WORTHY, Part 1 (26 page)

By the time I woke up the next morning, Jonathan had already left for work, and Lucy had already been up to clean the room. I had muddled memories of Jonathan holding me, kissing my brow before leaving, but I had been so content to remain in slumber. It still felt lazy and opulent to me to sleep much past dawn.

Here, though, I didn’t have anything to do. I had things that I could do to pass the time, sure, but nothing vital to contribute. It bothered me, and I hadn’t come up with a solution yet.

I was just climbing out of bed and slipping into my robe when there was a knock on the door. That was all the warning I got before Lucy came in.

“Good morning, Miss Michelle,” she chirped.

“Good morning, Lucy,” I said. “It looks like I slept in.”

“You probably needed it,” she remarked brightly. “Now, what can I order you for breakfast?”

“Coffee and oatmeal sounds lovely,” I said, walking around the bed to look out the window. The bedroom window overlooked the courtyard. At this time of morning, people milled around the tables and planters, smoking and chatting. I realized that they must be employees of Wharton Group on break. The idea of work made my fingers itch, made me twitchy and a little irritable. I loved being around Jonathan, and navigating his family and various issues usually took up all my time and energy. But when I wasn’t around him, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I needed something meaningful, some addition to my life that I hadn’t found in the city yet.

I turned around just in time to see Lucy replace the bedside phone in its cradle.

“Breakfast will be right up,” she said. “Do you need anything else?”

“Just something to do with my life,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Any suggestions?” Lucy was the closest thing I’d had to a friend for a long time, I realized.

“Would you like to go shopping?” she asked, rubbing her chin as she thought. “I could arrange for the car again.”

“I don’t think there’s a single item of clothing that I need,” I said. “I mean, you’ve seen my closet.”

“That’s not how shopping works,” Lucy said, wagging her finger. “The last time we went shopping, you had lots of needs. Now, you’re allowed to have wants. Is there anything you want, Miss Michelle?”

Oh, there was plenty that I wanted, but I was pretty sure you couldn’t buy any of it in a fancy boutique. I wanted Jonathan to get his memories back, but I wanted him to continue to love me. I wanted the Wharton family to accept me fully as his fiancée, and I wanted Violet out of the picture for good—but with no hurt feelings or resentments. I wanted the scar gone from my face and my parents alive again, helping me navigate the intricacies of wedding planning and relationships and life.

Where was the store for all that? I would shop till I dropped.

“No, I don’t think there’s anything I want that can be bought,” I said, smiling inwardly.

“Well, Miss Jane goes to a yoga class every morning,” Lucy said. “I know that it has several different sessions throughout the day. Shall I check the schedule for you?”

Somehow, I didn’t think that Jane would enjoy me being at her yoga class very much. She would probably be embarrassed of my scar in front of all her posh friends. And I couldn’t say that a yoga class full of rich women and sweaty, uncomfortable bending and floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall mirrors sounded fun. Everywhere I bent or turned, I’d see myself, see what other people were seeing. Of course, I could probably wear my makeup and make my scar look a little less noticeable. I bet most of the women would wear makeup to the class.

“Maybe something a little more private,” I said. “Something where I could exercise but not around that many people.”

“We could always get the yoga instructor to come here,” Lucy offered. I quailed at what that would cost and what it would make Jane think of me, so timid about going to yoga class that private yoga instructors would have to come to me.

“Maybe I’ll just go for a walk,” I said. I did want to be more physically active. I didn’t like the thought of sitting idle all day, reading books on my iPad. It was a life of luxury, sure, but I didn’t want to get lazy or complacent. Until I knew how I wanted to spend my time professionally, I needed to find something to fill it thoughtfully.

“You don’t want to walk around the dirty city,” Lucy said, wrinkling her nose. “The gym in the corporate building has darkened rooms with treadmills. That would be private, wouldn’t it? Just a treadmill to focus on? I’ve heard the gym is nice, that it has a nice view, too.”

I was used to walking on a trail through the woods, looking up at the trees and down on the ground, hunting for mushrooms and berries. When the sun cut through the foliage overhead, that was a nice view to me.

“I’ll try it,” I said, smiling. Lucy was trying hard for me. I needed to try hard, too, and give things a chance.

“Excellent,” Lucy said. “I’ll be doing some things on this level for a little while. Let me know when you’re ready to go and I’ll walk you over there.”

Breakfast arrived, and I quickly spooned the oatmeal into my mouth. It was delicious—piled with fruit and drizzled with honey. I’d need the energy it gave me for the treadmill, and the caffeine boost from the coffee for an extra boost.

I was grateful that Lucy would take time out of her busy day to just walk me to a gym as if she were a mother walking her child to school. I realized that it was probably one of her duties to do my bidding, to make sure that I was taken care of, but it still meant a lot to me to have her looking out for me.

I found a pair of knee-length stretchy pants and paired it with a T-shirt of Jonathan’s. It smelled like him, even though it’d been laundered. Just wearing it was an instant comfort, making me feel like he was there giving me a hug.

Even though the gym was just in the corporate building, I slipped on a sweatshirt. We’d have to walk across the courtyard, and I didn’t want to shiver my way across in flimsy gym clothes.

I took a few moments to look at myself in the mirror, to pad some of that magical foundation and concealer and powder on my face. I didn’t care that I was going to the gym with makeup on. It was my camouflage, my bulletproof vest. The gym was a new, unfamiliar environment, and I wanted every protection at my disposal.

When I walked out of the bathroom, the bed was made and my breakfast tray removed. I wondered if all of the Whartons took their breakfast in bed, or if it was just me. Then again, I wasn’t a Wharton—yet.

“Ready?” Jane asked, carrying a basket of towels and wipes and soaps that she was about to arrange in the bathroom.

“As I’ll ever be,” I said, jamming my feet into a new pair of sneakers.

We took the elevator, which I found amusing—taking the elevator to the gym—but I was with Lucy, who was on her feet all day. She and the other staff members were actually the ones who most often used the elevator in the house. I imagined that they would all be incredibly buff if they used the stairs all day. Incredibly buff and incredibly exhausted.

We got a couple of curious stares in the courtyard, Lucy in her staff uniform and me with my workout clothes, but I figured it was less about my scar and more about my newness. Everyone was curious about someone they’d never seen before. I just had to give them a chance. It didn’t have to be about the scar all the time, did it?

I halfway expected to see Jonathan in the corporate building, as silly as that idea was. It was a skyscraper. He could be anywhere. In fact, it was so late in the morning that he was probably out to lunch with Violet. That thought made my hackles rise as Lucy and I entered another elevator in the lobby, rocketing upward with people in business suits and ties. I was minutely comforted by the fact that Jonathan was using the lunch as a way to break things off with her, to set her free, to put her out of her misery. She had been miserable, but she’d also made our lives miserable. I would be glad to be rid of her after today. I felt a rush of gratitude toward Jonathan for having the strength to do this.

“Here we are,” Lucy announced as we stepped out on the floor where the gym was located. State of the art equipment studded the workout area as a driving techno song with heart-pounding bass beats filled the air. There was a yoga class in session through a door on the left side of the space, and I cringed, wondering if Jane—or worse, Amelia—was in there.

“Miss Jane always has yoga first thing in the morning,” Lucy confided. I realized that she was trying to allay my fears and felt yet another rush of gratitude toward her. “The treadmills are through here, up next to the window.”

The machines were the latest models, the kind that had a television you could watch as you exercised. But I didn’t understand the point of watching a tiny little screen when you could watch the entire city below. Lucy had been right. The view was magnificent.

The gym was located on one of the top floors of the corporate skyscraper. Though there were plenty of buildings taller than this one, the gym was positioned to afford a view of the Chicago River and Lake Michigan. It was positively breathtaking. The lake stretched out as far as the eye could see, but I could discern icy patches here and there.

“It freezes up sometimes during the winter,” Lucy said, her voice more relaxed than I’d heard it before. “It’s the strangest thing you’ve ever seen, waves frozen on the shore, white all the way to the horizon.”

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “Thank you for getting me here.”

I regretted the words instantly because they seemed to snap Lucy out of whatever spell she’d been under, reminding her of her duties as a staff member of the Wharton family.

“There are showers here in the locker room, as well as a steam bath,” she said. “If you’d like, there’s also a couple of talented massage therapists.”

Bathing in public and then letting strangers rub their hands all over me? No, thank you.

“I’ll probably shower back at the house,” I said, smiling. “Thank you again.”

“Enjoy your workout,” Lucy called over her shoulder as she walked out.

It had been a long, long time since I’d seen the inside of a gym, and I struggled a little bit with all the bells and whistles of the treadmill. Where was the “on” button? That was all I really needed. The treadmill was encouraging me to choose a program. Did I want rolling hills? A fat-burning workout? Interval training?

No. I just wanted to go for a walk. Why was this that difficult?

“First time?”

I turned around at the sympathetic voice to see a buff guy watching me. He practically bristled with muscles, but he had a nice smile.

“First time working out?” I asked. “No. First time on this particular treadmill in this particular gym? Yes.”

“I can tell this isn’t your first time working out,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re in great shape. Just doing a little maintenance work, then? The treadmill can be a little tricky if you’re not familiar with this particular model.”

I immediately went into defense mode as he approached the machine, turning to the right to shield my scar.

“My name’s Carlos,” he said, sticking out his meaty hand. “I’m a trainer here.”

There wasn’t anywhere I could turn without looking foolish, so I stuck my hand out and hoped the makeup was doing its job.

“Michelle,” I said. “Trainee, I guess.”

As he crushed my fingers in his strong grip, he looked me in the eyes. Then, the moment I dreaded: his eyes continued to rove my face, drinking in my scarring and all.

“Oh,
the
Michelle?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, is there only one?” I asked, confused, as I withdrew my hand from his.

“The CEO’s fiancée?” he persisted. “I’m sorry, it’s the scar. Everyone’s talking about it.”

If there had ever been a time for the ground to open up and swallow me whole, this was it. I wanted nothing more to do with the gym. I just wanted to be out of this place.

“I think I changed my mind about the treadmill,” I said, unable to shake the picture of the thousands and thousands of employees of Wharton Group gossiping viciously about the fiancée of their boss and the horrid scar on her face. I could imagine the speculation, the possible explanations they’d come up with as to why he was so interested in something so ugly. Was he slumming it? Was I a charity case? Was I blackmailing him?

“Before you go, tell me something,” Carlos said eagerly. “There’s a pool going. Are you getting married because he caused the scar in some way? That’s my guess.”

Mortified, I hurried out of the gym. What the hell was that? There was a corporate pool about why I was with Jonathan? Shocked and embarrassed didn’t even begin to cover it. Did Jonathan know about this?

I rode back down to the lobby in the elevator, trembling and trying not to make eye contact with anyone in there with me. Were they all stealing secret glances, getting a gander at the scar they’d heard so much about with their own two eyes? Were they trying to guess why I was getting married to one of the richest men in America?

The elevator dinged open in the lobby and I pushed my way out, rushing blindly across the floor, the gurgle of the fountain dimming the echo of voices. It was too late when I realized that I was heading away from the courtyard and the house. I didn’t want to whirl around and head back in the direction I was just coming from. Then, I’d be both ugly and stupid. I could hear the rumors that would swirl then: “I saw the CEO’s fiancée the other day, crying and confused, lost in the freaking lobby. How is she going to survive if she can’t even find her way out of a lobby?”