Chapter 6

-Alison-

I descended the stairs, ready to depart for my parents' party. Adorning a sleeveless, long white dress that hugged my curves and grazed just below my knees, I teetered in white heels with considerable height, gripping the railing tightly to avoid stumbling. Warren awaited me at the foot of the staircase, a smile gracing his lips as he watched me approach.

I reciprocated the gesture, and he extended his hand as I descended the final steps. I reached for his hand, allowing him to draw me closer and kiss my cheek. Though he wasn't present in my thoughts during our intimate moments, I had consented, using them as a means to reconnect with him. Perhaps that was why I climaxed with him, because I was thinking about someone else.

"I have something for you," he announced.

"Oh?" I responded, intrigued.

He presented me with a small package concealed behind his back, and I observed the box. Instantly recognizing its contents, I forced a smile. I already possessed an abundance of jewelry, and as I opened the box, confirming my suspicion, I discovered yet another piece—a necklace featuring a delicate flower pendant adorned with a sparkling diamond at its center. Summoning my most convincing fake smile, I drew Warren closer and kissed him.

"Thank you so much. It's lovely," I expressed before lifting the necklace from its box. "Could you help me put it on?"

"Of course," he replied, obligingly assisting me.

His hands encircled me, deftly aligning the two ends of the chain before securing the necklace in place. I kept my hair up as he worked, and as he leaned in to fasten it, his lips grazed my neck before I let my hair cascade down. Turning to face him, I observed Warren smiling at me, his affectionate gaze returning, but it felt like too little, too late. While I held some hope for improvement in our marriage, I knew it could never fully recapture its former essence.

"Shall we?" I inquired.

"Yes. The gift for your father is in the car," he replied.

"Wonderful."

Exiting the house, Warren locked the door behind us, the car already prepared for our departure. He assumed the driver's seat while I settled into the passenger side, and soon we were on our way. My parents' residence was quite a distance away, affording me ample time to dread the impending event.

I rarely visited unless obligated to do so, knowing full well that this party would be no different from the others. Anticipating my mother's inevitable critiques of my appearance and marriage, I braced myself for the ordeal. Meanwhile, Warren would likely be engaged in jovial conversation with my father and his associates, sharing laughter and drinks. The irony of the situation didn't escape me as I reflected inwardly, until I felt Warren's hand on my leg.

Glancing down at the point of contact, I contemplated his touch. There was a time when even the slightest gesture from him brought comfort, a reassurance of our happiness. Yet now, his touch felt distant.

As I stole a glance at him, he turned momentarily to offer me a smile. He was still strikingly handsome, possessing everything Jared wasn't. With his blond hair, blue eyes like my own, less rugged appearance, and penchant for expensive attire, Warren was the epitome of refinement. Unlike Jared, he was not a vigilante. Warren would never endanger me. Despite his past indiscretions, which I was aware of, he had never taken a life, nor was he entangled in any major criminal enterprise. Yet, there was nothing about him that held my interest anymore.

As I continued to observe him, a question began to form in my mind. Jared had once asked if Warren truly loved me or if I was merely for show. But what if it had been the other way around? What if I had pursued Warren as a means to attain a life where I wouldn't have to constantly prove myself in my world? What if my desire for him stemmed solely from a need to perfect my then-imperfect image? After all, I needed a husband, and I needed to start a family. But had I forced myself to love him? Had I mistaken contentment for happiness in our relationship?

With Jared, my fascination had developed naturally. I had been drawn to him from the moment I noticed him standing apart from the other children on the playground. He seemed oblivious to the world around him, and that desire to be his focal point, the one thing he noticed, consumed me. Yet despite all my efforts, I never became his world. I could never capture his attention without causing him pain. How pathetic I was, I thought before turning my gaze back to the window.

"What drew you to me?" I finally asked, sensing Warren shift beside me.

"What?" he responded.

"What drew you to me? There are countless beautiful women out there. Why me?"

"Um…" His hesitation caused a slight crack in my heart, revealing that perhaps Warren and I weren't the couple I had imagined us to be. "Alison, no one compares to your beauty," he finally offered.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. The response felt too simplistic. Despite Jared's disdain for me, he could articulate his thoughts about me in a myriad of ways. He truly knew me. Did my husband?

"Was there something else besides my beauty that drew you to me?" I probed further.

"You're a woman who knows what she wants. I'm never in doubt when something bothers you or makes you happy," he explained.

"What makes me happy?"

I turned to Warren, noticing his confused glance.

"Lots of things," he replied with a shrug, seemingly unaware of the significance of his answer.

"But can you name one?" I pressed, dissatisfied with his response.

Warren hesitated before responding, "You love the house."

"The house is quiet and empty," I sighed. "I don't like it anymore."

"You love your job," he continued.

"Because my husband was too preoccupied with other women. It served as a good distraction," I retorted.

"Alison, I've apologized countless times," he groaned. "I can't do more than try to resist temptation."

"You make it sound like such a struggle. Do you think I ever cheated on you?" I snapped, pushing away his hand.

He sighed and gripped the steering wheel. "Must we have this conversation now?" he muttered.

"Why not now?" I crossed my arms defiantly.

"Because we're about to see your parents, and we need to appear united," he replied.

I knew he had a point. Putting on a fa?ade of unity with Warren would only make the party easier to endure. Reluctantly, I turned away from him.

"This conversation isn't over," I reminded him firmly.

Another deep, exasperated sigh escaped his lips, but he didn't comment further. We drove in silence to my parents' house, where a multitude of cars were already parked outside. The grandeur of the place was evident, with additional staff hired to ensure the party ran smoothly. However, despite its outward splendor, the sight of it made me shiver.

Exiting the car, I noticed Warren taking my father's gift with him. He gestured for me to take his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, I relented. Together, we made our way inside, bypassing the drinks offered to us and heading straight outside where guests were gathered. Soft music mingled with chatter, and everyone was dressed to impress.

"See your father?" Warren inquired, but we didn't need to search for him. My mother spotted us first and waved enthusiastically, as if genuinely excited to see us.

Approaching us, she kissed my cheek before embracing Warren warmly.

"Oh, look at you two. The happy couple!" my mother exclaimed, ensuring others heard her.

I glanced away, feeling uncomfortably put on the spot.

"Where is Father?" I asked, attempting to change the subject.

"He's over there," my mother replied, pointing through the thick crowd. I spotted my father standing with his old friends. I hadn't seen them much since I left the house, but they had often joined us for important dinners.

"We'll just go congratulate him," I informed my mother before steering Warren away.

"Please come talk to me afterward," my mother called after me, making it sound like she genuinely wanted to have a nice chat. However, I had no desire for it.

I focused on my father further away, and when he spotted Warren and me approaching, he let out a joyous sound and began walking toward us.

"Alison!" he exclaimed happily, hugging me tightly. At least his hugs felt less cold. He turned to Warren, shaking his hand, and I handed over the small package, giving it to my father.

"You didn't have to," my father insisted.

"Of course we did. It's significant. 30 years," I reminded him.

"Congratulations," Warren praised my father as he began unpacking the gift.

The package contained two items I had chosen. One was a watch with personalized writing on the back, making it more meaningful.

My father began laughing when he read the writing on the back of it before showing his friends. One of them, Rick, reached out, taking it, and I noticed the large ring on his finger that matched my father's. It was a symbol of their long friendship, and I found it rather sweet that they still carried it, the entire group. His old buddies began laughing too, enjoying the little joke.

"Congratulations on the 30 years. Now you can count down the seconds until your retirement," Gary, another old friend, read aloud. I smiled, thinking my joke was rather funny. They seemed to enjoy it.

They handed back the watch, and my father changed out his other one so I could put the new one on him. After I had done that, he pulled out a second item. It was a photo of me when I was around 10, sitting in my father's office chair. My father had taken me to his work when the company was still on the rise, growing slowly, and it was what had inspired me to pursue my own business. My father had come from a wealthy family, but he had still built something from the ground up and had succeeded. It was more than my own husband had achieved.

"Oh, I remember this," my dad said.

"I would hope so. You took it, and you told me one day I would have my own big chair."

My father seemed to grow almost sentimental. He reached out, pulling me closer and kissing me on top of the head before showing the picture to his friends. As I glanced at them, I noticed a strange look in their eyes as they watched it, before one of them, Rick, turned to me, his gaze making me almost shiver a little as he handed back the picture.

"You were a cute kid," he told me, his tone leaving me feeling uneasy.

"Thank you," I replied.

"And you grew up to be a very beautiful woman. Your father must be very proud."

I didn't comment on his compliment. Was my beauty all there was to be proud of? I handed back the picture to my father, and he smiled as he looked at it before saying he would go place it somewhere safe. I nodded, watching him walk away. When I turned, I noticed all my father's friends watching me, yet none of them said anything. However, Warren stepped forward, engaging in conversation with them and taking the focus off me.

I felt quite confused. I had never experienced that before, but it had been years since I last saw them. I shook my head before I went to find my mother. I couldn't avoid the ice queen forever, and it was better to have the dreaded conversation over with.