Bonds of Trust (19 page)

Why would her ex-husband, who barely engaged in basic sex, be at a club that excelled in way-out-of-the-box sex? It was a subject worth investigating and one she’d have to dig into when she could actually think clearly.

She pushed back the little glimmer of hope springing up at the thought that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t Jake’s fault. But it still danced in her heart. So if Jake wasn’t to blame, was she? Did she just make a horrible assumption and throw away everything she’d dared to hope for? She’d been so afraid of people passing judgment on her that she hadn’t even thought about the verdict she’d thrown at him.

Her stomach churned, twisting the contents around the sinking sense of dread that settled there. Jake had offered his heart and she’d thrown it back in his face. Both the collar and his words. Was she wrong?

Would he ever forgive her if she was?

Moaning, she rolled to her side and looked at Allie, sleeping on the other end of the couch. She needed to do that. Sleep. She’d figure out the rest tomorrow. With luck, there’d be something to salvage with her life and Jake.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The soap splashed against the sides of the sink, the water cascading up the edges in a rushed attempt to crest the rim and strike the cheery reindeer apron Cali wore. She didn’t care. Determined, she continued her attack on the pan and the remnants of the roast clinging stubbornly to the bottom.

Sighing, she tossed the scouring pad into the dishwater and rested her tired arms. Staring out the window over the sink, she glared at the colored lights framing the windows of the neighboring condos. She gave a puff in an attempt to blow the annoying strand of hair out of her eyes. It didn’t work.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

Cali jumped at the sound of her daughter’s voice. She’d been surprised when Stephanie had shown up unexpectedly that morning, searching for another reference book. Or at least, that’s what she’d told Cali, who’d quickly downed Ibuprofen and three cups of coffee to cover the raging hangover she’d had the glory of waking up with. Allie had been too sick herself to stick around and ease the awkward silence that had fallen when her daughter had observed the mess in the living room and almost-empty bottle of liquor.

Stephanie had surprised her further by hanging around for Sunday dinner. As a family, that had always been their nice dinner. One they all counted on, especially when the kids got older and schedules had gone crazy during the week. But things had been stilted between them all day. Not intolerable, but not comfortable either.

“Of course,” she answered with practiced superficial calm. “Just battling the last of the dishes.” She kept her back to her daughter and retackled the project in the sink, the pan clanking loudly against the porcelain as she shifted it around to get a better angle on the offending grime.

“Mom.” The soft word was barely audible over the noise Cali was making, but the light touch on her shoulder felt like a brick had landed there.

Cali froze, her body stiff as she waited. Was this where Stephanie finally told her she knew about her mother’s sick desires? Where she told Cali how disgusted she was? But she didn’t seem angry or repulsed.

No, Stephanie sounded concerned.

The fingers skimmed down Cali’s arm, the touch scorching her skin through the silk of her blouse. Cali wanted to haul Stephanie in and hold her tight. A hug and kiss that would cure all. But those days were gone, and Cali doubted she’d ever get them back.

“Really.” Her daughter leaned forward, trying to see her face. “Are you okay? You seem so...distant. Sad today. I’m worried about you.”

Cali couldn’t help the scoff that puffed out. Okay? That was a very relative term. Okay compared to what? “I’m fine. You’re not supposed to worry about me. It’s my job to worry about you.” She dried her hands on the towel next to the sink, tucked the annoying piece of hair behind her ear and turned away from her daughter to finish packing up the dinner leftovers.

“I’m sorry.”

Cali whirled back to face her daughter. “For what?”

Stephanie was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, lip tucked between her teeth. She sighed then looked up. “For getting so bent out of shape about you dating. It wasn’t my place to judge you.”

Judge her? Oh, her daughter could judge her, all right. “No worries. It’s been an adjustment for all of us.”

“But it was wrong of me,” she insisted. “And now...you’re so sad. I’m afraid I made you do something you didn’t want to do.” She fidgeted with the strings of her hoodie and shifted against the counter. “You didn’t stop dating Jake because of me, did you?”

Dating Jake? Maybe if they’d been dating, things could have worked between them. But they hadn’t and she couldn’t change the past. Nor could she erase the memories of everything they’d shared. Things she had to force herself to stop thinking about because they weren’t possible in her life.

Cali stepped in front of her daughter and tentatively set her hands on Stephanie’s shoulders, not sure how she would react. “It had nothing to do with you. I’m so sorry any of this has affected you.”

Her daughter studied her searching for the truth, and Cali hoped beyond hope Stephanie found it. “Then what happened? You were so happy at Thanksgiving.”

Cali stepped back, not liking where the conversation was going, but Stephanie grabbed her hand and wouldn’t let her retreat. Her grip was tight and insistent as her daughter suddenly morphed into the adult she was bordering on becoming.

“It was then,” she continued, “when I watched you at Gramma and Grampa’s house that for the first time in my memory, you seemed truly happy. Lighter, laughing, smiling openly at everyone. Almost free, in a way I’d never seen before. That’s when I realized how much you pretend.”

Cali tugged on her hand, wanting to run, but Stephanie held firm.

“How you hide behind the jobs of taking care of everyone, getting everything done while everyone else enjoys themselves. It’s not that you’re unhappy, exactly. But at Thanksgiving, for once, you were truly happy.”

Cali backed up, blinking hard. How did her daughter see so much? She pulled her hand away and turned, moving to leave. Unable to answer her daughter for fear of all that would tumble out. Of having to admit to herself it wasn’t just Jake, but it was everything she’d
done
with him that had given her that happiness. That freedom.

“So, I’m sorry, Mom,” Stephanie said loudly, making Cali stop. “For not seeing this before. For taking you for granted and forgetting you’re more than just my mom. I’m sorry for making you feel bad about dating Jake. And I’m sorry for all the grief I caused you over the divorce. It wasn’t my place to judge you and I’m going to try hard in the future not to do that anymore.”

My God
. When had her daughter become so mature?

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Cali managed to choke out. “I’m the one who’s sorry. For disappointing you. For hurting you. For—”

“You didn’t disappoint me,” Stephanie interjected. “I just needed to grow up a little. I’m working on that now.” Then her daughter’s arms were wrapping around her, hugging her from behind. “Promise me you’ll keep working on being happy. Okay?” She rested her chin on Cali’s shoulder and Cali reached up to clasp the arms circling her.

“Thank you,” Cali whispered. “I’ll do that.” The words were said more to pacify her daughter than as commitment. She really didn’t know if true happiness existed in the world of adulthood or if she would ever find it.

Stephanie eased away. “I need to head back to school. Thanks for dinner.”

Cali watched her daughter bound up the stairs to gather her stuff, catching the shift of Steph’s arm as she raised it to wipe her sleeve across her cheeks.

Cali quickly wiped at her own tears, grateful for her daughter. Grateful Stephanie didn’t know about her mother’s sexual desires. She rubbed a hand absently over her churning stomach. She’d waited all weekend for Peter to drop his bomb and destroy her precisely constructed life.

But he hadn’t.

She’d heard nothing from him. At all. Or from Jake either. Not a peep since Friday night, which made her even more nervous. But then, would he really seek her out after she’d rejected him so publicly?

Casting a quick glance upstairs, she grabbed her cell phone and called him. She owed Jake the chance to explain and she was ready to hear what he had to say. The call clicked over to voicemail and she disconnected, unsure of what to say. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to her after the way she’d humiliated him on stage. Just like she’d accused him of doing to her.

She’d reflected all day on the events of that night, and the clarity that distance and time provided gave her the chance to see the holes in the story that needed filling.

Stephanie bounced down the stairs, her backpack stuffed, keys in her hand. “I’ll see you in two weeks for Christmas.” She gave her mom a quick hug and was out the door with the speedy efficiency of youth.

Shoving the leftovers into the fridge, Cali removed her apron and gave up on the pan, leaving it to soak in the sink. She grabbed her purse, slipped on her coat and headed out the door. It was time to face her mistakes, find some answers and see what the fallout would be.

* * *

Cali sat outside Peter’s house—her old house—in the quiet residential neighborhood and thought about all that had changed. It wasn’t long ago that she’d been the one to put up the outdoor decorations, hang the wreath on the door and attend the yearly neighborhood cookie exchange. They’d made a good life here. Raised good kids. Had a good family.

It was hard to see the house now, dark except for the interior lights indicating Peter was at least home. Every other house in the neighborhood was lit up with bright lights or some fanciful yard decoration reflecting off the snow. It was still a good family area, one Cali both missed with a passion and was happy as hell to escape.

Opening the car door, she stepped into the cold and watched her breath form white, puffy clouds before her. The car door creaked in resistance to the frigid temperatures and she quickly shoved her hands in her pockets to keep them warm. Trudging up the shoveled walkway, she contemplated one last time what she was going to say.

Oh, hell
. She really didn’t know what she was going to say; she just needed to see what Peter was going to say.

If felt strange, standing on the doorstep that had been her own for almost fifteen years. It was even more surreal to knock on the door instead of walking right in. It didn’t matter that she’d moved out over two years before. The house still felt like hers.

The outside light flicked on. Then the door opened and Peter was there. He was still handsome. Tall, dark hair cut short and neat, deep blue eyes that crinkled at the corners now. He was still decently fit, but his waist was noticeably thicker since the divorce.

“Cali?”

“Hi, Peter,” she managed to say without her voice shaking. “Can I come in?”

She searched his face, looking for some sign of what he was thinking, feeling, but nothing showed. He stepped aside and motioned for her to enter. She wiped her boots on the door rug before following him down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Drink?”

She shook her head then watched as he poured himself two fingers of scotch. The silence suspended between them, and Cali held still, resisting the urge to fidget. She kept her hands firmly in her pockets and stood stiffly at the edge of the kitchen, waiting for him to start.

He didn’t.

Jerk
. He’d always done that. Refused to fight or engage in any kind of confrontation. It’d always been her who either started the discussion or let it ride.

“What are you going to do, Peter?”

He took a drink of his scotch before setting the glass down on the marble countertop. The marble she’d selected to match the dark oak cabinets and offset the high-end appliances and rich gold-toned paint she’d chosen when they’d remodeled the kitchen seven years ago. It’d been her dream kitchen. Just one more thing she’d given up when she’d left.

“What do you mean?” He didn’t look at her but stared into the amber liquid in his glass.

She sighed and shifted her weight. She glanced to her left and took in the sparseness of the family room that opened off the kitchen. Peter hadn’t replaced any of the furniture or decorations Cali had taken with her. There was a stack of newspapers piled on the end table, a couple of empty plates along with some soda cans—not beer, at least. Lights sparkled on the tiny, fake Christmas tree in the corner that was covered with a minimal amount of store-bought bulbs. Stephanie must have forced him into it. And being a good dad, Peter had let her.

Cali returned her gaze to Peter. She caught him studying her, hesitation in his eyes. “You know about what,” she said, the exhaustion showing in her voice. “I’ve been waiting all weekend to find out what you’re going to do, and now I just want to know. Are you going to tell the kids? Our families? Friends?”

Varying degrees of shock, repulsion and then shame crossed his features before he looked down. He took another drink of scotch and she was surprised to see the slight shake of his hand he couldn’t hide. He licked the liquid off his lips and exhaled. “No, Cali. I’m not going to tell anyone.” His voice hitched and he took a second to clear it. “Are you?”

Was
she?
“God, no. Why in the world would I?”

“To embarrass me,” he said so quietly she had to strain to hear him. At that moment, under the glare of the recessed lights, Peter appeared more vulnerable than she ever remembered seeing him. Even when she’d told him she wanted a divorce.

“How would
I
embarrass you? I’m the one who was caught bound and half-naked on stage.”

The glass clinked against the marble once more, followed by the soft glug of liquid as he poured himself another drink.

“But I’m the one who could never give you what you wanted.” He cleared his throat again. “I was married to you for twenty-two years and I never once saw that look on your face. Never came close to giving you the pleasure that...” he inhaled then continued, “...that Dom did.”

She narrowed her eyes, analyzing him, looking for a catch. Something, anything to make his words appear less sincere. Less pained. But there was nothing except disappointment, an emotion that echoed in his voice.

“Why were you there, Peter? Why were you at the club?”

His face flushed and he turned away from her. She took a step forward but stopped at the far side of the island, keeping the object between them.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” she insisted. “Did Jake make you come?”

His gaze snapped to hers. “Who’s Jake?”

Her insides froze. The confusion on Peter’s face was a silent confirmation of her rising suspicion. “Jake. The Dom.”

“The one on stage with you?”

She refused to answer him.

He took in her silence before he finally said, “No.”

“No?” Jake was innocent. She’d been wrong. Unable to deal with that, she tackled the issue she could. “Then why’d you follow me there?” She pressed her hands onto the hard marble, leaning forward as she pushed for an answer. “To gather dirt? To collect information to use against me?”