Authors: Allyson Young
Madness (12 page)
His family would have been able to tolerate a discreet arrangement with someone more like “them.” Such hypocrisy was disgusting.
After she had joined Andrew in drowning sorrows, Olivia found
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herself telling him all about the night at the beach house. He then became the consoler, the comforter. He was the only person she confided in. The only person she told about her certainty that she would never want anyone other than Cameron, and how she had walled off her sexuality.
Andrew called a week later and invited her to dinner at his home.
Olivia accepted, and when she got there, Esteban, Andrew’s lover, was in attendance. He was not at all obsequious but rather related to her with a quiet, calm demeanor. He was almost courtly and incredibly handsome. His chiseled features resembled those of a Spanish conquistador, in Olivia’s opinion. That dinner changed Olivia’s life. Andrew proposed that she marry him. She would then be regarded as his wife and assume all of the duties of one, with the exception of sex. Andrew insisted that her social skills, honed by her early years of living in various countries because of her father’s diplomatic positions, her business degree, her flair for fashion, and her demeanor were perfect for the role. Plus, he liked her, trusted her, and believed her to be a very good friend. In addition, Andrew wanted her to continue to manage his investments.
Olivia saw the opportunity to travel, be her own boss, and have experiences she thought she might never have again within her grasp, not to mention feeling she was among friends. Having managed to deny her sexuality thus far, she believed she could easily handle the lack of it. Heaven knew she had never dated since seeing Cameron with Jennifer that night and actually felt no interest in men, or women, for that matter, in a sexual way. She knew that the outside world would view her as Mrs. Andrew Foster, and she would be treated as such and have to deal far less frequently with the advances of other men. Andrew and Esteban would have their love and life together behind her protective shield. Olivia accepted, and while the papers reported their union a month later, the actual marriage ceremony was discreet and very tasteful, the honeymoon taken at home.
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Olivia had literally lived in the lap of luxury. She wanted for nothing, except experiencing the occasional qualm about not having a child to hold and love. Andrew and Esteban included her in their life, although there were times when Esteban could not accompany them on their travels for Andrew’s art interests in order to preserve the secrecy of their arrangement. She travelled, she looked after Andrew’s business interests and his home and was content in her role.
His “blue blood” relations accepted her, as Andrew knew they would.
She and Esteban grew close, although not in the manner in which she related to Andrew. It was like she and Andrew were twins. They finished one another’s sentences, held similar if not identical positions on all manner of things, and generally were totally comfortable with one another. She loved him like the brother she never had and knew how much he cared about her. Andrew tried to talk with her about Cameron only once after the initial sharing. Olivia withdrew, and he left it alone.
Olivia learned about Andrew’s illness by accident, just prior to his decision to share the doctor’s confirmation of his diagnosis with her and Esteban. She had found several bills for a specialist, an internal medicine specialist, and rushed to confront him, worried to death.
Andrew called Esteban in, and the three of them talked about the diagnosis—liver cancer. Olivia learned more about that affliction than she ever dreamed she would have needed to and faced the reality.
Andrew was doomed. The cancer had progressed too far, was too large, and radiation was not possible for the liver. Even the latest techniques of radiating the tumors from within were too late. Andrew refused the offered chemotherapy that would prolong his life, given the side effects and the paltry amount of extra time it might provide him, and them. Both Esteban and Olivia respected his decision, although Esteban’s faith provided him far more solace. Olivia tortured herself with the what-ifs. What if she had noticed Andrew’s fatigue sooner? What if she had been more observant and seen how tender his belly was from time to time? What if she had called attention to his
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color? In lieu of fighting his illness, Andrew got down to the business of addressing the future.
He talked with Esteban privately and at length and advised Olivia that his lover would be moving out directly after he died, although Esteban would be with him until the end. Andrew agreed that Olivia could spell Esteban and that medical personnel could be hired for some of the tasks, although Andrew made it clear he would die at home. Olivia was to ensure that Esteban would want for nothing, find him somewhere to live in a climate of his choosing, away from possible scrutiny, and arrange a trust fund that would be impervious to the family’s interest. Andrew asked Olivia to find buyers for his galleries, whether before his demise or not. He did not want her to carry the burden of them. Finally, he insisted that she find a place of her own to move to and decide what she wanted to do with her life, understanding, long before she considered it, that once he was gone, Olivia’s role would be over and she would be adrift. Olivia certainly had no interest in remaining in close contact with his relations, although their set knew her well and would remain aware of her, if in an offhand kind of way. She would never lack money, and would certainly be able to find a position within the financial world, but Andrew wanted her to take some time to make decisions. She could well afford to. Andrew was so apologetic that he wouldn’t be there for her for the rest of her life as he had envisioned. It touched her deeply, and she acquiesced with everything he wanted.
The end was awful and Esteban dwindled before her eyes as his lover sank into a drug-induced coma. He slipped out of her life just as Andrew did. One of the two men in her life moved away, asking that she never contact him again, and the other just went away. Olivia was lost and bereft, having thought that perhaps she and Esteban could have comforted one another for a little while. The amount of work it took to take care of the estate and respect all of Andrew’s wishes as well as cope with the interference from his family and their high-priced lawyers distracted her, and did not leave her time to grieve.
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She had the plans for the Aspen Grove beach house and the golf course to sustain her and somehow managed to get through it all with Esteban and Andrew’s relationship kept secret. It was her secret, too, because it had kept the world from knowing what a hollow individual she was and the coward she had become.
“The floor installers will be here tomorrow, Mrs. Foster.” Steve’s booming voice startled her out of her reverie. “The painters will clear out just ahead of them by the time they get upstairs, I figure, and then we’ll get the trim and baseboards on. You’ll be in by Thursday next.”
“I’ll hold you to that date, Steve,” Olivia teased. She had come to feel quite comfortable with her contractor. He did good work and didn’t charge exorbitantly as far as she could tell, and he had made every effort to finish close to the estimated completion date. He had also submitted a tender for the clubhouse renovations.
“Are you bringing things from the city or getting new stuff?” he inquired. “Because I’ll tee up some of the boys to move it in if you like.”
“I have a moving company arranged to bring some furnishings, Steve, and I’ll give them a call as soon as I am certain things will be finished here. I’ll pick up the rest locally. I am part of this community now.”
Steve nodded in approval. “Folks weren’t sure how the new golf course owner would work out, but I’ve heard some positive things, Mrs. Foster. I even heard that fancy spa thing would be welcome.” Olivia smiled. “Pampering women is an underdeveloped market in this area, Steve. I’ve done a little research and can’t believe there is no spa here. I won’t put too much pressure on the small aesthetic salons, but if a golfer wants to bring his wife and she doesn’t golf, or even if she does, a facial or pedicure makes a nice treat, not to mention a massage.”
“I don’t know about those things,” Steve said, “but my wife tells me it would be nice.” He clapped his hard hat back on his head and lumbered off to supervise the removal of some materials from the
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back room where the kitchen cupboards had been built on site. Olivia stood for a moment in her empty living room and wished she didn’t feel so alone in the house she had envisioned as part of her future. She slung her purse over her shoulder and went out to her car. Her lonely little bed awaited her at the golf course.
* * * *
Cameron stood in the lobby, his big, strong frame drawing every eye. Olivia gave her awakening libido a stern talking to and drew her resolve around her like a cloak. Damn him to hell. She was just starting to get it together, and he showed up like the proverbial bad penny. She successfully fought the urge to run back to her car before he saw her and walked toward him. His head turned and the look on his face warmed her to her core. He looked so handsome, so incredibly sexy, and his admiring, heated stare was fixed on her. But in it was additional awareness and some primordial sense awoke in Olivia. She felt ill, light-headed, and suddenly terrified. Her steps faltered, and she stopped, her heart beating erratically when he closed the distance himself.
“I’d like to talk with you, Livy,” he said.
What was this thing about talking? Why couldn’t he just take her to her room and fuck her and dominate her and go away. She didn’t want to talk. She shouldn’t want to have sex with him. God, this was such a bad idea. She could feel it, like when the music in a horror movie built right up to the edge. She didn’t want to fall over that edge into madness. No.
“Is there somewhere private we can talk?” Olivia swallowed and made herself nod. She knew better than to do this out in public. She put on her owner face, turned to her left and listened to her heels tap on the plank floor, although she couldn’t actually feel her body move. She led Cameron to her office. It had been commandeered as a pantry originally, a kind of storage space,
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but with a window, it worked as an office. A desk and chair faced the window, and the visitor’s chair sat catty-corner. She had personalized with a few pictures of Andrew and a desk set, and the staff always made sure she had fresh flowers. It was her little sanctuary, a far cry from her luxurious office in the city, but it worked well. Until now.
Olivia wondered if she would set foot in here again after tonight.
Cameron tended to leave his imprint on every room he took her in.
She could hardly look at Maurice’s desk without shivering. After closing the door, she took the desk chair and gestured Cameron to the other. He pulled it to sit closer and nearly in front of her and reached out to take her hand. Olivia felt the warmth but kept hers passive, yet only with great determination.
“I’m just going to say it, Olivia. I know why you are denying our relationship. I know about Andrew Foster.” Olivia pulled her hand back and pushed her chair as far away from Cameron as it would go. It hit the wall and stopped. “You know nothing,” she managed to say.
Cameron continued in the same relentless tone. “I know you married a man who didn’t love you, Livy, who couldn’t love a woman. I think you married him as a form of escape, to retreat, and I regret that I may have played a part in it, seeing as you’ve had no other relationships that I could discover. I want to make it up to you, Livy. Please. I want to make amends, make up for all those empty years.”
“You know nothing.” Olivia spat the words this time. “You just couldn’t leave it alone. Andrew loved me, Cameron. He loved me in a way you could never hope to love me, care about me.” Cameron interrupted. “I didn’t mean he didn’t care about you, honey. I just meant…”
“Shut up. Just shut up. You couldn’t leave it alone. You just had to take it all. Well, fuck you, Cameron Fraser. Fuck you. It was mine to tell. If I wanted to tell. And don’t think that you ever need to make amends to me. For what? Do you honestly think I made my life
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choices because of you? Take that arrogant attitude and go away. I’ll get a restraining order if I need to, and to hell with the consequences.
It was mine to tell. Fuck you.” Her voice rose and cracked on the epithet.
* * * *
Cameron stood and reached to grasp Olivia’s shoulders. Her eyes were wild and her face was stark white except for the hectic flush of color on her cheekbones. He hardly recognized her. “Livy!” Olivia screamed, a high, keening, penetrating sound, and screamed again before Cameron got a hand over her mouth. She bit him, catching the fleshy part of his thumb, and he hissed but didn’t remove it. Then the door flew open. Déjà vu. Cameron made a snap decision. He pulled Olivia to her feet and handed her over to the wide-eyed staff, the blonde hostess from their dining experience.
“Mrs. Foster has just received bad news,” he said.
It was obviously true and would serve to give a good reason for her screams and protect her reputation. Cameron knew better than to try and soothe her. He had just crushed any chance he had with this woman, his woman, and he recognized it for what it was. Stupid didn’t describe him. He didn’t know what did, unless maybe selfish.
Yes, that was it. Blindly, stupidly selfish. He nodded to the hostess, who held Olivia against her ample chest and forced his legs to carry him from the room, leaving his heart and soul behind.
He got behind the wheel of his car and cranked it over. He turned it toward Austin and lay on the accelerator. His bags were in the trunk because he’d picked them up from the bed-and-breakfast earlier, believing in his absolutely selfish arrogance that once Olivia understood that he knew about her marriage and that there was no reason to feel ashamed for hiding behind it, he would be moving in with her. He had assumed they could pursue their life together, unencumbered.
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This was why he had never had a long-term relationship. He had unknowingly waited all this time for Olivia, only to fuck it up again.
The car protested as he pushed it harder, the body shimmying at the high speed, the tires whipping the protesting sound back to wash over him. Cameron drifted over to the break-down lane and allowed the speed to drop off to nothing. He stopped and then opened the window to sit in the drift of exhaust and sound of the traffic until his heart quit pounding so hard and his vision cleared. He would move on, not bother Olivia again and possibly make it even worse for her. He really had no choice. He shoved the gearshift into drive and pulled back onto the interstate. Trevor would welcome his return. Business was booming despite the economy, or perhaps because of it. The mundane tasks of life would get all of his attention, and he would ignore the pain he had brought upon himself.
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