Behind His Eyes - Truth (8 page)

“Tony, my goal isn’t to impress. My goal is to show that I don’t need your observation. I’m doing quite well on my own.”

“I believe you have surpassed my expectations, once again.”

“And for the record, I was independent before our encounter.”

“Yes,” he paused. “I can see how you would think that.” He sipped his wine. “Now tell me, what was the point with the change in venue?”

“There was no point. I’ve eaten here before, and I thought you’d enjoy the cuisine.”

“I see.” He continued to sip the wine. “That’s good. I was afraid you were trying to manipulate our visibility—”

Before he could continue, the
maître d’
approached their table. “
Excusez-moi
, but your table, it is ready.”

“
Merci
,” Tony replied as he stood. While Claire gathered her handbag, Tony politely helped her with her chair.

As they walked through the empty lounge, Tony nodded to the pianist and reached out to direct Claire’s movement. His fingers contacted the warmth of her exposed back, and he fought the urge to explore below the draping material. Oh, it wouldn’t be an uncharted expedition. He knew every inch of her body, but it had been too long. Leaning down, placing his lips near her ear, he inhaled her scent. With every ounce of restraint, he kept his lips from contacting her skin. Instead, he said, “I’m glad visibility wasn’t your goal for this evening. I would hate to disappoint you.”

As they stepped from the lounge into the dining area, Claire’s neck stiffened and she gasped. Meeting him eye to eye, she boldly asked, “What have you done?”

He smirked, “I wanted to spend time with you, without the diversion of others.”

“Where are the other people?”

“I believe they accepted an unbelievable offer. In essence, I rented the entire restaurant. After all, you said it was delicious, and I wanted to enjoy the food and your company.”

“You bought out the entire place?”

He suddenly feared she’d run. Keeping a calm façade, he answered, “Yes, Claire. Shall we sit? I believe you requested this central table.”

Overwhelmed with relief as she settled upon the cushioned seat, he gently pushed her chair under the table. Before they could resume their conversation, the waiter was present, delivering their wine and glasses to their new location. It may only be one person, but they both knew the importance of appearances. Once he was gone, Tony lifted his glass of wine and proposed a toast. “To you, the only person in this world who can keep me on my toes.”

Taking a sip, he watched intently as Claire waged an internal war. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed watching the battle of wills behind her eyes. As she began to take a drink, he laughed at the outcome. She’d just lost and he’d watched it all.

“I hope you’re amused.” She placed the glass back on the table without drinking. “I believe I’m getting a headache. We’ll need to postpone this dinner for another time.”

As she began to push herself away from the table, his heart raced. Tony wouldn’t allow her to leave, not now, not after so much time. He reached across the table and covered her hand. Summoning his most gentle touch, he
explained
. After all, that was what Catherine had said to do—to have faith. Let Claire decide. She couldn’t decide if she didn’t know his intent. Sheepishly, he implored, “Claire, I’d like you to stay. Your plans are to be commended. You probably know, but even without the clothes I sent, you’re stunning. Now, if we’re done with this ridiculous posturing, I’d like to talk with you for a while.”

“This wasn’t meant as posturing!” Her tone was hushed and harsh. “I assure you, my head
does
hurt.”

“I have missed you terribly.” He didn’t intend to say it so bluntly, but he had to let her know. “I have missed your voice, your strength, your smile, and mostly, your eyes. My God, Claire, you have the most amazing eyes!”

“Stop it.”

“Excuse me?”
Had she just ordered him to stop talking? Didn’t she realize how hard this was?

“I said, stop it!” The emerald fire intensely burned. She continued, “The last time we spoke in person, I begged to go with you back to your home,
our
home in Iowa City. As I recall, you offered me a psychiatric institution, so why would I be interested in listening to your drivel today?”

His mind spun. Explain yourself—that was what Catherine had said. He tried. “Well, first, because you accepted my invitation.”

“I accepted your invitation for one reason, to convince you to leave me alone. We are done!”

“My dear, it isn’t that simple.” His tone was flat, leaving no room for debate. He wasn’t going to argue the concept, no matter how ludicrous it was. She was his forever.
Done
wasn’t an option.

“It is.” Yet he heard the uncertainty in her voice, until her next emphasized word smashed his world to smithereens. “
Anton
.”

The floor fell from the room. Or perhaps it was the ceiling that fell. Tony wasn’t sure what just happened, but as prepared as he had been for the evening, nothing could have prepared him for that. Straightening his neck, he fought the red. Through clenched teeth, he replied, “My name is Anthony, but you may still address me as Tony.”

“That’s very gentlemanly of you. Do you not think that, as your wife, I deserved to know your true name was Anton Rawls?”

He fought to stay seated. It was like coming out of the effects of the poison: he clawed to reach the surface—the place where his world was intact. Those two words—Anton Rawls—spoken by Claire, ripped away the veil separating his past from his present. With a semblance of calm, he asked, “Where could you possibly have come up with such a story?”

“Why,
Anton
, it was in your box of confessions.”

What the hell was she talking about?
His voice gained strength with each syllable. “I assure you, I have no idea what you’re saying.”

“The information you sent me in prison.”

Before they could continue, a waiter appeared beside their table with menus. Placing the binders in front of them, he asked if they were interested in hearing about the specials. Concurrently, they answered, “No.” The waiter apologized for the interruption and meekly backed away from the table. Tony worked to process her words. Box. Confession. Prison. He squeezed the menu tighter.

Claire’s voice pulled him from the whirlwind of questions.
If she knew that, what else did she know?
“Are you saying you didn’t send me a box of information?”

Looking her in the eye, he confirmed, “I can assure you, I did not send you anything while you were in prison, and speaking of prison, congratulations on your early release.” He made no attempt to suppress the sarcasm that saturated his final statement; he was too busy processing.

“Thank you, I promise that I was as surprised as you must have been.”

Tony
harrumphed
as he took another drink of his wine, wishing it were bourbon. Once, he emptied the glass he poured another. After a hearty drink of the second glass, the calming effects began to settle his nerves and he replied, “That, my dear, is debatable.”

He concentrated on the menu as Claire mentioned entrees that she’d enjoyed. Slowly, the tension began to subside as they superficially chatted about the options. Tony worked to control his thoughts and actions and salvage their reunion dinner. Her information, knowledge, and depth of that knowledge would all need to be assessed. Of course, he hadn’t sent her information in prison.
But if not him—who?
That wasn’t even the question; Tony knew
whom
. The question was
why?

As he ordered their meals in French, he noticed Claire smile. He’d meant to surprise her with her entrée for it was the one she’d mentioned; however, it was obvious that she understood everything he and the waiter had said. Once they were alone, he tested his theory. Speaking in French, he said, “I see that you’ve broadened your language portfolio.”

Also in French, she replied, “Yes, I decided to capitalize on my gift of time.”

He smiled.
How could he not?
She was talking casually about prison, as if it had been a vacation. He leaned forward. “Claire, how’s your headache?”

Taking a sip from her glass, she smiled. “I believe the wine is helping.”

“That’s good. Tell me about San Antonio.”

If he expected her to be surprised by his knowledge of her activity, she disappointed him. Then again, he suspected that she knew he was watching her. Claire didn’t miss a beat. She immediately began talking about sunshine, books, and relaxation. They fell into easy conversation. He remembered the
Red Wing
and talking with her for the first time. Even then, she’d impressed him with her confidence and knowledge. Her strength hadn’t waned over the last year and a half. It emanated from every pore of her being, like an aura that pulled him nearer. She possessed knowledge, of language and of him. It intrigued, as well as frightened him.
What would she do with her new power? Could he stop it? Did he want to?
As the dinner progressed, her smile became less forced and her tone rang with the occasional laugh or giggle. It was music to his ears, and he didn’t want the evening to end.

Neither one of them mentioned his birth name or the box again. The subject had been closed—temporarily. Tonight was about reconnecting. Maybe it was about something else. Tony wanted her to see that he was still in control; after all, he’d manipulated her plans. However, there was no doubt that her revelation created a shift in their game.

He couldn’t wait to continue the play!

This POV was originally written at the request of my amazing readers and appeared in the Goodreads Group: The Consequences Series Group Reads, Therapy, and Hugs. That version has been tweaked and edited for Behind His Eyes Truth. The “Dream” scene in
Truth has been interpreted in various ways. My initial intention was to show that from Tony’s POV it wasn’t what many have claimed it to be; however, like the rest of my story, his intent is still your decision.

Thank you for joining me on this dark and insightful journey.

~Aleatha

A dream you dream alone is only a dream. A dream you dream together is a reality
.

—Yoko Ono

The luxury of the upscale condominium escaped Tony’s notice. Nothing mattered, other than making his way to Claire. Since their dinner the night before, he’d been unable to concentrate on anything or anyone else. As the elevator moved upward toward the fourth floor, Tony closed his eyes and envisioned his ex-wife. He remembered the white dress, the way his hand touched the skin of her back, and the slight whiff of perfume as his lips neared her long neck. He recalled the fire in her eyes as she called him
Anton
. Though he had tried to hide his reaction, Tony knew he’d failed. Claire saw him as others never could. She knew that her declaration affected him, and she knew when a subject was closed.

The woman he’d shared a meal with last night was more like the Claire Nichols he’d watched from afar—the one before his acquisition. Sometime during his refining process, she’d muted qualities that he now longed to explore. She was different. He could see it in the pictures, but more vividly in person. For the first time, he wanted to know the
real
Claire Nichols—the one who could stare him down, and the one who would attempt to manipulate their dinner plans. Tony didn’t just want to converse with that woman: he wanted to know her intimately. The woman he created knew his wants and needs; did he truly know hers?

As he neared the door of her condominium, he pushed away his carnal thoughts. Tony wouldn’t do what he’d done before. He’d had his reasons, but they were done. She’d paid her price, or rather her family’s price, for their past sins. Now it was time to move on. Tony needed to help Claire see that for herself.

After they’d parted ways last night, Tony started to call Catherine—he almost did—but he decided he needed more information. Perhaps the contents of that box would help him understand why Catherine sent it. Then, during the night, the revelation hit him: Claire’s new knowledge was the stepping-stone he needed. That box would facilitate a path to her understanding. First, he needed to know what Claire knew. He also needed to emphasize that her newly acquired knowledge was private. Their roles may be evolving, but some rules would never change. Private information could not be divulged.