, knowing it wouldn’t be long before she found an excuse to use it.
When I got her text Friday morning asking if it was okay to use the New York apartment for the weekend, I came up with a plan. Jackson had been working from the lake house all week, making life miserable for the girls and me. He didn’t believe in letting schedules slide, even on vacation. When he wasn’t there, we’d lounge by the lake all day, eat when we wanted, stay up late and watch movies. But when he was around, it was lunch at noon, dinner at seven, girls in bed by eight. No junk food, only organic and healthy. I’d have to hide the books on my nightstand and replace them with his selection of the week.
That week, though, I did little things to irritate him. I came in from swimming with smeared makeup under my eyes, left my hair a mess, left crumbs on the counter. By Friday, I could tell he was reaching the breaking point. We’d just finished lunch, and I’d made sure that a piece of spinach was lodged between my front teeth.
He looked at me with disgust. “You’re a pig. You have a big green thing in your teeth.”
I pulled my lips back and leaned close to him. “Where?”
“Ugh. Go look in a mirror.” He shook his head.
As I got up, I purposely bumped my hip into the table, and my plate went clanging to the floor.
“Look where you’re going!” His eyes traveled up and down my body. “Have you put on weight?”
I had actually—ten pounds. I shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s no scale here.”
“I’ll bring one next week. For the love of... What the hell do you do when I’m not here? Stuff yourself with junk?”
I picked up the plate and walked to the sink, deliberately leaving a piece of cucumber on the floor.
“Daphne!” He pointed.
“Oops, sorry.”
I ran the dish under the water and put it in the dishwasher—facing the wrong way.
“Oh, Jackson. The Lanes are coming over for dinner tonight.” I knew that would be the final straw. Our neighbors at the lake lived in Woodstock the rest of the year, and their politics were to the left of Marx. Jackson couldn’t bear to be in the same room as them.
“Are you serious?” He came up behind me, grabbed my shoulders, and turned me around. His face was inches from mine. “I’ve been very patient with you this week, put up with your slovenly appearance, your ineptitude around the house. This is too much.”
I looked at the floor. “Stupid me! I thought this was a week you’d be away. I got the dates confused. I’m so sorry.”
He sighed loudly. “In that case, it will be. I’m heading home today.”
“I’ve arranged to have all the carpets cleaned over the weekend. You really shouldn’t be there, with all the chemicals.”
“Shit. I’ll go to the apartment then. I should go into the office anyhow. Thanks for screwing everything up once again.”
He stormed off to the bedroom to pack.
I would text Amber in the morning with the text I’d “meant” to send today—informing her that Jackson was coming to the apartment, and she couldn’t use it after all. I’d tell her that I’d forgotten to hit send, and hoped that she hadn’t been startled when Jackson showed up.
Walking into the bedroom, I tossedUlyssesto the floor and replaced it with the latest Jack Reacher. I stretched out on the bed and took a deep breath. We’d have pizza for dinner. The Lanes were enjoying the concert they were attending; they’d told me about it when they were over for dinner the week before.
***
Hours later, my phone rang.
“What the hell are you up to?” Jackson said.
“What do you mean?”