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“Hey, darling.” Paul’s dark eyes glazed over as he noticed me, rooted on the spot in nothing but my ridiculous negligee and satin slip. And despite the fact that I was standing here watchinghimdo the walk of shame, it wasmycheeks that burned.
He walked towards me, and I wanted nothing more than torun- to curl into a ball andsob- tohide.Because it wasn’t supposed to be like this.
At least that’s what I had told myself.
“You making pancakes for me?” His tone was almost teasing as he approached me, and I had never been more aware of the scent of another person, only - while I didn’tknowhim - I was certain that this wasn’t his scent, or simply his scent alone. My limbs locked up, my spine stiffening at his approach as I froze there in panic. Paul was oblivious, looking over at my carefully laid out table - the aesthetically pleasing stack of pancakes - all of it, before he dropped his head low, pressing his lips against my exposed collar bone.
My entire body shivered in revulsion, but I remained still - because that was what I was supposed to do. He chuckled softly as if there was something funny about the way my body shivered beneath his. “So responsive.” He grinned down at me as he pulled his head back.
“Let me just get into somethingmore comfortablebefore I join you for breakfast.”
Without waiting for a reply, Paul pushed away, march-swaying towards his room. To. Change. Did he think that I was going to…? Now?
Surely, not.
I glanced down at my own attire, scrambling quickly to get out of these ridiculous pajamas. There would be no time to scrub his saliva from my collar bone - no time for anything other than simplychanging.
My hands worked almost mechanically as I chose a perfectly tailored pearl colored dress that hit me just above the knee, but, even now, I could see that what I had assumed was a childish wardrobe was modest yet elegant, showing off my curves. Although, suddenly, I wished itdidn’t.
And wasn’t that an utterly ridiculous and useless thought.
I dressed methodically, smoothing back my brown hair with a few golden pins, some blush, some mascara, and, suddenly, I was presentable.
I exhaled carefully, putting everything back exactly where it belonged.A place for everything, ergo everything had a place.
I didn’t think as I allowed my body to move - to glide - out of my bedroom towards the kitchen, and as I gazed upon my neatly laid table, I had the insane urge to rip the table cloth from beneath the setting - to watch the porcelain shatter - the pancakes and coffee spill. I wanted this entire set-up to reflect the farce that it truly was.
Instead, I seated myself, pulling a napkin onto my lap as I waited for my husband-to-be to return.
Is this what marriage with him would be like? Would he always have a mistress? Someone he cared about but simply couldn’t be withbecauseof me.
Maybe he was as much a victim to this situation as I was?
My eyes stung with the need tocry. But crying would help no one - I had long since learned that lesson.
I waited, hands in lap, ankles crossed. The pose had become as much a habit as it was manners and sophistication, and just when I thought that Paul Mae wouldn’t make an appearance - that perhaps he hadpassedout, he walked into the kitchen.
The smell of his aftershave, a fresh button-up shirt, and a new pair of slacks, and no one would know that he had stumbled in here stinking of another’s woman’s perfume.
Without missing a beat, Paul sat opposite me as if nothing was wrong - as if I didn’t know his secret.
But that was the way of the elite - or at least the ones I had been around.
“This looksfantastic, darling.” He offered me an award-winning smile - one that should have made me melt - swoon - feel. I did feel, though, just not what one should feel towards their future husband. But then this was an arrangement - it had never been a proposal. There was no pretense of romance here, even if I hadhoped.
What a naive thing to hope for - to dream about, my mother had told me as such, I just hadn’t listened. I watched with fascinated disinterest as Paul piled some pancakes onto his plate before offering me some in return, but I simply shook my head, unable to speak - or eat for that matter.
Paul didn’t argue - didn’t pester - didn’t question my lack of appetite, and, for that, I was grateful. Instead, he pulled a small turquoise box from his pocket, handing it to me deftly. “I meant to give this to you when you arrived.”
He didn’t have to say the rest - didn’t have to explainwhyhe hadn't because the fact that he had been out having sex with someone else was obvious.
The Tiffany’s box lay between us. It was rectangular in shape -not a ring then. And something about that knowledge allowed me to relax slightly - tobreathe. The silence hung between us, thick and heavy in its betrayal. But did he really betray me when we weren’t officially together? I didn’t know the answer to that - didn’t know the rules - didn’t know how to navigatethis. All I knew was thatIwouldn’t have done that, but then I wasn’t as worldly as Paul - wasn’t as experienced - so I wasn’t sure that such a benchmark was practical.
He cleared his throat, and the sound of his annoyance made me jolt in my seat. Oh, right. He was waiting for me to open hisgift.
I needed to look happy about whatever was inside because this was a peace-offering of sorts. I swallowed down the lump in my throat as I forced my hand to stretch across the table, retrieving the box. It was the same kind of box I found under the Christmas tree every year. Daddy alway bought me jewelry, arguing that a finely dressed woman would always be better than a uselessly educated one.
Deftly, I untied the ribbons and lifted the lid. Inside the white satin inlay sat a silver bracelet. It was all loops and filigrees and completely the opposite of what I normally liked, but then Paul didn’t know that - didn’t knowme. A smile bloomed on my lips, practiced and poised as I gazed up at Paul.
