Come Undone Page 2

  “My, my, Mrs. Wilson,” he crooned. The designation still recalled the image of Bill’s mom, but I’d managed to control my grimace finally. It remained one of the reasons I hadn’t officially changed my surname. “What big green eyes you have,” he continued, touching his lips to the corner of my eye. “And such pretty blonde hair,” he added, brushing a lock from my forehead. His hips ground against me in anticipation. I reached up and ran my hand through his floppy brown hair, cocking my head to the side.

  “Not blonde, just plain brown,” I said with a pout.

  “What?” he asked with feigned surprise. “You must be colorblind. I see some blonde strands in there.”

  “You just want to tell people you married a blonde.”

  “Agree to disagree, then.” His crooked nose creased with a smile. He loved to say he’d broken it during one-on-one, but the truth was that it was just naturally that way.

  He unhooked my bra swiftly, gently cupping my breasts in each of his hands. His fingers were long and I didn’t quite fill them up. From the living room, the unmistakable sounds of a heated basketball game blared from the television.

  The motions were familiar but pleasurable. His soothing touch had become defter, more confident, over time. And his usually awkward nature became more fluid. He groaned my name as he pushed himself into me, pulling my hips closer. I echoed his movements, my arousal growing with his satisfaction. I watched beads of sweat form on his brow, more apparent when his face screwed up with pleasure. He didn’t kiss me again, but I’d become accustomed to that. Making out, I’d decided, was for teenagers. I inhaled his natural scent, enhanced by a salty concoction of unwashed hair and fresh perspiration; it was always sharper when we were making love. I felt a twinge inside and sighed softly, but then it was gone. It wasn’t long before he came, squeezing his eyes shut as he called out and collapsing onto me.

  “I’m sorry,” he breathed into my ear after a moment. “Do you want - ”

  “No, it’s fine,” I reassured him, suddenly tired from the wine. “It was nice.”

  It took him less than two minutes to fall asleep; I knew because I often watched the clock as I waited. I untangled myself from his clutch and tiptoed out of the room. Once the apartment was dark and still, and I’d washed my face of the day, I returned to cocoon myself in the soft sheets. He stirred and reached for me, but I expertly dodged his grasp. I’d had to learn to find the comfort in postcoital cuddling. I was always the one left with tingling limbs and uncomfortable sweating as I willed myself to sleep.

  A twinge. Though the sex was comfortable and good, a twinge wasn’t going to get me very far. I let my head roll to the side to look at my husband. At one point he’d wanted my orgasm as much as I did, but it was the one thing I couldn’t give him. There were times when we’d been close, when the stars and the body parts had aligned, and I’d shuddered in response. But when it came time for the grand finale, I’d buckled under the pressure.

  Bill had found comfort in the fact that it wasn’t just him. I’d been with other men before him, mostly in college, but despite my efforts, had yet to find my slice of Nirvana. I couldn’t find comfort in that, though. To me, it was my eternal flaw and as a wife, my greatest inadequacy. If things were the other way around, could I live with the fact that I couldn’t pleasure Bill?

  I was happy though. I had other ways of getting myself off when necessary. I had my husband, who loved me in spite of everything. My life was pretty much as perfect as a night of good friends, wine and sex. I lay in bed and watched the ceiling, waiting for sleep. Yes, I was happy.

  CHAPTER 2

  “DON’T FORGET, tonight is dinner with Mack and Davena.” I rummaged in my purse for my building pass.

  “Got it,” Bill said, tapping his head. “I’ll meet you there, I can’t get out of the office any sooner.”

  “I know babe, that’s why I scheduled it for eight o’clock. Luckily the Donovans aren’t early birds.”

  “No shit. They’re bigger partiers than us, which is depressing considering they’re twice our age.” He leaned down to peck me on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Thanks for taking me to work today. I owe you,” I said with a wink.

  “Love you,” he called as I shut the door behind me.

  “Oh, hello fancy girl!” I heard from behind me. “Can’t be bothered with public transportation like the rest of us?”

  “Hi, Jenny.”

  “I love Fridays,” she said as we walked to the front of the building. “They’re so full of possibility. Do you know what I love more than Fridays though? Gossip.”

  “Oh, Jenny, where do you get all your information?” I teased.

  “Nothing gets by reception,” she said seriously. “Beman’s going to fire Diane.”

  “What?” I said, stopping suddenly. “He wouldn’t fire a senior editor with everything that’s coming up. How do you know?”

  “I just know, Liv. I also know that he’s going to hire you in her place.”

  “You’re joking,” I said, trying to suppress a smile. “But isn’t Lisa next in line? Are you sure?”

  “Yep. Everyone knows you’ve been carrying Diane’s load for years.” She touched my arm, and I stiffened slightly. “Since we’re early, do you want to grab a coffee with me?”

  “No,” I sighed with faux disappointment. “I want to get a head start on the day. I’ll see you up there?”

  “Yup!”

  I headed to the fourteenth floor and shook my head in disbelief. My dad would be so happy if I pulled this off. I’d been working hard under Diane for years but senior editor was a leap. Was I ready to step into her position?

  Coming off the elevator, I almost ran smack into the editor-in-chief and balked as I was hit with the smell of his self-tanner. The many wrinkles etched around his eyes deepened when his face pinched the way it did now.

  “Good morning, Olivia,” he said as we switched positions. “Nice to see you here early. Come by my office in an hour, I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Beman,” I said as the elevator doors closed between us. I turned the corner to see Lisa through the glass doors, hovering over Jenny’s desk. Damn. I exhaled audibly and pushed through the doors to Chicago Metropolitan Magazine, giving her a quick wave. What time does she get here anyway?

  I made sure to arrive at Beman’s office exactly one hour after our conversation. I didn’t need any time to know that I would say yes to the opportunity. I watched him tediously tidy his desk as I waited. He wasn’t the first difficult boss I’d worked under, but there was something unsettling about the air he gave off. His back was a little too straight, and the part in his white hair was a little too perfect.

  “I fired Diane this morning,” he said suddenly, never one for small talk. I didn’t have to fake my surprise because before I had a chance to respond, he continued. “I’ve been very pleased with your work as an editorial assistant. Not only do I think of you as an innovative editor, but your writing style fits the magazine very well.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Beman, your opinion is very important to me.” I was more shocked by the compliment than by the morning’s news.

  “It’s not my opinion, it’s just the truth,” he said, bringing me down a notch. “In any case, I’d like to move Lisa into Diane’s position and give you her title of associate editor.” I felt my face redden with disappointment. I almost wished Jenny hadn’t mentioned anything, and I definitely wished I wouldn’t have to work as Lisa’s inferior.

  “Mr. Beman, if I may, I’ve been working closely with Diane for almost three years now. I believe I’m ready to step into her position.”

  He eyed me carefully as I remained passive, watching him back. “As an associate editor, Lisa is technically next in line. You believe you’re ready, though?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed.

  “Let’s try this then. We’ll start with one of our most popular features: Chicago’s Most Eligible Bachelors
and Bachelorettes. It’s got potential to be our top-selling issue of the year. Let’s try to entice advertisers with our best selection of people yet. Move into Diane’s office for now and work with Lisa on the feature, along with whatever other assignments Diane had coming up. I’ll decide who I’d like to promote after the issue hits.”

  I nodded and stood up to shake his hand. “I’m in. Thanks for the opportunity.” He sent me on my way with the news that Diane was already cleared out and he requested that I send Lisa in to see him. She gave me a knowing, slightly triumphant smile as she glided past me to his office.

  After moving what few items I had from my cubicle to Diane’s office, I excitedly picked up planning where she’d left off. In my enthusiasm, I decided to enlist the help of an intern.

  “Looks like we’ll be working together on Most Eligible,” I said, poking my head into Lisa’s office on my way to the interns’ station. She only grunted in response, never taking her eyes off her computer screen. Lisa was nothing if not passive aggressive, which would be fine if her bitterness didn’t surface in other ways. “So I’ll come by this afternoon and we can get started. I can catch you up on where Diane left off.”

  She blinked up at me for a quick second. “Great Liv! I’m crazy this afternoon, but I’m sure I can squeeze you in.”

  I gave her a tight smile, but she was already ignoring me again. Moments later I was staring at the back of a short blonde bob that ended in soft pink ends. “Hi.”

  A young girl, who I guessed to be just out of college, turned suddenly. “Hi, uh, Mrs. Germaine.”

  “Are you Serena?”

  “Yes. Oh, is it Ms. Germaine or Mrs. Germaine? Jenny wasn’t sure.” She glanced at my ring. “Or something else.”

  “Whatever you like. Call me Liv if you want. I wanted to talk to you about the article you e-mailed last night. You sent it awfully late.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” she said, her light eyes widening. “I was feeling so, like, inspired, and I didn’t want to stop so I was up all night working on it. Next time I can wait to send it ‘til the morning.”

  “No, don’t worry about that. I’m up late,” I said, waving my hand. “I’m just glad you got it in early. Makes everyone’s job easier.”

  “Oh!” she said, covering her mouth with her fingertips. “I thought I was in trouble.”

  “Nope. Anyway, I liked the article, but there are some things I want fixed. I’ll e-mail my notes. In the meantime, Lisa and I will be taking over the annual Most Eligible issue. I’d like it to be the best selection of bachelors and bachelorettes that we can possibly find. Can you start narrowing?”

  “Sounds good,” Serena said as she made notes on a yellow pad. “How do I know what to look for? Like, looks-wise or . . . like . . . occupations?”

  I gave her a tense smile, wondering if I’d given instructions to the right person, and made a mental note to follow-up later. “Grab issues from the last few years to get an idea of what we’re looking for. I know they’ve weeded out people already but this year I want the absolute best options out there. No friends-of-friends or relatives. Set up interviews with the top picks so Lisa and I can decide from there.”

  “K,” she said. Even though it was just a letter, her voice wavered and her eyebrows met in the middle.

  “I was an intern once too.” I gave her my best attempt at a reassuring face. “You’ll figure it out.”

  ~

  “Hello, dear,” Mack said with a doting smile as I entered the restaurant that evening. I loved how his smiles deepened the wrinkles by his eyes because they were always genuine.

  “Mack,” I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek and then leaning over to his wife Davena.

  “How are you, honey?” she asked, her down-home drawl a stark contrast to Mack’s elegant British accent.

  “Bill should be here any minute. He’s been at work late every day for the past two weeks, but he’s on his way,” I explained.

  “No problem,” Mack said breezily. “Let’s sit and get a drink.” He indicated to the hostess. I let them go ahead and admired how their hands never separated while they maneuvered through the restaurant.

  “How’s work?” Davena asked once we were seated.

  “Wonderful,” I said, letting her know the news of my potential promotion.

  “I knew you’d work your way up quickly,” Davena said. “I never put my stamp on anyone I don’t believe in.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a genuine grin. It was Davena’s recommendation to a different senior editor that had secured me the internship years earlier.

  “Don’t waste your energy on the competition. If I know you, she’s the one who should be worried,” she added, studying her menu.

  “And your mother?” Mack asked. A grey strand dropped over his forehead and he blew it back. “How is she?”

  “She’s well.”

  “Anything in the works?”

  “Sure,” I said lightly. “Isn’t there always?”

  He grinned appreciatively. “I always tell everyone what an outstanding writer she is. Brilliant artist,” he mused. “I look forward to her next novel.”

  “Well, she certainly has an artist’s temperament,” I muttered.

  “You know that Max, from her first novel, was based on me? A sprightly British cad, come to university to terrorize the young ladies of the U.S. of A.”

  “Of course she knows that Mack, you remind her incessantly,” Davena teased.

  “Oh, rubbish,” he said, giving me a devious smile. “She was quite the girl, your mother. Walked right into the university’s newspaper office and demanded they print her piece on corporate sexism. I knew then that we’d be great friends. No surprise she became editor of that paper soon after. A real go-getter, like our Liv, here.” I frowned, and he laughed. “Oh, there’s Bill.”

  I spotted him through the diners and cringed when his elbow accidentally struck a woman in the head. His shirt was gold when he’d left the apartment in the morning, but the restaurant’s lighting turned it mustard.

  “I was here on time,” Bill said, breathing hard, “but parking is impossible.” He leaned over and gave me a lingering kiss on the cheek. “Congrats on the job,” he whispered, before turning to Mack and Davena. “What’d I miss?” he asked, dragging his chair out.

  “We were just reminiscing about old times,” Mack said. “Here, have some wine.”

  “What’s new with you guys?” Bill asked. I looked at him gratefully. He knew how I hated to talk about ‘old times.’

  “Well, Mack and I are headed on a last minute trip to the Amalfi Coast, so we’ve been shopping ourselves silly.”

  “Correction, she has been shopping herself silly,” Mack interrupted. “I’m just the human credit card.”

  “Oh,” Davena said, waving him off. “I only needed a bathing suit to cover my new scar.” She pointed to her side. “No more bikinis for me,” she scowled, “just old lady one-pieces.” I eyed her petite but athletic body – she was the picture of health with olive skin and cropped, wavy blonde hair. Her fiery eyes were surpassed only by her sassy attitude.

  Even with the discovery of her breast cancer three years ago, I’d never seen her without a twinkle in her eye. Pity was not a word in her vocabulary, and I’d learned long ago that normalcy was the best medicine.

  “You really should go see my best friend Lucy,” I said.

  “Which one is Lucy?”

  “Her college friend, Mack, try and keep up,” Davena teased.

  “Liv and Lucy rushed the same sorority,” Bill said. “When they were accepted, they decided they liked each other better than any of the other girls and dropped out together.”

  “Oh, isn’t that sweet.” Mack smiled, ever the romantic.

  “She’s a stylist, right?” asked Davena.

  “Yes, and she works just across the street from me. I’m sure she can help you find something that’s cute and conservative.”

  Davena made a gagging noise. �
�I hate that word. Me, conservative? No missy.”

  “Why do you think she made me move from Dallas?” Mack joked.

  “So can you take Liv on this vacation?” Bill asked, nodding in my direction. “This girl needs some sun.”

  I pouted. “What? I’m not that bad,” I said, pushing up my sleeve as the table laughed.

  “You stay out of the sun, hon,” Davena said. “Fair skin is in, embrace it.”

  I laughed and nodded. “Sure it is. Pale is all the rage.”

  “You know, Davena, we just finished a case against a doctor who botched a mastectomy and nearly killed the woman.”

  “That’s horrid, Bill, I don’t want to hear that.”

  I almost rolled my eyes at Bill’s inept social skills.

  “Really, dear, how is your mum?” Mack asked me with a lowered voice.

  “I haven’t spoken to her much lately,” I confessed. “She says she’s working on a new book but won’t say what exactly. And since Dad no longer owes her alimony, she claims she’s broke. But between a successful career and my father’s support all those years, I just don’t see how that can be.” I found Mack’s company comforting. Because of their history, he knew my mother in a way Bill and my friends couldn’t. “Bill wants to lend her money, but I think it’s bad idea. And we really don’t have it to spare, since we are house hunting.”

  “Are you?” he asked, and clapped his hands delightfully. “I’m so happy for you. You really are all grown up, little Livs. I still remember your first birthday – such a fabulous event your mother threw, and you, hardly able to enjoy it. She had that party for herself.” We both laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Davena asked.

  “These two are house hunting.”

  “Oh, you know Mack and I own quite a bit of property, so we’re nearly experts.”

  Bill smiled proudly and launched into a recount of our progress. It was his favorite topic as of late, so I let him talk and nodded at all the right times. Davena was sure to interject when she disagreed with Bill, and I laughed at the irritation on his face. If there’d been an ounce of religion in my household growing up, Mack and Davena would have been my godparents. They’d always been protective and Davena, being a natural know-it-all, didn’t mind pointing out when Bill was wrong.