SCORNED BY HIM, DESIRED BY THE THREE

Bulky. Too tight. Top part too revealing. To crown it all, I detested red for clothes, but the fitting assistant had called it "stunning" and Eddy had nodded in agreement.

Now, standing in the quiet living room of our home in Malibu in that same dress, my body feeling not like mine, I waited for Eddy to come downstairs.

My hand rose to my eyes for the upteenth time, and just like a call to action, they scanned the face of the golden wristwatch strapped across my wrist.

It was exactly the nineteenth time I was doing that while I waited for Eddy. 

It was a minute past 9pm. I drew in a hard breath.

It meant I had been waiting for two hours and I was still going to wait until he comes. 

Out of boredom this time, I clicked my clutch open and made to pull out my lipstick, but then decided against it. I had already reapplied it four times.

I had stood up, sat, stood up and sat again, severally, the back of my thighs had mastered the texture of the cream sofa.

Every sound caused me to look up the staircase, even when a cat meowed from behind the house.

Eddy never told me about any change in the time of the event. Aside the fact that I needed to wear the torture of a dress, I had no idea about where we would be going to. I didn't even bother to check.

There was always somewhere to go, and it was my sole duty to stand in as the dutiful wife.

"Stick around him with a convincing smile. No more. No less."

That was the instruction in a simple summary.

I wanted to kick off my heels since they were beginning to hurt my toes, but I endured the pain that traveled all the way to my knees.

Eddy would convince me I was born clumsy if he walked in on me without my shoes.

I tugged at the waistline of the dress to ease the discomfort around that area, feeling even more trapped as the seconds ticked by.

My thighs stuck too closely together under the flamboyant material, the friction from walking in that condition would definitely cause a bruise.

But that was it. That was the best I could do in my situation - wish things were better, endure, hope.

I sank into the sofa behind me, throwing my head back in exhaustion.

Then, the way the body does when the mind refuses to admit defeat...I folded.

Not sleep at first, just the weight of waiting pressing my eyes shut.

Then, I couldn't help it - sleep.

Then, I was in a room I couldn't recognize.

It was a large office - white, clinical. An expensive office chair and glass table were positioned by a corner.

The light shone so brightly, usually a promise of an unexpected surprise...and it came.

My breathing caught as I watched him, Dr. Connor Millow, his back turned towards me, busy with something I couldn't see. 

I stood there, staring at his back like I would at fire. Knowing fully well that it was dangerous, and I probably shouldn't be as still as I was, but choosing to risk everything for the warm it fed my eyes.

I had only met him once, about a week ago, in the marble lobby of Eddy's office.

That day, Eddy had said something I couldn't catch and Dr. Connor had shook his head slightly, before looking in my direction. 

He had taken my hand in a brief handshake and said it was a pleasure.

Just that, nothing remarkable, except that he had said my name, not like someone that was meeting me for the first time would.

He had called it with the precision of someone that was so familiar with it, their tongue already mastered its shape.

In my dream, he turned around, and hurried towards me, still wearing the same outfit from that day at the lobby - a satin shirt without a tie.

Standing face to face, he was not too close to conclude as intimate, but too close to be undeniable.

"You're still holding your breath, Sisi," he said and that was only when I realized.

Slowly, carefully, I exhaled shakily.

A smile flickered across his face as he looked at me in that way again. The same way I had caught him look at me for a split second that day at the lobby.

Like I was something to be studied. Carefully. Reverently.

I felt my heart begin to expand inside, and as silly as it sounded, I feared it might explode.

Like he knew how much chaos I had become inside, he lifted an arm, pressing his palm down on my shoulder, his thumb gracing the skin of my neck - a silent appeal to my calm.

I nodded.

Then, with the precision of a surgeon, his second hand moved, tilting my jaw up, his eyes taking over as they observed my features like you would something precious under the lights.

"Can I say something? Something I should have said to you that day."

"Why didn't you say it?" I asked, strangly more curious on why than what.

"I was being professional," he said, nodding his head sharply to the side in a way to say he was justified.

"What do you want to say?" my words came out shaky.

He let out a slow breath and his gaze on my face deepened.

He was looking at me the way my husband had never done, the way Eddy looked at spreadsheets on his screen - focused, hungry, like the numbers were finally adding up.

"You have no idea," he said, almost talking to himself.

"Of what?" I dared to ask again.

His fingers moved, drawing lazy lines across my cheeks. The space around us closed in on that singular action, I felt it in my knees, around my sternum.

He opened his mouth to talk...

Lola!

My eyes flung open. The sitting room. My clutch I had left on the table. Then, Eddy.

He was fully dressed in a clean fitted tuxedo as he stood tall in front of me looking down on me like a mess he had expected to happen.

I blinked rapidly, standing at once, adjusting my dress, a desperate attempt to make him find me worthy this one time.

"What is this?" he asked, disappoinment dwelling heavily in his voice.

"I'm sorry, Eddy. I mistakenly fell asl---"

"I mean, what is this dress?" he cut me off.

I was thrown off. 

Struggling with getting my mind of the dream, the dread of just waking up and the now Eddy's words, a web of confusion formed in my head and registered in my voice as I stammered my answer through.

"This is the same dress you picked out the last time for the event."

"I picked out? For the event?" his asked, his eyes narrowing in disgust as he stared me down like a familiar disappointment.

"You said it was perfect," I struggled to keep my dignity even with knowing I could never win against Eddy.

"I did say that it was perfect during the fitting. I never said it would be for the Hargrove Foundation Gala. Eleanor Hargrove would be there for heaven's sake!"

His voice rose, and once again, I felt so little under the weight of his words.

"I can change," I managed to say.

"It's 9:15pm," he snapped, reaching for his phone on the side table.

"We don't have time to change," he emphasized mockingly on the last word, already moving towards the door.

"Stand close to the bar. Don't follow me around," his voice thinned as he moved farther.

The door to the foyer. The sound of his shoes. Him picking up his keys.

And once again, I was left alone in the sitting room, worse than I had felt initially. It was going to be a long night. For me.