Page 70 of The Next Mrs. Parrish

I reached up and stroked his face, mustering up all my acting skills. “She’s apologized. She realizes that I’m happy now and she promised to be supportive. Besides, the girls love her, and it would give us our privacy. She’s even offered to take Jax. I remember the things you liked. We could even go get some new toys to use.” As the words left my lips, the feeling in my stomach grew sicker.

He gave me a salacious smile. “Daphne, you little minx. I like the sound of that.”

—

Tonight’s the night, and I haven’t taken the Seroquel for three days—I took my last dose on Wednesday so I’d test fine at our appointment. Meredith picked up the girls and Jax an hour ago, so it’s just the two of us, and the kitchen staff who will leave once they’ve served dinner. Everything is ready. Under my bed is a bag. A car rented in another name waits for me at the Bishops Harbor train station. He’ll think I took Metro-North to New York and from there took a train to D.C., since I’ve booked three tickets to Washington on my credit card to throw him off. Meredith will have prepped the kids on everything, telling them the truth so that they’ll understand the necessity of going on the run. This is my last chance, and I cannot fail.

I look at the items we picked up earlier and shake my head. Jackson’s gotten kinkier, but it will work to my advantage. I put on the black leather bustier and attach the sheer hose to the garters, then slip the red silk dress over my head and choose the highest pair of Louboutin’s from the closet. Taking a deep breath, I walk out of the room and downstairs where Jackson awaits out on the deck.

He smiles as I approach and hands me a glass of red wine.

“I’m not sure I should drink on the medicine,” I say.

“A teeny bit won’t hurt.”

I accept the glass and take a small sip. “How soon can we eat and get rid of everyone?” I lift my dress up to reveal what’s underneath.

“I’ll go check.”

As soon as he’s gone, I pour the crushed pills into his drink and mix it up with the stirrer I’ve hidden in my cleavage. The white residue doesn’t look like it’s dissolving all the way, and I stir harder. This has to work. I hear footsteps, and put the glass down, glancing again, and seeing it appears to all be dissolved.

“About twenty minutes till dinner. Come sit down, I have something for you.”

We sit on the love seat, and he puts his wine down on the table next to it. He hands me a small package.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

I tear the gold foil. It’s a black box and as soon as I see the HW logo, I know what I’m about to find. I open it and see a gleaming cushion-cut ruby ring.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” I stammer.

He takes the ring from the box and slides it on my finger. “I thought the red was perfect. Symbolizes our passion for each other. A new start with a new ring.”

Drink your wine,I want to shout. “Let’s toast.”

I lift my glass and watch as he takes a sip of his. He makes a face. “This wine is off.”

My stomach tightens in dread. What am I going to do now? What if he realizes I tried to dose him, that the acrid taste is because of the pills? I counted on him drinking the wine. Those pills would have knocked him out for hours. My mind is racing, and I desperately try to regroup. We sit down at the table that is set for dinner, and I’m numb with anxiety as the branzino is placed on my plate.

I try to manage an even voice. “Really? I thought it tasted fine.”

He takes another long swallow then makes a face. “Let’s have our dinner and we’ll get a new bottle.” He calls to Edgar. “Open a bottle of the Screaming Eagle.” He turns back to me. “It’s a special occasion after all.”

Edgar returns and opens the bottle in front of Jackson, hands him the cork, then pours a small amount into a new wineglass. Jackson sips, nods. “Perfect.” Edgar pours a glass for me, then fills Jackson’s glass and leavesus.

“Cheers,” he says, lifting his glass.

“Cheers,” I respond, and we touch glasses. I take another small sip, wishing I could down the whole glass to calm my nerves, but knowing better. We make small talk, and I try keep my mind from wandering.

After the staff withdraws, I swallow my food without tasting it, scrambling to come up with a plan B. An idea comes to me, one that’s as much of a long shot as it is distasteful, but I have no other choice.

“I should have brought a sweater out with me, it’s chillier than I thought.”

Jackson jumps up, the epitome of chivalry. “I’ll go grab one for you.”

As soon as he goes into the house, I unhook my Apple watch from the back of my garter, scroll to the voice memo app and hit record, then place it on my lap with my napkin loosely on top of it. The sun has gone down and the lighting is low out here, so I’m confident he won’t notice.

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