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“I’ll try.” I smile.
“He likes you, ya know. He just does a poor job of showing it.” Dane pecks my lips gently, not wanting to smear my lipstick, before taking my arm and leading me down the stairs of our stately home on the north shore of Chicago’s Lake Michigan.
“A really poor job,” I reiterate as we exit the house.
“Evening, Andy.” Dane nods to Andy who smiles broadly at us.
“Evening, Mr. and Mrs. Ashford. Happy anniversary. You both look positively stunning.”
“Thank you, Andy.” I smile as I slide into the back seat of our Rolls Royce.
“It’s all Emery, she’s the star. I’m merely the luckiest man on the planet who gets to stand next to her.” Dane winks at me as he smacks Andy’s shoulder, both men laughing. Yet another thing that is genuine and real about Dane that you don’t see in our world very often, he’s nice. He cares about people, no matter their job or status. He’s always treated any of the staff at our home or his company with such respect.
“Hey, I meant to ask you earlier, how did the merger talks go this week?” I rest my hand on Dane’s thigh, his muscles twitching beneath my fingers. He wraps his fingers around mine, bringing my hand to his lips.
“No work talk tonight, sweetheart. Tonight is a celebration of you”—he kisses my fingertip—“and me”—he kisses another, a spark shooting through my lower belly, between my thighs—“and our love.” He tugs my hand so that I fall halfway into his lap, his lips on mine. “Have I mentioned how much I love red lipstick on you?”
“A few times.” I smile as he runs his thumb over my bottom lip.
“Maybe we should skip the party,” he whispers, “and spend the evening in bed.” His tongue flicks my earlobe, his other hand traveling over my lap toward the thigh-high slit that runs up my gown.
The one area of our life I might not describe as perfect, would be our love life. It’s satisfying, more than adequate, and at least half the time I’m able to climax, but the other half, I fake it. I learned early on that if Dane knows he can’t bring me to orgasm, he takes it personally, often doubting himself and feeling inadequate. I was a virgin when I met him. It was exciting and fun being with an older man, but the secret desires I slowly tried to share with him were not reciprocated. He only wanted to make love and be gentle, something I’ve come to really appreciate over the years.
“As lovely as that sounds,” I say, placing my hand on his to stop his movements, “I think everyone at the aquarium might wonder where we are.”
“They’ll be so drunk and full of shrimp cocktail they won’t even notice us missing.” He laughs.
Every year Dane does something bigger than the year before to celebrate our anniversary and every year I tell him it’s completely unnecessary. I would be content to stay home and cuddle in pajamas, but in his words,“Our anniversary is something that needs to be celebrated lavishly because nothing about our love is ordinary.”
This year he rented out the great hall at the Shedd Aquarium. Sometimes I think he feels guilty that we had a Vegas wedding with an Elvis impersonator as our officiant so he wants to make up for it. But I loved it. Coming from a buttoned-up world of socialite status where everything was planned down to a T, it felt good to just let loose and have fun with our wedding. Truthfully, I was still reeling from the tragic and sudden loss of my parents in a plane crash that I think I just wanted to feel anything that wasn’t pain and sadness.
When we arrive, the place is decorated like something out of a fairy tale. Floral arches adorn the entrance, and more flowers hang from the ceiling with twinkle lights. A jazz band is playing in the corner. People are milling about with cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. I’m immediately swept up in the celebration and excitement, and any unease I had about seeing Mads disappears.
“Honestly, Emery, how is it that every time we see you, you’re more beautiful?”
“Oh, Mrs. Diaz, you’re so sweet.” I squeeze her hand, her daughter Laila smiling broadly beside her.
“Seriously, Mother is right. You always seem to be glowing. Is there something special you’re going to announce tonight?”
My hand instinctively settles on my lower belly. “Uh, no.” I try to smile through the awkwardness, now very much aware of my figure in this dress I’m wearing. “I guess it’s just happiness and being in love.”
“You two really are the picture-perfect couple,” she says with big round eyes. “I just hope and pray my Laila will find a man half as good as Dane.” Both ladies look over at my husband who is laughing loudly at something one of his friends said. He catches us watching him and winks at me, causing the two women to audibly swoon.
“If you’ll excuse me.” I nod as I step away from the ladies, making my way through the crowds of people until I reach the bar on the far side of the room.
“Vodka martini, please, extra dirty.” I smile at the bartender, glancing over my shoulder, hoping that nobody tries to approach me. After two solid hours of mingling and talking, I’m already exhausted. “Thank you,” I say, taking my glass and climbing a set of stairs to a small door that leads to a private balcony overlooking Lake Michigan.
I close my eyes, the cool evening breeze washing over my skin as I take in several deep breaths. Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning or like I’m lost. The guilt I feel for wondering if I’m meant for this life consumes me at times. I wish more than anything I could talk to my mom in times like this.
“I knew you’d be out here.”
My spine stiffens the second I hear his deep, syrupy voice behind me. I keep my gaze forward, taking a long sip of my martini. “How’d you know that, Mads?”
“Because every year about this time into the celebration, I watch you slink away to some quiet place where you can think…” The sleeve of his tux bumps my bare shoulder as he steps next to me. “Where you can convince yourself that you’re happy like the rest of these rich fucks.”
My brow furrows. “Last time I checked, your family is in the billionaire club just like mine and half of the people in there.”
“Exactly. We both know the kind of people they are”—he looks over at me but my gaze stays forward—“and you’re nothing like them.”
