The Dear Wife (More Than a Wife Series Book 3), page 12
“LH Ink takes up the first five floors,” Joan informed me. “You ready, hot stuff?”
I took a deep breath. “As ready as I’m going to be.” I slung my bag over my shoulder.
Joan crossed the street like she drove. She basically stopped traffic and shuttled us across. To make matters more fun, my heel got caught in a gaping hole in the sidewalk, making me trip. Thankfully I had good balance and caught myself before I ended up flat on my face. If I survived this trip, it was going to be a miracle.
Joan patted my back. “Welcome to New York, baby.”
Joan went through the revolving doors, and I followed after her. Coming out the other side made me feel as if I were transported to a different place and time. All the noise and dirty air were replaced with shimmering light and gleaming marble floors. It even smelled nice, like baby powder. Before I could get a good look at the fine furnishings, I was being accosted by Fiona, Delanie’s assistant at LH Ink. I had met her only twice, so I was surprised by her exuberant greeting. She hugged me like a boa constrictor, which was fitting since she had a metal snake wrapped around her arm. It went well with her bright-green hair and black micromini dress.
“You look amazing,” Fiona yelled in my ear.
“Thank you. I owe it all to Joan.”
Fiona stepped back and gave Joan a pointed look. “You didn’t make her run home screaming this weekend. You’re getting soft in your old age,” Fiona teased.
Joan flipped her the bird, making Fiona laugh.
“Are Lucas and Becca ready for Avery?” Joan asked in her no-nonsense way.
“They are.” Fiona wagged her brows at me. “But Lucas would like to see you alone first,” Fiona informed Joan.
Joan made a disgusted noise. “He can see me later.”
Fiona giggled. “All righty then. Right this way, ladies.” Fiona waved toward the elevators to the left. On our trek across the slick marble floor, Fiona strung her arm through mine. “Delanie said you love protein bars and water, so I have some waiting for you in the conference room where you will be meeting with Lucas and Becca.”
“You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.” I wasn’t sure I could eat anything. I hadn’t been able to get anything down before we left. But maybe after I made a fool of myself, my nerves would calm down.
“We all want you to feel at home here,” Fiona responded.
I wasn’t sure that was possible. This all felt like a dream to me. As if I were living out someone else’s life. Maybe even the life I thought I might have had when I was a teenager. I always dreamed of living in the big city, dressing chic, and having an assistant to bring me coffee and pick up my dry cleaning. I felt suffocated in the small town I grew up in. Especially when I came home from France. I felt like I was too sophisticated. It’s one of the reasons I pushed off James’s advances for so long. He represented exactly what I thought I didn’t want. Little did I know he would give me everything I ever needed and didn’t know I wanted. Now more than anything I wanted it all back. But I knew it wasn’t an option. At least not right now and maybe never again. I had to at least try for this new life.
The surreal feeling didn’t go away as I rode up the elevator to the fifth floor. Joan must have known I was finding it hard to catch my breath. Without anyone else seeing, she gave my hand a little squeeze. I barely even recognized she had done it. When I tried to acknowledge it, she looked straight forward with a gaze as hard as steel. She made me smile, which made me feel better for a few seconds. Maybe it was because I took a breath. Breathing was a good thing.
With a ding the elevator doors opened, and my stomach dropped. I could do this, I repeated in my head. It was like training for my first marathon. I never thought I would be able to run more than a 10K, but that was because I had told myself I couldn’t. Once I started saying I could, it changed my entire outlook. I could do this. My designs were good enough to get an interview, weren’t they? I stepped out of the elevator into a sea of cubicles and people bustling about. I noticed, though, that the eyes of every person who glanced our way always landed on Joan, who was dressed to kill in a white dress that fit every curve she had to a T. Her black stilettos reminded everyone she was wearing deadly weapons. Her hard look said she wasn’t afraid to use them.
“This way.” Fiona pulled me along.
Joan walked in front of us like she owned the place. Maybe she would someday, depending on what was in that prenup. Before we made it to the conference room, Lucas was marching toward us, or should I say Joan. He was as formidable as Joan—tall, well built, with this air about him that said he was in charge of everything and everyone. He didn’t even acknowledge Fiona’s or my existence. Instead he took his fiancée’s hand and led her to what I assumed was his corner office. I heard him say, “I missed you this weekend.” I couldn’t believe Joan didn’t put up a fuss about it. In fact, based on the way she whispered something in his ear that made him smile, she seemed to like his take-charge attitude.
Fiona laughed and shook her head at them. “They could be a while.” She led me into a small conference room.
I smiled when I saw Welcome Avery on the large monitor hanging on the wall on the far end of the room. I was sure it was Fiona’s doing. “That’s sweet, thank you.”
Fiona waved off my thanks. “Can I get you anything?”
“Water would be great.” My mouth was feeling a bit dry.
Fiona grabbed a bottle of water from the side table that ran along the windows that provided a view of the skyscrapers across the street. It made me feel claustrophobic.
“How’s Jonah?” Fiona set the bottle of water in front of me.
“As cute as can be.” I took the lid off and took a sip.
“I make Delanie send me a picture of him every day. The little tyke almost makes me want to artificially inseminate myself with a turkey baster.”
I almost spit my water out. Delanie’s friends were so off-color and hilarious. I thought Sam and I used to have racy conversations. We had nothing on Joan and Fiona. “You could always try the old-fashioned way,” I suggested. “It’s more enjoyable.”
“Eh. Debatable.” She winked.
Before we could debate the merits of the best way to conceive, a casually dressed middle aged woman walked in carrying only a notepad and a pen. I went to stand up, but she waved me down. “No need. I’m Becca by the way.”
Fiona gave my shoulders a squeeze. “Good luck.” She turned to Becca, who was taking a chair across from me. “Lucas might be a few minutes late. He’s with Joan.”
Becca rolled her brown, heavy-lidded eyes as if she knew exactly what that meant. She picked up her pen and began tapping it against her pad of paper. I wasn’t sure that boded well for me. Was she impatient or easily bored? Or maybe she was annoyed she had to do this interview because she already had someone else in mind and this was a pity interview. An excuse to allow my sisters-in-law to spend crazy money on me in a way that I would allow them to. Ugh. I was about ready to throw in the towel before the interview even started when Lucas and Joan came in like the Titanic had been called to port.
Joan flashed me a grin that said she had my back. Lucas made his way to me to shake my hand. I noticed his lips were tinted the same color as Joan’s burgundy lip stain. “It’s nice to see you again,” he said before sitting across from me. Joan took his other side. I didn’t know she was staying, and by Becca’s raised micro bladed brows it was clear she wasn’t aware either.
“Joan is representing Avery,” Lucas said, as if that cleared it all up.
I didn’t realize I needed representation. Didn’t that cost money? Like a lot of money. I knew Delanie paid Joan a fortune for her services.
Becca narrowed her eyes at Joan. I was sure she was just as confused as me about why a part-time graphic designer would need an attorney present for a job interview. “Shall we get to business?” Becca took control of the situation.
“Please,” Lucas responded.
Becca flipped through her notepad and landed on a page with several notes. “First, I’m impressed with the samples of your work you sent over.”
I internally sighed, relieved.
“But tell me what makes you a good graphic designer?” Becca’s tone was back to being snarky at best.
My mind went blank for a moment. All I could think to say was, I don’t know, you tell me. But that was obviously the wrong thing to say. My practice Q&A session with Delanie came back to me, hopefully before they thought I was a mute idiot. “Well,” I breathed out, “I’m passionate about anything I create. I collaborate well with others.” No need to mention it was mostly with my husband, who I was trying not to think about. “I try to keep up on new technologies and trends. I’m also proficient in Photoshop, Illustrator, and InDesign.”
Becca nodded and glanced down at her notes again. “I didn’t see on your résumé where you went to school. Where did you acquire your skills?”
I knew my résumé looked weak. Honestly, the only things on it were some of the projects I’d worked on for the office and Sam. I was a stay-at-home mom for years before I started working for Decker and Sons Landscaping. “I did graduate from college with a general studies degree.” That sounded so lame. Honestly, sometimes I forgot I even had a degree. I couldn’t decide on a major at the time, and James and I hadn’t been married all that long. Money was tight for us, which was basically the story of our lives, but I’d promised my mom I would graduate if I got married. More like I wanted to prove her wrong. She was convinced I would never finish school if I got married. Well, I did. However, it hadn’t done me a lot of good. “But I’m a self-taught designer.”
“Hmm.” Becca went right back to her notes.
“Self-taught, really?” Lucas sounded impressed. “Tell me, what was the catalyst?”
I turned to face him. For some reason he was less intimidating than Becca, at least at the moment. “I work for our family landscaping business, and as our clientele evolved, we knew we needed to as well. At the time it was some lean years for our company, but we knew if we wanted to expand, we needed to up our game, so along with my husband—” I said it without choking, but it wasn’t easy. I wondered how much Lucas and Becca knew about my situation. “We started doing some research, and I watched every tutorial online that I could about using design and typesetting software. I spent night after night using trial software until I became proficient enough for us to invest in purchasing it. Now I create all our brochures, and I do all the graphics for our website. My husband and I also collaborate to make 3D presentations for our clients or potential clients.”
Saying all that out loud had me crying inside. Not only were James and I a good team, but I looked back on those tough years and I cherished them. James and I faced our challenges together, and it brought us closer. Where did it all go wrong?
“You’re familiar with 3D technology?” Becca asked.
“Very.”
“Interesting. But tell me, will you be able to give our projects time given your responsibilities with your family’s business?” Becca seemed determined to point out any weaknesses I might have.
“I’m conscientious and responsible. Also, my oldest is leaving for college, and my younger son is sixteen, so friends and school are his priorities. It will give me plenty of time after work and on the weekends to devote to projects here.”
Becca loudly tapped her pen against her paper. “Well, that’s all I have. Lucas?”
Lucas opened his mouth to say something, but Joan interrupted him. “Isn’t it true that Delanie, a.k.a Autumn Moone and the reason this publishing company flourishes, came to you, Avery Decker,”—she sounded like she was in a courtroom—“to help fix the craptastic mock-up of Belonging the creative team here gave her at the beginning of this year?” Joan glared at Becca.
I swallowed hard, not knowing how to respond without making Becca hate me. It was obvious by the way her faced pinched and lips pursed that she already wanted to throttle Joan for bringing it up.
Joan flashed me a devious smile that said, Nail Becca to the wall.
I wouldn’t be nailing anyone to the wall. Instead I tucked some hair behind my ear. “I’m lucky to collaborate often with my sisters-in-law, who you probably know are both famous in their own rights. They each come to me for design advice.”
Joan held out her hand as if to say I needed to elaborate. Her eyes said, Do it now.
Lucas, to my surprise, helped me out. “You’re the one who suggested the heart-shaped puzzle with missing pieces.”
“Yes.”
“That was brilliant,” Lucas complimented me.
“Thank you.”
“She also did a rough sketch,” Joan added in, “which I believe you based the final cover on.” Joan dared Becca to contradict her.
Becca looked down at her lap. “Correct.”
“Seems to me that Avery is already working for you, and saving your backsides, I might add.” Joan gloated on my behalf, making me cringe inside. Awkward tension filled the room.
Becca leaned back in her seat and glowered at Joan.
Lucas clapped his hands together. “This was good. We have a few other candidates to interview. We will be making a decision by the beginning of next week at the latest.” He stood.
I stood as well, clasping my sweaty hands, hoping he didn’t want to shake them. “Thank you. I look forward to hearing from you.”
Lucas nodded before turning to Joan. “Come see me before you leave.” He walked out without another word.
Becca pushed her chair back, stood, and with barely a “Thank you for your time,” she was out the door.
Joan chuckled. “She’s such a sanctimonious piece of work. Lucas keeps her around because she’s well connected and once in a while she comes up with a winner. Most of the time she rides on the coattails of those under her. But she doesn’t like competition, and you will give her a run for her money.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I doubt I’ll be getting an offer.”
Joan stood with a Cheshire grin. “You think so?”
“I don’t want a pity hire or for you to intervene.”
“Honey, most people who work here had an in. You just happen to have two of the biggest ones.”
“You’re not making me feel better.”
Joan pressed her hands against the table and leaned on it. “You’re talented, but your background puts you at a disadvantage. Raw talent is undervalued. I’m just evening the playing field for you. It will be up to you to take the ball and run with it.”
“Sounds like something Sam would write for her followers.”
“She’s pretty damn smart. I would listen to her if I were you.”
“I will.”
“You’re pretty damn smart too. Don’t forget that.”
I had forgotten. Lately all I’d felt like was naive and stupid for not seeing what was going on with Claire and James. Right in front of my eyes, I might add. I was wising up now, but was it ever painful. “Thanks, Joan.”
“Let’s get you home.”
Home. I wasn’t sure what that was anymore.
Chapter Sixteen
Tuesday it was back to real life. It didn’t get much more real than sitting half-naked with basically a paper towel covering what God gave me, waiting for the doctor to come in and do an internal ultrasound. When they said ultrasound over the phone last week, I had assumed it would be the kind I had when I was pregnant where I only had to lift my shirt. Several minutes ago, when the nurse had told me to take off my pants and underwear, I stared blankly at her. Then she pointed to the ultrasound equipment, and the probey thing caught my eye. It was then I realized where that baby was going. A heads-up would have been nice. It’s not like I hadn’t bared it all when I had my babies, or had who knows how many hands up my vagina, but when you’re screaming in pain you don’t care who’s seeing or touching you as long as they get that baby out and make the pain stop. This seemed a little more intimate.
Of course, the doctor was running late, so I was sitting in a cold room, my naked butt squirming on the paper covering the table while I wondered if something was really wrong with me. I shouldn’t have googled my symptoms. Either I was in the throes of perimenopause or I was dying. The least they could do was pipe in some good mood music for me to worry to. I swore whatever they had playing over their speakers sounded like the soundtrack to Jaws. That wasn’t helping matters any. Not sure what kind of music would be appropriate. Maybe something soothing like Kenny G? Definitely nothing by Marvin Gaye. If I heard “Sexual Healing” or “Let’s Get It On,” I was out of there.
Thankfully, I kept my phone out, out of habit. I was still getting used to my app-free life. Sam happened to text me a huge message. It looked like it was one of her posts. How odd. She told me to read it when I was by myself. I needed a good distraction, and I was about as alone as I could be. Just me and the looming probe. Yikes.
The first line read, I’ve been thinking a lot about sex lately.
I giggled. No wonder she wanted me to read this when I was by myself.
How is it that something that is the most wonderful and unifying act between two individuals can also be the thing that tears you apart? They say money is the root of all evil. I beg to differ. It’s sex. Sex is the most powerful tool on the earth because, while it is the root of all evil, it is also the root of love.
Oh. This wasn’t going to be a lighthearted commentary about how fabulous sex was while you were pregnant.
I don’t mean to say you can’t love someone without sex. Many nonsexual relationships are rooted in love. But sex makes the world go around. It creates life and families. It can also destroy them. I know this from my own experience, as you very well know. When I found out that my ex-husband was having an affair, it literally brought me to the brink. My entire world shattered. A family was destroyed. You may wonder why I’m bringing up old news when I’ve remarried and started a new family, a stronger family, I hope. And no, my relationship with my husband isn’t solely based on sex, though it is amazing. (Sorry, Ma, I’m talking about my sex life again.) The sex is amazing because we realize the power it has, and before sex ever entered the picture we were friends and deeply in love. Sometimes, though, it scares me because it started the same way for my ex-husband and me. It starts that way for a lot of couples whose marriages are destroyed by sex. The very thing that made them one turns them right back into two broken beings. Even the one partner who did the leaving and cheated on their spouse doesn’t get out of it whole. That act of betrayal leaves deep scars whether they want to admit it or not.
