Sine Qua Non

Chapter Fifteen

The rumpled sheets smelled like him, she thought, as she got into his bed. He dwarfed her old twin with his massive frame, but even in this large queen-sized bed, gravity kept her flush against him when the two of them were on the memory foam together.

He tugged at her sweatshirt. “Keeping this on?”

“Yes,”

she mumbled.

He just made a mild editorial grunt, squeezing her body a little tighter through the cotton.

Jay looked at his sitting area with the two brocaded chairs and loveseat as his arm settled around her waist, keeping her back pressed against his chest. One of his legs was pressed between hers, and though he had his hips tilted away from her, she could feel the heat of body against her bare thighs.

She covered his hand, smoothing her fingers over his knuckles. “Will you tell me what’s wrong now?”

she asked quietly. “If I’m supposed to trust you, you have to trust me.”

Nicholas sighed. But then, in the moderated tones of a man who treated his feelings like unpleasant business, he began to talk.

He told her how hollow he felt at work and how bitterly he resented everyone in town for their complicity in his father’s dealings. He was furious over how people were treating her, in particular, and after he again demanded the names of the people who she had heard spreading rumors, he confessed that he was afraid she wouldn’t marry him if she didn’t get the job.

Jay felt a wave of pity. Nobody had ever taught him that love wasn’t something you could bargain for or buy. No wonder he was so unhappy , she thought. Nick, you foolish boy.

“It’s not about the job. It’s about you treating me like an equal, and not using your money as a tool of control.”

She touched his arm gently. “It sounds like work is stressing you out.”

“No,”

he said, and she felt him shake his head. “It just doesn’t do what it used to for me.”

“Well, that sounds like you’re depressed.”

She ran her fingers over his forearm, flattening the springy hairs and watching them bounce back up. “It happens to me sometimes.”

“Men like me don’t get depressed.”

“Men like you do if they feel like they don’t have a purpose in life. What’s yours?”

She tilted her head back to look at him. “Have you ever thought about starting a charity?”

“So help me, Jay, if you whip out a bible—”

Jay smacked his arm. “You funnel money into the town with all your big investments, but you’re mostly just helping your rich friends. You have the power to change someone’s life if you wanted to. I mean, look at me. I went to a great school but had to use your father’s money to do it, and if it weren’t for the optics of having a dropout as a stepchild, he would have cut me off. I was completely dependent on him—”

She paused, struggling to stay composed.

“You could send kids to school.”

“You want me to use my money on a bunch of brats?”

He tugged at her sweatshirt sleeve, baring part of her shoulder. He nipped at her gently. “I’d rather use it on you.”

“It could be a wedding present,” said Jay.

Nicholas paused, his breath stirring the fine hairs at her nape. She felt him turn to study her, and when he did, his cock nudged against her backside. “I was going to take you to Singapore.”

He sounded surprisingly hesitant. “That’s what you want?”

“I think it would be very sweet of you.”

She leaned back against him. “I think it would make you feel good, too.”

“I forgot what an idealist you are.”

“It’s not a bad thing, wanting the best out of people.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

She felt him playing with her hair. She hadn’t dried it properly and now the frizzy little strands were unwinding from themselves like small pinwheels. “It just says so much about you.”

“Like?”

she prompted.

“Why you keep giving second chances to people who don’t deserve it.”

Jay rolled around to face him. He was lying on his side propping up his head with one hand. The other, which had been resting over her stomach, was now on the bed.

He arched an eyebrow, running his fingers through his mussed hair. “Yes?”

“I love you.”

She leaned forward to kiss his nose and saw his eyes flare open wide. “I won’t co-sign all of your decisions, and sometimes you get on my nerves, but I do love you, and I want to see you grow. And as long as you try to do that—as long as you’re kind to me—I’ll forgive you.” Resting her head on the pillow beside him, she whispered, “It’s really that simple.”

His mouth tilted. This close, she could see all the little individual dots of his stubble, and all the lines and angles that comprised his beautiful, infuriating face. “You’re such a goody two-shoes.”

“And you’re a demon prince,”

she said, not unkindly.

He reached up and flicked her nose.

“As long as that means you’re my princess.”

*****

Jay woke up to the smell of coffee. It sliced through her dreams like an arrow, and she startled, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling and wondering why the room didn’t look like hers. Then a weight lifted from her feet and she heard a bark, punctuated by a series of whimpers and a closed door.

A more pervasive pressure took its place, followed by the brush of a man’s stubbled mouth against her cheek. Nicholas’s blurry face snapped into sharp focus and her eyes darted from his eyes to his T-shirt, to his mesh shorts. “Hey,”

she said shyly. “You’re all dressed.”

“I tried waking you up but you whined something about being sore. And then the puppy came in.”

Jay sat up, letting the sheets fall to her waist. “Where are you going?”

“Just for a run. I came to kiss you goodbye first.”

“Okay. But I didn’t brush my teeth.”

“I didn’t mean on the mouth.”

Just in case his meaning wasn’t clear, he yanked the sheets back. Jay yelped, tugging his sweatshirt down over her thighs. He pushed her hands away, pinning her wrists to the bed.

“Lie down, and keep your hands up there. I don’t want you trying to drive.”

“ Nick .”

She was shocked by his crudeness.

“I know. You’re sore .”

Nicholas smoothed his hands over her skin before pushing her legs apart and kissing her so deeply that her breath caught. She was still sensitive and swollen from the previous night and the extra stimulation was paved with little bursts of discomfort.

“Nick—”

she gasped.

He had mapped out her body in dark rooms with an enthusiasm that now felt like it might be her undoing as he sucked on her aching clit hard enough that it almost hurt when she came, and she squeezed his shoulders with her knees, nearly unable to bear it.

“I’ve never kissed anyone else like this, you know,”

he said. “Just you.”

“Oh my god,”

she cried out hoarsely, when he guided one of her legs over his shoulder, spreading her wide on his sheets. But she didn’t resist, drawing in a deep breath as she slid one of her hands beneath her sweatshirt to cup one of her breasts.

“Did you like hearing that? I thought you would.”

“Fuck.”

Jay closed her eyes. “Please don’t stop.”

“Tell Daddy how much you love being the only girl who gets to fuck his face.”

“I love it,”

she sobbed. “All of it, god, anything, please—” He switched to his tongue and her low cries became hoarse screams of pleasure that had hot streaks of white flaring in her periphery as her body lifted off the bed. “ Nicholas . Oh my god.”

“You love this.”

He ran his fingers down the backs of her thighs as he kissed her again, deep and lingering—the way he kissed her on the mouth. Her legs trembled. “You love me .”

“ Yes ,”

she cried. “I do. Oh—Daddy—fuck—”

“I love seeing you like this.”

His breath tickled her tingling skin and when he kissed her just below her mons, another throb pulsed through her aching flesh. “I used to be amazed that I could do this to you. Watching you come would get me worked up for hours.”

“But not anymore?”

she asked, breathless.

“Don’t provoke me when you’re sore,”

he said. But when he leaned over to pick a steaming mug off the nightstand, she caught a brief glimpse of tented mesh between his legs before he sat down at the foot of the bed. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

Jay accepted the drink, collapsing back against his bed. All the blood rushing back into her brain was making her heady. “I think . . . I already did.”

“Jay.”

He laughed, his smile approving and a little wicked. “You bad girl.”

“Only with you.”

She took a long sip of coffee. He’d made it perfectly, creamed with oat milk and only lightly sweetened. “I’m still impressed that you figured out the machine.”

“I just read the French instructions, Jay—or are we talking about your pussy?”

Jay made a face and kicked out at him. “I was talking about your coffee machine .”

“C'est ?a. Je n'ai qu'une seule douce machine.”

He caught her by the ankle and gave her foot a squeeze. Running his thumb over the arch, his eyes held hers, and Jay felt another dull throb between her legs.

“Did you just call me a douche machine in French?”

“You’ll never know.”

His smile widened, dimples popping out on either side of his mouth. “What do you want to do when I get back from my run?”

“Um.”

Flustered, she leaned over to set the mug on his nightstand, drawing her legs away. “Well, I was going to wash these sheets, but we could do something together afterwards.”

“Here? Or in town?”

“Whatever you want.”

A flicker went through his eyes, disappearing before she could identify it. “Think about it. But if you have some extra time on your hands—”

He paused, turning away.

“You could bring down my mother’s dress from the attic. I’d like to see it on you.”

“I think that’s bad luck.”

Jay tried to keep her voice light so he wouldn’t hear the swell of emotion in it. “I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“I make my own luck. And I’ll never get tired of seeing you in a pretty dress.”

Nicholas reached over and flicked her nose before rising to leave, making her wonder if she had imagined the shadow that had briefly darkened his features. “By the way, I fed the dog and the cat, so take your time getting up,”

he tossed over his shoulder, before closing the door behind him.

Wow, okay.

Still buzzing pleasantly from her orgasm, Jay finished her coffee as she watched the shadows shift on the other side of the curtains from the mulberry tree outside. Light reflecting off his pool made ripples on the voile as the breeze stirred the fabric. He’d left the window open and she could smell roses. She sighed and stretched leisurely.

If this is what he meant by spoiling me, I could get used to this.

She finished the last drop and took the empty mug with her down to the kitchen, where she was immediately greeted by Maynard. “Hello, baby,”

she said, leaning down to ruffle the dogs ears. The sound of claws skittering on hardwood followed her all the way to the sink, which was empty for once. He’d even taken the time to wipe the counters down.

Jay washed her mug and took a long shower, and then changed into loose jogging pants and an old off-the-shoulder top she’d brought back with her from San Francisco. After popping the sheets in the wash, she decided to call herself an Uber and pick up some pastries for Nicholas as a surprise. He didn’t eat before his runs and the thought of his eyes lighting up at some surprise sugary treats made her smile.

It was too early for the brunch rush and she was on main street within ten minutes, walking into a boutique bakery called 24 Karat Cakes. What a ridiculous name , Jay thought, as she walked in through the doors. Everything within those four pink walls was covered in rhinestones, and there was a custom neon sign on the wall that said BYOC (bling your own cake).

“Hi there! Can I get you something? We have samples of our bake of the day.”

Jay glanced at the tray of purple frosted somethings and shook her head. “I’ll take some of the guava jam rolls, a maple bar, and one of those donuts if they’re vegan.”

“I’ll check for you,”

the girl said agreeably before disappearing into the back.

Jay arranged her pick-up Uber as she waited. Another customer walked in just as she was slipping her phone back into her purse, talking into his phone. She recognized the voice and looked up sharply, just as Michael glanced over.

“They’re vegan,”

the cashier said cheerfully. “Do you want one?”

“Um, yes, please.”

A look of panic flashed over Michael’s face, which was odd. But the anger that followed it was even stranger. He stormed over, throwing a nervous glance at the street.

“What are you doing here?”

“Getting pastries,”

she said, accepting the box from the now-puzzled cashier. “What are you doing here?”

“My wife owns this place,”

he said coldly.

That explains the rhinestone theme.

Michael was still looking around cagily. “Is Nicholas with you?”

“No,”

Jay said. “He’s at home, and I’m headed there, too. So if you have business with him, I’d recommend calling him up on the phone. It was nice to see you.”

To her consternation, he followed her out onto the sidewalk. “Tell me it isn’t true.”

“What?”

“Quentin said you were at his hotel. He said the two of you were—”

He broke off, but his eyes went to her throat and she clapped her hand over herself. Michael’s face creased in disgust. “Tell me you aren’t sleeping with your own stepbrother.”

“Wow, all right then, I won’t.”

Jay scanned the street desperately. “Screw you.”

“My god.”

His voice rose, causing a few people to glance over curiously. “Did it start after graduation or were you already fucking him when you started seeing me?”

Jay whipped around. “First of all, you’re being absolutely disgusting. Second of all, you don’t know anything about me. You never did, because you never asked. Our relationship was always about you and what you wanted. And now you’re married to someone else, so it’s really none of your business who I sleep with, and even if it was, I wouldn’t discuss it on the street.”

“But it is business, right?”

he said flatly. “After all, he owns half this town and you’re—you.” His eyes drifted to her bare shoulder, and she fought the urge to tuck away her bra strap. “I used to think you were a nice girl. It actually used to make me feel guilty a little, because I felt like I was corrupting you every time I made a move. But I guess I just wasn’t paying enough.”

Jay shifted the box to her other arm and slapped him—hard.

“Ow, fuck.”

Michael pressed a hand to his face. “Very classy, Jay.”

“Fuck you,”

she said, fighting back the angry tears forming in her eyes. “Seriously. Fuck you and fuck Quentin, too. The whole sorry lot of you can just get fucked.”

“He tried to pay me off to get me to stay away from you. Did you know that?”

Jay turned away.

“Quentin was paying back interest on that predatory loan for years. And Nick even put one of his own friends in the hospital with a bruised trachea. He couldn’t swallow solid food for two weeks. Two weeks, Jay. Nick only had to spend one night in jail for it.”

Michael let his hand fall to his side, revealing his reddened cheek. “That’s the kind of man you’re sharing a roof with.”

“Leave me alone,”

Jay said in a low, furious voice. “Or I’m calling the police.”

“I thought you were a feminist. You think he won’t do the same thing to you?”

“ Leave .”

“Wow.”

He shook his head. “Well, that makes my decision easy. You made your bed. Have fun lying in it. But don’t expect anyone to help you when he runs your heart through the thresher.”

With that, he turned and headed back inside 24 Karat Cakes.

When the Uber arrived two minutes too late, she was still shaking. The young male driver kept shooting her these little worried glances, and when he let her out by the trash cans, he wasted no time peeling off back down the hill in a thick cloud of dust.

Nicholas wasn’t back yet so she set the pastry box on the counter, one hand pressed flat on the granite as she stared at the oak cabinets and eggshell white walls.

She thought of Michael saying “I guess I just wasn’t paying enough.”

She thought of Nicholas saying “You could be my little bird out of bed, too.”

Her hand clenched into a fist and she turned away from the wall with bright eyes. With the dog nipping at her heels, she stormed down the empty hallway and yanked hard on the chain that unfolded the set of wooden stairs leading up to his attic.

Fuck you, Michael , she thought, seething with every step. I’m going to marry that man so hard that he forgets his own name.

As children, both she and Nicholas had been expressly forbidden from going up here, even though it wasn’t a true attic like the ones in old Victorian houses. This was more of a crawl space, where insulation poked out of the walls in yellow tufts that would itch and burn if you touched them, which Nick had, because telling him not to do something was the best way to get him to do it. Shaking her head at the memory of instructing him on how to wash the little particles of glass off his arms and legs through a closed bathroom door, she eyed the dust-covered mess of things that had been stored up here to be forgotten, wondering where to start.

There was a box of her things, marked ‘JAY’ in Nicholas’s handwriting. It looked like it had been opened and sifted through multiple times. Curious, she pulled back a flap and saw old clothes and schoolwork and several notebooks and diaries, her old school uniform.

Shoving that aside, with an odd lump in her throat, she moved one marked ‘XMAS’ and another marked ‘MOTHER’ (whose mother? she wondered. Damon’s?) before coming across one that simply said ‘EMMA.’

This one had been taped shut but the tape had yellowed over the years and was already starting to peel back. She opened it carefully, revealing stacks of Japanese notebooks and packs of fancy-looking pencils. There were books, too. Piles of them. Jay found a leatherbound copy of Jane Austen’s collected works, clearly well-loved, and her heart sank a little at the thought of a woman who had yearned for that kind of romance, only to find herself married to a man like Damon.

In a silver frame, she found a picture of the woman whose ghost she had glimpsed in the features of her son. Emma Beaucroft was more striking than pretty, with sharp cheekbones and brows that looked like brushstrokes. Her hair was cut fashionably short but quite wavy, and Jay, with a tight chest, recognized that same curl pattern from Nicholas, when his hair was wet.

She set the photograph carefully aside and, beneath some sketchbooks, found what must have been her wedding dress stuffed carelessly in a plastic trash bag that had been tied off. The material hadn’t yellowed too much despite being poorly stored, and when she shook it out, she saw that it had a deep sweetheart neckline with lace-screened sleeves. On his mother’s athletic build, it wouldn’t have been very risqué, but this was going to be quite revealing on her.

Jay folded the dress over her arm and took the book and the photo frame back downstairs with her. In the master bedroom, she peeled off her shirt and pants and tried the dress on, half-expecting it not to fit. The waist was very snug, and her ass and bust stretched the fabric to its limit, but it fit, and she knew Nicholas would like the low decolletage.

She thought of that nightmare when she’d been wearing her mother’s Vegas wedding dress. This was the class her mother had always tried to emulate. Jay smoothed her hands over her own hips before looking away from her own reflection.

Stepping into this dress, and into this life, made it feel an awful lot like she was taking her mother’s place, along with his name.

I’ll be the third Mrs. Beaucroft to live in this house.

Jay set the photo and the book on the coffee table of Nicholas’s screened porch, thinking he might enjoy seeing them. There was also something that felt very right about putting her so close to the roses she’d loved, although Jay was careful to face the picture away from the direct sunlight so it wouldn’t fade. The dress, she laid over the settee in his master bedroom to air out.

Even after her awful confrontation with Michael, Jay felt almost happy. The birds were singing and she could hear the piercing cry of a blue jay, and the rumbly engine of the mail truck. She decided to get the mail, too, walking back down his spacious drive, glancing at the mulberry tree whose shadows she had watched while drinking her coffee in bed.

When Nicholas had first brought her back here, she had been surprised to see it standing. Just as Nicholas’s father had carved the women who betrayed him out from his life, Jay had expected to be similarly excised by his son. That her presence had not only been left untouched, but also carefully preserved, seemed emblematic of the differences between the two men.

Nicholas, in his own strange, twisted way, was capable of love.

The mailbox was all the way down the path, past the wall of cypress trees that screened the pool from the street. She opened it with the key and took out a number of envelopes, mostly bills. She sifted through them on the granite countertop, chucking away a few obvious ads, pausing only when she came to a thick unmarked envelope that had no postage stamps.

Nick & Jay was written on the outside in ugly black sharpie.

She felt a twinge in her belly. Before she could second guess herself, Jay tore open the envelope and shook the contents out onto the counter, causing them to scatter in a colorful cascade of shadow and flesh tones. At first, she wasn’t sure what she was seeing—not because she didn’t understand but because her brain didn’t want to.

Photographs.

She was looking at glossy, full-color photographs.

Photographs of her and Nick.

The first must have been taken in the parking lot of BA because Nicholas was leaning on her open car door with his arms folded, talking to her with one of those half-smiles as she got out.

The others were less innocent. There were several taken on that hiking trail, when he had pinned her against that tree and kissed her like he was planning on taking her there.

And then there were—her breath caught—several taken out by the pool.

These were farther away, but it was obvious what they were doing. And it was just as obvious that she was wearing no clothes at all.

The picture fell from her fingers and landed on the floor with a slap.

That was when she heard the sound of the front door opening. Nicholas, still existing in a world where these pictures did not exist, was humming along to one of his metal songs, the low bass of his voice echoing through the wall.

She tried to call out his name, but all that came out was a sob.