KNOT: A Wake Family Novel (44 page)

It was so much easier to let him win like this. With Reagan, it felt so fucking good to lose.

“God, I missed you. God, you feel good. God, I’m going to come.” He said in succession as he pressed firmly on my clit and stole me through the gates of paradise and past Saint Peter himself.

Shower.

Dress.

Coffee.

Ignore half naked man in my bed.

Maybe another sip. The view is nice.

“I’ll bring us lunch up in a few hours.”

Kiss.

Consider calling in sick to my own house.

“Good morning, Laura. You’ve been busy.”

Food is prepped. Check.

Flowers still look great. Check.

Inspect the decks and walkways. All clear.

Spare rooms refreshed, and clean towels delivered to suites. Just in case.

Check.

Lunch went too fast. Make it up to him later.

Musicians arrive.

Serving staff is dressed.

Bartender is at his station.

Run up to change.

Let Reagan watch me put on my clothes from the doorway of the closet.

“I’ll be here when you’re finished. Text me if you need anything.”

He’d told me that three times that day.

Greet guests. Kiss cheeks.

Think of Reagan.

Get more limes for the bartender.

Dinner is served.

Have the servers get dessert orders before everyone gets up to dance.

The band is talented. They’d be good to use again.

Have the valet begin warming cars.

Think of Reagan.

Let some of the staff go home.

“You’re very welcome. The house is yours anytime.”

“Yes, my father would have enjoyed the party.”

Check the kitchen for notes from Laura.

Find nothing except a sweet Christmas card.

Slip off shoes and walk to my wing.

It had been hard to stay away from him all day.

Reggie—Wednesday, December 24, 2008

I
spent the morning doing my best to stay away from the papers on her coffee table.

I spent my afternoon trying to reassure myself that if she hadn’t wanted me to read them, she would have put them away.

I found a contract for negotiations on the property. Although she owned it outright, she’d contested the will and had everything split by thirds. From what I read on an email from Ives, since they didn’t want ownership of the property, and she didn’t want to let it go, she’d had it appraised and was paying them their shares.

None of this she had to do, according to everything I saw.

I only found one correspondence between her and one of her siblings, but it read more like a sterile memo than anything.

She hadn’t wanted to get rid of her father’s estate, at least not this portion of it. It wasn’t lost on me that it would provide her with a job she loved doing, in a place I was learning she really cared about.

I’d never be able to provide for her like this. Not anywhere close to it.

She didn’t want my help, and I couldn’t with my job anyway. It was clear that it was a huge conflict of interest for me—which was probably why I was never brought in on that account in the first place.

However, if we weren’t together, that wouldn’t be an issue.

She’d never had anyone give a shit about her best interest, and I wasn’t going to be another person to add to that list. But I couldn’t sit by and watch from a distance either.

I was in love with her, and I wanted her to have the best. The best of
everything
.

It was just fucked up knowing I wasn’t that for her.

Of all of the things out of my control in our relationship, this wasn’t one of them. I
could
give her everything, and I knew I’d be feeling the depth of that payment for the rest of my life.

I sat there for hours stewing. Contemplating. Searching for a way for us to work, and for her to benefit from it. No matter how I manipulated the puzzle, it never worked out for me, but it could work out for her.

I took her happiness very serious, regardless of the detriment to my own.

It hurt already. It hurt in places I didn’t want to recognize. My heart. My soul. My future. But what good was any of it if she suffered?

I’d wait until after the holidays, then encourage her to stay. Because didn’t she need someone in her life encouraging her to do whatever the fuck she wanted most, and I knew she had a huge opportunity here.

In Chicago, all she had was a rented apartment and a six by eight office she shared in a hotel.

I heard her slide the large pocket door to the room shut and saw her toss her shoes into the closet as she struggled with the zipper on the back of her dress.

“Come here. Let me help you.” I sat up and made room for her beside me. She sat down and held her hair out of the way.

“Thank you.”

“So how was your party?” I asked knowing that she’d done a good job. She had as much attention to detail as I did when it came to work.

“Went off without a hitch,” she answered. Pride in her voice proof enough.

“Good. Now what?”

She stood and let it fall to the floor then climbed back into the bed with me.

“Now nothing. Everyone has left for the holiday. Everything is cleaned up, and I’m all yours for the next seven days.”

Seven days.

How I wished it was more than that. How I wished it was infinite.

Ten
.

“Tomorrow is Christmas,” I said. Clawing for anything good that could loosen the fucking knot growing inside me.

Get used to it, Reggie.

Nine.

I strained to focus on what I had.

She climbed onto my lap, and I wrapped my arms around her bare waist.

She said, “It is, and do you know what?”

Eight

“What?” My voice cracked, but I cleared my throat.

Not now. Focus on her.

Her hand roamed like it tended to do. Over my chest, my side, my shoulder. “I didn’t open your presents. Know what else?” Her wandering hand dipped down under the sheet where I wasn’t wearing anything after a long hot sauna and a shower.

“What?”

“I got you a few things, too.”

I looked over to the nightstand and read the clock, it was midnight although it still felt early for me.

I asked her, “Do you want to open presents? It
is
Christmas morning.” There was one I was eager for her to unwrap. Plus, it would help to hear her laugh. I concentrated on that.

Yes, make her happy.

Her face bloomed with a smile that was a lot like my favorite tiny grin, only amplified. I committed it to memory. I imagined duplicates and plastered copies of it over every surface of my mind.

“I really do,” she admitted whispering like we were about to commit some sort of crime. “Let me run into the other room. I have them under the tree.”

Not caring that she was only in her bra and panties, she hopped off and bounced for the door. Almost skipping as she went.

I found the pair of pajama bottoms I’d lay next to the bed and slipped them on.

Before I knew it, she was back, loaded down with wrapped packages. Some I recognized as the ones I’d bought her and some that were not.

I considered helping her, but she had a good grasp, and I knew if I disrupted what she had working, she’d spill them. It didn’t much matter though, because she let them all tumble from her arms when she got to the bed anyway.

“Look at them all. We did good,” she boasted. Then, she climbed up onto the high mattress beside me and kicked her way under the sheets slapping the top of them in her excitement.

It gave me great joy to see her that pleased. Had I known she liked gifts as much, I would have showered her with them more.

Hindsight was a motherfucker, but we’d have to make friends.

“Okay,” she exclaimed. “You first.” Then, she pulled a bigger one from the pile and handed it to me. She bounced a little until she was sideways so she could watch me tear it open.

I did and nearly choked on the laughter that flew from me. Forgotten were my dreadful thoughts.

It was the most hideous sweater I’d ever seen. Blue and grey with a massive roaring bear’s head stitched into the front of it.

She snickered, and her face turned red as she clapped. “Isn’t it the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen?”

It was, but I knew why she liked it.

I croaked, “You might be a little funny, too.”

“I bet your mom would think so,” she said quickly, then she added. “I mean, I’m definitely funnier than you.”

“You don’t know funny,” I joked. Of course she did. “Here, open this one.” I handed her the one I’d bought her first.

She pulled the paper from the package, then the tissue from the box and held up the cherry red lingerie I’d found for her at La Perla.

“Oh my God. Look at this,” she said as she ran the lace through her fingers placing the pieces out in front of her. “It’s gorgeous.”

I turned her cheek to kiss her, and she let me with no resistance.

“You’re gorgeous, that’s just fabric.” I paired our mouths, and she sweetly kissed me back.

Then she pulled away, “Stop or we’ll never get these all opened.”

I replied, “We have all day.” In the back of my mind, there was something else I wanted her to open.

Her eyes lit up, then she agreed, “Okay, but first this one.” Then she placed a smaller package on my leg. “I want you to open this one now.”

I searched the pile and found the one I was most proud of and gave it to her.

“At the same time?” she suggested brightly.

As soon as the word left my mouth, she was shredding the box bare. So I opened mine in turn.

I knew before I even had the black lid off what I was about to find.

The wings I recognized.
Breitling.

I lifted the watch to inspect it. I didn’t know a whole lot about expensive time pieces, but I was sure this one was top of the line. It was worth a small fortune.

Lost to myself and the gift, I studied it. It was pure excellence.

“Reagan, how did you find this?” I heard her ask through the chatter in my head. It wasn’t her voice that broke my inner dialog, it was the crack in it that stole my attention.

When my eyes met her, I saw that they were wet. Her chin quivered.

“Where did you get this?” she asked again.

I hadn’t wanted her to cry, but seeing how much she loved it was priceless. “I found collectors like you.” I’d made the couple a massively handsome offer for the bottle. Still wrapped, never opened of her favorite vintage perfume.
Apres L’Ondee

I rolled the watch over in my hand and read the inscription.

For Hyde, but mostly Jekyll.

“I’ve noticed you look at your watch a lot. And that you have a few really nice ones. I thought you’d like it.” She sniffed and crawled closer to me. “I thought you needed a
Swiss
watch.”

I needed a Swiss woman. The one who made time actually fucking matter.

“It’s so—” I didn’t want to sound ungrateful, I’d done that to her before. But damn her for always showing me up.

She finished the sentence for me when I stalled. “It’s so perfect for you. Now shut up and put it on. We can have it sized if it’s too large since you’re here.”