Entry-Level Mistress - By Sabrina Darby Page 0,53
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