Page 58 of The Next Mrs. Parrish

“You know, Bobby,” she said from the back seat, “I might have been a little hard on you at the beginning. You’ve been a great driver, and this is to show my appreciation.” Amber handed him an envelope containing $500 in cash. With the windfall profit she’d be making, Amber could afford to be generous. And besides, it was her way of giving back to one of the drones who was invisible to the 1percent. Just like Amber used tobe.

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As soon as Amber got back to the room, she phoned Jackson.

He answered on the second ring. “Hey. All finished?”

“Mission accomplished. I’m holding the shares in my hand right now. It’s a beautiful sight.”

“Have you set up the meeting with Valene Mart?”

“Yes, two weeks. You told me to wait until the stock is registered with the Texas Secretary of State so they can confirm our ownership. Wade said that could take up to ten business days.”

After ending the call with Jackson, Amber peeled off her clothes and took a quick shower. This Dallas humidity was a son of a bitch. How did they stand it? She put on a cotton sundress and checked her phone messages, erasing all four of Todd’s without listening to them. She planned to go downstairs and have a few drinks at the Mansion Bar tonight to celebrate. Who knew what she might run into? And tomorrow. What she had planned for tomorrow was going to make it a red-letter day for Amber. For Daisy Ann, not so much.

– 36 –

DAPHNE

Jackson’s facade as a changed man cracks more and more every day. The first week he was unfailingly polite, albeit controlling and practically omniscient. The only time I have to myself is when I sleep. My joy at being reunited with my girls is the only thing mitigating the sheer agony of being with him day in and day out. We hardly ever leave the property as he insists that we need family time to bond and learn how to live together once again. Every meal is healthy, and perfectly proportioned by the cook, who apparently has a degree in nutrition. Snacks are off-limits except for some fruit in the afternoon. Mealtime discussions center around whatever educational documentary we’ve all watched together. There are some fun breaks, though: We swim in the pool, go kayaking, and play board games. Activities Jackson never had time for when we were actually a family. Little Jax has taken to Tallulah and Bella like he’s known them all his life, and it makes me happy to witness the affection between them all. Chloe, the nanny, does most of the caretaking but I enjoy the time I have with Jax, and my heart breaks for this sweet child whose mother has abandoned him.

This second week Jackson’s patience is wearing thin, as is the girls’. They miss scrolling through social media on their iPads (another thing he limits). They want to watch their favorite shows and read the books they choose, not be forced to watch documentaries and read the educational books Jackson thrusts upon them. Hesnapped at Bella for asking for seconds, then for looking at her iPad while we watched a show about the history of the snail. Yes, the history of the snail. Even Tallulah is getting tired of it. At first, she was so happy to have her father back that she bent over backward trying to please him. But now she’s bored and frustrated. She is almost a teenager, after all, and Jackson has put the reins on too tight.

Every evening after the girls are in bed, it’s our time alone. He spends this time trying to convince me that he’s a good man. We drink wine, which is the only thing I look forward to, and we talk. And talk. He tells me things about his childhood that he never shared before. Things that I assume are supposed to make me more sympathetic toward him. Tonight, he veers down a different path. One that I’ve dreaded but have known was coming.

“Daphne, I’ve been patient. Given you your space, yet I don’t feel you’re making any effort to return my affections.”

It’s a beautiful night and we’re sitting outside on the deck facing the water. I’m on a love seat and he’s across from me in a chair. He gets up and sits next to me, so close that I can feel the hair on his arm as our flesh touches. He’s wearing Creed, his signature cologne, and the smell throws me back in time. I take a deep breath, my heart racing, and try to calm myself. He puts a hand on my leg, and it takes everything I have not to push it off.

“Please tell me you feel it too,” he says. “Our connection is still there.”

“You have to understand, Jackson. I’m really trying but after everything that’s happened, it’s hard.”

“Is there someone else?” His hand tightens on my thigh.

“What? No.”

“Are you sure? I can’t stand the thought of another man touching you. Tell me the truth. I need to know.”

“Jackson, all I’ve been concerned about since our divorce is taking care of the girls. There’s no one else.”

“That’s good. You’re so pure. So good, Daphne.” He moves his hand up and down my leg now. “All I can think about is beinginside you again. Becoming one forever. I want to make love to you. I fantasize about it every night.”

“Jackson, please. I’m not ready. You need—”

“I needyou.That’s what I need.” He takes my hand and moves it to his groin. I can feel his erection. “See. That’s what you do to me.” His voice is gruff, and I’m afraid of what he’ll do next. I scramble, trying to come up with something, anything to diffuse the situation. I feign outrage. I pull my hand away.

“You’re still married, Jackson. You made your choice. You picked Amber over me and now you expect me to take you back with open arms? Do you know how much you hurt me?”

I don’t know if he’ll buy it. Before I left and moved to California, I admitted to tricking him into leaving me, but I’m betting that his ego will allow him to believe that I made that up to cover my hurt. He’s quiet for a long time, then he speaks.

“I’m sorry. I know I hurt you. I get that you’re still angry. But I don’t love her. I never loved her. It was always you. You have to forgive me. We can be so happy. But you need to let me back in.”

I brace myself for what I’m about to do, pretending I’m an actor in a film, and that this is not real. I lean in and kiss him. A deep kiss, full of passion and promise. Then I pull back. “It still hurts so much. I just need a little more time before I can trust you again.”

He caresses my face, his eyes searching mine, and leans in for another kiss. After what seems an eternity, he releases me. “A little more time.” He stands up. “Just a little.” Without another word he goes into the house leaving me alone and shaken. When I hear his footsteps on the stairs, I get up and lean over the side of the deck and vomit.

Later that night, a little after twoa.m.,Tallulah wakes me. We rarely get time alone, as he insists the girls be in bed by ten and adhere to a strict lights-out policy. I don’t turn the light on for fear of waking him just a few doors down.

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