Obsession (4 page)

“Yes, but I didn’t think you were serious. You’re the one who said you prefer the old-fashioned way of meeting people.”

“I know, I know. Which is why I put off TRULYACUTIE’s requests to meet me before we went on our trip.”

“TRULYACUTIE?” I asked, laughing.

“Yeah, that’s the name he gave himself online. It piqued my interest.” Marnie paused for a moment. “Hey, if Soriano lived in Orlando, I’d be all over him. But if there’s one thing my affair with him taught me, it’s that I’m ready to move on. And let’s face it, I’m not getting any younger. So I e-mailed TRULYACUTIE and said I’d like to meet him.”

“Wow.”

“Of course, this is just a first date to make sure the guy’s not a creep, and we’ll go from there. But if his picture is for real, then his screen name is quite fitting.”

“Where are you two going?” I asked. I knew a lot of people were finding love via the Internet, but still, I couldn’t help feeling concerned for my friend.

“The Cheesecake Factory. Very public, very busy. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“And you’re driving your car there, right? He’s not picking you up, is he?”

Marnie shot me a look as if to say I had to know she wasn’t that naïve. “Absolutely, I’m driving my own car there. You know me better than that. And he only knows my screen name and vice versa. This way, if we don’t like each other, we can disappear from each other’s lives easily. It’s perfect.”

“All right.” I straightened. I was going to stop the mother hen act. Marnie was thirty, a few months older than me, and capable of taking care of herself. “You’re wasting gas. I’ll let you go.”

“Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” I said. “Have fun.”

Marnie backed out of the driveway and drove off. Waving, I watched her until she made a left onto a nearby street.

Whether I was depressed or not, I would call her later. Just to make sure TRULYACUTIE wasn’t a nutcase pretending to be a nice guy.

For the first hour or so after Marnie left, I was perfectly fine. I was able to put my hurt on the back burner and cook a simple meal of grilled chicken and pasta. I ate at the kitchen table with the sounds of hip-hop blaring from my stereo. I didn’t want to play anything soft and mellow, because alone with my thoughts, soft and mellow would remind me of the pain I was managing to keep under control.

Peaches sat beside my chair on the floor, looking up at me with dark, pleading eyes. I didn’t normally feed her from the table so as not to spoil her, but I dropped her a piece of chicken nonetheless. What the heck—I was in no mood to obey the rules when my husband had broken the most important one.

Every so often as I ate, I glanced at the phone. The red light was flashing, meaning there was at least one message.

Andrew?

I waited until I’d finished my food and had washed the dishes before I finally placed the phone to my ear and punched in the code to retrieve the messages. And when I did, my heart faltered at the sound of Andrew’s voice.

“Sophie, it’s me. I’m checking in on you, hoping you’re okay. Call me, please. Let me know.”

I erased the message and hung up the phone. The food I’d just eaten turned in my stomach. Did Andrew think I’d spend one night crying, wake up refreshed, and be ready to forgive him?

“Don’t think about him,” I told myself. And I certainly wasn’t going to call back.

I found myself walking to the spare bedroom and digging my easel and art supplies out of the closet. It was a hobby that gave me comfort, but one I didn’t indulge in all that much anymore. Definitely not in the past few months. Whenever I decided to create a picture, Andrew complained that the smell of the paint bothered him. As I stared at the dusty easel and paint-covered sheets, I had to admit to myself that I painted far less these days because it bothered Andrew, not because I didn’t care for my longtime hobby.

Well, Andrew wasn’t here anymore.

I set to work. Two hours later, I had an abstract painting with angry strokes of red and black in the center and muted yellows, browns and oranges around the edges. I’d used a large piece of paper rather than a cloth canvas, but I smiled as I stared at the painting as though I’d created a masterpiece.

Though the paper was still wet, I took it straight to the living room and taped it over the large wedding photo on the wall. Then I gathered the various framed photos of me and Andrew off the tables, carried them to the spare bedroom and deposited them in a large dresser drawer.

If only it were so easy to erase the memory of what he’d done.

Someone was stroking my calves.

Soft, flirty, circular strokes on my skin.

But who…? Confused, I opened my eyes and turned onto my back. In the darkened room, I could see his form at the foot of the bed, but I couldn’t see his face. Yet his touch was familiar, and I didn’t pull away.

The mattress squeaked as he eased onto it. His hands moved slowly up my legs, the tips of his fingers giving each part of my body they touched an electrical charge. He added his lips, pressing them to my knee. Then higher, on my thigh.

I wanted to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. Not when the sensations flooding my body felt so good.

His mouth reached the apex of my thighs. So did his fingers. He fondled my pussy, spread my folds. Curled his fingers around my hips and buried his face in my center.

My eyelids fluttered. As he licked and suckled my pussy, I gripped fistfuls of the bedspread. I arched my hips, started to scream.

Suddenly his lips were gone.

His fingers were gone.

He was gone.

No, he was still here. Soft suckling sounds still filled the bedroom. And moans. A woman’s moans.

And then I saw them. Andrew and a woman, beside me on the bed. The woman’s breasts jiggled as she writhed around. Her mouth formed a wide
O
, her pleasure intense. Her legs were over his shoulders and he was eating her pussy, slurping and groaning. Loving every taste of her.

My eyes ventured to her toes. Though the room was dark, the red nail polish glistened. My gaze traveled the length of her body, from her arched feet to her bucking hips to her jiggling breasts.

To the perfect
O
formed on her lips.

The woman’s eyes flew open then, meeting mine. She smiled.

I bolted upright, a cry escaping my throat. But then she was gone. Disoriented, my eyes flew around the rest of the room.

I was alone. Alone in my bed, my heart beating fast. My ragged breathing was the only sound in the still of the dark room.

My hand went to my throat. I was flushed. Aroused.

I’d been dreaming.

Exhaling slowly, I lay back down. I tried to get my heart to settle, but the dream had been so real. And startling.

For the next hour, I couldn’t sleep. The images from the dream haunted me. Andrew pleasuring another woman with his tongue, the expression of pure bliss on her face. I know it was a dream, but the very nature of it disturbed me. Had me wondering exactly what Andrew had done with this other woman. How he’d touched her. If he’d tasted her. The sounds she’d made while coming. The sounds he’d made.

If their connection was more electric than ours.

I needed to know.

I didn’t think I’d want to, but as I lay in bed in the dark, I realized there would be many nights like this. Nights when Andrew and this other woman came into my bed, the visions of what they could have done torturing me as surely as if I were witnessing their affair.

My imagination would be infinitely worse than knowing the truth.

That was what fueled me the next morning, got me out of bed early. I showered, got dressed and drove to the Pelican Resort.

Only to discover that Andrew wasn’t there.

“What do you mean he’s not here?” I asked Seth, the assistant manager.

“He’s with the lawyers,” Seth replied, looking confused, his tone saying he thought I knew this already.

“The lawyers?”

“Well, yes.” He suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“What lawyers?”

Seth didn’t respond.

“What lawyers?” I repeated.

A muscle in Seth’s jaw flinched. “I thought you…” He paused. “You need to talk to Andrew about this.”

“About what?” I asked anxiously, my stomach churning. So something bad
was
going on at work, something worse than the affair. Why hadn’t Andrew told me?

Seth held up both hands, the only response he gave me. Then he walked behind the hotel’s front desk counter and spoke to a young clerk.

She was blond, just like in my dream.

I turned away. Noticed Kathryn, the pretty receptionist who was an exotic mix of African-American and Chinese. She grinned my way, but I couldn’t reciprocate.

Had Andrew fucked her?

I turned again. Saw another pretty woman, this one dressed as a hotel maid. With her looks, why was she cleaning hotels?

Was Andrew fucking her on the side?

The thoughts going through my mind were making me crazy, and unable to deal with them, I all but ran toward the front door. Once outside, I leaned against a column and gulped in humid air.

Lawyers? What was going on? And why hadn’t Andrew told me about it?

I dug my cell phone out of my purse and dialed his cell. It went straight to voice mail, meaning it was shut off.

“Andrew,” I said after the tone beeped, “I’m at the hotel. I came to see you, but you aren’t here. I heard that you’re meeting with lawyers?” My statement turned into a question. “What’s going on?”

As I hung up, I found I was worried. Worried about Andrew and if the issue he was dealing with was a serious one. It didn’t matter that he’d hurt me: my protective feelings for him surfaced, and I hoped he was okay.

Two hours later, when my cell phone rang and I saw Andrew’s name on my caller ID, I quickly pressed the talk button. “Hello?”

“Sophie. Hi.”

He sounded calm, and that set my heart at ease. I asked, “What’s going on?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at home.”

“Good,” Andrew said. “Can I come see you?”

“What’s happening?”

“I’ll tell you everything when I see you, if that’s okay.”

“All right.” My concern returned. Andrew might sound calm, but the fact that he didn’t want to tell me what was happening on the phone meant that whatever was going on was serious. “Are you coming now?”

“Yes.”

I hung up, and spent the next twenty minutes worrying. I was in the living room, the cat on my lap, and I stroked her as much for my comfort as hers. The moment the front door opened, Peaches leapt to the floor. I stood to face Andrew as he walked into the living room.

He looked worn-out. There were dark circles under his eyes, and a tired expression on his face.

“Andrew?”

He tossed his keys onto the end table beside the sofa before meeting my gaze. “Hello.”

“Why were you meeting with lawyers?” I asked, getting to the point. I didn’t want to be kept in suspense. “Is someone suing the hotel?”

“Sit, please.” Andrew motioned to the sofa.

I didn’t argue. I sat, and he sat on the sofa beside me. The light smell of his musky cologne wafted into my nose, and part of me ached to touch him. I longed for the familiarity of his lips on mine.

But his touch wouldn’t be familiar anymore, would it? He had tainted what we had when he had fucked someone else.

“I want you to know,” he began, “that the only reason I didn’t mention this before is…” He paused, fiddled with his hands. “It was bad enough telling you about the affair. I felt it was best to wait, give you a chance to deal with that first.”

My stomach twisted at the word
affair.
But I tried to push the awful feeling aside and concentrate on the here and now—the legal issue Andrew was facing. I’m sure that some women, learning their husbands had cheated, wouldn’t care if they got hit by a bus, or if they were struck with terminal cancer.

Clearly, I wasn’t one of those women.

“There’s no other way to say this,” Andrew went on. “Someone has threatened a lawsuit against me.”

“A lawsuit! Oh, my God.” I reached for his hands, took them in mine. It was a reflexive act, but I didn’t pull away. “Why?”

Andrew hesitated, lowered his gaze, then raised his eyes to meet mine. “She’s claiming sexual harassment.”

I narrowed my eyes as I stared at him, not understanding. It took a full five seconds for his words to register. And when they did, I jerked my hands away as though I’d been scalded.

It was one thing for Andrew to have met a woman in a bar and fucked her, but someone he worked with…

“You jerk.” It was the only thing I could think of to say.

“She’s lying, Sophie. She’s the one who came on to me.”

I slowly stood. “You fucking jerk. What are we talking here—millions of dollars? Are we going to lose our home because you couldn’t keep your hands off this woman?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Andrew said. “If anything, I should be able to charge her with sexual harassment.”

I snorted.

Andrew got to his feet, standing in front of me. “She’s lying.”

“You think that’s what matters here—that she’s lying? What matters is that you put yourself in the position to jeopardize not just our marriage, but our assets. All because you had to fuck someone else.”

For several moments, neither of us spoke. The only thing to be heard was our loud, frustrated breathing and the cat’s concerned meows.

“So you do work with this woman,” I said.

Andrew nodded.

“How much does she want?”

“She came up with the crazy figure of five million dollars.”

“Are you serious?”

“She wanted me to leave you, I wouldn’t, and I told her it was best she find another job,” Andrew explained hurriedly. “That’s when she claimed sexual harassment.”

I shook my head, disgusted. “So we’re going to lose everything.”

“She hasn’t sued—yet. She’s threatening to.”

“If you don’t leave me,” I said. A statement, not a question.

“I…I guess.” Andrew threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know what’s going on in her warped mind.”

I turned away from Andrew, rethinking my earlier position on how I’d feel if he got hit by a bus. A million thoughts going through my mind, I wandered toward the window that faced the backyard.

I looked out at our deck. Two years ago, we’d added a gazebo and a hot tub, but we hardly used either. We had everything we needed for romantic nights and weekends right here, and yet our romance had fallen by the wayside.

“Maybe you should,” I began slowly. I turned. “Maybe you should go to her.”

“No!” Andrew protested. “I don’t want her!”

“If it will stop her from suing you…” I said the words, but I didn’t really mean them.

Andrew rushed toward me. I didn’t move. Not even as he placed both hands on my shoulders.

“I don’t want her,” he repeated. “Yeah, I screwed up. I learned my lesson the hardest way possible, but I’m going to make this right.”

I said nothing. I felt only numb.

“I think I know how to make her go away. Make the problem go away. I got some good advice from my lawyers.”

I said nothing.

“Say something, Sophie. Please.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want your forgiveness. I know it won’t be today. Maybe not tomorrow. But I want to know that at some point in the future, we’ll be back to normal.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible.”

Andrew nodded grimly as he lowered his hands from my shoulders.

“I hope she was worth it,” I said softly.

My eyes blurring with tears, I pushed past Andrew to the kitchen. I opened a cupboard, pulled out the first mug I saw, which happened to be one we’d had specially made with our photo on it. Before I could place the mug on the counter, Andrew was there, taking it from my hands.

“I’ve never wanted anything more than I want your forgiveness,” he said. “I know you’re angry. And you have every right to be. But these past few days without you have been the worst days of my life. I still love you. And I don’t want to lose you. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back. If that means we’re not together for a few months, so be it, but I need to know I’ve got a reason to hope. Hell, if you want to have an affair to even the score, do it if that’s what you need to do. Do it and then come back to me and let’s move on.”

“So now you want to pimp me out to someone else?” I asked, aghast at the suggestion.

“No! Of course not. But I hurt you. Maybe in a situation like this you need to hurt me back.”

“You need to go now.”

“I don’t want to leave. Not like this.”

“Now.”

Andrew stared at me, but my hard expression gave him no cause for hope. Sighing in frustration, he turned. He made the short walk to the hall table where he’d deposited his keys, scooped them up, then walked past me to the front door.

The moment the front door clicked shut, I hurled the mug against the fridge, shattering it into a thousand pieces.