Читать книгу Obsession - Kayla Perrin - Страница 9

3

I didn’t ask where Andrew was going. I didn’t care. He could be running straight to his girlfriend and planning to serve me with divorce papers, it didn’t matter. If he wanted that slut he’d screwed, he could have her.

That’s what I told myself, but in my heart I didn’t believe my bold words. I might have wanted to hate Andrew for turning my world upside down, but a person can’t turn her feelings off in an instant. The truth was, I loved him, and that made the pain infinitely more intense. That and the fact that what he’d done had come as an utter shock. I thought that Andrew and I had a good, happy marriage. And people in happy marriages don’t cheat.

I spent the night alternately crying, fuming and wishing I could start this day over. I’d give anything to be back in the Bahamas, hungover and sleep deprived. At least then I’d been sleep deprived because I’d been overdosing on fun.

Now, as sunlight spilled through the blinds signaling morning, I felt nauseous and numb. My throat was parched, and my stomach was lurching. I needed water. Something inside my stomach. But I didn’t have energy to even get out of bed.

Why? That was the question I asked myself in the moments I wasn’t crying or dozing. Why would Andrew do this to me? To us. And he had the audacity to claim that he still wanted to be with me, wanted our marriage.

I didn’t understand.

My head hurt from thinking about Andrew’s bombshell, so I closed my eyes. Closed my eyes and willed the pain to dissipate.

I must have drifted off, because I jolted awake when I thought I heard a sound in the house. Slowly, I raised my head. Was that Peaches?

It had to be. She wasn’t in the bedroom with me, which meant she was somewhere else in the house. She’d likely knocked something over, but I couldn’t be bothered to get up and check it out.

I closed my eyes then whipped them open when I heard the bedroom door open. Now I knew that it wasn’t Peaches.

Andrew had come back?

Marnie poked her head through the doorway.

“Marnie?” I asked, wondering if I might be hallucinating.

She rushed into the room. “Oh, honey. What’s going on?”

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

She plopped down onto the bed beside me, her face full of concern as she regarded me. “Andrew called. And I’m glad he did. My God—your eyes are nearly swollen shut.”

“Andrew called you?”

“Yes.” Marnie placed her hand on my forehead, feeling for a temperature. “You’re not that warm, but I’ve never seen you look this awful before. I should take you to the doctor.”

“Andrew said I was sick?”

“He just said that you might need me.”

“Hmm.” Gripping Marnie’s arm for support, I rose to a sitting position. “I need water.”

“Of course.” Marnie was on her feet in a flash. She left the bedroom and returned within a minute, holding a tall glass filled with ice and water.

I sipped, then gulped down the entire glass. I’d needed water more than I’d thought.

“I’m not sick,” I said, my voice still weak.

“Then tell me what’s going on.”

“Excuse me.” I climbed off the bed. “I need to use the bathroom.”

I made my way to the ensuite bathroom, moving slowly. I knew Marnie was concerned and confused, but she’d learn the truth soon enough.

When I saw my reflection in the mirror, I gasped. Awful was an understatement. My hair was a mess, my eyes red and swollen. I wore an expression that was beyond dejected. I looked haunted.

Given my physical appearance, including the clothes I’d been wearing from the day before that were now wrinkled, a stranger might look at me and think I’d just survived a rape.

I relieved myself, then washed my face and drank more water. My stomach grumbled, and for the first time since last night, I felt hunger pangs as opposed to nausea.

Marnie didn’t just look concerned as I walked back into the bedroom, she looked scared. “I’ve got to tell you, I’m starting to freak out here, Sophie.”

“Andrew…” I paused. Swallowed. “Andrew had an affair.”

“What?” Marnie asked, aghast.

I couldn’t repeat the words, only nod.

“He’s leaving you?”

I sank onto the mattress beside Marnie. “He says he still loves me. Still wants me.”

“What?” Marnie was outraged.

Her anger helped fuel my own. I’d spent an entire night depressed over Andrew’s betrayal, but I needed to pull myself together. Andrew had hurt me enough, and wallowing in self-pity was simply going to add to my pain.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Shocker, huh?”

“Oh, sweetie. Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.” Marnie paused. “Have you eaten anything?” Like that was the answer to my crisis.

“Nothing.”

“Let me fix you some food.”

“Where’s Peaches?”

“She ran outside when I opened the door. Look, the cat’s going to be fine. It’s you I’m worrying about.”

I nodded.

Tugging on my hand, Marnie pulled me up from the bed. “I know what you’re going through. Believe me. And I’m going to help you deal with it.”

“Thanks.”

I walked with her to the kitchen, but she insisted that I sit in the living room and put my feet up. I did, and for lack of anything better to do, I turned on the television.

The Maury Pauvich Show was on, dealing with unruly kids who were going to be sent off to boot camp. I’d seen several shows of this variety, with bold and foul-mouthed children balking at any authority, only to end up weeping and begging for their mothers after a few days of military-enforced submission.

“They should have boot camp like this for cheating husbands,” I commented.

“What?” Marnie asked.

I could see her working in the kitchen, getting the skillet hot to fry eggs. She already had coffee brewing.

“I’m watching Maury Pauvich, and they’ve got out-of-control teens that they’re sending to boot camp. I think he ought to do a show where they send cheating men to boot camp. I’d tune in for that one.”

“Wasn’t he an unfaithful husband?” Marnie asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe they all are,” I added softly. Marnie and Brian had fallen apart because they ultimately wanted different things, but her first husband, Keith, had cheated on her as though he’d been going for some kind of world record.

Marnie wandered into the living room with a mug of hot coffee. “Two creams, two sugars—just the way you like it.”

“Thank you.” With a smile, I accepted the mug from Marnie, then watched as she sauntered back to the kitchen. I was glad she was here. Because she’d shown up, I was no longer in a cold, dark, depressing place. Friends were what helped keep people sane when they went through heart-wrenching experiences. Without someone to turn to, a person could get lost in their grief and be unable to find their way back to sanity.

While Marnie fried eggs, I turned back to the television. A young female was taunting the audience with, “Yeah, so I slept with fifteen guys—what’s the big deal?” while they all booed her and her mother sobbed. A caption on the screen identified the girl as thirteen-year-old Cathy.

I actually chuckled as Maury placed his hand on the shoulder of the girl’s mother, asking how she felt about her daughter’s shocking admission. The mother was a blubbering mess but managed to say, “I can’t believe she would do this to me.”

I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t a parent, but I was a teacher, and I’d seen firsthand the kinds of problems that arose when parents took the submissive role and let their kids get away with everything. When they didn’t set boundaries. Or, when they didn’t punish kids for breaking the rules.

“You want to eat in front of the television?” Marnie asked. “Because I can bring out a couple of trays.”

“No, no.” I got to my feet and walked across the living room to the kitchen’s dinette area. “Though watching shows like Maury certainly helps a person forget about her own problems.”

Marnie set a plate of eggs and toast in front of me, then took the seat to my right. She had only the coffee for herself.

“Thanks so much,” I told her. “If you hadn’t shown up, I’d still be in bed, half-comatose.”

Marnie sipped her coffee. “Ok, now tell me what happened. You got home last night and what—you found evidence of some other woman here or something?”

“No.” I lifted my fork and cut into my egg. “He came right out and told me.”

“Nice welcome-home present. Sheesh.”

“I knew something was wrong, but I never would have guessed….” My voice trailed off, ending on a sigh. Then I continued, trying to recite the facts without emotion. “He was acting weird. I wanted to make love, but he wasn’t into it. Next thing I know, he’s all serious, saying he’s got to tell me something. I actually thought someone had died.” Shaking my head at the memory, I stuffed some egg into my mouth.

“I wish I could say I’m surprised,” Marnie began, “but I have to say, nothing men do surprises me anymore.”

“I was devastated last night,” I went on. I still was, but now I was determined to regain control of my emotions. “Mad at first, then devastated. But you know what—I didn’t do this. Andrew did. I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt, but fuck, if this is the hand that life has dealt me, I am going to deal with it and move on.”

Marnie gave me a slightly skeptical look, but God bless her, she didn’t voice any doubts. I’d seen her after her marriage had fallen apart, and though she’d seen it coming, it had taken a long time for her to recover.

“It’s not going to be easy,” I said. “I get that. But you know what, there are other fish in the sea.”

I felt emotion welling up inside me again at the thought of a life without Andrew, and I quickly ate more food before I started crying. Clearly, I was lying to myself.

“I’m here for you,” Marnie said. “We’ll go shopping, clubbing, whatever you need to take your mind off this.”

I nodded. “I know.” I’d done the same for her. “I mean, I know it’ll be hard. I loved Andrew. I still do. But I can’t let this ruin my life.”

Marnie nodded, sipped her coffee. “Did he tell you anything about her?”

“Not much. But it sounds like she wasn’t a one-night stand.” I took a bite of my whole-wheat toast.

“What an asshole,” Marnie muttered. “Sorry, but—”

“Don’t apologize. You’re absolutely right. And I can’t believe he told me this, expecting I’d just forgive him.”

“Word of advice here—and I know it’s early, and I’m not trying to tell you what to do—but you forgive a guy when he cheats, and there’s nothing to say he won’t do it again. In fact, it’s almost like they see your forgiveness as a sign to do it again. Trust me, I learned the hard way with Keith.”

Would Andrew be that way? I couldn’t imagine. Then again, I never imagined he’d ever cheat. He’d seemed too grounded, too controlled, too stable—opposite of spontaneous—to do something like that.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I admitted. “Part of me hates him, part of me loves him.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Marnie said. “But you don’t have to do it today. How about we hit the mall for some retail therapy. And we can take in a matinée. That new film with Will Smith. Two hours of shameless ogling.” Her face lit up. “What do you say?”

“Will Smith? How can I argue with that?”

The retail therapy was fun, netting me a new pair of shoes and a slinky black dress I promised to wear out to a club with Marnie on the weekend. But Will Smith was like two painkillers, easing my heartache for the two hours he appeared on screen. Marnie had cheered loudly when he took it all off in a shower scene, and while I hadn’t been as vocal, I’d certainly enjoyed his delicious body.

We pulled into my driveway shortly after five. I collected the bags with my purchases and got out of Marnie’s black Nissan Sentra.

“I’m serious,” Marnie said. “Call me if you need me, no matter the time.”

“You spent the whole day babysitting me,” I protested.

“And I’ll come right back if you realize that being in the house alone is too much for you to deal with.”

“The moment I’m tempted to curl into a ball on the bed, I’ll call you,” I assured her.

“But if you don’t get me at home, call me on my cell.” Marnie wiggled her eyebrows, and I knew instantly that something was going on.

I poked my head into the driver-side window before she could leave. “I know that tone, Marnie Kincaid. What’s going on tonight that you won’t be at home?”

“Well…” Marnie’s eyes lit up as she bit down on her bottom lip. “I didn’t want to mention it until later—after I knew how it worked out—but I’ve got a date tonight.”

“What?” Iexclaimed. “And you kept this news to yourself all day?”

“I didn’t think I should say anything. Not with what’s going on with you and Andrew.”

“You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. If you’ve got good news, I want to hear it.”

“It’s not really a date,” Marnie explained. “More of a let’s-see-if- we-like-each-other meeting. You remember I told you I signed up with a couple online dating sites?”

“Yes, but I didn’t think you were serious. You’re the one who said you prefer the old-fashioned way of meeting people.”

“I know, I know. Which is why I put off TRULYACUTIE’s requests to meet me before we went on our trip.”

“TRULYACUTIE?” I asked, laughing.

“Yeah, that’s the name he gave himself online. It piqued my interest.” Marnie paused for a moment. “Hey, if Soriano lived in Orlando, I’d be all over him. But if there’s one thing my affair with him taught me, it’s that I’m ready to move on. And let’s face it, I’m not getting any younger. So I e-mailed TRULYACUTIE and said I’d like to meet him.”

“Wow.”

“Of course, this is just a first date to make sure the guy’s not a creep, and we’ll go from there. But if his picture is for real, then his screen name is quite fitting.”

“Where are you two going?” I asked. I knew a lot of people were finding love via the Internet, but still, I couldn’t help feeling concerned for my friend.

“The Cheesecake Factory. Very public, very busy. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“And you’re driving your car there, right? He’s not picking you up, is he?”

Marnie shot me a look as if to say I had to know she wasn’t that naïve. “Absolutely, I’m driving my own car there. You know me better than that. And he only knows my screen name and vice versa. This way, if we don’t like each other, we can disappear from each other’s lives easily. It’s perfect.”

“All right.” I straightened. I was going to stop the mother hen act. Marnie was thirty, a few months older than me, and capable of taking care of herself. “You’re wasting gas. I’ll let you go.”

“Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” I said. “Have fun.”

Marnie backed out of the driveway and drove off. Waving, I watched her until she made a left onto a nearby street.

Whether I was depressed or not, I would call her later. Just to make sure TRULYACUTIE wasn’t a nutcase pretending to be a nice guy.

For the first hour or so after Marnie left, I was perfectly fine. I was able to put my hurt on the back burner and cook a simple meal of grilled chicken and pasta. I ate at the kitchen table with the sounds of hip-hop blaring from my stereo. I didn’t want to play anything soft and mellow, because alone with my thoughts, soft and mellow would remind me of the pain I was managing to keep under control.

Peaches sat beside my chair on the floor, looking up at me with dark, pleading eyes. I didn’t normally feed her from the table so as not to spoil her, but I dropped her a piece of chicken nonetheless. What the heck—I was in no mood to obey the rules when my husband had broken the most important one.

Every so often as I ate, I glanced at the phone. The red light was flashing, meaning there was at least one message.

Andrew?

I waited until I’d finished my food and had washed the dishes before I finally placed the phone to my ear and punched in the code to retrieve the messages. And when I did, my heart faltered at the sound of Andrew’s voice.

“Sophie, it’s me. I’m checking in on you, hoping you’re okay. Call me, please. Let me know.”

I erased the message and hung up the phone. The food I’d just eaten turned in my stomach. Did Andrew think I’d spend one night crying, wake up refreshed, and be ready to forgive him?

“Don’t think about him,” I told myself. And I certainly wasn’t going to call back.

I found myself walking to the spare bedroom and digging my easel and art supplies out of the closet. It was a hobby that gave me comfort, but one I didn’t indulge in all that much anymore. Definitely not in the past few months. Whenever I decided to create a picture, Andrew complained that the smell of the paint bothered him. As I stared at the dusty easel and paint-covered sheets, I had to admit to myself that I painted far less these days because it bothered Andrew, not because I didn’t care for my longtime hobby.

Well, Andrew wasn’t here anymore.

I set to work. Two hours later, I had an abstract painting with angry strokes of red and black in the center and muted yellows, browns and oranges around the edges. I’d used a large piece of paper rather than a cloth canvas, but I smiled as I stared at the painting as though I’d created a masterpiece.

Though the paper was still wet, I took it straight to the living room and taped it over the large wedding photo on the wall. Then I gathered the various framed photos of me and Andrew off the tables, carried them to the spare bedroom and deposited them in a large dresser drawer.

If only it were so easy to erase the memory of what he’d done.