Waking Up With You (17 page)

He pats my hand briefly and gets up. “I’ll probably be back home very late tonight.” He seems to say that to me all the time. It’s like a rehearsed script but, for some reason, today I don’t say “See you at breakfast,” as I usually do.

I stand up myself and walk with him to the front door. I lightly put a hand on his back, reach up to kiss him on the cheek, and say, “There’s more to life than work, you know.”

His Nordic blue eyes are fixed on me as he says, “Right now, that’s all there is.” It seems like he wants to say more, but he slowly walks out the door.

Why can’t the man just say what he means? It’s like prying open those infuriating clamshell packages. You need tools to stab and cut, and then you sometimes end up hurting yourself.

I go back to the dining room to clear up the table and my phone rings. It’s Jake. Did he forget something?

“Hello.”

“Em?”

“Yes?

“Do you have something to wear for the party on the 17
^th
?”

Is he talking about the firm’s Christmas party?

I play it safe and ask, “Which party is that?”

“Are you sure you’re in charge of social media? Who’s been doing daily tweets?” He sounds like he’s smiling.

“I am, of course. I just wanted to be sure we’re talking about the same thing.”

“You are correct. I’m talking about our Christmas party.”

I shout silently, my mouth wide open. Then I say calmly, “I didn’t know I was invited.”

He grunts. “Em, do I actually have to mail you an invitation? Geez.” Now he sounds vexed.

“What do you want me to wear?” I hastily ask. More importantly, what’s Christina wearing? I want to ask.

“It’s a black tie event.”

“Okay then,” I say, though he really didn’t answer the question. Men!

“I have an incoming call, Em.”

“Okay, talk to you later.”

I’m speed-dialing Paige. She doesn’t pick up. I can’t keep still, and try again. This time she answers.

“What’s going on?”

“The sky is falling,” I say with exaggeration.

“Meaning?” I can imagine her eyebrows raising at my dramatic statement.

“I’m going to the ball,” I embroider my statement. “What should I wear?”

“Relax, Cinderella, didn’t you tell your fairy godmother?”

“Paige, please, now is not the time,” I tell her in a panicky voice.

“Oh, c’mon. I assume you’re talking about Jake’s Christmas party?”

“Wait, how did you know?”

“Are you telling me you’re only thinking about it now?”

“He just told me today,” I say defensively.

“Why does he have to tell you? You’re his wife. Of course, you have to go.”

“It never crossed my mind. We haven’t told practically anyone we’re married, so it would be weird if I just appeared on his arm and his girlfriend is there as well.”

“First of all, trust me, Christina won’t be making an appearance. Jake will never put himself in that position. And secondly, why are you overreacting? You have the perfect dress,” she says with self-satisfaction.

“What are you talking about?”

“Remember the gown you bought at Eva Swanson’s? God, I hope you didn’t return it?!”

“I’d forgotten all about it!” I actually hadn’t remembered, since I pushed the dress out of sight in my huge walk-in closet.

“See, you’re all set,” Paige assures me.

“Thanks, Paige. Now you have to give me styling tips. Let’s meet tonight at Ona’s?”

“We should. We haven’t even exchanged gifts. I don’t know why this sem has been so exhausting. But, never mind. I guess tonight will be our little Christmas party. I’ll see you later, okay?”

I really don’t know what I would do without Paige.

We always exchange gifts before the Murphy family leaves for their annual ski trip to Aspen. This year, they’re going right after Paige’s finals next Thursday. With both our schedules being so frenzied this year, this may be our only chance to celebrate Christmas.

Ona’s is always festively decorated for the holidays. There’s an especially commissioned tree of turquoise and gold balls hanging upside down in the foyer. The walls are covered with twinkle lights behind sheer fabric. The effect is jaw-droppingly beautiful, and I feel a rush of Christmas excitement.

Paige is in a trendy Bohemian dress with matching boots. I’m in a pale pink pleated dress, thick sweater, tights, and pumps. We always make an effort for our holiday get-together. We hug each other for a few minutes and then hurriedly sit down and give our drink orders to Luna, our server tonight.

“Did you really think you weren’t attending the party next week?” Paige asks.

“I really never considered it. Jake and I have gone out together like three or four times. Plus, his staff doesn’t even know we’re married. They think of Jake and Christina as an item. Me showing up at the party would be a shocker, to say the least,” I give her the facts.

“Yeah, but Jake will not deliberately humiliate you that way. You’re his wife. He’s told you that a million times. Maybe he’ll announce your marriage at the party,” she conjectures.

“Oh, Paige. Don’t even go there. But what if they did include Christina in the guest list? How should I act?” I ask her worriedly.

“Just be yourself, Em. She knows you’re the wife. She’ll play along while Jake’s around,” she tells me in her usual soothing manner.

“You’re right. Of course, you’re right. Ughh! I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m already nervous enough, as it is.”

Luna brings us our drinks and we both choose the special of the night – a shrimp tortilla salad with cilantro dressing.

“Merry Christmas,” I cheerfully say as I give her a small beautifully-wrapped box. Her eyes twinkle with excitement and she impatiently unwraps the box. Inside is a pair of South Sea pearl stud earrings, to replace the ones she lost sometime last May.

“Oh, Em. I still feel bad about losing those earrings. But now…” She reaches across the table and kisses my cheek. “Thank you! You know I’ll wear these all the time.” She gets a gift bag from her huge purse and hands it to me. “I’m sorry. You know me. I just don’t have the time or patience to wrap,” she says apologetically.

“Which I totally don’t get since you spend hours pasting things in your scrapbook,” I say with a huge smile. I open the gift bag, and inside is the most alluring babydoll teddy with matching underwear, in white tulle. The upper portion is in nude, with floral lace inserts. I gaze at it for the longest time and then turn to Paige with the question, “It’s so beautiful. But when will I ever wear it?”

“You never know,” she says with a secret smile. “You’re nineteen, Emma, not ninety. You will get to wear it.”

I’m thinking
yes, but not in the foreseeable future
. However, I don’t say anything because I don’t want to be bickering with Paige on our special date. After one last glance, I put the lingerie set back into the gift bag and store it inside my purse.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” she says excitedly.

“Tell me!”

“Maybe, I should wait,” she says coyly.

“Paige, don’t you dare.”

“I think I may be in a relationship,” she says with a lack of conviction.

“What?!” I’m so excited by her news that I give a not-so-loud, high-pitched yell. “I wanna do cartwheels, but there’s not enough space,” I tell her.

“Pipe down, Missy. I don’t want the whole restaurant to hear.”

“Who is it? When did you meet? Where?”

“His name is Mark. He’s an assistant to my Chemistry professor. I turned in my work late, and he was in charge of receiving the papers from students. We started to flirt and…”

“And?” I prompt.

“We started going out a month ago. We’re kind of like in the steady stage, but absolutely no declarations of anything have been made.” She manages to confuse me again.

“How could you keep this from me?” I say with a slight moue. I’m a little bit hurt because we always tell one another everything.

“Em, you’ve had to struggle with a lot lately and I wasn’t even sure if we were exclusive or anything. I mean I’ve never dated anyone else like this, but I just found out lately that it’s the same thing for him. I kind of didn’t want to jinx it because he is so…” She sighs and I know she must be really attracted to the guy.

“Fine. I forgive you. Do you have a picture?”

“Nope. Wanna see his Facebook page?” I nod eagerly. She takes out her phone and after signing in, she shows me his profile. He is a very attractive man, though a bit on the nerdy side.

“He’s going to med school next year, so I don’t know…”

“It doesn’t matter. You can do a long-distance thing.” She looks at me like that’s a stupid idea.

“Really, Em?”

“What? Many people do that and succeed.”

“Ughh! Sometimes I think it’s pointless to even go out with him. But he’s so hot. He’s also very smart; I’m intimidated at times.” If Paige says that, he must really have a superior IQ, because Paige is MENSA material.

“Have you…you know?” I don’t really want to ask because I’m already envious that she has a good thing going on with the guy. Still, my curiosity is piqued.

“No!!! We’re still in the getting-to-know-you stage even though we’ve established that we’re not dating other people.”

“When do I get to meet him?”

“Not yet. Not until I know where this is going.” I’ve never seen Paige be this cautious about any of her previous boyfriends.

“Okay.”

Our orders arrive and we’re both in awe at how festive the salads look. It looks so scrumptious that we dig in with our forks at once. The shrimp are grilled to perfection. The tortilla strips add the right amount of crunchiness to the greens, beans, and corn, and the dressing is just so zesty.

“Should I put my hair up?” I’m back to obsessing about the Christmas party.

“With that dress, it might be better to have an updo.”

“I can’t do my own make-up. I’ll be too nervous.”

“I don’t know if you can still book an appointment this late.”

I’m rattled at that. “Don’t you know anyone? Paige, look at your contacts now.”

“I don’t have to. I know who would be perfect. Violet. I’ll call her later and then confirm with you. Hopefully, she can come to your place.

“That would be great. Thanks,” I gratefully say.

“I wish I could be there to see you,” she says. “Take lots of selfies.”

“Do I have to? Okay. But, wait a second, does Mark know that you’re leaving for the holidays?”

“Yup. He’s not too happy, but I’m thinking of inviting him to the family party on New Year’s Eve. Oh, by the way, you and Jake are gonna come, right?” she looks at me sternly, brooking no argument.

“Don’t get mad, but I actually don’t know if Jake has anything scheduled. But you know I’ll be there. I always am.” The Murphys host a grand New Year’s party every year, and they usually have a hundred friends and family over.

“I don’t think Jake’s gonna leave you on New Year’s Eve. I’m only concerned that he might be invited somewhere else.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll ask him as soon as I get a chance.”

“You’d better.” Paige can be so pushy when she wants something, but best friends are allowed to be that way, so I make a mental note to ask Jake about the party. I haven’t missed one since we became friends, so I definitely want to attend this year.

I’m staring at myself in the full-length mirror. I carefully make quarter-turns, smooth down my dress, check for snags, rips, or anything at all that will mar the beauty of the dress. I’ve been doing this for over a quarter of an hour. I think I can now be officially classified as mental.

Violet, the hair and make-up artist Paige sent me, is a genius. I still don’t understand how she applied highlights and shadows to contour my face. I am so challenged when it comes to make-up that I don’t know what brushes to use or how to do eyeliner. She made my eyes look more open, and then put black liner on my upper inner rim to lengthen my eye. Even my brown eyes now stand out through the artful blending of blue and purple. My lips are painted a soft candy pink that make them seem even fuller.

She curled my hair and then styled it into a glamorous updo. A mass of ringlets lies low above my neckline, and soft, short tendrils escape on the side. It is bohemian and elegant at the same time.

I happily note that I may have lost some inches, because my beaded grey gown with lace inserts slides down my frame evenly. The semi-translucent panels show skin in a delicate, yet-not-so-obvious way.

I glance at the clock and see that it’s half past six. The thought of Jake seeing me like this makes me excited and nervous at the same time. I have butterflies in my stomach and my hands are cold as ice.

“Em?” I hear Jake’s voice as he walks down the hallway.

“I’m here,” I say not so loudly.

“Give me time to shower. We’ll leave in fifteen minutes,” he hollers through the door.

“Okay.”

I put on my silver heels and drop a few bills, my license, and lipstick in the floral motif metal minaudiere I’m carrying tonight.

Somehow, Jake’s fifteen minutes seem like an hour. He knocks softly on my bedroom door and I turn the knob to let him in. He looks so good in a tuxedo that I feel my pulse quicken. He gazes at me intently for a very long time, like he’s stunned, so that I look down at the floor self-consciously.

“Please,” I ask him to fasten the bracelet he gave me as a wedding gift around my wrist.

He takes a step closer to me and I see his hands slightly tremble as he secures the clasp. He makes a courtly bow and kisses the inside of my wrist, and I pray that he doesn’t notice how jittery I am.

He then steps back and stares at me again. “That dress…” I can see him eyeing the portions where my skin is showing. “You’re exquisite,” he says in a husky voice. “I almost wish we didn’t have to go.”

“Since you’re the host, that would be in really bad form,” I say lightly.

“I guess,” he concurs. He casually takes my hand and we walk out to the front of the house, where his car is parked. He gallantly opens the door for me to get in. The party is at the Beverly Wilshire, about forty minutes away, but with the holiday shopping traffic, more likely an hour-long trip.