The Perfect Mistress (35 page)

“My wife is crazy. I figured since I'm headed for divorce court now, you and I—”

It was Lauren's turn to be shocked. At no time had Thomas acted like he expected anything other than a booty call.

“You figured I'd be sitting around waiting on you? It doesn't work like that, Thomas.”

He held his hands up. “Whoa. Who are you and what have you done with my Lauren?”

“You don't have a Lauren. You have a woman that stroked your ego and told you what you needed to be told at that time. She was your side chick.” Uttering the words made her cringe.

He stepped forward and tried to hug her. “Well, now she can be my main chick.”

Lauren pushed his arms back. “I don't want to be your main chick. I want you and your crazy-ass wife to leave me alone.”

He looked wounded after his advance had been repelled. “She's trying to get ammunition, that's all.”

“By suing me? And stalking me?”

“Stalking?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, no. She might've filed the lawsuit, but she would never stoop to stalking. She'll try to take us both down, but not harassment.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better,” Lauren quipped.

“Look, just lie low. She's just mad because she found the hotel bill for our trip to Paris. All this will die down soon.”

Lauren glared at him in disgust. “Thomas, we didn't go to Paris.”

He paused. “What?”

“No, asshole. That was your other side chick.”

“Oh, dang.” He stepped closer to her again. “Well, that's beside the point. All of that will die down. She's moving forward with the divorce, talking about she has enough to take me for half.” He had the audacity to laugh. “It's cool because it's only half of what she knows about.”

What was she thinking when she hooked up with this man? “Just get your wife in check.” The last thing Lauren needed was her name dragged through the mud. Not at a time like this.

“I think we need to go away for the weekend,” Thomas said smoothly. “Let's go to the Caribbean, get our heads together.”

“I think you need to get your wife together.” Lauren stormed toward the door. “Make this go away, Thomas. You claim to be such a big shot, make it go away.”

“So, can I call you later?” he called out after her.

“You can go to Hell and lose my number.”

She stomped out of his office, past the nosy receptionist, and back outside to her car. Once inside, she fell back against the seat and rubbed her temples. She still didn't know how Teresa found out all that information.

Lauren felt her stomach churning as she imagined how long the list could turn out to be.

W
ho wants to know when they're going to die? Definitely not Joyce. She would've much preferred that death stole in at night and took her that way, because this way was Hell on earth.

When Lauren arrived to pick her up this morning, Joyce was intent on greeting her with a smile and a positive attitude. But the cancer had other plans. She'd woken up to excruciating pain. The nurses had given her meds that had alleviated the agony some, but her head was still throbbing.

“Come on. Stand up,” Lauren said.

Joyce kept her face stoic as Lauren and Matthew helped her into the wheelchair. Her daughter had done well with this one. He was so charming and attentive, and it saddened Joyce when he'd told her on the ride home that he and Lauren were together for two years in college.

She had known so little about her daughter's life.

“Thank you,” Joyce told Matthew as she eased out of the car and into the chair.

“Come on in,” he said, wheeling Joyce through the front door of his spacious ranch home. “The nurse has already gotten your room set up for you.”

Lauren had told her they'd hired a nurse. They were going
all out to make her life comfortable . . . before she died. Truthfully, Joyce didn't think that would be long. She felt weaker by the day, and the bouts of blurry vision and extreme exhaustion were becoming a regular occurrence.

“Is there anything I can get you?” Lauren asked once they were inside.

“No, I'm fine.” Their relationship was so strained that for once, it made Joyce sad. What had she done to her baby girl to create this distance?

Lauren busied herself, no doubt trying to ease the uncomfortable tension that hung in the air.

“What's this?” Joyce asked when she noticed a bag of pictures on the dining room table. She wheeled over and placed the bag in her lap.

“Nothing,” Lauren said, racing over to pull them out of Joyce's grasp.

“No, I want to see them,” Joyce replied, tightening her grip around the bag.

Lauren stepped back, defeated. “Aunt Velma gave me those to make copies.”

Joyce pulled out several of the pictures. A smile crossed her face at the baby pics of Lauren and Julian. She stopped when she got to a tattered black-and-white photo of Lauren.

“Oh, I remember this picture.” Joyce pulled it out. “I had just bought you this lavender ruffled dress. I had a grown-up version of it. And we wore it Easter Sunday when you were five years old. Only you wanted to wear yours every Sunday thereafter.”

Joyce laughed at the memory, even though she expected a bad one to overtake it. When it didn't come, Joyce managed a smile. Maybe, just maybe, her last days could be filled with nothing but the happy memories.

S
he dreamed of Vernon last night. Only in this dream, she wasn't sick. They were happy. Her whole family had gathered for Thanksgiving.

Vernon and Joyce were old. They were sitting on the porch, holding hands as children played in the front yard. Then Julian and his wife appeared. Behind them were Lauren and Matthew. They were all together.

That dream was what Joyce wished her reality could've been. But just like there was no happy beginning, there would be no happy ending.

She opened her eyes when she felt the wetness on her face. “What are you doing?” she asked as Lauren ran a towel over her forehead.

“You're sweating really bad.”

Her voice felt weak and she coughed. Lauren helped her mother into a sitting position.

“Here, sit up, so you can take your medicine.”

She poured two pills into Joyce's hand and handed her a glass of water. Joyce eased the pills into her mouth, then took a sip of water to wash them down. She didn't bother asking what they were for.

“Thanks,” she said, handing her back the glass.

“Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?” Lauren asked.

Tears sprouted into Joyce's eyes as she stared at her beautiful child. She took her daughter's hand. “Lauren, I know that I haven't been the best mother. But I can't leave here without you knowing . . .” She looked down, finding herself on the brink of a huge chasm. She'd never uttered these words before. “. . . without you knowing how sorry I am.”

Lauren looked like those were the last words she ever expected to hear.

“Mama, don't worry about any of that. The sickness has you talking delirious.”

“I'm not delirious. I'm dying.” She clutched Lauren's wrist, wanting her to know this was for real. “Your father came to me in a dream. He begged me to forgive you. And he wants you to forgive him, too.”

“Forgive him for what?” Lauren said, uncomfortable.

“For putting you in the position that he did. For being the catalyst that destroyed our relationship.” Joyce didn't know why, but a part of her wanted Lauren to say their relationship was not destroyed. “I'm so sorry, honey. I love you with all of my heart. I don't know what day will be my last, but I don't want to leave without you knowing that. And well, I need you to forgive me, too. I don't want to die with us like this.”

Lauren was not as moved as she'd hoped. “Mama, stop saying that. I forgive you and you're going to get better.” Joyce didn't know whether she meant that or if she was just saying it because she thought Joyce needed to hear it. Either way, those words warmed her heart.

“Thank you for letting me spend my final days here and
not in that god-awful place,” Joyce said. No sense in arguing about whether death was imminent, because they both knew that it was.

“You're going to be fine.” Finally, what Joyce had said was sinking in, and Lauren looked grateful. “I know we're not really praying people, but maybe we should try,” Lauren said.

“Maybe that's what's been wrong,” Joyce mumbled, feeling a pang of sadness that she had let women drive her not only out of church, but out of her relationship with God. “But I'm no longer delusional and I believe my time is up. And honestly, I'm ready. I'm tired and I'm ready.” She tightened her grip on her daughter. “The only thing I want is to see you marry that man because he's a good one.”

“You'll see us,” Lauren assured her. “You'll be around next year.”

Joyce tsked. “I might not be here next week.” A wild notion came to her, but before she could stop herself, she said, “I know this is a lot, but can you move the wedding up? I want to be there to watch you get married. I've missed so much of your life.”

Lauren frowned. Joyce knew the request caught her off guard.

“Move it up? I don't know if that's something we can do.” Lauren's eyes shifted downward. “Honestly, I don't know if there's even going to be a wedding.”

Joyce patted her hand. She didn't know why she expected her to do something so drastic. Joyce needed to just be happy Lauren wanted to look after her. It was selfish to make that request when her daughter had so much on her plate. “I understand.”

Suddenly, she felt drained by the conversation. She had never felt so weak. But she had to ask how Lauren was. She hadn't talked to her about the lawsuit, but Joyce could tell that it was weighing heavily on Lauren.

“How are you doing, you know, with everything that's going on?” Joyce asked.

She shrugged. “I'm making it. Matthew is really upset.”

“He's a good guy. He'll come around.”

“I hope so.”

This was one of the first conversations Joyce had had regarding her daughter's personal life in a long time, and that both saddened Joyce and made her happy.

“I'm going to sleep now, okay?” Joyce said, worn out.

A look flashed on Lauren's face, like she thought if Joyce closed her eyes, she wouldn't wake up.

“I'm fine. I won't die in my sleep,” Joyce said, her voice low. She said a quick prayer that her words would be true.

H
er fiancé had lost his mind. Apparently Matthew had overheard Lauren's mother's request to move the date up. And without consulting with her, he'd gone in when Joyce awakened from her nap and told her that they would indeed move the wedding up.

“Why would you tell her we can do it?”

Matthew shrugged. “Because we can. We can give her that.”

“Matthew, we have a lot going on. The board vote, the lawsuit, all this drama . . .”