Page 20 of The Woman

Placing my hands on the keys, I begin to play. A mixture of notes fills the space around me, a melody with no name. I try to play the same chords that I thought I heard through the door, the song that was vaguely familiar to me, but I can’t get it quite right, so I switch to something else.

Avery walks out a little while later, hair wild, sleepy eyes, and tiny clothes. My eyes slowly drift down her body as I continue to play, and I can’t help flashes of last night crossing through my mind. The tensing of my insides begins as expected, and it affects my playing, making it sound more choppy.

With tentative steps, she moves closer. “You’re awake early,” she says softly but loud enough to hear over the music.

I give a short nod. “I made some eggs and bacon. There’s a plate for you on the counter.”

After glancing over her shoulder toward the kitchen, her gaze returns to me, a crease between her brows. “I’m sorry I wasn’t up earlier to prepare something for you.”

“No need to apologize,” I tell her, placing my gaze on my hands instead of her.

Of course, I can still see her in my peripheral, and I notice her attention drop to my fingers, watching them glide across the keys.

It would probably be a perfect moment to address what happened last night and maybe explain my lapse in control. But when I turn to her again, and she looks up with a blank stare, clasping her hands in front of her like she’s waiting for instructions, I’m reminded that I don’t need to make any excuses or offer apologies.

It’s what she’s here for, whether I like it or not.

“Go eat your breakfast and get dressed to go out,” I say instead. “We need to shop for a dress for tonight.”

An hour later, we’re stepping up to the waiting car. Avery bends in front of me to climb in, almost revealing her panties under the sundress she has on before she sits and slides across the seat. If it weren’t for the fact that I bought her clothing, I would think she’s been wearing these things to try and tempt me.

Once Patrick gets in, he pulls out into traffic. He’s older, probably in his sixties, and has a woman of his own, but I still catch him glancing through the rear-view mirror at Avery as he drives.

I figure it’s possible that he could report something to my grandfather, so I shuffle a little closer to Avery, taking her hand in mine, and then lean in to kiss her cheek. She turns to me, her eyes now a mixture of the blues and purples you see in the sky at dusk, but I break eye contact immediately, catching Patrick quickly looking away from the mirror. Avery, too, looks toward the rear-view mirror before turning her attention to the window.

That settled feeling from when I first woke up has long since gone, replaced by the dull aching of my neck and shoulders from being tense. It only increases as the minutes tick by, bringing us closer to this evening where we won’t just have one man like Patrick watching us but a large room full of men.

We arrive at an upscale boutique much smaller than Sherron but still decently sized. I open the door and get out before holding my hand out for Avery to take, and then I lead her inside. A small man with a heavily wrinkled face approaches us, a friendly smile stretching his loose cheeks. He gives Avery a cursory glance before turning to me and asking what I’m shopping for.

“We need a formal dress for a gala this evening.”

He raises a white, bushy eyebrow. “This evening? The one at the Four Seasons?”

“That’s right.”

“In that case, you’ll want something from our exclusive selection. Follow me.” He leads us to the back corner of the store, where there are ridiculously elaborate dresses in various colors and styles, and then turns to me. “What would you like to see her in? Anything specific?”

Since telling him that I don’t care wouldn’t be appropriate, I glance around the area, my face stoic and unimpressed. “Leave us so I can look at the options.”

“Very well,” he answers with a nod. “By the way, my name is George,” he adds, then disappears to somewhere else in the store.

With him gone, I move to one of the closest racks and pick the first one I see. It’s long and emerald green, with one thick strap to go over one shoulder. Good enough. I pick a few different sizes since I’m not going to have her breasts bursting out and on display.

Turning back to Avery, I catch her staring up at a deep red satin dress with a split on each side, reaching mid-thigh. It’s definitely more vibrant than anything I already got her, so I can see why it would have caught her attention.

I’ve already picked this one, though.

Finally taking her eyes off the red dress, she meets my gaze and then glances down at the dresses in my hand. Her features appear almost down-turned and unhappy with my selection, but after I blink, her sights are back on me, and there’s nothing but a vacant look there.

I move in the direction of the changing room, but when I catch Avery looking back at the red dress again, I pause. “You want that one?” I don’t know why I ask. Maybe I’m still searching for that sliver of personality I keep fooling myself into seeing.

“I will wear whatever you want,” she answers and faces forward.

My lips purse as my brows lower, that irritation surging through me again. I don’t know why it bothers me. I should have learned my lesson by now. Searching for something that doesn’t exist is futile. I continue on to the dressing room, hanging the dresses inside and closing the door once she’s entered the cubicle.

A few minutes later, she steps out with no emotion on her face as she turns once to show me. “Do you like it?” she asks, her voice monotone.

It’s pretty enough, and the color looks good against her skin. It would be a completely acceptable dress for her to wear tonight.

---