Waking Up With You (10 page)

She continues, “It may just be sexual attraction or, God forbid, even more, but you’re the only one in this situation who can’t win.” Her eyes show compassion, and I’m moved by her sympathy but, as I try to remonstrate with her, she reads my mind and says, “No, living in a great house and having Jake’s financial support doesn’t mean anything. I’ve told you many times before, he’s a wealthy man and he can afford to support you for several lifetimes. Truthfully, you don’t even care about that, so it’s not like you’re taking advantage.”

“So if I can’t win, what do I do?”

“Only you can decide, Em. You can stay with him and try to wipe out your attraction to him. Or you can just leave and try to make it on your own. I know you’ll manage. Okay, maybe you won’t become a doctor, but, if you’re honest, you’re just using everything as an excuse to stay with him,” she responds honestly.

“You’re right. It’s not like I’m in love with him. Perhaps it’s infatuation and a comfortable sense of familiarity. I know him. I know he’s a good man and will never deliberately hurt me. He was a big part of our lives, especially Charlie’s, and it’s not easy to let go just like that. It’s just complicated.” I’m not explaining myself well, but I know that Paige understands what I’m trying to say.

“I know. You don’t have to do anything right now. Take as much time as you need to think about what you really want in your life. The answer will come to you. You’re a very smart cookie,” she advises me.

“It never ceases to amaze me how you have your feet firmly planted on the ground while I always seem to have my head in the clouds,” I muse.

“Not so, friend. When you came in earlier, I was a nervous wreck. My goal was to build a huge centerpiece just so I don’t go out of my mind. But your presence calmed me down and your story was so absorbing, I temporarily forgot about my problem,” she says with a smile on her face.

We console one another with a hug and then go inside the house. Food is another kind of therapy to us. Paige prepares two mugs of her special hot cocoa. Then she brings out a box of the famous tea cakes from the bakery on Victory. Though I’m not really hungry, I can’t resist the cocoa. Automatically, I also reach out for one of the delicious, moist tea cakes. We eat and drink as we rehash our recent conversation,

“I’m thinking,” Paige says slowly, “that you need to monitor the Jake-Christina situation more closely.”

“What do you mean by that?” I am definitely curious about the plan she’s hatching because, with Paige, there’s always a plan.

“You should be on the offensive and not the defensive.”

“Okay, where is this going?”

“You learn a lot of things when you go surfing for information. Remember, forewarned is forearmed.”

“Paige, will you stop talking like you’re Lao Tzu planning a military campaign?”

“Gosh, Em, you are so wound up! What I’m saying is that you have to keep an eye on what’s going on. Don’t you get it? You’re doing social media, but you don’t even bother to keep an eye on the personal activities of your husband.”

“Are you saying I should spy on him?”

“Bingo! You can learn about a public figure’s life by going on the internet. You’re on the web because of your part-time job, so why don’t you do some side research?”

“You know Jake is a private man. Sure, you can learn a lot about what his firm is doing, but he never talks about personal stuff. No tweets, facebook profile, nada,” I argue with her.

“What about her then? What’s her work, anyway?” she asks.

“She’s a lawyer,” I say simply.

“And?” she prompts me.

“She’s beautiful, talented, wealthy, and well-respected in corporate law,” I finish glumly.

“Your work will be easy peasy. Subscribe to alerts. Follow her on Twitter, Instagram, etc. Hello! Lawyers need to be out there so they can pick up more clients, just like other professionals.” She looks at me with a self-satisfied smile.

She sips her cocoa while I think about what she’s saying. She abruptly puts down the mug and goes to her room. When she comes out, she has her laptop with her.

“Let’s do this. What’s her name? Who does she work for? Where is she based?” She barks out her question like a drill sergeant.

I flip the laptop my way and start typing. “I’m going to have to set up some dummy accounts. I don’t want to be her follower,” I say like a child. Paige rolls up her eyes.

“Just use my accounts. They don’t care anyway who follows them.”

She does have a point. I’m being overly paranoid again. Paige puts her head close to mine and we both just look at Christina’s law firm’s website. We then turn to her attorney profile page. “Bitch!” Paige mutters under her breath, and I playfully peck her on the cheek.

“How does a woman this gorgeous and accomplished exist?” I whisper in wonderment.

“I’ll bet this page was totally worked on by spinmeisters,” Paige says. “Her picture was photoshopped big-time!”

I look at her and smile. “You are a true friend.”

“Seriously, Em. She can’t be that great. Let’s look at other sites and images,” she urges.

We go through dozens of sites and examine pictures from many sources. My head aches from surfing for at least an hour and a half. By the end of our session, Paige and I look blankly at each other. She doesn’t want to say anything, so I do. “You can say it. I’ve already accepted it. She’s a goddess whereas I am hopelessly mortal.”

She purses her mouth stubbornly. “You don’t know her. She may be evil incarnate. She’s a seductress and she’s holding Jake captive through witchcraft.”

We both burst out laughing. “That’s all you have? Witchcraft and seduction? With looks and brains like that, you don’t need anything else to keep a man.”

“It’s not always about the looks. Chemistry is important,” she says somberly.

“How could they not have chemistry? You keep forgetting that they were, at some point, close to being engaged. Maybe they even were.” I want her to surrender, just like I have.

“No, I don’t know what it is, but something doesn’t add up. I’m not trying to raise your hopes or anything like that. I just have a feeling.” She does look bewildered, so I just shrug as if to say ‘suit yourself.’

“Her last tweet is about attending a fundraiser this coming week for the Legal Aid Foundation of Los Angeles. How about if we crash the party?” she suggested.

“No freaking way! That’s crossing the line and becoming an actual stalker.” I look at her like she’s lost her marbles.

“Just a thought. As if what we’re doing isn’t stalking, in a manner of speaking,” she replies mildly.

“I’m going home, Paige, before you start coming up with more sinister ideas.” We both stand up and hug one another tightly.

“Call me as soon as you have news about your dad, okay?” I tell her firmly. She nods wordlessly and I walk to my car, wrapped in thought about everything we just talked about.

Do I really want to know what Jake and his girlfriend are doing, or is ignorance bliss?

This week, I decide to go for yoga classes at the local YMCA. I want the relaxed feeling that comes from the slow-paced breathing and stretching. Classes start tomorrow, and I want to be mentally prepared. Besides, it’s one more thing that can help distract me from my depressing thoughts.

The wonderful thing about living in Burbank is that everything you need is, at the most, ten minutes away. So, in eight minutes, I’m going up the driveway and parking in the garage. It’s a really warm night, and since tonight’s class was a Bikram class, I worked up a sweat and I feel my top and sweatpants sticking to me.

It’s only half past seven, and Jake won’t probably be home until ten, so I guess it’s safe to go for a quick swim in the pool. I go directly to my room, drop my yoga mat and gym bag on the floor, and grab a towel. I get my favorite bikini, but think better of it. What’s the point? No one’s here and I can have the big pool all to myself. I take off my sandals, wrap the towel around me, and go to the pool.

Of course the indoor pool is temperature-controlled, so I don’t have to prepare myself for the initial shock of the bracing cold. I leave my towel on the side and go down the steps. The water is deliciously warm and I start to do my front crawl strokes. I can’t believe I’ve never done this before. Paige and I swim a lot at her family mansion’s outdoor pool. But this is so different. I’m swimming indoors in complete privacy, and in my birthday suit.

After at least ten laps, I change it up a bit by floating on my back and lazily doing the backstroke. The atmosphere is so tranquil that I allow myself to just float like that for many minutes.

“Enjoying yourself?” It takes a me a couple of seconds to react to the voice, whereupon I panic and scramble to my feet.

“Jake?” I say in a questioning tone. I see him slowly walking towards the pool, while I do my best to keep my body underwater.

“Were you expecting someone else?” he mocks.

“I was just surprised that you’re home so early.”

“I just thought that because tomorrow’s your first day of school, we might have dinner together. I got Chinese take-out from Mr. Chang’s. Come on out.”

Crap! Of all the days I had to choose to swim naked, it had to be today.

“Uhm, can you please turn around?” I ask softly.

“Sure. I’ve already had a glimpse anyway,” he says as if he’s about to laugh.

“What?!” I demand.

“You were on your back when I first came in so…”

“You are no gentleman. I hope you had a really good look,” I impulsively say, my eyes challenging him.
What the hell am I doing now?

He gets the towel from the floor and spreads it wide with both hands, like a matador holds a cape in front of the bull.

I hide my nervousness and climb up the steps, attempting, but not succeeding, to cover my body with my hands. He wraps the towel around me and I see his eyes rake boldly over me. I don’t flinch from his brazen action. My heart races, my knees buckle, and there’s a tingling in the pit of my stomach. I am unable to tear my gaze from his mouth. He is standing so close to me that I can feel the heat of his body. His darkened eyes are fixed on mine and his hands begin to explore the hollows of my back through the towel. I’m unable to move away. But as he bends down to claim my lips, I suddenly step back in alarm, lose my footing, and send us both splashing into the water.

I’m flailing and twisting as if I don’t know how to swim. Jake calms me down by grabbing my shoulders. He looks like he is about to say something, but shakes his head. He quickly pushes me to the side of the pool until my back is flat against the wall.

“Jake, I…” I start to say but he puts his forefinger to my lips to hush me.

He bends down to bury his face in my neck and I instantly feel desire raging within me.
Please kiss me
. As if he hears my silent plea, he showers kisses from my neck all the way to my face until our mouths meet in wild intensity. He devours me and I give back in equal measure. His hands are now roaming all over my body, cupping my bottom and bringing me closer to him. I’m flustered, and yet excited by his groping.

I want to do the same thing to him, so I put my hands inside his wet shirt to feel his skin. He impatiently rips off his shirt and I run my hands up and down his back. His hands are busily exploring me. He lifts me slightly so he can take my breast fully into his mouth. I moan loudly in pleasure.

I feel him tensing up and then he puts me down slowly.

“We can’t… I can’t do this,” he whispers imploringly.

I feel like I’ve been doused with ice water. I don’t wait for him to say anything else. I climb up the steps fast and dash to my bathroom. I grab a towel from the linen cabinet and put it around me as I slowly sink on the tiled floor, whimpering in extreme embarrassment.

“Emma! Emma!” I can hear him shouting through the bedroom door. Because I don’t respond, he comes in and knocks softly on the bathroom door. “Can we please talk, Emma?” His voice is faint and apologetic.

I won’t let him see my humiliation. I take a deep breath and get a tissue to dry my tears away. I put on a bathrobe and take one last look at the mirror before I open the door. He’s soaking in his wet clothes. I get a towel and hand it to him without saying anything. He looks forlorn, but I don’t want to feel sorry for him. Why should I?

“Em, what happened tonight…” he pauses, slowly choosing his words. “I shouldn’t have let it happen,” he finishes.

“That’s all you’ve got?” I look at him with wide eyes.

“What do you want me to say” he asks, his eyes not meeting mine.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You don’t have to say anything. I understand,” I say with rancor.

“Emma…” he says in a beseeching tone. “I don’t think you understand,” he continues.

“Believe me, I do. I totally get it,” I say with finality.

“Em, it’s just that you’re not …”

“I don’t want to talk anymore, Jake,” I cut him off ruthlessly. I can only take so much and I know what he’s about to say. That I’m not Christina. I’m not the woman he loves. I’m not his type. I’m just somebody to warm the bed with. He couldn’t even go through with it. He loves her so much, he can’t be unfaithful.

I know I’m about to start crying again, so I hastily tell him, “Look, let’s not waste the Chinese take-out. Let’s put on some fresh clothes. We can eat in the garden for a change.” I don’t feel like eating and I don’t even want to look at him, but I have to pretend that I’m alright.

He looks at me doubtfully and doesn’t reply.

“Seriously, Jake, I’m okay. I can have everything ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Em.” He whispers my name again, but he clearly doesn’t know what to say. He sighs and replies, “Okay, let me go get dressed.” He leaves the room and I cover my face with my hands, sobbing for some time.

I’m in the kitchen preparing the tray with the cartons of food, plates, and cutlery when I hear Jake asking, “Can I do anything to help?” His hair is slicked back from a quick shower and his toned body shows in the t-shirt and khakis he’s wearing. He looks so good that I have to look away so he won’t see how drawn I am to him.

“No, everything’s set. You can carry the tray, if you like,” I say casually to him.