Past Midnight (34 page)

She never let him. She kept him trapped in his own guilt, scratching in the dark for a way out, any way out, reduced to begging for a touch.

That was what he could never forgive her for.

IN SILENCE, THEY WAITED FOR THEIR SUITCASE TO BE UNLOADED from the baggage car. The lights of the sleeping compartments illuminated the station platform. There was no snow on the ground in Reno, but it was freezing at a little after five, night having fully descended. Erin watched her breath puff in the cold air as she wrapped her jacket closer around her.

Dominic spotted the case and yanked it upright, then pulled out the handle. He rolled it away without saying a word to her. Erin had to skip to catch up. They entered the crowded elevator with the other passengers, then followed them off and headed out of the station like cattle. Dominic marched right past the cab stand.

“Aren’t we getting a cab?”

He pointed as he reached the corner and punched the WALK button on the traffic light. Their hotel’s sign glittered half a block down, close enough to walk.

Before she’d fallen asleep on the train, she’d felt him get up. When she woke, they were pulling into the station, and Dominic was wordlessly yanking their belongings from the overhead rack.

Why was he so angry? She’d had sex with another man just the way he’d wanted her to. He’d had a fantastic orgasm, too.

The light changed, and he started across the intersection, the suitcase bumping and rolling behind him.

She’d been tired, a little weirded out at what they’d done, and she was afraid someone had heard. Walking through the train cars to get back to their seats, she’d felt as if everyone was staring. Like the couple that comes out of the same bathroom on the plane and everyone knows they’ve just joined the mile-high club. Okay,
she’d
never seen anything like that, but it had to happen. Otherwise there wouldn’t be a mile-high club. And well, she felt strange about having just fucked another man. About letting him lick her husband’s come right out of her pussy. About
liking
that he did it and having yet another mammoth orgasm. But she’d had fun and she’d told Dominic so.

It wasn’t enough for him. He’d wanted more; he’d wanted it all right then. They were so different. She needed time to process, come to terms with it,
handle
it so she didn’t completely freak out later on. But he wanted it now. God, their timing was always so
off
.

She followed him through the casino to registration. Everything was flashing neon and indistinguishable noise, and though there were separate smoking sections, a haze permeated everything. The old-style slot machines with handles were gone, replaced with electronic ones, where all you did was push a button, but there were still flashing lights and bells and the sound of coins chinking everywhere.

At the reception desk, they had to wait five minutes for an available attendant, then Dominic tossed his credit card on the counter. He was polite, but not his usual friendly self. Dominic could talk anyone into anything, always getting extras, just because he was nice and chatty and good-natured. Tonight, he was Mr. Stone-Face.

Okay, in the room, she’d be ready to talk about it, to give him exactly what he wanted from her, to tell him that the whole episode was hot and sexy, that she’d do it again if he wanted her to.

Erin closed her eyes a moment as she waited a foot or so to his left and one pace behind. It had definitely been hot, exciting. If she tossed out all the shoulds and shouldn’ts and had-anybodyheards, it had been incredible.

She could feel Dominic’s mouth on her, his fingers inside her, and all that sleek, hard flesh pumping her mouth. The salty taste of pre-come. Craig had smelled like soap, and the smooth feel of his balls had been amazing. She wanted Dominic to shave just like that.

Then the actual sex, first riding Craig, slowly over her G-spot until he couldn’t take anymore, Dominic’s fast hard fuck against the bunk, the differences in their textures, their scents, their tastes, the feel inside her. Finally, Dominic’s touch on her as they’d watched Craig lapping at her pussy. Oh, yes, it had been out of this world.

“Are you coming?”

Dominic’s voice jerked her out of the reverie. He was already walking toward the bank of elevators.

She’d done what he wanted. Fucked another man, sucked him, laid herself bare. She shuddered. God. She’d really done those things.
All
those things over the last few weeks. Total debauchery. Her breath seized in her chest as if she’d been living in a dream and suddenly found herself thrust back into the real world.

She’d done it
all
for him. Because he’d wanted her to. Because he’d sanctioned it. But, dammit, she never seemed to get it right, never gave him exactly what he needed. Why couldn’t they get this right? Was it her never giving enough? Or him always expecting more than what she had.

The elevator dinged just as she reached him, and he entered the empty car without holding the door, forcing her to throw out her arm to catch it herself.

The tiny cubicle was so quiet, she could have shattered eardrums with a scream. On the fifth floor, he exited, glanced at the packet with the card keys and room number, then followed the signs. Halfway down a hall, he stuck the plastic in a lock and shoved the door open with his foot.

Through the open curtains, neon flashed across the darkness of the carpet and bedspread. Dominic punched on the overhead light. The room was just a room.

Then Erin saw herself in the mirror on the closet door. God, she hadn’t even combed her hair back in place. Her lipstick was gone, her mascara smudged beneath her eyes. There was a light stain on her shirt right over her nipple.

Jesus, what had other people thought?

Dominic tossed the suitcase on the bed and unzipped it. Still without a word to her.

She couldn’t stand it anymore. Turning, she threw up her hands. “Aren’t you even going to speak to me?”

He looked up. “See how it feels to be shut out?”

“I did not shut you out. I’ve been trying to talk to you since we got off the train.”

He gave her a look. They said women were so good at the
look
, but Dominic had it down. A weaker woman would have withered, but she was starting to get pissed off.

“You damn well know I’m not talking about the last fifteen minutes. I’m talking about the last year.”

She didn’t want to discuss the last year. “Let’s talk about
now
,” she ground out. “I did exactly what you said you wanted. I fucked him. You wanted to see it, and I did it.” She marched to the bed, trying to be strong, and grabbed stuff out of the case, her cosmetics bag, pajamas, underwear.

“You wanted it, too, Erin. You had the best orgasms of your life.” Carrying the sexy scarf dress he’d bought her at the resort, he hung it in the closet, stood staring at it for a long moment as if remembering everything they’d done in the hot tub. “You loved it, you know you did,” he said softly. Then he glanced up at her. “But you want to blame me for making you do it because it’s easier than admitting you wanted to.”

She stomped past him in the small narrow hallway and dumped her vanity bag on the bathroom counter. “I’ve never blamed you for anything.” But she
had
blamed him, not just for this. She swallowed, prickles of unease raising goose bumps along her arms. She wasn’t going there with him, though, not now. “Look,” she said, much more gently. “Let’s not fight. It’s New Year’s Eve. We should try to have a good time.”

He stood at the bathroom door, his face a dark glower. “We can’t have a good time. We can only have highs followed by deep lows.”

“That’s not true.” She took things out of the bag, laid them by the sink, her lotion, moisturizer, hair spray.

When she turned, he blocked her way out. “You blame me,” he stated flatly.

She swallowed, gritted her teeth. “I don’t blame you. I enjoyed what we did in Orlando, and with Shane, and on the train. Everything.” She drew a deep breath, knowing it wasn’t what he meant, but hoping he’d accept it. “But sometimes after doing a thing like that, you step back and actually look at yourself and wonder how the hell you could have done it. I just need to process this, that’s all.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

But she went on as if he hadn’t interrupted, staring at all her personal sundries on the countertop. “I have to assimilate everything, get used to, accept it. That always takes me longer than it does you.” She stopped long enough to suck in air, then jumped in again without giving him an opportunity to talk. “You’re always ready to rehash and relive and analyze, but I need to be quiet for a while and think without being disturbed or pushed.” She was rambling. Everything she said was true, but she was talking over what she knew he really needed, thinking the whole time,
I can’t do this, I can’t do this.

She knew the things his guilt had done to him, the terrible ache. She understood how hard it was. His pain tore her apart. But she couldn’t give him what he wanted. She hated herself for that, but she couldn’t talk about it, couldn’t think about it, let alone listen to his feelings.

“Don’t you think I blame myself, too?” he said, his voice low, harsh, and full of . . . something she didn’t dare think about. “That I wish I could do it all differently.”

“It was fine,” she answered as if he were talking about today. “I enjoyed it. I’m not saying we can’t do anything like it again, and in fact,” she rushed on, “I’m sure we will do it again.”

“I shouldn’t have let him go by himself.”

Something let loose inside her so fast she couldn’t control it. “Will you shut up?” she screamed at him, covering her ears.

But he grabbed her hands, pulled them down, held her. “It was my fault. I wanted to finish the gauge, get it out the door, I didn’t have time, and his teacher said it was fine, they’d take him, they had plenty of other parent chaperones.”

She jerked away, her boot catching an uneven edge of tile, and she went down hard on the toilet lid. “I’m not talking about this.” All she could hear were the words
she’d
shouted at Jay. Not Dominic. Her.

He hunkered down in front of her. “I miss him, too, goddammit. And I want to talk about him. I need to talk about what happened.”

“Stop it.” She kicked out with a boot, hit his knee hard, sent him sprawling. “Just fucking stop it. He’s gone. He’s dead. He’s not coming back, and talking about it won’t change anything so just shut up.” Her ears started to ring. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

He braced his hands on the tile floor behind him. “No. He’s my son. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss him so much my guts get twisted up. I’m so fucking tired of not being able to say his name or have his picture out or say how fucking sorry I am or much I miss him. He’s dead, but you’ve stolen even his memory. I fucking hate that.” A single drop of moisture leaked from his eye, rolling down his cheek, leaving a long wet track. “And I can’t forgive myself if you never let me talk about it.”

She did not cry; she would not cry. If she did, she’d never stop.

“Don’t you see you’re robbing yourself of his memories, too?”

She didn’t deserve any good memories. But she knew there was one way to end this. “I forgive you. It wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you.”

He swiped a hand across his cheek, seemingly surprised when it came away wet. Then he settled a steady gaze on her. “Don’t you fucking pander to me.”

Her heart beat so loudly it drowned out every other sound. There was only his face. She didn’t know that face. She didn’t know that man. In that moment, she knew he hated her.

She rolled her lips between her teeth, held her breath. Yes, she’d blamed him for not taking care of Jay. If he’d taken care of their son the way he was supposed to, she would never have said those things, the last words she ever said to her son while he was still coherent enough to understand.

“Say it,” he whispered. “Tell me you hate me, too.”

“Why are you doing this?” The words hurt, barely making a sound as they passed her lips. Her temples pounded as if someone were driving a nail right through the soft tissue.

“Because I can’t live like this anymore.”

“I’m tired,” she whispered. “I want to go to sleep.”

He shook his head. “You can sleep after we talk.”

She blinked. Her eyelashes stuck together for a moment. “No,” she mouthed.

“Please,” he begged.

If she talked, she could help him put an end to his misery. She could help him forgive himself. She’d known all along that he’d blamed himself, that he’d died the day Jay had, knowing he’d left their son alone with strangers, even if they’d been his teachers and his friends’ parents. Dominic had made that decision, but in his place, she’d never been sure she wouldn’t have done the same thing. It should all have been so easy, a school day trip, that was all, and Jay had been on other day trips, everything fine.

“Erin. We’re dying here. Can’t you see that?”

She knew what he needed. She wasn’t strong enough to give it to him. She couldn’t talk about it. Not ever. Without a word, she got up, stepped around him. And shut him out.

Their marriage had died a year ago. They just hadn’t buried it yet.

 

 

HE COULDN’T MOVE FOR LONG SECONDS THAT TICKED INTO MINUTES.

He’d bared his soul. She’d walked away.

His heart felt dead in his chest. His head pounded as if someone had tightened a vise around it. His cheeks were dry and cracked, his lips too brittle to speak with.

When he finally rose from the bathroom floor and stepped out into the room, he found her silhouetted against the dark, neon sky of Reno.

As if they weren’t a part of him, his feet moved to the desk against the wall. His hand picked up the phone, dialed. “I need the first flight out to San Francisco.”