Come Undone (29 page)
Authors: Jessica Hawkins
Tags: #Contemporary Fiction, #debut, #Romance, #Contemporary Romance, #Contemporary, #Fiction
“I’ll
be fine,” I said, crossing my arms over my seatbelt.
“Does
he really accept that ‘fine’ bullshit?”
“What?”
“You’re
always saying everything is fine, even though it’s not. It’s fine that you were
attacked last night? It’s fine that somebody you obviously care a great deal
about passed away? Does
anyone
care
enough to question whether or not you
are
fine?”
“What?”
I cried, astonished. “What are you saying? That Bill doesn’t care about me?”
“No,
I’m not saying that, I’m just saying . . . I don’t think he, or your friends
for that matter, know you as well as they think.”
“And
what, you do? I’ve known you all of a month,” I retorted.
“I
didn’t need seconds to know you better than them,” he struck back. “And it’s
two months. I saw everything I needed to in that moment at the theater.”
It
was the first time either of us had ever mentioned it and tension noticeably
thickened between us.
“You
are impossible to read if you’re not paying attention, but I am, Olivia. And I
may not know the details yet but
I know
you
.”
I
was completely taken aback. “Ha!” I blurted. “Does that seriously work for
you?”
“That’s fine,” he sat back, unruffled. “If you want a satisfactory marriage
with someone who is incapable of loving you the way you deserve, then that’s up
to you. What can I do about it?” He shrugged his shoulders as I felt my jaw
harden. Nobody had ever spoken to me that way and certainly not about Bill,
who, everyone knew, adored me.
“Satisfactory,”
I cried. “Bill adores me!” was all I could think to say in his defense. “I
don’t know what you’re,” I faltered, completely flustered, “what you’re trying
to pull, but he’s an amazing husband who treats me - ”
He
leaned in and looked me full in the face. “How? How does he treat you?” he
asked, his eyes boring into mine. His voice lowered into an almost whisper.
“You have no idea what I’d do with you.” My legs began to sweat against the
gummy leather, and I shifted in discomfort. I was transported back to the theater,
when the red velvet seats had pricked my thighs and his lingering presence had
clung to me. He was too close and too comfortable.
Could he possibly know me that well?
I asked myself.
No. He knows women that well
.
“I - I . . . ,” I stammered, looking for the
words. The way he looked at me was too much to take, and I fumbled to escape
from the seatbelt.
“Here, let me,” he said coolly, and slipped his
hand down between my thigh and those sticky leather seats. His fingers lingered
for a moment against my bare skin, and I could feel my pulse rising and my
panties moistening. He bent closer so that I could almost touch my lips to his
neck, and his faint earthy scent left me dizzy and pining for more.
He
grazed along my outer thigh as he searched for the release, and it was all I
could do not to shudder. My breath caught in my throat.
Do not squirm, do not squirm. That’s exactly what he wants.
He
pushed the button and the seatbelt jumped into my shaking hands. David leaned
back into his seat and stuck his chin into his hand, looking back through the
driver’s side window. I huffed as I pushed the door open and hastened out.
After
a deep inhale, I leaned over into the car. “Maybe you were right yesterday.
Maybe any type of relationship is impossible,” I said softly.
He
looked over at me with an unreadable expression. “And maybe I’ll skip tonight,”
he said.
I
nodded. “I think that’s best.”
That’s it
,
I thought.
It’s done. Shut the door and
walk away.
And I did.
CHAPTER 2
0
I WOKE UP STILL SHEATHED
in my bath
towel and with my head on a damp pillow. For once I was glad for Lisa’s help,
since it had given me the opportunity to nap. The clock on the nightstand told
me that I needed to get up immediately if I was going to make it on time.
Five more minutes
, I thought, closing my
eyes. I remembered the afternoon. It was an apt ending for a turbulent
relationship.
His
accusations ran through my head, angering me.
How dare he? He’s willing to destroy a marriage, and for what?
It
pained me to wonder if he’d done this with other women. And where were they
now? I couldn’t shake the image of David asking another woman out to dinner,
flirting with her and flashing her that seductive grin.
My
stomach flipped when I thought about the upcoming event. I needed it to go well,
since it was my idea. I wished then that Bill could have made it.
But he would have hated it anyway
, I
told myself. My phone revealed several missed texts from Gretchen and Lucy
confirming our plans for the evening. At least I would have them for support.
~
“What
happened?” Ava squealed when she opened the door to their apartment. Her eyes
shone with excitement as she questioned me about the bruise. I attempted to
give her the shortest version possible. “Then what?” she asked. And then asked
it again.
“I’m
going to let Gretchen know I’m here,” I said finally, desperate to escape. I
followed the sound of her blow dryer and found her bent over, a mass of blonde
hair.
“Gretch!”
I yelled as I stood in the doorway.
She
flipped her head back and looked at me, startled. “Hey,” she screamed over the
noise. She held up her hand. “Five minutes.”
I
dropped on her bed and glanced around the familiar room. It was surprisingly
unremarkable for Gretchen, with just a bed, a dresser and a hamper in the
corner. I picked up
US Weekly
from
the bedside table to scan the first few pages.
“Shoes!”
Gretchen exclaimed suddenly, motioning to my feet.
“Brian
Atwood. A little gift from me to me for all the stress,” I said. “Do not tell
Bill.”
She
dropped her towel. Without her heels and make-up, she seemed smaller than I
ever remembered, but trim too, like she’d been working out more. I watched her
wrap herself in her robe and tried to see her as a lover might. My nagging
suspicion hadn’t gone away. Did David find her attractive?
She
started toward her vanity and paused. “What is that?” she asked, staring at my
face.
I
frowned. Apparently I’d done a poor job of covering it up. I resolved to invest
in better concealer. She was looking at me expectantly.
“Mark
Alvarez again, the guy from Bill’s case.”
“The
guy who confronted you last month? Shit! Are you okay? What happened?”
“Can
I explain when Lucy gets here? It’s a long story.”
“No.”
“I’m
okay, don’t worry. All intact.”
Her
mouth sat open for so long, that I began to count the seconds. She made a noise
finally. “K, but no excuses when she arrives.”
She
sat down at her vanity and shook a bottle of foundation. “How was your week
otherwise?”
“Great,”
I said enthusiastically. Without warning, I began reciting Mack’s e-mail in my
mind, and I shook my head forcefully to make it stop.
“Umm,
okay,” she said with a laugh.
“How
was yours?”
“Mine
actually
was
great . . . Liar,” she
accused. “Our biggest client complimented me in front of my boss - you know
what a witch she can be. Then a headhunter contacted me today. I’m seriously
considering leaving, I mean . . . ”
I
had the sudden urge to hear from her that nothing had happened with David.
Despite his assurance, it still gnawed at me. I squirmed inwardly as she
talked, itching to ask about Friday night. The more I thought about it, the
more it made sense that he must be the surprise guest. A player like him and a
single girl like Gretchen, who always got her way when it came to men. They belonged
to the same social circle - yes, it only made sense. “How was fishing?” she
asked, making a gagging face.
“Fishing?”
I asked. It felt like a lifetime ago, until I remembered it was the same night
as the gala. “The usual,” I said. “Lucy said you had an interesting night?”
“Yes!
I’ll wait ‘til she gets here though,” she said, tenderly brushing blush onto
her cheeks.
“No,”
I demanded, causing her to look at me. “Er, I want to know now, I’m excited.”
“You’re
acting weird,” she said. “Why are you all pitchy?”
“I’m
fine.” There was that word again. I’d never realized how often I said it. “Tell
me about Friday night.”
“Oh
so you can wait but I can’t?”
“I
bet you love telling your story. Mine is just depressing,” I rationalized.
“All
right, but don’t tell Lucy I told you first or she’ll be mad. Guess who I hooked
up with? You never will.”
My
teeth clamped when I experienced the overwhelming feeling that David had lied
to me. Another act in the David Dylan show. My head began to purr with a dull
vibration. Did he actually think I wouldn’t find out? Did he care? Once she
said it aloud though, it would help cut the cord once and for all. Anxiety ate
at my insides and in my head, I screamed at her to spit it out.
“One
of the hottest guys in Chicago,” she continued. “Any guesses?” I wrung my hands
in anticipation. “Even hotter than Frat Guy,” she said, referring to an
infamous one-night stand from college. Her fingers pulled at her lids as she
skillfully smoothed on liquid eyeliner. “Or remember that guy David from Lucy’s
engagement party?” My heart hit the floor and tears pricked my eyes.
How could he -
“Even hotter than him!”
she squealed.
I
released my bottom lip, and a tear made of pure tension fell before I could
stop it. I was overcome with relief, followed by body racking embarrassment.
“Olivia!
What is the matter?” she asked, peering at me in the mirror.
“Nothing,”
I said, furiously wiping at my eye. What was I thinking? I felt ridiculous and
relieved all at once. After last night, I was ashamed at myself. How did I
think I couldn’t trust him? He’d put his life on the line for me. She turned in
her chair, eyeliner in hand, and glared at me.
“Tell
me,” she demanded.
“No,
don’t worry, I’m just PMS’ing,” I lied. “Who’s the guy?”
“Graham
Broderick,” she said flatly. I had ruined her moment. I looked up, racking my
brain. “Here,” she snatched the magazine from my hand and opened it to an
earmarked page. She held it up an inch from my face.
“Oh!”
I exclaimed. “From that movie - what’s it called . . . ? He’s like a real
celebrity! And you’re right, very gorgeous.”
Definitely not hotter than David
, I thought smugly.
“Well,”
she said with a smile, turning back to the mirror. “He was at the event, and my
date knew him from high school. He was totally flirting with me so eventually
we ditched the party, got drunk and ended up back at his lakefront apartment.”
“What
about your date?” I asked, trying to keep my interest level high in an effort
to distract her.
“Oh,
I don’t know. He was just a friend. I left him at the party.” I tsked and shook
my head at her. “Anyway, Graham’s my date tonight, so that should get you guys
some good publicity.” She expertly whisked on mascara, glancing back and forth
between her reflection and me. She screwed the cap back in and came to sit by
me on the bed. “Tell me. What is it?”
I
struggled with myself. If I voiced my feelings for David, they would be real.
And after the way we had left things, I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again
– so did it even matter? What if I were to tell her for nothing?
But
the weight of my rollercoaster feelings since day one had me questioning
everything, and it was beginning to scare me. Since the moment I’d laid eyes on
David, he’d been an inescapable presence in my thoughts.
“I
. . . ,” I paused. “I don’t know how to say this,” I said to myself. “I think
I’m . . . I don’t know. I’m attracted to someone else.”
“Oh,
sweetie, that’s okay. That’s normal.” Relief briefly crossed her face as she
patted me on the knee.
“No,”
I sighed. “I’m falling for this person. I have feelings for him.” It was the
first time I’d let myself think it. And definitely the first time I’d said it
out loud. I didn’t expect it to feel so true. And it wasn’t as ridiculous as
I’d expected. I looked down at my fingers, which I’d wrung red.
“What?”
she breathed, and I wondered if I should repeat myself. “But Bill . . . You
guys are happy aren’t you?”
“Yes,”
I said emphatically. “I think so. Yes. It’s not really about him at all . . . .”
Her composed face did not reveal the judgment I’d expected to see. I reminded
myself that this was Gretchen I was talking to, not just anyone. Lucy,
wholesome and trusting as she was, would have the opposite reaction. “But,” I
started again, feeling the tears returning. “I don’t know what to do. I love
Bill, and I’ve never even felt the urge to be with anyone else. Ever,” I said
with emphasis.