Rebound: Chapter 24

I’m meeting Martha for a late lunch—in her case probably liquid. We’ve been in touch sporadically since the news broke about Elijah and me, and I made sure to contact her the minute Mason posted the statement. We might not be soul sisters, but she is one of the few women from my socialite life that I truly enjoy being around.

First, though, I am doing a little work in Amelia’s yard. Nothing major, because it is December, just some tidying and leaf-clearing. It keeps me busy. Last night was a lot, in every possible way. The dancing, the sex.

The gift.

When he told me that he loved me, I felt so raw and exposed. It was like we were no longer Mr. and Mrs. Smith—it felt like we were Amber and Elijah from twenty years ago, the world at our feet.

He was upset when I left so quickly, but I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t think straight with him so close. It was too intimate, and there was a real risk of me losing my resolve and telling him I don’t want us to be over.

I miss him, and I’m still sad that my marriage is ending, but I am finding glimmers of hope in my new life. I like living in Brooklyn and getting to know this quirky neighborhood. I enjoy chatting with Mrs. K across the street and buying my own groceries. I’ve even been learning how to cook with the help of some YouTube videos. I’m putting in the work on myself, and I need to figure out if the way I felt last night is compatible with that.

Sanjay dropped me back here, and I made myself a mug of hot cocoa and settled down on the couch. My body was still singing from the orgasms and the dancing, and I took the ballet shoes out of their box and sat with them on my lap. I love the smell of new ballet shoes, the hint of leather and glue. They start to stink real fast, I remember.

They are beautiful shoes, and the more I look at them, the more I understand that what they represent is especially beautiful. I might be overthinking it, but I believe they represent acceptance. Elijah was worried about me living here and volunteering at the community center, but gifting me the shoes tells me he has accepted both. I told him what I want to try next in my life, and he’s supporting me.

I took a final happy sniff before I put them down and flicked on the TV. Exhausted mentally but too wired to go to bed, I was half watching an old episode of True Blood when I realized how much I want to be with him. Not back in that house, the way we were. But somewhere new for both of us. Was I crazy to think like that? Would opening my heart to him again mean sacrificing all the progress I’ve made? The shoes, I decided, said otherwise. The shoes said he could also adapt and accept that I had changed, that we were changing.

I was still turning it over in my mind when my burner phone pinged. My logical brain told me not to reply until morning. I was off-balance, confused by awesome sex and the simple pleasure of being wooed by my own husband. The logical part of my brain was a wuss though. It couldn’t hold out against the part of me that was overjoyed at the thought of seeing him again so soon. So I told him yes and went to bed feeling giddy.

The giddiness was still there when I woke up this morning, but so was the doubt. The affair is getting out of hand, at least for me. I am starting to feel far more than I should. I wonder if he’s feeling the same kind of uncertainty and that’s why he wants to see me tonight.

Overwhelmed by the myriad of questions without answers in my mind, I slam the lid down on the trash can so hard it makes a big metallic clang. “Hey Amber,” Mrs. K calls from across the street. “What did that trash can ever do to you?”

“It looked at me funny, Mrs. Katzberg.”

She waves her cigarette at me and cackles. “Well in that case, have at it, girl.”

I head back inside with a smile on my face, shoving aside thoughts of Elijah and focusing on getting ready. I take a quick shower and blow-dry my hair. I’m more comfortable in casual attire these days, but I make the effort to choose a nice outfit from my vastly reduced wardrobe. I’ll probably go straight from meeting Martha to seeing Elijah anyway, so the effort won’t be wasted. Not that he seems to care what I’m wearing or like I wear anything for long in his presence.

Still, I think he’ll notice this, I think as I study the red dress I chose. It’s slinky and a little lower cut than I normally wear, but I’m feeling it. I add the spike-heeled boots and another dangly necklace. Both will drive him wild. Martha will probably think I took the trouble to dress up because I’m newly single and looking to mingle. Nobody would ever guess the truth—that I have a date with the man I’m divorcing.

Last night, Sanjay let me know he wouldn’t be available today as he is on triplet duty with his wife, but I pick up a cab without any trouble. As we drive into the city, the burner phone goes off.

He’s right—we do need to talk. I want my independence and to learn to live in the real world and find my passion, but I also want him. There’s no denying it—I have fallen in love with my husband all over again. And as ever when falling in love, the feeling is complicated. It fills me with both joy and terror.

I add the kisses since I won’t be able to kiss him in person until tonight. Nothing has technically changed, yet I feel completely different. Like I’m floating on air. When I see him tonight, when I kiss him for real, I will be honest and tell him how confused I am. I’ll tell him about the changes I want to make in our lives, but I will make sure he understands that if he wants it, there is still the potential for this to be our life. That we could give this another shot.

Another beep sounds from my purse, and the crazy-lady grin stays on my face as I pull out my other phone, the one that the rest of the world uses. It’s Martha, asking me to meet her outside Freddie’s offices because she’s running a little late after stopping by to talk to him about something.

I tell her no problem and let the driver know the new address. It’s in Midtown, near the cluster of high-class law firms and businesses that includes Jamestech and James and James.

I’m not sure how I’ll play it with Martha. We’ve previously managed to have incredibly boozy fun times out together without talking about anything personal at all. I’m hoping we can do the same today, except maybe with less booze. What I really don’t want is to spend the whole time talking about the split.

I’m dropped off right outside the building that houses Kemp, Michaelson, and Chambers, and right after I step into the lobby, another message lands from Martha.

I do know how it is to be married to someone you have to schedule time with. If Elijah and I decide to give things another shot, we’ll both need to make each other far more of a priority than we ever did before.

I’ve never been in Freddie’s office, but I follow the signs and ride the elevator up to the correct floor, and I’m greeted with a smile from a sleek-looking assistant. “Mrs. James?” he says when he spots me. “I’m Tom. Let me show you through.”

I follow the man toward a corner office, and he holds the door open for me. I walk through, looking for Martha, and he closes it behind me. Freddie Kemp jumps to his feet from behind his desk. Still no sign of Martha. Maybe she’s in the bathroom.

Although I’m decidedly off-balance, my normal instincts kick in. My face instantly schools itself into a friendly smile. “Hi Freddie, how are you?”

“All the better for seeing you, Amber. You look gorgeous, as usual.”

As he walks toward me, I immediately regret the low-cut red dress. His eyes are like laser beams running over my figure, and a sleazy smile forms on his slug-like lips. I have never liked Freddie Kemp, and not only because of the way he treats Martha. There’s something off about him, a predatory vibe. He is a touch shorter than me, especially in these boots, and apart from a flabby little gut that hangs over his belt, he’s skinny. It’s unbelievable really, the lengths that Martha goes to in order to keep the interest of a man like this.

“Is Martha here?” I ask, backing up slightly. He’s come too close too quickly, and I notice that all the blinds in the office are closed. The only natural light comes from his balcony.

“No, she’s not. I’m afraid that was a little ploy we cooked up to get you here.”

“Really?” I’m starting to freak out, but I manage to keep my voice haughty and in control. “And why is that?”

“Please, will you sit?” He gestures toward a big couch at the back of the room.

“No, I don’t think I will. I came here to meet your wife, and if she’s not here, I really must be going.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Amber. We’re old friends, aren’t we?”

We are not old friends, no. We are old acquaintances, and that is very different. He puts his hand on my elbow and attempts to steer me toward the seating area. I resist, but he’s stronger than he looks, the little turd. Years of social conditioning kick in, and I start to yield. Making a scene is one of the worst sins a girl can commit—I had that drummed into me from birth. Even as a toddler, I knew to cry in private.

“Um, actually, I’m in a bit of a hurry. What was it that you wanted?”

“I want to make you rich, Amber. I want to make you one of the richest women in the country.”

I stare at him for a moment, completely dumbfounded, and I finally manage to pull away. “Freddie, I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t have a clue what you’re going on about.”

He sighs and shakes his head as though I’m a silly little thing who doesn’t understand the real world. A horrible grin splits his face, full of overly white veneered teeth that make him look like a crocodile. “I want to represent you in the divorce. I’m the obvious choice. Elijah has all the money, all the power—he’s bound to screw you over. With me on your side, you can be sure that won’t happen.”

I’ve received multiple offers of representation from many different divorce attorneys, but Freddie was not one of them. Apparently, this particular shark simply had a different approach and used his wife to lure me here. A flare of hurt bursts inside me at Martha’s betrayal, but I clamp it down.

“Thank you, Freddie, but that won’t be necessary. I already have representation, and the proceedings are well underway.”

He’s still pushing, still getting closer. Every time I take a step back, he takes a bigger one forward. I really do not like the manic gleam in his eyes, not one little bit. Something is off about his pupils, and I realize the rumors about his cocaine addiction are undoubtedly true. This is the first time I’ve ever been alone with Freddie Kemp—and it will certainly be the last.

“Who?” he asks, dispensing with all attempts at charm. Spittle flies from his mouth as he rages. “Who have you signed with? You know I’m the best! The rest are all garbage compared to me.”

“My divorce is none of your business, Freddie. Now, get out of my way.”

He has backed me all the way to the corner of the room, and my ass hits the wall. There is nowhere else for me to go, and a rush of fear almost chokes me. What the hell is happening here? Freddie can be aggressive, and he’s used to getting what he wants in both his personal and professional life, but this is insane. The man is out of control. His eyes are fixed on my cleavage, and he licks his lips with his fat tongue. His hands go down to his groin, and I’m horrified at the sight of the erection that is clearly visible through his suit pants.

I raise my hand to shove him away, but he catches hold of my wrist and pins it against the wall. He squeezes it viciously, painfully grinding the little bones together. I want to scream, I should scream—there is an office full of people just through that door. Someone will hear. Someone will help me.

As his leering face comes closer, though, I’m paralyzed. I can’t scream. Can’t run. I am frozen. Immobile. All I can do is shrink away from his fetid breath. “You’re a stuck-up cunt, did you know that, Amber? You’ve always looked down on me, just because I’m from a small town in Michigan and don’t have the same fancy manners as you.”

“Freddie, I don’t know what you mean. I didn’t even know you were from Michigan. Let me go!”

“No, I don’t think I will,” he says, and I shudder at the sensation of his hard penis grinding against me. “Beautiful Amber James, always thinking she’s the queen bee, looking down her nose at the rest of us. I don’t suppose I’m good enough to represent you, am I? What about this, though, is this good enough for you?” He grabs my hand and forces it down to touch his hardness. His face dissolves into an expression of ecstasy as he rubs my fingers over his groin, and he closes his eyes and smacks his lips together. This man is utterly revolting. Why the fuck am I standing here taking this? His smug expression finally unfreezes me.

I snatch my hand away and slap him firmly across the face. He is so shocked at me fighting back that it’s his turn to freeze. I push him as hard as I can, and he topples backward, trips over a glass coffee table, and eventually lands on his ass on the floor. He stares up at me for a long moment before scrambling to his feet and stalking forward. “You fucking cunt!”

I dodge, too quick for him to catch, and race out of his office as fast as my feet will carry me. I need fresh air and to be as far away from Freddie and his grasping fingers and crazy eyes as I can get.

Tom the assistant jumps up to talk to me, but I keep walking, desperately seeking the ladies’ room. I’m just about holding it together, fighting back my tears and my nausea, when a horribly familiar voice calls my name.

“Amber, Stop!” I close my eyes. Every muscle in my body tenses. I keep walking, hoping to get to the elevator before he reaches me. No such luck—I press the button, but the car is on the ground level. Rolling my shoulders back, I stand up tall and remind myself who I am. Amber James, stuck-up cunt. He might be the Ice Man, but I am the Ice Queen.

I whirl around, and Nathan James bears down on me. I fight the panic gripping my throat. He’s always angry when he sees me. He cloaks it with sarcasm and biting comments, but beneath that is pure fury—I hurt his beloved brother. I am the enemy.

I force myself to stay exactly where I am. I have given up enough ground today, and I will not let another man bully me. “Nathan,” I say coldly. “What are you doing here?”

“I had a meeting with Cynthia Chambers about a case we’re working on together. What are you doing here?”

“None of your goddamn business,” I snap. He looks taken aback. I am usually calm and frosty, but I can’t fake it that well today.

The elevator arrives, and I wait while a young woman gets out. “Take the stairs, Nathan,” I say after stepping inside.

“Fuck you, Amber.” He holds the door open and keeps his voice low—we are in public, after all—smiling as he speaks. “How does it feel to be replaced?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Elijah has met someone else. He’s been seeing her for a while now, and she’s good for him. Much better than you were. In fact, he’s the happiest he’s ever been. You have a real nice day now.” He says the last few words in a mocking Southern accent and looks unbearably pleased with himself as the elevator doors slide closed on him.

I stagger back against the wall, finally letting my proud expression fade. The adrenaline rush has left me weak and shaky, and as soon as I get to the lobby, I head straight for the ladies’ room. I splash my face and scrub my hands with scalding hot water for several minutes, trying to scour away every trace of Freddie Kemp’s filthy touch.

I knew he was a cheat, but I had no idea he was a predator, and I’m not sure what to do about it. Should I call the cops? Talk to Elijah? Go back upstairs and kick the shit out of him? I am not naive—if he behaved like that with me, he has undoubtedly done it before. Which is why I’m shocked I’ve never heard a whisper about sexual misconduct. How has he kept it a secret?

My reflection stares back at me, pale and drawn. Elijah will make me feel safe, if nothing else.

I take a few deep breaths and find my burner phone.

I hit send and lean against the marble vanity while I wait for his response. He doesn’t keep me waiting long.

I reply with kisses, feeling relieved at the prospect of seeing him again, especially now. I need his hands to replace the lingering crawling sensation Freddie left behind. I need Elijah to hold me until the horror of it fades.

I need my husband.