Entry-Level Mistress

chapter 16



The persistent knocking woke me out of the fever dreams of depression. I didn’t want to move from under the cocoon of the covers. Didn’t want to see my father, or face the reality of life.

Every moment that went by in which Daniel didn’t call or text seemed to confirm the nefariousness of his actions. I wanted to find some way to forgive him, to say: his dad committed suicide, his mom chose a lover and a slow death by pills over him. Of course Daniel had issues. If he called, told me he loved me, made me not feel this horrible, devastating pain, I could forgive him. But the silence hurt worse.

I’d finally fallen in love and everything about it had been one big cliché.

“Em, it’s me.”

Leanna. Who I didn’t particularly want to see either, but I pushed the covers aside, slid out of bed and padded across the floor. As I turned the lock, I fought back the dizziness of sudden movement.

“Come in,” I said quietly, stumbling back to bed. I heard the doorknob swivel, the hinges creak. Felt the rush of air as Leanna walked in. I burrowed beneath the covers and asked her to close the door behind her.

“Em.”

I slid my feet out of the way as Leanna sat on the edge of the bed.

“Did you just get home?”

“No, it’s after eight. Your dad said you’ve been in here for hours.”

“Is he still here?”

“He went for a walk, said he’d bring in Chinese for dinner. Talk to me.”

As I stared at the wall, thought about telling Leanna that I didn’t want to talk, the distinct vibration of my cell phone against the mattress of the bed filled the silence. I snatched it up, and then just as quickly let it drop back down, silencing it as my head relaxed back into the pillow.

“Daniel?” Leanna prodded.

Even his name hurt. Like an endless yearning, a cry for something just beyond reach.

“No. My mother.”

“Ah.”

I sat up, scooted back against the wall and pulled a pillow into my lap. It was embarrassing to admit the stupidity of it all to Leanna. And could I even tell her what my father was asking of me?

“Daniel set everything up, dated me, took me to the Hamptons, just so he could get back at my dad.”

Leanna laughed. “Seriously? You mean at thirty-one, he had as immature an idea as you had?”

“It’s not funny.”

“You guys are made for each other.”

“Leanna, my dad hasn’t worked at anything other than day laboring for nine years. Then, just when he was about to have a chance, the past was dredged up because of those photos and he lost it. Don’t you think it’s a bit convenient?”

Leanna stared, her expression looking like it was caught between disbelief and disgust.

“All of it’s a bit convenient. I mean, how was Daniel to know that you were about to take a job for him? You think he planted that help wanted ad at the counseling office?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well, exactly. If you think that is ridiculous, think about what you’re saying.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending Daniel!”

Leanna sighed.

“Listen Em, I’m not defending him. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Life doesn’t make sense,” I pointed out, sliding one knee up, my chest hurting again.

“And you are being a drama queen.”

Her words silenced me. I nodded slowly in begrudging acknowledgement. Part of what ached was knowing that, regardless of Daniel’s culpability, my actions had hurt my dad. I’d been acting thoughtlessly, without any sense of consequence. Playing at games for which I didn’t even know the rules.

“Maybe Daniel didn’t plan everything,” I admitted, torn in so many ways that my thoughts and emotions were a jumbled, confused mess. “That doesn’t change what he did do.”

“OK, let’s assume for a moment that your theory is right, “ Leanna said. “Emily, you were planning revenge too.”

I blinked, hating the wetness of tears but wanting them, needing them. With all the pent-up emotion, the turmoil and pressure inside me, something had to give. “But I gave that up when … ” I shook my head. None of the details mattered because I was sitting here with my chest hollow and aching. “You know what the worst part of it all is, Lee?”

“Yeah,” Leanna said, nodding. “I do.” She tightened her lips and then took a deep breath and confirmed my despair on a sigh. “You love him.”


• • •



On Tuesday morning, I gathered myself into some semblance of a human being. I wasn’t entirely certain how to dress, but I knew this was not just a confrontation; it was the official breakup. For a breakup, a woman needs to look so good that the guy doesn’t want to let her go. And for this particular breakup, I needed to make him to regret choosing revenge over me.

I needed armor.

My new favorite store, Claudine’s, opened at ten. The owner always carried an amazing selection of up-and-coming independent designers, and the sales rack in the back had become my second best resource in the last month, Leanna’s closet being the first.

If Jen, the owner, seemed surprised to see me on her doorstep at 10:01 in the morning, she didn’t show it.

“What are you looking for today?”

“A breakup dress.” The words slipped out before I realized that it was the sort of thing I shouldn’t be admitting to. Yet at the same time, acknowledging it made me feel powerful.

Jen nodded. “I understand completely.”

One hour, ten outfits and a swipe of my credit card later, I stared at myself in the mirror one last time. I looked good and I knew it. The spring green summer dress was one that looked effortless, as if I’d thrown it on to brave the heat of the day, and yet it clung to my body in all the right places.

I could do this.


• • •



The guard at the front desk recognized me, didn’t ask for my ID or if I had an appointment. I stepped inside the elevator, lifted my hand to press the button, to highlight the thirty-second floor. On instinct, I lowered my hand slightly.

Pressed.

30.

The ride felt longer than usual. Every electric whir and shudder of the elevator felt potent, momentous. The cabin came to a stop. The doors opened.

I stepped into the dim light.

Here was where we had conducted so much of our affair. Here was where I’d betrayed my father and myself. Given Daniel all the fodder he needed to hurt us once again.

I flipped open my phone. Texted him.

Then I made my way to the conference room.

Its emptiness, its familiarity, hurt. My chest ached and when I stepped forward, rested my forehead against the cold window, I urged the sensation to numb everything.

I heard the distant ring of the elevator banks, the opening and closing of the heavy metal doors. The footsteps in the hall could only be his.

I straightened, turned.

Even prepared, the sight of him devastated me. Like the room he was familiar, be-suited and sharp. Handsome.

Yet different.

I watched his eyes sweep over me, saw the flicker of appreciation.

“I was going to call you.” Daniel never made excuses, but his words sounded perilously close to one and the weakness strengthened me.

“Just like I was going to call you,” I returned coldly. I was steel and Daniel was a stranger.

“Emily.” He stepped forward, reached for me but I stepped back. I puzzled over that look in his eyes, as if he were hurt that I was cold, as if he wanted everything to still be the same.

“I saw the pictures,” I said, prodding him. Hesitant to say more, to actually break the last remaining thread of closeness between us. Why couldn’t this all be a lie, a dream?

“A bit embarrassing.” He shrugged, held up his hands as if he couldn’t have helped it, as if he hadn’t planned the whole situation. Suddenly I couldn’t bear the tension of what was unsaid.

“You hadn’t had enough? Had your fill of hurting us?” The minutes the words left my mouth, I regretted the attack. I was making accusations for which I had no proof. Maybe there was an explanation …

Except, he looked ashamed, and that small, physical admission of guilt sent a wave of helpless fury through me. Yet still, he said, “Don’t be mad at me. The reporter called and I just—”

“Don’t be mad?” I interrupted in disbelief, “My dad lost his final chance at bringing back his life. And you expect me to not be mad?”

He looked bewildered and that made him more of a stranger. Daniel Hartmann was never confused. My fury stilled inside me, humming in my chest, as I held it back out of sudden doubt. Maybe Leanna was right and none of it had been planned. The surge of hope nearly dizzied me and then, equally, disgusted me. How weak was I?

Daniel hadn’t planned this the way he hadn’t planned to send my father to jail nine years ago.

Why would he look guilty if he hadn’t done anything? Anger surged through me again. It felt better than the pain. Than the weakness of loving him.

“What does your father have to—”

“The job for Trueworth? You planned this all just to keep my father down.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you? You didn’t use me to get to him?” The confusion seemed to be fading from his face and as it did, bitterness flooded me. Was confirmation of my suspicions worse?

“I didn’t even know about it.”

“You told me you didn’t lie,” I said, the words hard and quiet, controlled.

“Listen, Emily—”

But I wasn’t in the mood to listen, not to excuses.

“Why did you take me to the Hamptons?”

He opened his mouth to speak but I didn’t wait.

“You wanted to show me off, right? You wanted pictures of us, gossip. You wanted to hurt my father in every way you could.”

He closed his mouth, looked down, and I thought I could see guilt in that closed expression. He was stood just a yard away but it felt as if there were miles between us.

“It’s your fault just as much as mine, Emily. If you wanted to keep our relationship secret, you didn’t have to come with me. You’re too naïve, too young.”

Disgust flooded me. He’d said that all along, used it as an excuse to push me away. Naïve, young—he was right; I was both of those things.

“You knew that. But I’m not the immature one.”

The corners of his lips turned down. His jaw worked. I wanted to cry but I was steel.

“What do you want from me, Emily?”

That stopped me. All my anger, all the hurt, the feeling of betrayal—none of it mattered to him. I’d wanted to confront him, but for what? An apology? Or did I want revenge? Neither answer would satisfy me.

My father wanted revenge. I could give it to him. I could hand Daniel’s future to him on a silver platter, make that fledgling foray into space a crashing loss.

The silence grew between us. His expression was one that I had once thought I could read. All my anger, all the pain, was bound up within me. I was full with it and yet, still, I stood there and stared.

“It was just a game.” His words were clipped, staccato, and even though there was something more there beneath the flippancy, they still angered me. I liked the anger more than the tears.

“And you played dirty,” I said, lifting my chin before I turned sharply to leave. As far as exit lines, it didn’t have enough of a punch, but I didn’t trust myself. I wanted—needed—out of there.