Liv Constantine - The Last Mrs. Parrish

It took everything she had not to tell them how stupid they both were. Instead, she pasted on a sad expression and looked at Amber. “How long have you been sleeping with my husband?”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen. We fell in love.” At this, she looked at Jackson, and he took her hand in his.

“Really?” Daphne’s voice rose. “Then how long have you been in love?”

“I’m sorry, Daphne. I never meant to hurt you.” Her eyes told a different story. It was obvious that she was relishing every moment.

“I trusted you, treated you like a sister, and this is how you repay me?”

She sighed. “We couldn’t help ourselves. We’re soul mates.”

Daphne almost started laughing, and a sound escaped that she hoped they mistook for a sob.

“I’m really sorry, Daphne,” she repeated. “Sometimes these things just happen.” She put a hand on her belly and rubbed. “Our children will be related, so I hope in time you’ll come to forgive me.”

Daphne’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously? Are you cra—”

“Enough,” Jackson interrupted. “We want to get married, and I want to do it before my son is born. I’ll make it worth your while to give me a quick divorce.”

Daphne stood. “I have a lot to think about. When I’m ready to discuss it, I’ll let you know. And I don’t want her there.”

As soon as she walked out of the apartment and out of their line of sight, she broke into a smile of her own. It was already worth her while, but she wouldn’t tell him that. How can you put a price on your freedom? But she’d take the money for her children’s sake. Why should Amber have it all? No, she’d make sure that the settlement was generous, and then she’d grant him his quick divorce.

Amber closed her eyes as the manicurist massaged her hands with creamy lotion. She’d told the girl that she was getting married, and immediately she’d gushingly suggested a French manicure. How completely tacky. She opened her eyes and looked at her left hand. It was the first time she’d taken the Graff diamond — one carat larger than Daphne’s — off her finger. She smiled and watched as the polish went on and then suddenly pulled her hand away.

“I don’t like that color. Take it off and let me see what else you have,” she demanded.

The young woman obediently gathered more bottles and set them before Amber. She took her time looking them over and finally chose a champagne nude. “This one.” She pointed to the bottle and sat back in the leather chair. She’d had the works today — massage, facial, pedicure. Tomorrow she would look beautiful, and all her dreams would become a reality as she stood before a clerk of the court and became Mrs. Jackson Parrish. Jackson’s divorce had become final just in time. The baby was due any day, and she wanted to be Jackson’s wife when he was born. Jackson had been in a state of ecstasy about the coming birth of his son, and he wanted a huge wedding to introduce his pregnant new wife to all of his friends.

“We’ll have it at the house and invite everyone. It’ll be huge, at least three hundred people. I want them all to meet my gorgeous wife. We’ll announce the impending arrival of our amazing son,” he’d said.

“Jackson, really. Everyone knows about the baby. The divorce, the pregnancy, our engagement — it’s all been the choicest gossip for the last six months. Besides, I want something small and intimate. Just the two of us.” There was no way she was going to have all the snobs in Bishops Harbor looking at her fat and pregnant, talking behind her back at her wedding and reporting back to Daphne. “We can have a big party later, after the baby’s born.” She laughed and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Besides, then I won’t have this enormous belly and can wear something beautiful. Please?” She wanted to make sure that the first time she appeared in print as Jackson’s wife, she looked the part. She wasn’t worried any longer about being recognized. No one from her Podunk town would make the connection. They would never in a million years imagine that Lana Crump had become the fabulous Amber Parrish. And besides, if anyone came nosing around, she’d have plenty of money to make any pesky problem disappear.

He had pursed his lips and nodded. “Okay. We’ll do it later. But what about Tallulah and Bella? They should be there.”

She wasn’t about to let an angry and morose Tallulah and a spoiled Bella take center stage at her wedding. They would ruin everything. Better that they hear about it after the fact, when it was too late for any tears and tantrums that might discourage their father.

“Yes, you’re right. I wonder, though, do you think it will upset them to see me pregnant? I don’t want them to be sad that it’s not their mother who’s having the baby. I would hate for them to be hurt or feel they’re being replaced. Maybe it’ll be easier once he’s born. He’ll be their brother, and it won’t really matter who the mother is. Let them wait for the big celebration afterward. I think that will be much easier for them.”

“I don’t know. It might not look right if they’re not there,” he’d said.

“They’ll have much more fun at the party we throw later.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I just want them to like me. Accept me as their stepmother. I’ve even discussed it with the pediatrician. She thought it might be too much for them, but said to run it by you.” Amber had made up the pediatrician part, but her eyes were wide with a look of innocence.

“You have a point. I suppose it’s not really necessary. After all, none of our other family will be there.”

Amber had smiled at him and taken his hand. “We’ll be one big, happy family. You’ll see. I’m sure they’ll love their little brother.”

“I can’t wait to meet this little guy.”

“Soon,” she’d said. “But in the meantime, how would my handsome husband-to-be like a little gratification?” Amber reached over and unbuckled his belt.

“You turn me on like no one else,” he said and slumped back in his chair. As she got on her knees, she reminded herself that once she was Mrs. Parrish, she wouldn’t have to pretend to enjoy this anymore.

Amber rose early the next morning. She had told Jackson that it was bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other the night before they got married, so he’d taken a hotel room at the Plaza while she stayed at the apartment. She didn’t give a crap about those silly superstitions, but she wanted the morning to herself. There were calls she wanted to make, and she didn’t want Jackson around to hear them. She had a light breakfast of yogurt and fruit and checked her e-mails. There were three from Jackson’s new administrative assistant. Amber had taken her time and chosen very carefully from a slew of applicants. She thought her selection perfect — young, attractive, smart, technologically up-to-date, outside-the-box thinker, and, best of all, male. Of course the checkbook would be coming home, too. Only Amber would see what was spent in their household. She would never make the stupid mistakes that Daphne had.

After a luxurious bath, she dried herself off, spread some exorbitantly expensive body cream all over, and turned sideways to see her belly in the mirror. The huge ball disgusted her. She couldn’t wait for this kid to be born and to get her figure back. She shook her head and, looking away, grabbed one of the terry-cloth robes. She’d gotten one for each of them, monogrammed and plush and expensive. She laughed to herself. Whenever she bought something, she went to the Internet and typed in “most expensive” whatever it was. She was a quick learner.