The Last Mrs. Parrish(47)

Amber nodded solemnly, though she was dancing inside. So he wanted a boy, and Daphne couldn’t deliver. This was the best news yet.

They were both quiet, and then Daphne spoke again. “I’ve been thinking; you shouldn’t have to do that commute every day while the apartment is just sitting there, empty. You’re more than welcome to stay at the apartment the nights Jackson isn’t there.”

Amber was genuinely floored. “I don’t know what to say.”

Daphne put her hand on top of Amber’s. “Say nothing. That’s what friends are for.”





Twenty-Nine




Amber was looking forward to sleeping in Daphne’s bed tonight. She was going to take Daphne up on her offer to use the apartment for the weekend. Since it was the last week in August, and Jackson had been telecommuting from the lake, the apartment was available. Amber had no big plans for the weekend, so she’d spend Saturday roaming around Manhattan. She texted Daphne to let her know and to thank her.

She hadn’t been there in a while and was taken aback again at the sheer elegance and luxury. She imagined that bastard back home and his snotty mother—if they could see her in this palatial apartment! She flung off her heels and stepped barefoot onto the fluffy carpet. Then, sinking into the white, half-moon sofa, she surveyed her surroundings with pleasure. It almost felt as if it were hers. She put her head back and closed her eyes, feeling incredibly indulged. After a few minutes, she went into the master bedroom to search for a robe.

Amber chose a gorgeous Fleur number in silk and lace. It felt like a warm, sultry breeze gliding over her skin. Next, she opened Daphne’s drawers and picked a white pair of Fox & Rose lace panties that made her feel like a seductress—not that she had anyone to seduce, but it felt good nonetheless. She went into the bathroom and brushed out her long hair, now even blonder from her frequent trips to the salon. It fell loosely around her shoulders, thick and shiny. Maybe not as beautiful as Daphne, but certainly younger.

She looked over at the bed, which was covered in a downy pale-green comforter. She would sleep here tonight and pretend it was all hers, see how it felt to be Daphne. She sat on the bed and bounced a few times, and then she lay down and spread out. It was like being hugged by a thousand clouds. How lovely it would be to wake up whatever time she chose in this heavenly room and then explore the city. What could be a more perfect Friday and Saturday?

Amber nestled a little longer. The rumbling in her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She reluctantly rose and padded into the kitchen. She’d picked up a salad from the market, and she scraped it out of its container and onto one of Daphne’s china plates. She’d opened a bottle of malbec earlier and now poured herself a glass. After her dinner, she put a few jazz CDs in the player and sat with her second glass of wine, thinking about what she would do tomorrow. Maybe the Guggenheim or the Whitney. The third disc was playing when Amber heard a noise outside the apartment. She bolted to a standing position and listened. Yes. Definitely. It was the elevator. Suddenly, the doors opened and Jackson walked in.

He looked surprised. “Amber. What are you doing here?”

She pulled the robe tighter around herself. “I, uh, I . . . Daphne gave me a key and said I could use it if I was too tired to get the train. She said she told you. I figured with all of you at the lake, it would be empty. I’m sorry. I had no idea you were coming.” She blushed.

He dropped his briefcase and shook his head. “It’s fine. I should have let you know.”

“I thought you were staying at the lake until Sunday night.”

“It’s a long story. Let’s just say I’ve had better weeks.”

“Well, I’ll go and get my things and get out of your way.” She hated to go, but figured he’d expect her to offer.

He shook his head and moved past her toward the bedroom. “It’s late, you should feel free to stay till morning. I’m going to go change.”

She heard him on the phone, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. He stayed in the bedroom for close to an hour, and Amber wondered if he was ever going to come out. She debated changing from the robe into some clothes, but decided against it. She had a good feeling about tonight. She sat back down with her glass of wine and a magazine, waiting for him.

He finally came out, got a drink, and sat down on the other end of the sofa. He seemed to register what she was wearing for the first time. “That robe looks nice on you. A little tight for Daphne lately.”

“She’s gained a little weight. It happens to the best of us,” Amber said, choosing her words carefully.

“She’s not been herself lately.”

“I’ve noticed that too. Whenever we’re together, she seems distracted, like something’s on her mind.”

“Has she said anything to you? About being unhappy or anything?”

“I really wouldn’t want to repeat anything she’s said to me, Jackson.”

He sat up straight. “So she has said something to you.”

“Please, if she’s not happy, that’s something you and Daphne need to discuss.”

“She told you she’s not happy?”

“Well, not in so many words. I don’t know. I don’t want to betray a confidence.”