The Wife Upstairs, page 6
part #5 of Novel Series
“Hey, Vicky.” Mack nudged me in the shoulder as he waited for a nurse to sign off on his paperwork. “You look wiped. Almost done?”
I winced. “Just about. But then I’ve got a ton of documentation to finish up.”
Mack looked wiped too. His black hair was even more mussed than usual and he had beads of sweat on his forehead from his recent efforts lifting a morbidly obese patient off a stretcher into a bed. He’s been taking post-bacc classes, because he says he needs to train for another job before his back goes out on him. He’s been considering medical school. He thinks he’s too old, but I keep telling him he should go for it. He would be a great doctor. And he’s not that old—not even thirty.
Mack glanced down at his watch sticking out of the sleeve of the navy blue uniform all the EMTs wear. “I’m done at midnight. If you’re still around by then, you want to grab a drink?”
I shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
Of course, since Mack has a girlfriend, we would just be two friends hanging out and sharing the war stories from an exhausting shift. But I figured it would help me forget about Adam even better than a hot shower. And there would be alcohol—a key ingredient in forgetting anything painful.
Hmm. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t drink, kids! Except at weddings and a glass of champagne on New Year’s Eve.
But for once, I managed to finish up my documentation quickly and I was done before eleven. At that point, I didn’t feel like sticking around for another hour for drinks with a cute guy who was already taken. Mack would understand.
The waiting room of the ER was still packed. A couple of hours ago, the sight of that waiting room would have given me a throbbing headache, but now I was just relieved to be done. I love my job, but at the end of a twelve-hour shift, I’ve got nothing left to give. But the nice thing about shiftwork is that when you’re done, you’re done. I could go home and not think about what I saw today.
But then when I got outside the ER, I saw him. Your father. Sitting on the bench right outside the door.
And get this: he was holding a rose!
“Victoria?” He scrambled to his feet. “Hey…”
“Hey,” I said.
He later told me he had been sitting there for nearly an hour, ever since my shift ended. He walked around for an hour trying to find an open florist, even though the lidocaine had worn off and his hand was throbbing.
“Don’t think I’m crazy,” he said. “But as soon as I left the ER, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’m sure there’s some rule about not being able to date patients, but I would be kicking myself for the rest of my life if I didn’t at least give it a shot.”
“Well…” I cleared my throat. “It’s not so much a rule as it is a guideline…”
He raised his eyebrows. “So… does that mean you’ll come have a drink with me?”
That’s right, Future Children: At the end of an exhausting ER shift, your father was waiting for me. And he gave me a rose and we got a drink that turned into a late dinner. And then we walked around the city talking until the sun came up.
He told me about how he backpacked through Europe the year after college and stayed at youth hostels until he ran out of money and then would sleep on the street because he didn’t want to go home. He told me how in high school he used to sing in a country music a cappella group, but got kicked out because he couldn’t carry a tune. He said his favorite movie is Pulp Fiction, and teased me when I said mine is Sweet Home Alabama, but promised to watch it. He told me that he’s never cold, but he wears coats during the winter because everyone looks at him funny if he’s got a T-shirt on in thirty-degree weather. I told him that I’m always cold, and he said he would keep me warm and wrapped his arms around me.
Then just as the sun was peeking out from the horizon, he leaned in and kissed me for the first time.
And oh my…
I’ve never met anyone like him. He is such a great guy. I’ve only known him less than twenty-four hours, but it’s long enough to know that I’m in love. This is It. It.
I never believed in love at first sight until I met your father.
Chapter 10
It’s so sweet, I almost want to vomit.
She sewed up his hand. He walked all over Manhattan to find her roses. They stayed up all night talking. Then they had their first kiss. It’s like something out of one of those corny chick flicks that Victoria apparently liked. I wanted to roll my eyes. Multiple times.
I know Victoria wanted me to have this book, but I’m not sure how much I can read. It’s painful to hear how happy she used to be, knowing how she ends up. I’ll read it, but no more tonight. I can’t handle it.
My stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl. I was so focused on Victoria’s dinner that I completely forgot to eat myself. Adam told me to help myself to anything in the fridge, but I’m too tired to do any serious cooking. Maybe I’ll make myself a sandwich.
When I get out of my room, I catch Adam coming out of Victoria’s bedroom. His brown hair is mussed and there are slight purple circles under his eyes. He lets out a yawn, but covers his mouth when he sees me standing there.
“Sorry,” he says. “I know yawns are contagious.”
“Everything okay with Victoria?”
He nods. “Just getting her into bed. Her routine takes a while, so…” He yawns again. “Sorry. I’m actually more hungry than tired.”
My empty stomach lets out a little roar. “Me too. I’m starving…”
He offers me a sleepy smile. “How about some fettuccini alfredo?”
Yum. That sounds amazing. I follow Adam down to the kitchen, but my excitement is somewhat dampened when he pulls two boxes out of the freezer featuring a photograph of a plastic container of fettuccine Alfredo. He shoves one of them into the microwave and hits a button.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “You look disappointed.”
“I thought you were cooking them from scratch,” I admit.
He laughs. “Well, sorry. I used to cook a little, but not much these days.”
I cock my head to the side. “It’s just sort of funny. I mean, you live in this giant house and you’ve got a BMW, but you eat TV dinners. I would expect you to have a personal chef or something.”
He laughs harder. “You make me sound so bourgeoisie. I’m not like that.” He reaches into one of the cupboards and pulls out a bottle of red wine. In spite of his protests about not being bourgeoisie, the wine looks really expensive. “Want a glass?”
“Sure.” I could use a drink after the day I’ve had. “I’ve always wondered what a thousand-dollar bottle of wine tastes like.”
“Thousand-dollar bottle of wine?”
“Admit it—that’s how much you paid for this. At least.”
Adam holds up the bottle and studies the drawing on the label. “Actually, I have no idea how much we paid. Victoria bought it.”
Of course she did. This is Victoria’s home, after all. She bought the wine, and she probably bought the corkscrew he’s using to open the bottle, and the microwave he’s using to heat our magnificent TV dinners. This woman had very expensive taste.
“It’s okay if you spend a lot of money.” I accept a heaping glass of wine from his hand—I respect that he didn’t fill it up halfway. “I mean, you’re a celebrity. Right?”
He snorts and looks down at his own wine glass. He filled his up to the brim too. “Not really. I wrote a few books that were a little popular.”
“More than a little.”
“Okay. Very. But still. I’m not exactly Hugh Jackman.”
Actually, he’s way better looking than Hugh Jackman. And I was a big Wolverine fan. “I feel bad that I haven’t read any of your books. I’m not much of a reader, to be honest.”
I bite my lip to keep from mentioning I was always a solid C student—and that was in a good year. I dropped out of high school, and although I did eventually get my GED, I never would have considered college, even if it were an option with everything else going on in my life. Adam looks like one of those guys for whom college was a given. And Victoria has an advanced degree.
“I’m glad you haven’t read them,” he says. The microwave dings and he swaps out one box of fettuccini alfredo for the second. “You’re not going to believe me, but I hate it when people start gushing to me about my books.”
“You’re right. I don’t believe it.”
He smiles crookedly. “Fine. I like it sometimes. But I never know if they mean it or if they’re just kissing my ass.”
I lean against the wall of the kitchen and something jabs me in the back. I turn around and notice a large dent in the wall. I run my fingers along it.
“The wall got dented when we were moving the refrigerator in.” Adam drains the rest of the wine in his glass in one swig. “I meant to get it fixed, but…”
He doesn’t have to finish that sentence.
He picks up the bottle of wine and pours himself another heaping glass. He tilts the bottle toward me. “Another?”
I look down at my glass of wine, which I now realize is almost empty. Damn, I finished that quick. I look at the bottle and then at my handsome boss. I’m sorely tempted to say yes. But there’s something about this place that makes me feel like I need to stay sober.
“No, thanks.”
Adam nods and sticks the cork back in the bottle. “This is my last one.” He glances up the stairwell, at his wife’s bedroom door at the top of the stairs. “It’s just been… it’s been rough this year.”
“I can imagine.”
His eyes become cloudy and distant, the same way Victoria’s were when she was gazing out the window. He runs a finger carelessly along the rim of the wine glass. “She was pregnant, you know.”
I suck in a breath. “Victoria?”
He drops his eyes. “It was very early. We hadn’t even told anyone yet. And obviously, she lost it when she…”
I clasp my hand over my mouth. Jesus Christ, just when I think Adam and Victoria’s story can’t get any sadder, he throws in another little nugget. “I’m so sorry, Adam. That must have been so hard.”
He nods wordlessly. No wonder he looks so defeated. He lost his wife and his unborn child in one swoop.
After all, the only time I’ve ever seen Freddy cry was when he was sitting by my bed moments after the doctors told us I had miscarried our baby. But at least we had each other.
I almost tell Adam all that, but I keep my mouth shut. I don’t want this to be a competition of tragedies. If it is, he would win. Mine is bad—really bad—but his is worse. Not only did he lose the baby, but there will never be another one. Even if Victoria could still get pregnant biologically, it’s an ethical gray area. He’ll never be a father now, whereas I still have a chance to move on. Just not with Freddy.
Adam downs about half the second glass of wine in one gulp. “It’s okay,” he says. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”
I nod, not sure what else to say.
He manages a tiny smile. “I’m glad you’re here, Sylvia. The truth is, it’s a lot to manage. It’s nice having help. And…” He glances around the vast expanse of space that makes up the living room and kitchen. “And some company.”
“Right, well…” I return his smile. “I’m glad to be able to help.”
We just stare at each other for a moment. When the microwave beeps, I practically jump out of my skin. The truth is, I have no idea how Adam was living all alone in this massive house. It’s so isolated here. If he wasn’t in the room with me, I’d feel terrified. Even with him here, this place gives me the creeps.
“Tell you what,” he says as he carefully pulls the plate from the microwave. “Let’s bring our delicious dinners out to the living room and watch some TV while we eat.”
I nod vigorously. “Well, they are TV dinners.”
“My thought exactly.”
So we eat our TV dinners in front of the television. We end up just watching whatever reruns are on network TV, and even though we don’t talk, we laugh at all the same places. But even as we are watching and laughing, my mind wanders.
Did Victoria and Adam sit together on this very couch, watching television while eating TV dinners?
Did Victoria have any inkling of what was about to happen to her?
And how would she feel if she knew another woman was sitting here with her husband right now?
But I don’t have to wonder about that last one. I know the answer.
Chapter 11
Adam told me Victoria always wakes up early, so I set an alarm to get me up at seven. If I were back in my crappy neighborhood in Brooklyn, there would be some siren or explosion on the street that would get me up before any alarm, but it’s absolutely silent out here. I have the best sleep of my life on this super comfortable mattress. I feel like I’m living in the lap of luxury.
I take a quick shower and then dress in simple jeans and a T-shirt. I tie my hair back in a ponytail and head over to Victoria’s bedroom. I stop short when I see Eva inside the room, loading Victoria into some sort of sling. Victoria looks about as thrilled as I would be in the same situation.
“You come back later,” Eva barks at me. “I get Victoria out of bed, then you come back.”
“Oh, okay.” I tug at my jeans. “Should I… feed her breakfast?”
Eva turns away from the sling to shoot me a look. “That is what Mr. Adam pays you for, yes?”
Yes.
I want to ask her what sort of food I should make, but I don’t feel like being yelled at again. Eva hates me. I don’t understand why because I’m not that detestable, but it’s clear she does. I’m going to have to find a strategy to stay out of her way. But in the meantime, I’ll go downstairs and make Victoria some breakfast.
When I get to the first floor of the house, Maggie is down there with her red curls pulled back, vacuuming the carpet with earbuds stuffed in her ears. Before she sees me, I hear her belt out, “Girls just wanna have fu-un!”
When she sees me, she pauses her solo and pulls the earbuds out, although she doesn’t look as embarrassed as I would feel if caught in a similar situation. She offers me another of her infectious, toothy grins. “Sylvie! Hi!”
I can’t help but return it. “Cyndi Lauper fan?”
“Who isn’t?” She kills the motor on the vacuum. “So what brings you down here?”
“Um…” I glance over at the kitchen. “I was going to make some breakfast for Victoria, but…”
Maggie gets it immediately. “Oatmeal. That’s the best thing for her to eat for breakfast. I’ll show you where they keep it.”
“Thanks.” My shoulders sag in relief. At least one person here is willing to help me. “I was going to ask Eva, but she’s…”
She winks at me. “Terrifying?”
“Yes! Oh my God, I’m so scared of her. What’s her deal?”
“I have no idea.” She shrugs. “If I’m going to be charitable, I think she’s just being overly protective of Victoria. Worst case: she’s going to eventually murder us all with a kitchen knife.”
She laughs like she’s joking, but there’s a part of me that’s worried Eva really might murder us all at some point. She looks like the kind of person who feels the need to exact some sort of vigilante justice. And I’m fairly sure she’ll murder me first.
In one of the cupboards, there are packs of instant oatmeal in every flavor you could imagine. It makes me think that oatmeal is a frequent breakfast for Victoria. I pick out a pack of apple sugar and grab a bowl to cook it in the microwave.
“Will this be enough food for her?” I ask Maggie.
She opens up the cupboard with all the baby food and pulls out a container of puréed apples. “You can serve it to her with this.”
I hesitate before taking the jar. I don’t want to feed Victoria baby food. It doesn’t seem right.
“It’s the right consistency,” Maggie says. “And it doesn’t taste bad. I’ve had it.”
“You have?”
“Sure. It’s like bland applesauce. What’s not to like?”
The microwave dings and I remove the bowl of oatmeal. I stir it before putting it back in for another minute. It smells good at least, but the consistency is gummy. I’m not certain how it’s going to taste, but it’s not like Victoria eats much anyway. She only ate about a quarter of her dinner last night after I so lovingly puréed those potatoes.
The front door slams, and a second later, Adam jogs into the kitchen, wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and running shoes. He’s got a vee of sweat on his T-shirt, and he pulls his earbuds out from his ears as he waves hello to us. His shirt is slightly stuck to his muscular chest—holy crap, he looks hot. I certainly get what Victoria saw in him that day in the ER.
“Everything going okay, Sylvia?” He leans over the counter, his green eyes focused on my face. “Do you have any questions?”
“Maggie was just helping me.” I flash her a grateful smile. She has an amused expression on her face. “I’m making some oatmeal for Victoria.”
“Excellent.” He gives me a thumbs up. “Strong work, Sylvia. Maggie.” He backs away from the counter. “I’m going to hit the shower—I’m really sweaty. I’ll be up in the attic working if you need anything.”
I forget about the oatmeal for a moment as I watch Adam climb the stairs. Not only does he have a nice chest, but it looks like he also has a pretty nice butt. I should probably stop staring at it though before Maggie notices.
“My boss is ever so dreamy.”
I snap my head around to look at Maggie, who still has an amused expression on her face. She’s got her freckled arms folded across her chest. “What?” I say.
She laughs. “He’s hot. I get it. I may have a boyfriend but I’m not blind.”
I play with a lock of my hair. “He’s okay.”
“Suuuuure…”
“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “He’s hot. Obviously he’s hot. But…” My eyes drift up the stairwell. “It’s not like I’m going to do anything about it. He’s married. And I’m…” Celibate, apparently. “I work for him. I work for his wife, actually.” I avoid her eyes. “And even if I was going to do something about it, he wouldn’t be interested. He’s completely devoted to his wife.”
