Obsession (25 page)

And Peter had protected me. Could I really fault him taking care of someone I knew was a problem? Even if Peter and I couldn’t be in a relationship, calling the police might have been going too far on my part.

“Did you…did you admit to the police…”

“Of course not. The police held me for hours last night, but I refused to answer any questions without a lawyer. Now they want me to go in to do a police lineup.”

“Now?” I asked.

“Soon. Maybe I will be arrested, for doing the honorable thing.”

Oh, God. If Peter was picked out of a lineup—and he would be—surely he’d be pissed at Marnie.

I couldn’t let her take the fall for the phone call I had made.

“Peter…”

“Yes?”

“I…”
Say it. Deal with the consequences.
“Marnie didn’t call the police. I—I did.”

I closed my eyes. Feared he’d unleash his rage on me. Instead, I heard him softly
tsk.

“
Bella.
Why would you want to hurt me?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, meeting his gaze. “I shouldn’t have. I overreacted. But…you scared me….” My voice trailed off as I began to softly sob.

Peter wrapped his arms around me. “No. It is my fault. You’re right.” He pressed a hand to my belly. “You reacted the way a good mother should. I can never fault you for that.”

I expected Peter’s uncontrollable rage. Not this.

“I’m sorry,
bella.
I hurt you because my feelings for you are so strong.”

He said that as though it excused his behavior, but he didn’t realize that he was verbalizing the exact reason I couldn’t be with him. He was too volatile.

“I will never hurt you again,
bella.
” Peter rested his hands at the nape of my neck. Was he going to strangle me? Finally kill me and be done with it? “But I need to know that you love me.”

“I…I love you.” I felt like I was in a movie, saying words that were scripted for me. I was no longer myself with Peter. Maybe I never had been. I knew I was saying what he wanted to hear, and I didn’t want to test what might happen if I didn’t say what he expected of me.

He kissed me. A hot, wet kiss. Then he pulled my silk nightgown over my head, exposing my naked body.

He was going to make love to me, right here in my matrimonial bed.

I didn’t protest.

Because this was about survival.

I totally let go as Peter and I fucked, sharing my body with him the only way I knew how.

Completely. With abandon.

I didn’t deny my body any pleasure. Nor did I deny Peter any pleasure. Our bodies took over, taking us to the heights of sexual bliss.

For about ten minutes after a serious fuck-fest, Peter and I lay in each other’s arms, our bodies slick, our souls connected the way they always did after we made love. Honestly, I was beginning to scare myself with my wishy-washy feelings. One minute I was sure I didn’t want to see Peter again, but the next…hell, the next I craved his loving like a drug addict craves cocaine.

I had let him bed me because my survival instincts said I needed to do whatever was necessary to make him believe I loved him and wanted to be with him. And yet, once he’d started to make love to me, I had quickly fallen under his sexual spell.

And he was no longer angry. Sex had softened him, and in his arms, I no longer felt afraid. When he left, I would do what I had to do in order to cut him out of my life, but for now, I had helped squash his anger, putting me out of harm’s way in terms of his unpredictable wrath.

I pressed my lips against Peter’s chest and gave his skin a lazy kiss, feeling a modicum of sadness as I did. I had cared for him deeply, shared the most explosive sexual encounters with him. And yet, this was the last time we would be together.

It had to be.

I kissed Peter’s chest again, expecting him to stroke my hair, or kiss my forehead. Instead, he was still and quiet. I sensed a change in him even without looking into his eyes.

I did raise my gaze though, saw something dark in Peter’s pensive expression.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” he began matter-of-factly. “We’re going to get dressed, and then we’re going to the police station. You will tell them that you were the one who called.”

“What?”

“Listen,
bella,
” Peter said sternly. “You will tell them that you called to report me, but you will tell them that you are also a witness. You will tell them that you were with me the night I beat Theodore, but that I did so because he had attacked you.”

I gaped at Peter. “But if I tell the police that, they’re going to wonder why I called to report you in the first place.”

“You’ll tell them we had a fight.”

I didn’t say anything. But I was no longer feeling any sense of sadness over the fact that Peter would forever be a part of my past once we got out of bed.

“And
bella?
”

“Yes?” I met Peter’s gaze. His eyes were void of anything. Vacant, and frightening.

“You need to be convincing. You caused this problem, and you need to solve it.”

There was a distinct threatening undercurrent to Peter’s tone. A do-it-or-else quality.

I was once again plunging downward on this emotional roller-coaster ride of a relationship with Peter. He could go from hot to cold, love to hate in seconds flat. How was it that one minute, as we’d been fucking, he had been eating my pussy and sounding so vulnerable as he begged me to come in his mouth, as if his very existence required that for sustenance? Then he was ordering me to the police station with the kind of coldness that let me know I had no choice in the matter?

Peter released me and got off of the bed. He put his clothes on while I watched him, not moving, not speaking.

“Get up, Sophie. We’re going now.”

I got up.

Did I have a choice?

At the police station, I felt like a complete moron. The kind of person who cried wolf for attention.

“So you’re saying,” the female cop with a severe haircut said, “that you turned this guy in, but that he actually was acting in self-defense when the assault occurred?”

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. Shifted from foot to foot. “That guy was trying to get me to go with him. He’d been rough with me. He’d hurt my friend. He was being an asshole. Peter…he came to my aid.”

The cop looked skeptical. “Then why would you anonymously turn him in?”

I hesitated. Lord, I wished I were anywhere but here. Nothing I said would make any real sense.

“I was mad at him,” I said.

“Pardon me?”

“I was mad at him,” I repeated, louder this time. “I shouldn’t have made the call, but we had a fight. And, uh, I…”

“You what?” the cop prompted.

“I wasn’t thinking. I’m pregnant, and emotional.” I sighed. “I know that’s not an excuse. I was stupid. I’m sorry.”

The cop shrugged. “All right, then,” she said doubtfully. “You’ll sign a statement to that effect? That your boyfriend was acting in self-defense?”

I looked toward the door. Peter wasn’t there. I knew he wouldn’t be, because I was having a private meeting with this cop. Perhaps I could confide in this officer whom I was certain didn’t believe me. Tell her that I was afraid of Peter, and that was why I was changing my story. Beg her to lock Peter up and throw away the key.

But I wasn’t stupid. I understood the way the system worked. If Peter was arrested, he’d get a chance to be bonded out of jail. And if he got bonded out of jail…

He would hurt me. I was sure of it.

No, I couldn’t do what I really wanted to. Not without risking my safety.

My life.

My baby’s life.

“Yes.” I nodded vigorously. “I’ll sign a statement to that effect.”

The cop handed me a sheet of paper and a pen. “You can write your statement.”

I lifted the pen. Placed it on the paper to begin to compose.

“A word of advice. Next time you have a fight with your boyfriend, find another way to lash out at him. If you make a false allegation, you can get into serious trouble.”

“It wasn’t a false—”

“Not entirely. But you didn’t come forward as a witness when you should have.”

I got the point and shut up. The police didn’t appreciate a person playing games, even if she was pregnant and hormonal.

A short while later, I left the police station with Peter. In the car, he gave me a kiss on the cheek and smiled warmly at me.

I forced a smile, though inside, I was tormented. I had written and signed an almost entirely false statement.

You’ve changed.

“Peter,” I said after we were driving for a while. “I need to see my husband. To end it,” I added quickly, when his eyes widened with alarm. “It’s time. I need to tell him. Tell him about the baby. About my…my decision.”

“Of course.” Peter grinned. “I’ll go with you.”

“No.” I linked fingers with Peter and raised his hand to my lips. “I appreciate that you want to be there for me, but I need to do this alone. It’s only fair.”

“I don’t want him to hurt you.”

The way you hurt me when you don’t get your way?
“I’ll do it at his workplace, so I’ll be fine.” I smiled to assure Peter that I was telling the truth. “I’m pregnant with your child. My future is with you. You would never betray me, not the way he did. I know that now.” I was pouring on the lies, making it good. I had to convince him. “You have my love, Peter. Forever.”

Peter’s face filled with warmth as he regarded me. He believed me, thank God.

“Okay,” he said. “I suppose it’s best you see your husband on your own, because I am once again traveling out of town for work.”

“You are?” I tried to sound disappointed.

“Yes. I’m going to Seattle for three days.”

Three days! The words were music to my ears.

“It is a good thing this police matter was resolved, or I might not have been able to travel.”

Peter gave me a pointed look. I caught his meaning. “Yes,” I said. “I’m glad, too.” Even more glad because my statement to the police had enabled him to leave town for a three-day business trip. I would have peace for three whole days.

I was so happy, it might as well have been three years.

“All the ugliness is behind us now,” I said. “We can move forward. Be a family.”

In my driveway, Peter stopped his Navigator and reached for the glove compartment. I sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly worried that he was going to pull out a gun or a knife.

If he did, I was doomed.

But instead, he pulled out a small velvet satchel. He opened the satchel and withdrew a modest diamond solitaire engagement ring.

“This was my mother’s,” he said sadly. “My father spent every penny he had to buy it for her. I wanted to give this to you at another time, but if you are going to see your husband, I want you to wear it. Wear it so he can see that you have found the man of your dreams.”

I swallowed. Peter held the ring out to me, waiting for my permission for him to put it on me.

“Will you marry me,
bella?
”

“Oh, Peter.” I gasped as I offered him my hand. I was giving an Academy Award-winning performance. “Yes. Oh, sweetheart—yes.”

Peter beamed as he slipped the ring on my wedding finger. It was a bit big, but not so much that it would fall off. “I’ll have it resized for you,” Peter said.

“Okay. But not yet. I want to wear it—like you said.”

My words clearly pleased him. Peter kissed me. I put every ounce of myself into the kiss, because it needed to be convincing.

“I love you,
bella,
” he said when we pulled apart. “I’ll call you every day I’m gone.”

“Oh. Peter.” I framed his face. “I love you, too. I’m going to miss you.”

“I will miss you, too.”

I gave him another kiss, then opened the door to get out of his car.

Peter reached for my hand, took it in his.
“Bella?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Make sure you keep a low profile. I want you safe.”

Keep a low profile…What an odd thing to say as his parting words.

And they sounded strangely familiar. But why?

I opened my front door, then turned to wave to Peter, who was waiting until I got into my house. He returned my wave and drove off.

I closed and locked the door, then peered through the door’s side window to make sure Peter didn’t drive back around. I waited twenty minutes, to be sure. I had glimpsed the suitcase on the backseat in his vehicle, so I believed that yes, he was leaving town.

Confident that he was en route to the airport, I went to my bedroom and slumped onto the edge of my bed, the weight of my burden heavy on my shoulders.

I looked down at my hands. Studied the beautiful ring Peter had just given me. I yanked it off of my finger and placed it on my night table.

That’s when I noticed a folded slip of paper with my name written in Andrew’s handwriting.

I lifted the paper and unfolded it.

It was a simple message, but it held meaning for both of us. It was the same message Andrew had put on a bouquet of roses he’d sent me the day he had proposed.

It was the first time in weeks that it hadn’t hurt to hear from Andrew. The first time I’d been able to smile.

I couldn’t help thinking about him and the life we’d had. What had gone wrong? Or had we simply been too young when we’d gotten together? Maybe the answer wasn’t anywhere near as simple as that. I thought we’d both be loyal to each other until death, but he’d been tempted.

I’d been tempted.

Now I knew how easy it was to get caught up in sex with another person. A person you hadn’t vowed to love forever.

For the past several weeks I’d tried to push all thoughts of Andrew and our relationship out of my mind. Peter had been a fantastic distraction, but the awful turn of events with him had me realizing that it was time to deal with my life, not run from it.

If Andrew and I were ever going to get our relationship back on course, the time was now.

If he loved me, he would forgive me, right? The way he wanted me to forgive him?

I had to cling to that thought, because I knew now, without doubt, that I wanted Andrew back in my life. Knowing that he hadn’t hit on Marnie was a huge relief. I did believe that he still loved me, that he’d made the kind of mistake he wouldn’t make again.

I’d made a mistake, too—more than one. I had the child growing in my belly to prove it.

A tear rolled down my cheek. So much had happened in the past month and a half. And maybe there was no going back.

But there was only one way to know. I picked up the phone and punched in the digits to Andrew’s work. But something gnawed at my memory, and I pressed the end button to hang up.

Keep a low profile…Marnie had said that to me while we’d been on the phone the night we’d gone to Illusions. The night Peter had shown up, knowing where I’d be.

Knowing, without a doubt, that I was pregnant.

I know you’re pregnant,
bella.
And I know that
you
know it too.

Oh, my God. A chill washed over me. Did Peter have some sort of listening device in my house? On my phone line?

I couldn’t be sure, but I knew that I couldn’t call Andrew from the house phone. I got my cell phone and went to the backyard. I pulled out a seat at our deck table, then made the call.

After a few minutes, he came on the line.

“Andrew Gibson.”

“Andrew. Hi.”

“Sophie,” he said, mildly surprised.

“I got your notes.”

“I wasn’t sure you’ve been around. You’ve been leaving food for Peaches outside.”

Peaches.
My throat constricted. I would tell Andrew about the cat later.

“I’ve been around,” I said. “Can I see you, Andrew? So we can talk?”

“Of course. When?”

“What about in an hour? I know you’re at work but—”

“That’s fine. I’ll take a break. We can go to the coffee shop across from the hotel.”

“Okay. See you then.”

Andrew’s face lit up when I walked into the coffee shop and saw him, and my heart picked up speed. This was the Andrew I’d fallen in love with. The handsome man with the charming smile, who could, with one look, make me melt.

He stood as I walked toward him and drew me into a hug. “Hello, sweetheart.”

It felt good being in his arms after all this time. Like returning home. “Hi, yourself.”

He took a step backward and spread my arms wide so he could fully see me. His eyes took me in slowly from head to toe. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you.”

Now he pulled me close again, as though he couldn’t bear to let me go. He nuzzled against my cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

My eyes misted, something I didn’t expect. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“It’s okay,” he said, noticing my tears. “It matters that you and I are here right now. That’s what matters, Sophie.”

That was easy for him to say. He didn’t know that I was pregnant.

“Sit,” he said, and gestured to one of the two comfy chairs at the table.

I did, glancing around at the other people nearby. There was no one at the table beside us, and we’d have an adequate amount of privacy.

Still, I kept my voice low as I asked, “Andrew, what happened?” He looked confused, so I said, “How could you have betrayed me and slept with someone else?”

A beat passed. “I was stupid,” Andrew replied. “I’ve already said that.”

“I need more than that, Andrew. Something I can understand. Or are you telling me you were simply tempted, and caved to temptation?”

“Sophie, there’s really no excuse for what I did. Nothing I say can excuse it. Nothing will make it right. I can only tell you that it will never happen again. Ever.”

“Did you feel we drifted apart?” I asked.

“I guess we both got comfortable,” Andrew said. “We loved each other, but we fell into a pattern. The fire burned out. And I…” He sighed. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this. I think I saw you in a certain way, a certain role,” he said, his voice low so no one else could hear. “You didn’t really have any sexual experience when we got married, and neither did I, for that matter. And I kind of had this image of what a wife should be. What she should want to do or not do. I guess because of my own mother. In some ways it’s complicated, and in other ways it’s simple. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I did. Andrew had to be talking about how he viewed me when it came to sex. I knew he’d been raised in a very conservative home, and that neither he nor his two older sisters had been allowed to date until they went to college.

“And with your rape…I always wanted to be sensitive to you.”

“I get that, Andrew. But I’m not a piece of china. I won’t break if you don’t touch me in a delicate way. I know I’ve had my issues when it comes to sex, but I always thought we would get through them—together. I didn’t expect you to screw someone else.”

“Sophie, you’re absolutely right. You didn’t deserve what I did to you.” Andrew’s expression grew somber, resigned. “If you want nothing to do with me, I can’t blame you.”

I sighed softly. “I don’t want that, Andrew,” I said, speaking a truth I hadn’t realized until that exact moment.

“Oh, Sophie.” A glint of happiness sparked in Andrew’s eyes. “I love you so much.”

“If we’re ever going to work things out,” I began, “we need to take things slowly. Start dating again. Spend time together and rediscover what we had.” I paused. “We can figure out if we’re really well suited, or if we should go our separate ways.”

“That’s not what I want,” Andrew said without hesitation. “If my life isn’t with you—”

“I don’t want that, either. But I don’t know if love is enough to keep us together.”

“Is it over with that guy?”

“Yes,” I said. But I thought about the baby. This wasn’t the time to tell Andrew about that.

“Good,” he said. I was surprised that he didn’t have any more questions for me. I’d expected some.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Then why don’t we go out? Get dinner. You name the place.”

I thought for a bit. Then I said, “Surprise me.”

“Surprise you?”

“Uh-huh. I think one of our problems is that we lost the passion in our marriage. We were no longer spontaneous.”

“You’re right,” Andrew agreed. “Okay, I’ll surprise you. I can pick you up—”

“No, I’ll meet you at the hotel. I want to treat this night like I’m a single woman meeting a guy I like for a date. And I certainly don’t want the temptation of our bedroom. We’ll get there…I just…I want to take our time.”

Sex was important. But sex had also steered us both off course.

Andrew and I needed to reconnect on an emotional level. If we could do that, then everything else would fall into place.

“And so you know,” Andrew began, “she’s gone, Sophie.”

I didn’t have to ask who “she” was. I knew. “You fired her?” I asked, surprised.

“No, I didn’t fire her. But I arranged for her transfer. To the resort in North Carolina.”

I took a moment to digest the news. “And she went quietly?”

“She was given a helluva promotion, but at first, even that wasn’t enough. She’s getting a cash settlement. It’s coming out of the hotel’s insurance, for…cases like this. It’s been messy, a headache, and I can’t quite hold my head high at work anymore. But Isabel is gone. I hope she won’t be a problem anymore.”

“So she gets a promotion.” I snorted. “Nice to be rewarded for being such a bitch.”

“It was the only way we could get her to drop the threat of a sexual harassment suit.”

“After she was the one to seduce you!” I gritted my teeth. “Although, if you had just said no…” I stopped myself because I didn’t want the anger to surface again. Even though I wanted to move on, I was pissed at the situation, and still a bit pissed that Andrew had jeopardized much more than our relationship when he’d made the decision to cheat.

“I know that,” Andrew said. “I learned the lesson the hardest way possible. And not because of the humiliation at work, but because I almost lost you.”

“It certainly wasn’t worth it, was it?” I asked, giving him a pointed look. My chest hurt from trying to keep my anger at bay.

“No.” Andrew was quiet for a moment. “Sophie, do you forgive me? I know it’s a lot to ask, but without forgiveness…”

One thing was certain—I had to let go of the anger if we were ever going to move forward. And there was only one way to do that. “Yes, Andrew. I forgive you.”

“Then we have a chance.”