One Weekend with the Billionaire novel Chapter 49

I have changed into one of my usual outfits, not one of the designer outfits that Braxton purchased for me, but the sort of thing I would normally wear on a Monday. I spend hours cleaning up the apartment. It is amazing to me how messy one person can be over the course of just a few days, but it seems clear that Jeff spent most of the weekend in the apartment, angry. He was making messes just so that I would have to clean them up.

As I carry a load of laundry down to the laundry room, I think about how nice it would be to live in a house like Braxton’s where, not only is there a laundry room on the main floor and the second floor where all of the bedrooms are, there are servants to do this sort of thing for me. At Braxton’s home, I wouldn’t have to lift a finger. All I’d have to do is ask if I needed something specific cleaned, or simply drop the clothing into a hamper, and it would be magically returned to me, probably the same day. Something told me, even if I was careless and rude and left my clothing laying all over the house, like Jeff does, it would still be picked up, cleaned, pressed, and hung in my closet.

I can’t let these daydreams fill my head, though it’s difficult to stop them. As I scrub the dishes by hand, I have to wonder what it would be like just to have a dishwasher. Not a person who washes dishes but the machine. Even that is a luxury we don’t have here.

I know in my heart these thoughts of what it would be like to live at Braxton’s house have nothing to do with the chores that have been my responsibility for years but more to do with the man himself. It’s only been a few hours since I left his warm embrace, the coziness beneath the covers of his bed, and I am already aching for him. My heart feels heavy. How can I possibly continue like this?

"It will get better," I tell myself. I will get used to the way things were before. In a day or two, I will scarcely even think of Braxton. I will be so focused on my husband, so dedicated to making him happy, I will forget all about the man who did anything and everything he could possibly think of to make me feel like a real person again.

No matter how many lies I tell myself, I know that none of them are true. I will not get used to being away from Braxton. I will not become so focused on Jeff, a man who rarely even speaks to me unless it is to chastise me, that sometimes I forget what the sound of his voice is like when he’s not yelling. No, there is no way that I will simply get used to not being with Braxton.

But what can I do? What are my choices? I have the money and the credit card that Braxton gave me. They are hidden beneath a loose floorboard in the bedroom. I don’t think Jeff knows of that particular hiding spot. The phone is there, too. I hate having it in a place where I cannot readily get to it, but I don’t know what else to do with any of it. If Jeff were to find it, he’d take it all, and then, I’d be cut off forever. The worst that can happen with them hidden beneath the floorboards is that I have to wait until Jeff leaves to use them.

I dry a bowl and put it in the cupboard as I think about how Jeff will act when he gets home. Will he be angry? I’m almost certain that he will be. He might try to hide it. He might pretend that I am the bad one, that he has not done anything wrong, and that I should grovel at his feet to make up for stepping out on him. I don't know if he is aware that Braxton has filled me in on all of his infidelity or not. It won’t matter with Jeff. He could have sex with a hundred prostitutes, and if I even looked longingly at a man, it would be my fault.

The apartment is finally put back in order with about two hours to spare before Jeff gets home for work. I start cooking dinner, a meatloaf, one of Jeff’s favorites, one of the meals I have the ingredients for without having to go to the store, and am about to sit down for the first time in hours when my cell phone rings.

My heart leaps into my throat as I guess about who it might be. Jeff? Braxton? I pick it up and see that it is my mother. I close my eyes and press the phone to my chest, willing my heart to stop racing. I don’t want to talk to her, but I must. "Hi, Mom," I say, hoping my tone sounds normal.

"Are you finally home, Julia?" My mom’s tone is a mix between concern and annoyance.

"I’m home." I am wondering why she’s asked me the question this way. I had my phone with me all weekend, and she hadn’t tried to call.

"Good," she says, a sharp reply. "We were worried about you."

"You were?" I ask her, sitting down at the kitchen table. The chair drags across the linoleum with a screech.

"Yes. Jeff told us you’d gone out with some… man for the weekend. He was so distraught when I spoke to him Saturday. Really, Julia! How could you? That’s not how your father and I raised you!"

So Jeff had called my parents! That bastard! It was also foolish of him because not disappointing my parents is one of the only reasons that has me staying here with him to begin with. If they are already disappointed in me, there is no reason for me to stay at all. "I’m not sure what he told you, Mother, but it doesn’t sound like you have the full story."

"What he told me was some rich man offered to take you away to his estate for the weekend, and you decided to go."

Tears sting my eyes as I think about how Jeff has betrayed me to my own parents. "Mother, what happened was that Jeff’s boss, Braxton Merriweather, made an arrangement with Jeff, a contract, one that Jeff signed before I knew anything about it. In exchange for ignoring Jeff’s horrible work at the office recently, the fact that he spends hours and hours of work time watching inappropriate movies and having relations with a woman in his department, Mr. Merriweather wanted to get to know me better. That’s all. Braxton is a gentleman, Mother. Jeff has been cheating on me for at least a year. What’s more… he signed that contract without even asking me what I wanted. Granted, Braxton asked my permission first. I had to sign it, too. Well, you can imagine, after seeing that my husband had signed me over to his boss for the weekend, I didn’t hesitate. But it certainly isn’t like Jeff made it sound, Mother. I sure hope you can believe your own flesh and blood when I tell you that." By the time I finish, tears are streaming down my cheeks. I am so angry, I want to go out and buy a gun and shoot Jeff Thompson right between the eyes.