Liv Constantine - The Last Mrs. Parrish

She’d gotten up several times through the night to go to the bathroom, and each time she checked her phone. Call after call from Jackson, and messages and texts that alternated between begging and fury. The last time she got up was four in the morning, and finally she slept uninterrupted until eight o’clock. She got up and called room service. Decaffeinated tea and yogurt were delivered twenty minutes later, along with the morning paper. She scanned the pages with little interest, and then she waited. And waited. And waited.

At two in the afternoon she punched in Jackson’s number. He answered before the first ring was complete. “Amber! Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you since last night.”

She whispered into the phone with a quivery voice. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I love you, but you forced me.” She let out a quiet sob to emphasize her pitifulness.

“What are you talking about? What have you done?”

“I have an appointment in an hour, Jackson. I’m sorry. I love you.” And she hung up.

Let him stew with that for a while, she thought. Her phone rang again, and this time she picked it up on the fifth ring.

“What?” she said.

“Amber, listen to me. Don’t do this. I love you. I love our son. I want to marry you. I will marry you. I’ll tell Daphne tonight. Please. Believe me.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Jackson.” She made her voice sound weak and tired.

“Amber, you can’t go through with this. You’re carrying my son. I won’t lose my son.” He sounded furious.

“You’ve forced me to do it, Jackson. It’s your fault.” She heard him sigh, and then his tone changed.

“No, no. I know I’ve been dragging my feet, but it’s all for us. I was waiting for the right time.”

“That’s just it. It seems like the right time is never going to come. I can’t wait forever, Jackson. And neither can this appointment.”

“You would actually kill our child? I can’t believe that. Our beautiful little boy?”

“I can’t have this baby by myself and unmarried. Maybe you think it’s all right, but I wasn’t raised that way.”

“I promise you we’ll be married before he’s born. I promise. But come back to me, Amber. Where are you? I’ll come get you now.”

“I don’t know—”

Jackson cut her off. “We’ll go back to my apartment. You can stay there. Forever. Please.”

Her lips curled into a catlike smile.

Jackson was there within the hour. She got into the back of the limo and gave him what she hoped was a pitiful look. His lips were white, and his face was set in a scowl.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

“Jackson, I—”

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight. “How could you threaten to kill our child? To hold him hostage.”

“You’re hurting me.”

He dropped her hand. “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to my son. Or to you.”

There was something in his manner and voice that unnerved her, but she shrugged it off. Of course he was angry. Worried. He wasn’t acting like himself.

“I won’t, Jackson. I promise.”

“Good.”

They went back to the apartment, and she coaxed him into bed. They stayed there until dark, Amber begging him for forgiveness while trying to ensure that their plans were still on track.

“Are you hungry?” she asked him.

“Starving. How about an omelet?” Jackson said, throwing the covers back and bouncing out of bed. Amber followed him to the kitchen, and he began to crack eggs into a bowl. Now is the time to get down to it, she thought. Before he changes his mind.

“I’ve been thinking, Jackson. You’re not going to move out of the house, are you? It was yours before you married her.”

Amber had wanted that house from the first day she saw it. She wanted to be the mistress of the house, have Bella and Tallulah have to listen to her . They would be guests in her house now, and Bella would feel the sting of her hand if she continued with her shenanigans. The first thing she was going to do would be to have a portrait of herself done — one of those full nudes while she was pregnant. She’d hang it in a place where they’d have to see it every time they came to visit. She’d make it so miserable for them that they wouldn’t want to come for weekends, and she’d make sure that Jackson didn’t care either. In time, she would make him see that they were little bloodsuckers, just like their mother.

“I can’t very well kick her out when I’m the one leaving the marriage,” he said, flipping the eggs over.

“I suppose you’re right. But… she hates that house. She’s told me how pretentious she thinks it is. I really don’t think she deserves it. She’ll probably move her mother in with them. Do you really want that beautiful house to belong to her? Will she even keep it up?”

She could see his wheels turning.

“Well, I did have it long before I met her. Let me see what I can do. Maybe I can persuade her to let me have it.”

“Oh, Jackson! That would be wonderful. I love that house. We’re going to be so happy there.”

The only thing that would make her happier than moving in and staking her claim would be if Daphne had to move in to Amber’s one-room hovel. She knew she was being a bitch, but she didn’t care. Daphne had been spoiled for far too long. It would do her good to see how it felt to have the designer shoe on the other foot. She might have pretended to be Amber’s friend, but Amber knew that, deep down, Daphne still considered her the help. Reaching down like Lady Bountiful to help poor, pathetic Amber. It infuriated her to realize that Daphne had never considered her a threat. Daphne thought she was so much more beautiful than Amber, was so secure in Jackson’s love for her. Well, guess what, Daphne. He loves me now. He belongs to me now. And I’m giving him a brand-new family. You and your brats are obsolete.

It was finally happening! Jackson had called her that morning and asked her to come to the New York apartment to discuss something “serious.” Daphne didn’t need to wonder what it was about because, thanks to a lesson with private eye Jerry Hanson, she’d learned how to clone a cell phone. She’d been privy to texts between Amber and Jackson for the past month. She had to give it to Amber, that disappearing stunt of hers was a stroke of genius. Jackson would do just about anything to ensure he didn’t lose the son he’d been waiting to have for so long.

She arrived at five o’clock, and when she walked into the apartment, she could smell Amber’s perfume. The two of them were sitting on the sofa.

She pretended to be shocked. “What’s going on?”

“Sit down, Daphne,” Jackson answered. Amber said nothing, merely sat there with a tight smile and a malicious look in her eyes. “We need to talk to you.”

Daphne continued to stand and looked at Amber. “We?”

Amber looked down at her hands, but her lips were still curled in a smile.

“Whatever is going on, just tell me.”

Jackson leaned back and stared at her a long moment. “I think it’s pretty clear that we’ve been unhappy lately.”

Unhappy lately? Daphne wanted to say. When have we ever been happy? “What are you talking about?”

He stood up and started pacing and then turned to look at her. “I’m divorcing you, Daphne. Amber is pregnant with my son.”

For their benefit, Daphne feigned shock and sank into the chair. “Pregnant? You’re sleeping with her?”

“What did you expect?” His eyes traveled up and down her body. “You’ve let yourself go. Fat, slovenly, and lazy. No wonder you couldn’t produce a son for me. You treat your body like shit.”