Owning Wednesday (24 page)

They both sat and fumed. She didn’t know why she couldn’t let it drop.

“What do you tell him about me?”

He looked at her a long time, not speaking. He seemed defensive and guilty.

“What do you tell him when he calls?”

“I tell him how you’re doing,” he said. “That’s all, Wed.”

She took a deep breath. “Why?”

“Because that’s what I agreed to do.”

She felt like she’d been punched in the chest. She crossed her arms defensively. “What you agreed to do when?”

He looked like he would have given anything not to answer, but he did.

“When he broke up with you, so that you could start dating me.” He sighed again, another great exhalation. “Okay, now are you happy? What else do you want to know? Ask me everything, damn it, because I don’t ever want to discuss this again.”

“So you… So he…”

“He broke up with you to give you to me. In return, I agreed to keep him informed about you.”

“Informed?”

“It’s not what it sounds like. It’s not nearly as bad as it sounds—”

“Isn’t it? The two of you wheeled and dealed for me?”

“No! I never—”

“You bought me from him for the price of these phone calls?”

“No!”

“What do you tell him? What did you agree to tell him? What we do together?”

“No, only…how you’re doing. If you’re happy. If you’re healthy. He just wanted to keep track of how you are.”

“Keep track, huh? That’s lovely. Why didn’t you two just go ahead and keep sharing me? Isn’t that what you’re doing anyway?”

“Wednesday—”

“You give him reports on me? Regularly?”

“It’s not like that. Wed, come on. Don’t freak out. He misses you. He’s happy you’re happy. Why are you so mad?”

When he reached for her, she stood and backed away. “All this time I thought I was free of him, that I had left him behind. All this time he’s been more in control of me than ever. He’s controlled everything. All of this!”

“I control you, Wed! Not him.”

“He controlled you,” she said, bursting into tears. “He talked you into taking me.”

“No!” He stood and came at her then. “No, you have no idea—he didn’t talk me into anything—”

“That night you came over,” she sobbed. “It was an audition, wasn’t it? A fucking audition—”

“Stop! You get ahold of your mouth. You calm down and think about what you’re saying.”

“Vincent set up all of this. Our great love…”

“No, he didn’t. No.”

“You don’t know him. You don’t know how he is! You don’t know how he gets off on this—controlling me, controlling you, controlling everything—”

“Yes, I do! I do know, Wednesday. Believe me, I know, but I went along with it for you, so I could have you, so he would break up with you and let you come to me.”

“Everything, all of it, a setup.”

“No. I took you because I wanted you, not because Vincent wanted me to. I watched you from the café across from your work for weeks.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Vincent approached me about taking you on, but it was after! Long after I’d fallen for you.”

She took a step back, her hands in fists. What was he talking about? “Long after? When did you—”

“When did I fall in love with you? The first minute we met. The first second. I fell in love with you the night of March twenty-ninth. When did I strike up a deal with him for you? Ten days later. I would have done anything to have you. I still would. I always will.”

He reached for her, but she backed away again. She was almost to the damn birch tree.

“Look, sit down, baby. It’s not good for you to get all excited in your condition.”

“My condition,” she said with derision. “Did Vincent tell you to knock me up?”

Daniel rubbed his eyes. “If you keep saying that—that I knocked you up—so help me, Wednesday.”

“Well, you did!”

“You’re the one who forgot to take the fucking pill! I don’t think Vincent had anything to do with that!”

“And you’re the one who wouldn’t wait! Who wouldn’t go back to using condoms even though I told you I’d missed a dose.”

He made a growling sound that scared her. “I swear to God, if you don’t—Jesus. You’re having a fucking baby, Wednesday.” He waved his arms at her belly. “Just face facts. Get over it! Jesus. Enough! You know what would be so fucking wonderful? If you could find some fucking tiny shred of maternal instinct buried somewhere inside that messed-up brain of yours and stop whining every hour of every day about how miserable you are, how much you hate our child—”

“I don’t hate our child.”

“You hate her! And lately I think you hate me. What happened to us? What happened to what we had? Was it all an act? Have you ever really loved me? I’ll never be good enough for you, will I? I’ll never beat you hard enough or treat you shitty enough to live up to
him
!”

Him
. The interloper in their marriage.

Wednesday was finished. She walked away from Daniel, angrier than she’d been in her life. She started up to her white room, through the white house of possibilities. It seemed to her the white was more about secrecy. Hiding the truth. Words whitewashed over because their black message was too stark to deal with. Daniel followed, but she stopped him halfway up the stairs.

“Daniel, don’t. If you don’t get away from me right now, I promise you, things will get bad. You know how bad things will get.”
Black words, red anger
. “Just go away. You just get the fuck away from me.”

She sat in her room until she heard Daniel’s door slam, then she opened her door, and she left.

* * *

She walked or, rather, waddled as fast as she could manage. If Daniel had come after her, she would have fought him tooth and nail, but he didn’t. She was pretty sure he hadn’t heard her leave. She walked on, furious and intent. It was dark and it was late, but she dared anybody, any hapless criminal to try to mess with her. She walked several blocks until her belly started to cramp from the strain, then hailed a cab to take her the rest of the way.

At Vincent’s, she pounded on the door. When he opened it, his eyes went wide.

“Wednesday,” he said in his usual placid, fuck-you tone, “what a surprise.” He looked her pregnant body up and down and muttered, “You’re looking…well.”

She slapped his face so hard that her hand smarted. “I need to talk to you, Vincent.”

He rubbed his jaw and nodded. “All right. Come in.”

She stood in the middle of his living room. Vincent kept his distance. “You’re welcome to talk to me, Wednesday, but I won’t let you hit me again.”

“Okay, I’ll try not to.”

The submissive kneeling beside the couch stared at Wednesday as if she had two heads. Vincent waved the girl away. “Into the bedroom, Gretchen. Wait on your knees for me.”

“
Wait on your knees, Wednesday
.” She’d heard it a thousand times.

“Now,” Vincent said. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

She refused to be baited by his tone. She glared at him. “Why won’t you let me go?”

He looked back at her, the picture of confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I let you go a long time ago. Over a year ago.”

“You’re a liar.”

He sighed. “Sit down. You look tired. Can I get you something? Some water? Tea?”

No, she wouldn’t sit down, but she was thirsty as hell. She heard herself say, “Water, please,” even as she decided she wouldn’t take a thing from him. When she accepted the glass, she stared at his hand. She remembered it still, those long, powerful fingers, that dusting of dark hair.

He sat on the couch and leaned back, regarding her as if she was the most annoying intrusion of his life. “So what did he tell you?”

“He said you gave me to him. Is that true?”

He considered her for a minute. “Yes, I suppose it is. Why does that bother you? You were mine to give.”

Tears sprang to her eyes at the emotionless way he said that. “And in return you made him agree to report on me. To tell you about me and him.”

“I just wanted to know what became of you.” He shrugged. “How silly of you to be angry about it. An informal agreement between dominants. That’s all. These types of arrangements are engineered all the time in our world. You know that.”

“
These types of arrangements
.” So that was all she was. “If that’s what you were doing, why didn’t you warn me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I do what I want, and what I do is none of your concern. Wednesday, what’s become of you? What’s become of my well-trained girl? All these questions—there’s not an ounce of submission in you. Does he like you this way?”

“He likes me just fine. He’s a better master to me than you were, a thousand times better.”

“I know. I chose him especially for you. I knew he would be good for you, be what you needed. I told him to have babies with you.” He looked meaningfully at her belly. “Boy or girl?”

So Vincent
had
ordered the baby. “None of your business.”

“He’s apparently let you run wild. A shame. You were a great submissive once. Very good at what you did.”

“I still am!” She hated how she sounded, like a child on the playground.
I’m not, you are
! “I still am a great submissive, and he’s a great dominant, and he loves me very much!”

“Yes, you’re welcome. You have me to thank for all this love and happiness.” He said
love and happiness
like they were something dirty. “It’s what I always wanted for you.”

Oh, she was supposed to be
grateful
. “I don’t like it that you gave me to him. It wasn’t your right! To just give me to him like I was some cast-off thing of yours—”

“Cast-off thing?” He came off the couch, advancing on her. “I gave you like a gift! I valued you very much. I always cared for you deeply.”

“Did you love me, Vincent?” she asked. “Did you ever love me?”

“Wednesday—”

“Did you? Just tell me. In five years, did you ever for a second love me?”

He was close to her now, an arm’s length away. “What do you think? Did I love you? Wednesday.” He looked in her eyes. “Could I have given you up any other way?”

They looked at each other eye to eye, not as submissive and dominant, but as old, old friends. No, not friends. Lovers. Lovers who’d shared a very strange love.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked through tears. “Why won’t you just let me go?”

“I’ll never let you go. I can’t. I can’t let go of you.”

“Then at least, at least…” She sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Admit you love me, then. Just once.”

He took her in his arms, slowly gathered her to him. She let him hold her tight against his chest, as tightly as her huge belly would allow. Her tears fell on his shirt. She could feel his heart beating slowly against her ear.

“Can’t you say it just one time for me?” she whispered.

“Why do I have to say it when you know? But if you want me to say it, I will. I love you. I love you very much. I always will.”

“But you can’t have me anymore. You can’t own me. You did once, but not anymore. Please, Vincent, if you love me. I’m Daniel’s now.”

He was quiet a long time.
Beat, beat, beat
, his heartbeat in her ear.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll always love you, and you’re Daniel’s. Okay.”