Page 52 of The Next Mrs. Parrish

He opens the door and I walk in, seeing nothing has changed. I take a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of Jackson’s desk.

“Your house manager? Am I to be treated like a guest?”

Jackson smiles. “Of course not. This is your home now. I’ll introduce you to the entire staff later and they’ll be told to take orders from you.”

I want to tell him that my interest is not in the staff. “Where are the girls?”

“Chloe—that’s the nanny—took them to the movies. I wanted some time alone with you before you saw them.”

I start to protest but stop myself. “To discuss ground rules, I presume.”

He gives me an approving look. “Yes. Exactly. I’ve told the girls that you and I are working on reconciliation. Tallulah is over the moon, but Bella is more reticent. I don’t know what you’ve told her, but I expect you to get on the same page as me. I won’t have you trying to turn either of them against me.”

“Oh, you mean, like you’ve done with Tallulah who thinks I’m a drug addict now?”

He has the grace to look sheepish. “I’m sorry about that, but as I told you, I didn’t know any other way to bring our reunion to pass. We’ll sit down with them together and tell them that you have an anxiety disorder because of your sister’s illness and early death.”

I cannot believe he is bringing up Julie. “I won’t blame my sister’s cystic fibrosis for giving me some fake anxiety disorder. How dare you even—”

“Daphne, calm down. I’m flexible. We don’t have to use Julie. I’m just saying we need to explain what happened when Tallulah was a baby and explain that what happened recently is related but that you’re better now. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“And if I don’t go along?”

“Please don’t force me to play hardball. I really want things to be different this time. But I can’t have you telling the girls that I manufactured what happened at the beach. They’ll hate me, and I won’t allow that. They’re too young to understand that I was justified in doing so.”

Can he actually believe his own words? Trying to reason with him is pointless.

He cocks his head and gives me a lopsided smile. “Do you ever think about us, Daphne? About the first time we kissed? The first time we made love?”

The feeling of nausea overwhelms me again. The thought of being intimate with this man sickens me. “No, Jackson, I don’t,” I manage to say.

“You wouldn’t tell me if you did, would you? After all, I’m still married. I wouldn’t expect you to admit that. That’s one of the things I love about you. You have principles. You’re a lady, not a cheap pretender like my soon-to-be ex-wife.” He pushes against the back of the reclining desk chair and regards me once again. “Amber was a huge mistake. I’ve missed you, and I’m going to make it up to you. You’ll see.”

I want to spit at him. My head feels like it’s going to explode, and I keep thinking,How on earth did I wind up here again?When I say nothing, Jackson gets up from his chair.

“Enough talk about the past. We’ll look only to the future. Now, let me show you to your room.”

We walk up the stairs side by side and pass the familiar art on the walls. Amber has changed very little from all I’ve seen thus far. When we reach the landing, Jackson turns right, away from the main bedroom we used to share, and to the guest rooms wing. My relief is palpable. He stops at the far end of the hall. He’s clever and has put me as far away from his room as possible in order to lull me into a false sense of safety. He hands me a key. “I don’t want you to be afraid. You’re free to lock your door at all times if you wish.”

I take the key and nod, but I’m not stupid enough to think he doesn’t have a duplicate. I follow him into the room, the largest of all the guest rooms and the one in which my mother stayed on the rare occasions Jackson permitted her to visit. It has a lovely view with French doors leading to a small balcony facing the Sound. My suitcase is open and sitting on a luggage stand, the work of Edgar no doubt, and despite the beauty of the bedroom, I feel as if I’m in prison.

“I know you like this room. After our bedroom, it’s the best one in the house,” he says, moving closer to me, but at the mention of “our bedroom” my skin crawls.

“Thank you. I’d like to unpack and lie down for a bit until the girls get back.”

He smiles and comes so close our bodies are almost touching. “Of course. You rest. I’ll be thinking of you lying upstairs, so close to me again.” I can feel his breath against my cheek as he leans in. “You were always the one, Daphne. You always will be.” His lips touch my ear, and I feel a quick flash of pain as his teeth come down on my earlobe. He moves slightly and looks me in the eyes. “You always liked it spicy, didn’t you?” He laughs. “You get some rest now,” he says, and leaves.

The warnings of Meredith and my mother come back to me. I told them I could handle this, that I am not the same woman who was married to Jackson. I told myself the same thing. Was I fooling myself? Did the years away from him dull my recollections because I wanted to forget what a monster he was? I know one thing. I cannot underestimate him. I must have my wits about me at all times.

– 32 –

AMBER

Amber stepped out of the shower refreshed and ready to face the day. She dressed in the outfit she’d laid out last night—a cream silk boatneck top, black linen pants, and white calfskin sandals—tucking in the shirt and wrapping a wide Valentino belt around her waist. Giving herself a thumbs-up at her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, she sat on the bed, picked up the hotel phone, and scheduled a massage for five thirty.

The car was waiting when she walked outside, and the moment the driver saw her, he scrambled to get the door for her.

“Thank you,” she said.

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