The Lovers (23 page)

“Maybe,” she says grudgingly. She isn't looking at me any more, and I can feel the walls going up around her.

She's angry with me. Half pretending not to be. She pretends a lot. I wonder if that brilliant smile she gave me earlier was even real, or some sort of setup, then hate myself a little for even thinking this.

“What are you afraid of, Audrey?”

She shrugs. “Everything.”

Her answer hits me like a punch to the stomach. It's as though I was the one who said that word. It's as though the last few minutes have been a slowly blossoming epiphany, despite her passive-aggressive behavior. And I'm a little less scared, because she shares that with me.

Still, in the back of my mind is the image of Jack with Viviane. And Audrey. I don't like it.

Is he scared, too? Is his habit of sleeping with everyone merely an escape for him the way books and staying locked in my house have been for me?

But I don't have time to think about it; Audrey takes my hand in hers, and the old heat is there, instantly. She's looking at me, those eyes, that fairy magic, focused on me in such a way, the rest of the world has ceased to exist for her. I understand now that this is part of her power. But I find myself mostly immune to it. Mostly.

She leans in, pulling me closer, and I am surrounded by her
lovely scent, like flowers and citrus and the beach itself. She brushes her lips over mine, whispers, “Come on, Bettina.”

Her lips are soft, sweet. But I pull back. This is not what I want, even though my physical desire for her is still there, sharp and beating like a pulse between my legs. But my head, my heart, knows this isn't right for me.

I smile, and because I don't want to hurt her, reach up and run my hand over her hair. But she pulls away, a sharp, jerking motion. Her dark, elegant brows are drawn together, her lovely red mouth in a small pout.

“What is it with you, Bettina? Don't tell me you don't want me, that the sex isn't good enough, because we both know damn well it is.”

Her eyes are a blue blaze of fury. She's really angry now, full-blown mad, and it makes me want to apologize, which is what I usually do. But I know there's nothing to apologize for. I don't owe her this.

“Audrey, I've wanted you from the moment I met you, I can't deny that. But…my heart is with Jack. And no matter what happens with him, that's where I'm at right now. That's where I want to be.”

“Okay, fine.” Audrey nods her head, takes a step back, frowning. “Whatever. I understand.”

“Do you?”

She smiles, then, all brilliance again, but it's fake, I can tell. Other than the smile, her face is pure stone. “Yes. Absolutely. And I'm happy for you. For both of you. Just watch out for Jack. He's a user, you know. Always has been. He's just like me, Bettina. And I'm not sure you're the kind of girl who can handle it.”

Her words are cruel. I don't believe her. I know she's hurt, feeling rejected. But I know there's no point in arguing with
her. I don't want to do that. I swallow my hurt, look out to sea.

“Just take care of yourself, okay?” she says, her voice a little softer. “Promise me you'll do that.”

“I will. I'm learning how, whether you believe that or not. Being with each of you has taught me something about that.”

I turn to look at her and she just stares at me, her smoky-blue eyes clouded, shuttered. I can't quite fathom what she's thinking at this point. I don't want her to be angry with me. But I'm not going to lie to her, either.

Finally, she shrugs. “I'm going back.”

We move down the beach, a little distance between us as we walk, and it makes me feel sad. She stops to pick up a shell, puts it into my hand, folding my fingers over it. She doesn't say anything, but I feel it as a gift from her. Her not fighting me for Jack is a gift, because I would surely lose.

 

After lunch with the group I go to my cottage, and find Jack waiting for me there. He pulls me into his arms with a growl.

“What took you so long?”

“I was helping clean up. Which you could be better about, Jack.”

“I was much more interested in getting you alone and naked,” he says, nuzzling into my neck.

“I admit that sounds better than washing pots and pans.”

He's dragged me over to the bed, laying me down on my back, his long body next to mine, propped up on one elbow.

“So what else did you do today?” he asks me, and I love this; that he wants to know about my day. It feels so normal.

“I wrote a bit. This book is going okay right now. I'm at that point where it all seems to be falling into place.”

“That's great.”

“Yes. I did a good ten pages, by hand, anyway, on my notepad. I'll type it all up later. And then Audrey and I took a walk on the beach.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. We talked. It was…good, I think.”

“Good.”

He leans in and kisses my neck, his lips soft against my skin.

“Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you talked to her lately?”

“Not much. She's always with Charles.”

“But you have talked.”

“Sure.” He keeps kissing me, but I feel a little cold, suddenly.

“Have you talked to her about…us?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

Why is a knot growing in my stomach?

“Because it's private.” He props himself up to look at me, his eyes dark and mossy. “This is just us, you and me, right?”

“Right.”

“But you're worried about me being with her again? Sleeping with her?” he asks.

“She's just so…beautiful. And special.”

“So are you, Bettina.”

I shake my head. “I don't have what she has, Jack. I'm realistic about that. But then, few people do. Audrey draws people to her like a magnet.”

“Yeah, she does. We've both been drawn in, haven't we?
But everything is temporary with her. We've already talked about that. One moment you're the center of her universe and the next you cease to exist. And I've already told you I'm pretty tired of that shit.”

“Still, it's hard to hold myself up next to that, you know?”

“You don't have to.”

“But I do. I know what I am, Jack—an ordinarily pretty girl who's too shy and lacks faith in herself. I have a good mind, I believe that. But…that's it.”

“Christ, Bettina, why do you do that? Are you trying to make me believe that? Or yourself?”

“It's just what's true. I don't have the Audrey magic.”

“I don't want that from you! It's not even real. She's not quite real.”

I'm quiet a moment, thinking about what he's saying. Wondering how the conversation got here, with Jack angry and me feeling so defensive.

“What do you want, Jack?”

“Christ.”

He runs a hand over his dark hair, his mouth settling into a thin line.

“Jack, you've admitted you still think about her. That's hard for me. And you've also told me from the start that you're as much a free spirit sexually as she is. This thing with you two has gone on for a long time. What's to stop it? And I know about you and Viviane, too.”

I regret those words instantly, but it's too late. I don't even know what point I was trying to make in saying it.

His eyes are darker than ever. Stormy, cold. “Then you know I hurt her.”

I nod. “Yes.”

“That kind of thing is exactly why I know better than to
make you any promises. I don't want to do that to anyone. Not to her, not to you. I'm no good at long-term relationships. The few I've had have always ended badly.”

“Do you mean Sheri?”

“That was the worst of it, but yeah. That taught me to be honest about who I am.”

“Who are you, Jack? What are you trying to tell me?”

He pulls in a breath, blows it out. “I'm selfish, in the worst way a writer can be. I need to lock myself up for weeks at a time and work with no distractions. I'm demanding, the worst kind of creative personality. The classic artistic temperament, right?” He lets out a small, bitter laugh.

“Jesus, Jack, I can say the same for myself.”

He sits up, pushing his back against the pillows at the head of the bed, his gaze somewhere on the wall over my shoulder. I sit up, too, but don't move closer to him. My stomach is churning.

“The difference is that no one in your life nearly died be cause of it, Bettina.”

Shit.

“I know that,” I say quietly.

“And I am my father's son. That's the example I grew up with.”

“You aren't him, Jack. That's such a cop-out. You can choose differently.”

“Maybe.”

“But you're choosing not to.”

“Fuck, Bettina.” His hand is in his hair again in the way he has when he's angry or confused. Defensive. “I don't fucking know what I'm doing.”

Neither do I. All I know is that I want him. That I want what I apparently can't have.

After a while I say quietly, not looking at him because I can't, “Maybe you need to figure that out, Jack.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

A long pause before he gets up and goes to the door while my blood beats in my veins, a hot and unsteady pulse.

“We can…we can talk more later, Bettina. Okay?”

I nod. “Okay.”

What else can I say?

Then he's gone. And I feel as empty as I ever have in my life.

I've spent the rest of the day in bed, pretending to nap in the soft, midday heat. Jack and I have lain together on days like these in this bed, in his, touching and fucking and kissing. Talking. It's too quiet now.

I pick up a book and read the same page over and over as the sun begins to set outside, and soon it's too dark to read, so I put the book down.

They'll be serving dinner up at the main house, but I feel too awful to face anyone. They'll know something is wrong, especially Viviane, and I don't want to talk to anyone about it. Except Jack. But what is there to say?

I feel adrift. Powerless.

Audrey's words come back to me, what she says about not letting anyone have that much power over you. I know she's right. I just don't feel strong enough to fight it. To fight for him. And why should I, if he's not willing?

Maybe because the truth is that I'm stronger than he is? Is that possible?

I roll over and lean off the edge of the bed to open the window. It's cooling off outside. The sun is a burning orange
ball in the distant sky, sinking to meet the darkening crest of the waves. I breathe in the ocean air, letting the salt fill my lungs.

Why the hell should I let him go without a fight? Maybe it's time I fought for something, became braver than that image I've always had of myself, that frightened little girl. Maybe, for once, there's someone who's more afraid than I am.

I get out of bed, slip on a pair of jeans, a light cotton sweater, slide my feet into a pair of sandals. I glance back at the bed, but resist the urge to straighten the rumpled covers, the dented pillows. I don't want to be that person anymore. That's what this whole summer has been about. Now more than ever.

Pulling open the door, I step out into the night, following the path of pebbles that runs between Jack's cottage and mine. It's not quite dark yet, but his porch light is on, burning faintly amber, cutting through the fog that rolls in off the water every evening.

I step closer and see that the front door is partway open, light spilling out, illuminating the edges of the doorway. I move closer still, and blink against that soft light, my eyes, my brain, taking several moments to adjust.

Jack is inside. And in his arms is Audrey. Her dark hair hangs like a curtain of silk down her back, which is to me. Jack is too involved in kissing her to notice me in the doorway. I can see from where I stand, my heart stuttering in my chest, that his brows are drawn together. His hands are on her bare shoulders. And I realize she is topless, wearing nothing but a pair of denim shorts that barely cover the smooth cheeks of her ass. And I think for one stupid moment how sexy she is like this: half-dressed, with her hair loose.

I am an idiot. For too many reasons.

I shake my head, manage to gasp through my constricted throat, “Fuck, Jack.”

His head jerks up, and he pushes Audrey from him to stare at me.

“Bettina…”

I turn and run, down to the beach, toward the crashing, churning waves. Oh, I'm not thinking of jumping in. No, I simply need to get the hell out of there, to breathe. Need the power of the ocean to wash away the hard pit of grief in my stomach.

I reach the sand and sort of fall down. There is too much emotion in my body for me to stand.

Stupid, stupid…

But I shake my head. It's not me who's stupid, goddamn it! It's him.

Fuck.

The tears come then, and I hate them. But I also know they aren't my usual tears of self-pity. It's just grief, just a terrible, weighty sadness. And I know for the first time what it feels like to have my heart broken. But only because, finally, I've given it to someone.

Jack.

A part of my mind is waiting for him to come after me, but I am far too much a realist to think he actually will do that. He'll stay in there with Audrey, continue to sabotage whatever we could have had, because that's how he's set up. He's been honest enough with me about it. I can't expect any more of him; that wouldn't be fair. That wouldn't be realistic.

Sometimes being a realist sucks.

I sit for a long while, watching the moon, the water, the fog sifting through the dark sky. I want to contain my sadness, but I can't do that anymore. And the tears are gentle enough that they feel cathartic. They are gentle because even though this is fucking awful, I understand how much I've learned, from Jack, from Audrey. I can't hate either of them.

I can't hate myself anymore.

Wiping my tears on my sleeve, I breathe in, out, trying to calm myself, and I even manage to do it after a while. Finally, the tears stop.

The sky is dark now, inky all over, except for the nearly full moon. And where it touches the water, reflecting, it gives just enough silvery light to see by. I lie back in the sand, which is still warm from the day, allowing my brain to empty, hoping for peace, and finding a little of it in that bottomless arc overhead.

The ocean's throaty roar fills my ears, and it's comforting, as though the sound itself is a blanket, holding me on the earth. It helps to make the inside of my head quiet. I am soothed by earth and water, and this is exactly what this place has been for me since I arrived, despite what I'm feeling now, the confusion I've been through. And I'm grateful.

But I'm still angry.

I realize it is possible to be all these things at once.

“Bettina?”

His voice is like a fine, smoke-deep whiskey, just as it was the first time I heard it.

I take in a long breath before I sit up, and he kneels down on the sand next to me. I can see the glittering dark of his eyes as he looks at me. He reaches to brush sand from my back, and I want to just sink into him and enjoy his touch. But I can't do it.

“Fuck you, Jack,” I say quietly.

He exhales, a slow breath. “You have every right to be angry.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I need to explain.”

“No, you don't. I understand, Jack. You've been perfectly
honest with me. I don't have to like it. I don't have to like
you
right now. But you don't need to explain anything to me.”

“Damn it, Bettina. I do.” He grabs my arm, holds on tightly enough to hurt. His eyes are a pair of blazing beacons in the dark, the moonlight catching them as it does the waves.

I sit up straighter. “What could you possibly have to say to me, Jack?”

“That what you saw was a fucking mistake.”

“Yes, it was.”

My stomach is roiling, my pulse hammering. The anger is making me stronger, and I let it flow through me like a burning tide.

“No. That's not what I mean. I mean it wasn't what it looked like. Not exactly.”

“Not exactly? Are you kidding me?”

“Will you just listen to me, Bettina? Just listen? Because there's more to tell you.”

I exhale on a sigh. “Okay. Okay.”

He lets his hand drop away, moving to grasp the back of his neck in his palm.

“Audrey came to me tonight. And we were talking about…about you. About us. She reminded me how alike we are, Audrey and me. That neither of us is about to change and that I have to accept that the way she has about herself.”

“That's bullshit.”

Oh, I'm really fuming now.

“Yeah. Maybe. But an hour ago I wasn't seeing it that way. All I could see was the truth in what she said. The truth I've believed most of my life. She talked about how maybe we belonged together, she and I, that we deserve each other in some perverse way, and that made sense to me.”

“That's bullshit, too.”

He's massaging the back of his neck, his head down.

“Yeah.” He raises his gaze to mine, then, looking right at me, right through me. I can feel it, even in the dark. “You make me realize that, Bettina. How much of my self-perception is bullshit. A cop-out, as you said before.”

“But when you're with Audrey you believe whatever she tells you?”

“No. No. Well, maybe for a few minutes. Because her message is my own, and that's powerful. It's carved into my brain. That I don't have enough to offer you, or anyone.”

“You know what I think, Jack? I think you use your history as an excuse not to admit to your feelings, not to grow as a person. And believe me, I know, because that's exactly what I've done for most of my life. But not anymore. Not for me. And if that's where you're at, then maybe Audrey is right. You should be with her. Maybe you do deserve each other. Because I deserve better.”

I wait for him to argue the point, but he's dropped his gaze once more, his hand still at the back of his neck.

“Fuck, Jack. That's what I thought.”

I get up and head for my cottage, my heart a terrible, keen ache in my chest. I don't bother to look back to see if he's following me.

My cottage is too damn lonely; I feel that the moment I step inside. I turn around and go up to the main house, almost too numb to cry. Wanting only to be more numb still.

It's quiet in the kitchen as I let myself in through the back door. There's a small light on above the stove. I find a half-empty bottle of Cabernet on the counter, open it and look for a glass.

“Want some company, Bettina?”

Viviane.

I start shaking then. Something about her gentle voice loosens me up inside. I grasp the glass and turn to her silently.

“Oh, honey.”

She comes to me and takes me in her arms. She's soft and safe, and I need this so much, just to feel loved. And I do.

“Viviane…he…God, I don't know where to begin.”

“You don't have to, babe. I understand.”

“It fucking hurts.”

“Yes, it does.”

She's rocking me as we stand there, and I realize suddenly what this must be like for her, having been hurt by him herself.

I pull back a little, wipe my streaming eyes.

“I'm sorry, Viviane. I forgot that you and Jack…Audrey told me…”

“It's okay. It was a long time ago. He helped me to get over losing Malcolm. It's really fine now, I promise. Come on, let's sit down.”

She takes my hand, the bottle of wine, and I'm still gripping my glass. We sit in front of the empty fireplace in the great room at one end of the big, cozy kitchen. Viviane pours the wine for me, puts the glass back into my hand.

“You know…” Viviane pauses, waits for me to swallow my wine. “I've never seen Jack look at anyone the way he looks at you. Not even Audrey. He's different with you. Different than he was with me. With me, I always knew it wasn't permanent.”

“I'm sorry, Viviane.”

“Don't be. We had a lovely summer. But Jack is special, isn't he? No one can resist him. You've seen how Leo follows him around like a puppy. He was hard to give up, but I got over it. Well, mostly. There's some tiny bit that lingers, that comes alive when I see him for the first time each year. It's like a small splinter permanently buried under my skin. But it goes away more quickly each time. And now it's really nothing
more than an uncomfortable moment. So, please, don't feel that you have to apologize to me, Bettina. I never really loved Jack. Not the way you do.”

“Is it that obvious?”

She smiles, nods. “No more obvious than that he loves you back.”

“No, I don't think so.”

“He hides it well. He's good at that. But I've known him a while. And I can see it, even if he can't.”

“That's the problem, Viviane. I need to hear it from him. And if he can't see it, if he's not willing to, then what chance do we have? I'm not going to beg him to love me. I shouldn't have to.”

“No, you're right. I'm sorry, babe. I'm sorry he's hurt you. But, Tina, you are so much stronger than you were when you came here. And I'm glad to see it.”

There are still tears in my eyes, but I smile through them. “So am I.”

We sit quietly together while I finish my wine. After a while I grow sleepy, from the wine, perhaps, but also from the emotional toll of the day. Viviane hugs me, gives me a good-night kiss on the cheek, and I wander back outside, following the path to my cottage. I swing the door open.

Jack.

He looks completely disheveled, his dark hair spiky from running his hands through it. And even now I can't help but appreciate the way his low-slung cargo shorts hang on his narrow hips, the tight span of his white, V-neck T-shirt across his chest, his broad shoulders. Angry or not, he is still beautiful to me.

“I was looking for you,” he says.

“It took you a while, Jack. I've been up at the house for over an hour. And I was on the beach for probably an hour,
too, before you came after me. Is this all you've got, Jack? Am I some sort of afterthought?”

“No. Of course not. Christ, Bettina, this is hard for me.”

“Forgive me if I'm not too sympathetic.”

My eyes are damp again, and it's pissing me off, all of this crying.

“Okay. I deserved that.”

“Yes.”

He steps closer and I have to steel myself not to draw back. My body wants this closeness too much, and it's terrifying.

“Bettina,” he starts again, “I'm sorry.”

“Okay. That's a start.”

“I understand that I betrayed you. Even though we've had no agreement about exclusivity I…I betrayed my own feelings for you. You're right. I've been a fucking coward. I've hidden behind excuses that have sounded perfectly sane to me all these years. Until now.”

He takes another step, until he's close enough that I can feel the heat of his body. I realize I'm still holding the brass doorknob in my hand, the metal cool and hard in my palm. I can't speak. I don't know what to say yet.

“I am so goddamn sorry.” His voice is heavy with emotion, and he takes a moment, swallows hard. “And you should know that I sent her away. That Audrey came to me and I followed her lead for a minute or two, but when you came in and I saw the look on your face, the hurt, I knew I'd gone too far in a direction I really didn't want to take. And I'm sorry, I'm fucking sorry, Bettina, that I didn't run after you. But I had to think. There is so much going through my brain and I don't know how to handle it. This is all new territory for me.”