Obsession (21 page)

The next day, a deliveryman came to my door with a huge arrangement of red roses. My first thought was that they were from Andrew.

And then I opened the card.

I didn’t call.

I did, however, want to call Marnie. Wanted to share with her what had happened last night at Peter’s place. But I stopped myself from doing so, because I didn’t want to hear her chastise me for having changed and not listening to her when she’d tried to warn me about Peter.

I looked down at my left thigh, fingered the bruise where my keys had hit me. What I needed ultimately was to spend some time alone with my thoughts. Try to get some perspective on my relationship with Peter.

Think was all I could do that night, and by the next morning, I was still confused. While I’d originally been terrified that Peter could put his hands on me in anger, I’d softened somewhat, accepting that even the best person in the world could lose emotional control. I know I’d wanted to claw out Andrew’s eyes for hurting me.

But despite being able to allow for Peter’s momentary outburst of anger, I was wondering more and more if it wasn’t best to cool things off completely with him. Our relationship had begun with lust and heat, perhaps too much for either of us to handle.

The next day, a courier arrived with an oversize card from Peter professing his undying love for me, and once again asking me to call him.

I was tempted. In fact, a big part of me missed him and I
did
want to call.

But I didn’t.

The phone woke me up after eleven that night. I’d been sleeping, but bolted upright and grabbed the receiver from the night table beside my bed.

“Hello,” I said groggily.

A beat. Then,
“Bella.”

Peter’s soft voice made the anger and uncertainty I’d felt start to ebb away. “Hi.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was very stupid and very wrong.”

I didn’t say anything.

“I hate arguing. I reacted badly. Like a jerk.”

The edges of my lips began to curve in a smile.

“Are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” I said softly. “And I’m sorry, too. I got to your place in a bad mood, and that didn’t help anything.” It was true. What Marnie had said had weighed heavily on my mind as I’d gone to Peter’s place that night, and in retrospect, I think I’d gone there pissed and wanting to prove that he wasn’t in any way controlling me.

“I miss you,
bella.
”

“I miss you, too,” I found myself saying.

“So everything’s okay between us?” Peter asked.

“Yeah.” The word seemed to escape on its own.

“Will you come over tomorrow evening?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” I could hear the smile in Peter’s voice.
“Buona notte, bella.”

“Good night,” I echoed in English.

I was grinning as I replaced the receiver.

No sooner had I hung up than the phone rang again. I quickly snatched up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Why don’t you come over tonight?”

“Right now?” I asked, already feeling a rush of desire.

“Yes, right now.”

“I’m on my way.”

I was at Peter’s place within half an hour, and we fell easily back into our world of hot and frequent sex. Once again, I felt like everything between us was right, and that I was right where I needed to be.

Peter had to be up for eight, so by one-thirty, we were finished having sex and lying in each other’s arms. I thought I’d sleep the entire night, but shortly after six, I was up.

And puking in the toilet.

Peter came into the bathroom with me, rubbed my back while I sat hunched over the toilet. Only when the wave of nausea passed did I get to my feet and head to the sink.

Peter turned on the water, and I splashed it over my face, then drank some. “Ugh, I must be coming down with something. I hope you don’t get it.”

“Maybe you’re pregnant,” Peter said.

My eyes flew to his. “Oh, God. Don’t say that.”

Peter didn’t say anything for a moment as he studied me. “Would that be so bad?” He looked hopeful. “If you had my baby inside you?”

“I can’t get pregnant now, Peter. I have work, which will be starting soon. And…I’m still officially married, you know…”

His hopeful look disappeared instantly, replaced by something dark. Angry. “So you’re concerned about how this will affect your divorce—or how it might upset your husband?”

I didn’t like Peter’s tone or his body language, and I didn’t answer. But I found myself wondering why I’d gone against my judgment last night when I’d figured I should keep my distance from him. How could I feel so comfortable in his arms only hours ago and now be feeling wary in his presence?

“I think I’m just sick, that’s all. I’ve been feeling a little off for a few days now.” Which was true, though I hadn’t felt feverish. And the nausea seemed to come and go, sometimes when I smelled certain foods. Like eggs. And chicken. And, oddly enough, steamed asparagus.

Oh, God.
Was
I pregnant?

How could I have been so stupid?
I chastised myself. Getting caught up in the moment, letting Peter fuck me without protection at least twice? Not only did I know better, that kind of behavior wasn’t like me.

“Come here,
bella.
” Peter wrapped an arm around my waist and drew me to him. I let him hold me, let him stroke my hair.

Suddenly, he squeezed one of my breasts, and I yelped.

Now Peter grinned. “Your breasts are more sensitive than normal. And they’re heavier. Yes, bella…I think you’re carrying my baby.”

Peter kissed my cheek, then led me to the bed, where he tucked me under the covers. He was smiling the entire time, as though he was the happiest man in the world. I forced a smile as well, but inwardly, I felt a sense of dread.

Please, God—don’t let me be pregnant.

Sending up a prayer was likely blasphemous under the circumstances, but I did it nonetheless. I didn’t want to be pregnant with Peter’s baby.

Peter got into bed beside me, and gently placed a hand on my stomach. “I’m going to take care of you for the next nine months.”

The walls were closing in. I was feeling trapped.

“I want you to stay here while I go to work,” Peter said. “I want you home when I return. I will take care of you.”

A simple statement…but was it a statement, or an order? Once again, I was getting that gnawing feeling in my gut that Peter was trying to control me.

“I have to go home and see if Peaches came back,” I told Peter.

“Forget about the cat,” Peter said in an annoyed tone. “You’ll never find her.”

I gaped at him. “That’s not a nice thing to say.”

“I think some well-meaning family took her in.” His tone was warmer again. “I’m sure she’s fine. How can you worry about a cat when you’re about to have a baby?”

My stomach twisted. Nausea, or dread? “We don’t know that that’s true.”

Peter kissed my lips slowly and passionately while rubbing my belly. “I do,” he said when he ended the kiss. “My mother said that my father was the one to realize she was pregnant the first time. And
bella,
you’re pregnant.”

I’m not sure when I drifted off to sleep, but when I woke up again it was after ten and Peter was gone.

Even as I’d slept, I’d dreamed about his words.
I want you here when I get home.

He wanted me around always, hardly liked to let me out of his sight. It wasn’t normal, even if he lusted after me with the unbridled passion of a teenager. His love for me was smothering me—and if I was pregnant…

“How could you have been so stupid?” I asked myself. The thought that I might be pregnant made my head throb, it was so distressing. So distressing that I told myself not to entertain the idea of being with child. Not even consider it as a possibility.

But that was easier said than done. My breasts
were
tender. Was Peter right? Was I going to have a baby?

A baby would tie me to Peter indefinitely, something that suddenly seemed terrifying. If he was already smothering me with his intense feelings, what would happen with a child in the mix?

Hot sex I could handle. His love I could deal with, even if I was still married to Andrew. But his need to control me?

No way in hell.

I lay in Peter’s bed and tried to imagine what life would be like with him and a baby. Would he freak out if he came home from work and I’d gone with the baby to the mall? Would he call numerous times a day to check up on me?

It would happen. I knew it would.

And knowing that helped me make an instant decision. I couldn’t continue a relationship with Peter, not for another second. I needed to end things with him, do it cold turkey.

I felt a pressing urgency to get out of his apartment as fast as I could, so I got up, got dressed, and headed for the door. But before I left, I decided to write him a note.

It was the chicken shit way to end a relationship the way his ex-girlfriend had done. But now I understood the woman’s reasoning. Instinctively I knew I couldn’t have this conversation with Peter face-to-face. Especially not now that he believed I was pregnant.

He wouldn’t
let
me go. That’s why I couldn’t give him a choice.

I found a piece of paper and a pen, and began to write.

I frowned as I reread my note, not knowing if I’d chosen the right words. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I also didn’t want him believing I’d be coming back.

I decided to leave the note as it was. Then I left for home, hoping Peter would accept my decision.

I should have known better.

Before I even got to my house, my cell phone rang. Peter’s number was illuminated on the caller ID.

How the hell did he already know I wasn’t at his place? That fact alone told me that I’d done the right thing by leaving. Peter wasn’t giving me any room to breathe.

Onyx greeted me when I got to the door. I lifted the kitten and nuzzled her nose against mine.

Peaches hadn’t returned, but I put new food and fresh water in her bowls on the porch. Peter’s comment that maybe a well-meaning family had taken her in had got me thinking. Maybe a kid had found her. Peaches was very friendly, the kind of cat who would roll onto her back and offer strangers her stomach to rub. Andrew and I liked to joke that she thought she was a dog.

It was time I made some posters and put them throughout the neighborhood. If someone had given her a home, thinking she was stray, surely he or she would return her once they saw that Peaches actually had a loving owner.

But first, I went to bed because fatigue got the better of me. When I woke up, it was after noon.

I forced myself out of bed, feeling unusually groggy. I got the coffee brewing and considered making eggs. But the thought alone made my stomach churn, so I opted for toast instead.

My coffee in hand, I went to the computer and set about designing a poster with Peaches’s picture. Satisfied, I printed off fifteen posters. Then I ambled into the kitchen and called Marnie. Maybe she’d come over and help me put up the posters.

And help me with something else.

“Marnie?” I said softly when she answered the phone.

“Sophie.” She paused. “Long time.”

“I know. I know.”

“What’s going on?”

I swallowed. “I’m wondering if you’re still my best friend.”

“Sophie, you know I’ll always be your best friend. Even if you put me on the back burner because of a man.”

“I’m sorry. I really am.” I started to softly cry.

“Hey,” Marnie said. “Sophie, I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Maybe I did,” Marnie said honestly. “But I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. Look, I’ve been busy too.”

“I ended it with Peter,” I said, getting to the real issue I wanted to talk about.

“You did?”

“He was smothering me, and I thought…I don’t know. But a few days ago he put his hands on my neck and—”

“What?”

“He didn’t really hurt me, but I knew then it was over. He was jealous about Andrew and even accused me of lying about being raped.”

“Sweetie, why didn’t you call?”

“Because I didn’t want you to say
I told you so.
”

“Oh, Sophie.” Marnie blew out a loud breath. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could call me. No matter what’s going on, you can always turn to me, you hear?”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “He scares me, Marnie. He took my keys the other day so I couldn’t leave. That’s not normal.”

“Jesus.”

“I don’t know if it’s that he’s just insecure because he thinks I’ll go back to Andrew…”

“Girl, trust your instincts. Once I realized Peter was trying to keep you all to himself, I started to get a bad vibe about him. I still think he beat up Teddy.”

A thought entered my mind then—what Peter had said about his cat in Italy.

I drowned the bastard when it scratched me.

“Sophie?”

“Peter once told me that he drowned his cat. Then he said he was joking. But…Peaches is missing.” I stifled a moan. Had I printed the posters for nothing? Would Peaches never be found? “Maybe I’m stretching here, but…he never liked me coming home to feed my cat. Do you think he could have done something to her, just to make sure I could always be with him without distraction?”

“It sounds crazy,” Marnie said. “But who knows?”

Conflicting thoughts went through my mind.

Peter was dangerous.

I was overreacting.

He was insanely jealous, even of my cat.

I was jumping to a ridiculous conclusion.

With the phone at my ear, I paced the kitchen. That’s when something caught my eye. A bouquet of lilies on the living room coffee table. “Marnie, hold on a second.”

I put down the receiver and walked into the living room, my stomach fluttering a little. The bouquet was absolutely stunning.

My hand instantly went to the small envelope amid the bouquet. I opened it and read the card.

I held the card to my heart, my chest tightening with emotion. I was completely torn. I loved my husband, but a part of me hated him for what he’d done to me. To our marriage.

And yet, the flowers stirred feelings within me that I’d all but repressed in the past month. I couldn’t remember the last time Andrew had sent me flowers. And I appreciated the simple message. It reminded me of the Andrew I’d started dating ten years earlier, the one who was gentle and thoughtful and knew that a kind word or gesture could make my day better.

It was what I’d needed at the moment—from a place I hadn’t expected.

My phone rang at least once every twenty minutes for the next three hours, each time the caller ID displaying Peter’s cell number. Sometimes the calls were one right after another. Peter had to be at work, so how on earth did he have the time to call me so damn much?

Shortly after four, my doorbell rang. Wary, I moved quietly to the door and peered through the peephole. I saw a man holding a clipboard and a small package.

I opened the door.

“I have a delivery for Sophie Gibson.”

“That’s me.”

The man extended the small box to me. “Sign here, please.”

I signed, then retreated into the house and opened the package.

I gasped when I opened the box. Inside was a necklace.

I love you, bella,
the accompanying note said.

How had Peter arranged to send this to me in the hours since I’d left his place? He must have called the store where he’d bought my earrings, since I could tell right away that the necklace matched them exactly.

I wanted to pull my hair out. I was home barely four hours and Peter was already freaking out, sending me a stunning piece of jewelry to ensure he wasn’t losing me.

What would he do when he got home and saw the note?

I suddenly regretted writing it, fearing how unstable he might get after reading it.

I called Marnie but didn’t get her, not even on her cell. I left a message that she needed to call me back as soon as she got the message.

“What’s going on?” Marnie asked me when she called me an hour later.

So I told her. Told her that Peter had been calling pretty much nonstop, how he’d sent me a piece of jewelry that would have any other woman melting, but instead was pushing me away even more.

“What do I do, Marnie? If I keep the necklace, he’s going to think—”

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks. You can’t call him back. That’s what he wants. You have to cut the ties, cold turkey.”

The urgent pounding on my door made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

Peter?

“Marnie, someone’s pounding on my door. I bet it’s Peter.”

“I’ll stay on the line.”

More pounding. My kitchen phone wasn’t cordless, and I slowly lowered it so that it hung nearly to the floor.

My heart racing, I made my way to the door. Opened it and saw Peter standing there, looking harried.

“You left me,” he said. “You said you’d never leave me, but you left me.”

I didn’t know what to say. I only knew that every cell in my body was afraid.

Peter stepped into my house without an invitation, looking inside suspiciously as if he expected to see someone else inside. Something about his body language set me on edge.

“I thought you loved me,” Peter said.

“Peter, I’ve got to deal with my marriage. I can’t keep…having an affair.”

“An affair? Is that what you think this is?”

“That’s the legal definition.”

“Why are you worried about legal definitions? We have found each other. We have something special. I don’t care that you’re married.” Peter’s eyes suddenly widened with understanding. “Your husband. He’s threatening you. What is he going to do—leave you penniless?”

“No, it’s not that.”

“I have money,
bella.
We can buy a place, maybe somewhere else. Miami, if you want. Or we can move to another state. If it’s your husband you want to escape—”

“Stop, please,” I said. “Peter, you know I’m not feeling well.”

“I know. I was worried about you. I called and called, but you didn’t answer. The moment I got my lunch break, I went home to take care of you, and you were gone. I saw your note.” He paused. “I wanted to come over right away but I needed to get back to the set, so I called the jewelry store and got the necklace sent to you. I hoped it would show you how much you mean to me. I hoped after you opened it you would return to our home.” He took a much-needed breath. “I don’t want you running back here every minute. Once your husband learns you’re carrying my child, what if he hurts you?”

“Peter, I really doubt I’m pregnant.” I said the words, hoping they were true.

“I bought a test. You can take it now. We can know for sure.”

“No,” I said. I didn’t want to take a pregnancy test with Peter around. Something told me that if he learned I was pregnant, he would become more demanding, insisting I live with him. Not wanting to let me out of his sight.

And what I needed was time—time to figure out what I was going to do—
if
I was pregnant.

“Why not?” Peter asked.

“I was just about to put up some missing posters of Peaches.”

“The cat, the cat! Forget about the fucking cat.”

“No, I’m not going to forget about my cat.”

“Are you planning to kill my baby?”

“I’m not pregnant. I’m certain I’m not.” I needed Peter to believe that, because otherwise, he would never leave me alone.

“Come home with me,” Peter said.

“No.” I spoke quickly. Perhaps too quickly. “I—I just want time to think. I need to figure out what I’m going to do…about my marriage.”

“You mean how you will break the news to your husband that you will be divorcing him.”

I looked into Peter’s eyes, saw his expectation, and knew I couldn’t say anything to the contrary. He had to believe I would still be a part of his life, or he would never walk out my front door.

So I lied. “Yes.”

My answer seemed to appease him, proving my instincts right. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “Sometimes I feel you’re slipping away from me. I’ve told you so many times that I love you, but you say nothing in return.”

I said nothing.

Something stirred in Peter’s dark eyes. Doubt. Then anger. “You’re lying to me,” he suddenly said. “You don’t need time. You
are
still fucking your husband.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Is it his baby inside you,
bella?
”

I didn’t answer the question, instead asking one of my own. “Why are you being like this? This is what’s bothering me, Peter. You’ve changed into someone I don’t know. Someone who’s possessive. Someone who scares me.”

I hadn’t meant to say the last part, but once I had, I knew I’d said the wrong thing. I saw it in the way Peter’s eyes narrowed, the way his lips tightened. He was furious.

And I
was
scared.

“I told you I would never hurt you,” he said, his voice low. And then suddenly, he knocked the flower vase off the table in my foyer—the roses he’d sent me—and the glass shattered on the tile floor with a loud crash.

I screamed. His hand flew to my neck and he squeezed. Hard. “But that was when I believed that you would never betray me! You
whore!”

“Peter,” I managed, my voice squeaky because he was squeezing my larynx. “You’re hurting me.”

He held me. Glared at me.

“Peter…”

Abruptly let me go. “Look what you made me do. You’re making me crazy.”

Crazy was right. Tears filling my eyes, my hand went to my injured neck.

“I’ve done nothing but love you,” he said. “I would do anything to make you happy,
bella. Anything.
”

“I haven’t betrayed you.” My voice was weak, filled with emotion.

“Then marry me,” he said.

I gaped at him, baffled. “One minute you’re calling me a whore,” I said slowly. “The next you want to marry me?”

“Even if you are not pregnant, what are we waiting for?” Peter asked as though he hadn’t lost it moments earlier. “My parents got married after three weeks. They loved each other until they died together.”