Crossing the Lines Page 22

  After cake and coffee I step outside, drawing deep breaths. Everything is okay. It didn’t ruin anything. He’s not upset, just surprised. Everything is okay.

  “Hey, Abbi.”

  I look over to see Thomas lighting a cigarette.

  “My only vice now, I swear,” he says with a grimace.

  I wave my hand.

  “So, good party,” he says, watching me closely.

  “Disaster is more like it,” I mumble.

  “He’s not just your boss, is he?”

  I sigh softly. I could use the answer to that myself.

  “Hey, I’m not judging. He seems like a great guy.”

  “But?”

  Thomas takes a drag, shrugging. “Nothing. I just don’t really get it. Why are you working for him? Why aren’t you just, you know, his girlfriend?”

  I look at him, taking in his open expression. No, he isn’t judging me. I can tell.

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head. “It’s complicated. I don’t think he’s ready for that.”

  Thomas nods his head, pensive. “It took me a long time,” he says, “getting to where I am now. I didn’t appreciate what I had, and it kills me to think of how much I missed out on.” He stubs out his cigarette and bends down to collect the butt. “By the way, I think you’re great,” he says. “You were there for Jo when she needed a friend the most, and God knows you’ve been through enough shit already.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I guess what you have to figure out is if he’s worth it. If he’s good enough for you and Luke to wait around for. I mean, I’m pretty much the luckiest bastard in the world that Jo decided to wait for me to get my head out of my ass.”

  “I’m glad you did. Get your head out of your ass, I mean.”

  He grins at me, smoothing back his wild curls. “I meant what I said, Abbi. You’re great. And you should be with someone who appreciates you, who wants to give you everything. And I don’t mean this fancy house and all the stuff that comes with it.”

  I nod my head. “Thanks, Thom.”

  He pats my shoulder. “Let’s get back and make sure the kids haven’t trashed the place.”

  “There’s a good chance,” I reply, smiling.

  Hours later, all evidence of the party has been cleared away, and everything is back to normal. At least on the outside. It’s a little before nine o’clock, and Luke is fast asleep. It’s time for me to start my time with Simon. Only tonight, I’m trembling with nerves. I haven’t seen or heard from him since he left the party, but I know he’s home. His car is in the garage. I go through the routine of making myself ready, but I don’t know what to expect when I reach the top of the steps and knock on his office door. Will he pretend it never happened? Or will he acknowledge that things have changed between us?

  As I approach his office, I can hear music coming from inside, louder than usual. I don’t know the song, but it’s definitely rock—guitars, heavy drumbeats, a man singing slurred words.

  I knock, wait, then knock again. “Simon?”

  Finally, the volume of the music is lowered, and I watch as the door opens slowly. He looks the same as always, except not really. His eyes are red-rimmed, his eyelids hooded; his face is ashen, and he smells like alcohol.

  “Yes?” he asks.

  “It’s, uh, nine o’clock.”

  “Is it?”

  “You missed dinner.” I hold out the tray I’ve brought with me.

  “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”

  “Please, you should eat something.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” he snaps, the severity in his voice forcing me to take a step back. Palming his forehead, he exhales slowly, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t need anything. Please, leave me.” He looks at me, his eyes sweeping over my face, my body, and the tray I’m holding. Then he shakes his head again.

  “If this is about what Luke said, I’ll talk to him.” I had planned on doing that anyway tomorrow.

  “Kids say the darndest things. Heh, I used to watch that show.” He laughs, holding on to the door.

  “Show?”

  “You’re s-so young,” he slurs, frowning. “I forget sometimes. But you’re so fucking young. You don’t know … Just leave me, I don’t want anything.”

  “I want to be with you,” I whisper, unable to stop myself. “Simon, please.”

  “Don’t call me that. I didn’t say you could.”

  “I’m sorry, I-I thought things had changed.”

  “They haven’t.” He looks straight at me, a cold, distant look in his eyes. “I don’t want to fuck you tonight. You come to me when I say so. Not the other way around. Got it?”

  I’m too stunned to speak. Wordlessly, he closes the door, locking it with a soft click before the music starts blaring again. I place the tray outside his door before I walk back downstairs, fighting tears.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sunday morning is cold and gray—a fitting setting for my mood. I’m dreading having to face Simon. He’s never dismissed me before, never rejected me. I knew what happened yesterday was too fast for him, but I didn’t think he’d react this strongly, telling me to leave him alone and talking about our time together being just about him fucking me. It’s been about more than that since we moved in here. I know it has. What will this mean for our staying here? Will he rethink moving us in? I also have to talk to Luke about his birthday wish, and I’m not looking forward to the conversation.

  Luke and I make breakfast, but there’s no sign of Simon, so we sit down at the table without him. It’s nearly noon by the time he comes downstairs. I’m in the kitchen trying out a new dinner recipe when he enters, holding the tray I left for him last night. It’s untouched.

  “Good, er, morning,” he murmurs, glancing at the clock.

  “Hello, Sir.”

  He looks like he always does, freshly showered and dressed impeccably, as though last night never happened. “I’ll just put this here,” he says, placing the tray next to the sink.

  “All right.” I don’t know what to say to him, if I should pretend everything is normal. “Would you like something to eat?” I finally ask.

  “Thank you, that would be nice. Anything’s fine. I’d like some coffee too.”

  He’s being formal with me. Too formal. It’s making me nervous. I nod, turning the burners off before heading to the fridge to get some lunch meats for a sandwich. When I turn back around, he’s watching me, still standing there with his hands buried in his pockets.

  “Sir?”

  He takes a step back and then another. “I’ll be in the dining room.”

  I watch as he retreats, letting out a shuddering sigh. So this is how it is now? He’s back to eating in the dining room. After assembling a new tray for him, I carry it into the dining room where he’s seated at the table. I quickly serve him, pouring some cold water before giving the little serving bowl containing two painkillers a small push toward him.

  “Thank you,” he says, fishing them out and swallowing them. He groans, moving his head from side to side a few times before reaching for his coffee. I turn to leave, disappointed at his formality, but at least he’s not angry like he was yesterday.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” he says.

  I face him again, surprised he’s bringing it up. “You are?”

  “I shouldn’t have talked to you the way I did. It was disrespectful of me.” He hesitates for a second. “You’re a good employee, Abigail.”

  “Thank you.” My response is automatic, but I can’t breathe. An employee. After everything, that’s all I am to him?

  “Thank you for this,” he says, motioning to his plate. “Would you please bring in the mail if you’re not too busy? I forgot about it yesterday.”

  “Of course. Do you need anything else?” I ask, wondering if my voice sounds as dull to his ears as it does to mine.

  “No. I’m going out for dinner tonight, and I won’t be home until late. No need for you to
wait up for me.”

  I waited up the other times he had to work late, setting up a snack for him on the coffee table. We cuddled on the couch and he told me how happy he was to be home with me finally. Those nights were wonderful, but now he’s shut that down. It hurts more than I care to admit to myself.

  “Have a good day, Sir,” I say before leaving the dining room.

  I feel his eyes on me as I exit, and I don’t know if the sigh I hear is just a figment of my imagination. On my way to collect the mail, I see Lila, Dave, and J.R. in their driveway, getting out of their car, all of them laughing and talking. The three of them are a family. The three of us are not. Lila waves at me, and I wave back, faking a smile as I head to the mailbox. Among all of Simon’s mail, there’s a letter addressed to me, and for a moment my heart stops as I recognize the familiar handwriting listing my old address. It’s from my mother, and it’s been forwarded here. She doesn’t know we’ve moved.

  Back in the kitchen, I open it with trembling hands. Inside the blue envelope, there’s a letter and a card. “Happy 5th Birthday,” it reads above a picture of a cartoon boy on a bike. I’m stunned—they’ve never sent anything for Luke’s birthday before.

  I open the card. Inside it simply says, “Happy birthday, Luke. Grandma and Grandpa.” There’s a crisp fifty-dollar bill too. It’s a completely appropriate but also indistinct gift and card, highlighting that they know absolutely nothing about my son.

  That was their choice, I remind myself, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I’m still alone before opening the letter.

  Dear Abigail,

  I don’t know how to begin this letter. I realize saying how sorry I am will sound hollow and most likely dishonest to you, but it’s still important that I say it. I miss you. I’ve been missing you. You’re my little girl. Abigail, we made a mistake, a horrible mistake. Please, I hope you’ll let me apologize to you. Things have been very difficult for you because of us. I realize that now, and we didn’t do right by you. Your father misses you too. He’s not well.

  I hope you’ll go with Luke and buy him a present with the money I’ve included. You don’t have to tell him it’s from us. If you need anything, please let me know. I’m so sorry.

  Love,

  Mom.

  My eyes are dry, but I feel as though my heart is being squeezed in a vise. They want to help? Well, too little, too late. What does she expect from me—that I’ll just forgive and forget? She’s been missing me? She’s got some fucked up way of showing it, practically kicking me out when I was pregnant and scared to death and then completely abandoning me and my newborn baby, leaving us to fend for ourselves with an asshole for a breadwinner. Fuck her. Fuck them. Fuck it all! I finally lose the battle against the tears, and they start pouring out of me as I cover my mouth to avoid making any noise.

  I force myself to stop, not wanting Luke to see me like this, drawing a ragged breath as I wipe my eyes, my chest still contracting painfully with the need to sob. I stare at the letter and the card in my hand. What do I do? Can I ever contemplate talking to them again, let alone letting them back into my life, into Luke’s life? I just don’t know. Even with everything that’s happened, they’re my parents. My only family. Could they really have changed? I glance out toward the hallway, which leads up to Simon’s part of the house. Do people ever change?

  Well, I have. I’m not in denial about my feelings anymore. Falling for Simon wasn’t something I planned, but now it’s happened, and it’s made me careless. I’ve made a mistake by not discouraging his relationship with Luke. It’s one thing to have my feelings hurt, but it’s not fair to my son.

  Later that morning, after Simon has gone back upstairs, Luke and I have a talk about his birthday wish. He’s confused, and I once again blame myself for not keeping the two of them apart. In the end, I explain the difference between sharing a house with someone and being a family, promising Luke that he’s the most important thing in my life and that the two of us will always be our own little family, and that we have lots of friends.

  I suggest we go next door for a visit. I can’t sit around here, hoping Simon will throw a few scraps of affection my way whenever he feels like it. His words from last night resonated clearly with me. I won’t come to him anymore unless he asks me to. All I can do now is the job I was hired for and continue to save up to build a life for me and my son.

  For the next week, I do everything according to my employee contract. I take care of the grocery shopping. I do laundry and light cleaning, and I cook Simon’s breakfast as well as serve him dinner promptly at seven o’clock on the nights when he’s home. But that’s it.

  I don’t go up to his part of the house anymore. I hold out hope that he’ll come for me at nine o’clock, but he doesn’t. I spend my nights in my room, either reading or watching TV, and he mostly stays upstairs doing God knows what. At least he doesn’t drink heavily again—as far as I know that was a one-time thing—but he remains just as distant. He’s not mean to Luke or me. He doesn’t raise his voice or make outrageous demands. He’s courteous, polite, and professional. And I can’t stand it.

  I’m acting like the perfect employee, but it’s all for show. We both know I’m not here to just do the laundry and cook. I told myself I would stop hoping, but I can’t—I want things to go back to the way they were before the party, when we ate in the kitchen together, all three of us. What Luke said freaked Simon out, and I don’t blame him at all. Anyone would be freaked out in that situation. But I thought he’d get over it after a few days, that he’d come back to me, and he hasn’t—and it hurts like hell seeing him every day but never being able to touch him. So that weekend, I drop Luke off at Jo and Thom’s, determined to take matters into my own hands.

  “Thank you so much,” I say to Jo after we’ve set up a makeshift bed for Luke in her girls’ room.

  “Still the same, huh?” she asks, giving me a sympathetic smile as we sit down at her kitchen table.

  I sigh, nodding my head.

  “So what’s the plan for tonight?” Jo inquires, pouring both of us a cup of tea.

  “Cook dinner for him, dress up, try to … I guess try to recreate a typical night for us, the way it was before we moved in.”

  Jo nods. “Going back to square one?”

  “Pretty much. We can’t go on like this. I refuse to believe he’s happy with the way things are going now. He didn’t hire me because he actually needed a housekeeper. He did it because he wanted me, but—” I have to pause to take a deep breath, getting my emotions under control. “But what if he doesn’t want me anymore?” It comes out sounding just as pitiful as I feel.

  “Impossible,” Jo says. “I saw how he was looking at you at Luke’s party. I can’t say anything about how he feels, but there’s no doubt he wants to bang you like a Salvation Army drum.”

  I snort out a laugh, nearly choking on my tea. “Jo!”

  “Well, he does,” she says with a shrug.

  “I just don’t know anymore. He never touches me. What Luke said at the party, it spooked him.”

  “Well, I guess I can’t blame him for that.”

  “Yeah, I know. Everything was going so well before that, but it’s my fault that it happened. I did nothing to stop Luke from becoming attached.”

  “How’s he doing now?”

  “He’s okay. I’ve explained it to him as best I can, and we’re not even home that much anymore. We’ve been spending a lot of time next door, so he hasn’t had a lot of opportunities to see Simon anyway.”

  “Simon, huh?” Jo’s smile is sympathetic.

  “Yeah. I can’t pretend he’s just my boss. You were right to be worried.”

  “I didn’t want to be. I want you to be happy.”

  “Good thing we’re going to the happiest place on Earth soon,” I say, hoping to lighten the mood by mentioning Disneyland.

  Jo grins. “I can’t wait. Did you know there’s a kids’ club with supervision so we can actually go out one night, just
the three of us?”

  “That does sound amazing.”

  “Right? I’m bringing a dress. I can’t remember the last time I went to a restaurant that didn’t have crayons and placemats you can draw on!”

  I laugh at her enthusiasm. It’s going to be a great trip, and it’s just two days away. Simon is leaving for Europe tomorrow, and tonight is the last night we’ll be in the house together before his trip, which is why I arranged for Jo to babysit. He has no idea, but I know he’ll be home. I’m hoping … I don’t know. Maybe if he remembers how it was between us before Luke’s birthday party, we can start over somehow. I know he felt something for me then. I couldn’t have imagined it.

  “Are you nervous about tonight?” Jo asks, and I realize I’ve drifted off.

  “A little,” I admit. “I want him to want me—the way he used to. I miss him touching me, kissing me …”

  “Fucking you?” Jo whispers, wagging her eyebrows.

  I grin. “Yeah, that too. I think we both need this night.”

  “Go get him, then. I’ll watch Luke and everything will be great.”

  “I hope so.”

  Back home, I prep dinner before going into my room. I don’t reemerge until nearly two hours later, bathed, shaved, and groomed. I’m wearing the green polka dot dress Simon put me in the first night I cooked him dinner. My hair is curled and styled. There are kitten heels on my feet, and I have on a pearl necklace to complete the outfit. I know he’ll like this—and I like it too, looking like this for him. I remember that night very well, how he bent me over the dining room table and touched me, spanked me, and asked me if I wanted him to fuck me. Back then I was still too shy, too unsure of myself and what I liked to say yes. I’m not anymore. I want him—badly.

  I start making a pie crust, remembering to put on a white apron first, not only to keep my dress clean but also because I know Simon likes seeing me like this. As I’m slicing the apples, I sense him behind me and look over my shoulder. He’s leaning against the doorframe, his gaze traveling up my body slowly until his eyes reach mine. I don’t even have to act—his piercing look makes me lower mine, recognizing his authority over me in this scenario.