Beauty From Love (8 page)

He shrugs and puts his hands out. “It’s a phrase that my mates and I used to say all the time. It wasn’t something special I shared with her. In fact, I don’t recall ever telling her I was going to do that to her.”

I don’t want to hear details about anything he might or might not have done with her. “Just stop.”

He rakes his hands through his hair—a telltale sign of his frustration. “You are my wife. I love you. She and I were over a long time ago. You heard me tell her that, so why are you angry with me?”

I’ve probably turned an ugly shade of green because I’m so envious of the role she has played in his life. “I’m your wife yet this other woman has molded you into the man you are.”

He cradles my face with his hands. “Dammit, Laurelyn. You make me the man I am today—the one who loves his wife and wants to be a father. When are you gonna see that you’ve undone all the damage she caused? You make me … unbroken.”

She will always be a part of him. “She made you the way you are. I can’t stand that you became a man that went from one meaningless relationship to the next because of her. It sickens me.”

He backs away from me. “Because of you, I didn’t feel broken anymore … but I can clearly see that you don’t feel the same.”

I didn’t know that’s how he felt, like he’s fixed because of me. I’m so stupid. I just told him I’m sickened by the man he is. “I’m a foolish woman. I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean them.” He places his hand on my arm to move me away from the door but I plant my feet firmly. “No.”

He doesn’t move an inch but looks me in my eyes. “Infinity.” The moment he says the word, I know I’ve messed up. Bad. He’s used our code word as a safe word. It means he’s had enough of me and needs to get away.

I step aside so he can leave and I remain in Evan and Emma’s bedroom. Alone.

I open the door and Lana’s standing there eavesdropping because that’s what a nosy bitch does. I try to move around her but she steps with me, blocking my escape. I place my hands on her arms. She thinks I mean to kiss her because she closes her eyes and leans in but instead I force her aside.

She grasps my biceps tightly, pressing her long claws into my skin. “I heard what she said. Your wife doesn’t want you the way you are—but I do.”

The more Lana says, the more I realize how much I hate her. I can’t believe I ever had a relationship with this bitch. “I’m not discussing my marriage with you.”

She shrugs. “Doesn’t sound like there’s a marriage to discuss. Your wife is repulsed by the person you are—the man I made you, per her words.” She advances toward me. “If she loved you, she’d be fine with who you are.”

I continue to hold her at arm’s length. “Stop. I don’t want to hear this.”

“I’d be okay with you having other women. You could bring them into our bed anytime you wanted.” She grins and gestures toward the door of Evan and Emma’s bedroom. “I’ve come to like it. Maybe you and me and Laurelyn could give it a try.”

What the hell is wrong with her? “I punched the last person who suggested something similar.”

“My tastes have matured since we were together. I like it rough.” She unexpectedly shoves me. I’m caught off guard and my back slams against the wall, making a loud thud. “So would you if you’d let me show you.”

She’s not just a bitch—she’s crazy. “You’re nuts and I’m done here.”

I push against her to escape but she locks her arms, pulling me with her against the wall. I stumble, landing chest to chest with her, causing another loud thump. “See? I knew you’d like it rough.”

She holds on to me tightly and her intent is no mystery. She wants L to open the door and see me with her like this.

And she gets what she’s after.

Laurelyn stands in the doorway staring at me tangled in Lana’s arms. I’m fucked—and not the way I want to be. “L. It’s not what it looks like.” That’s all I’m able to say before she storms past down the hallway.

“How
fuckin
’ cliché! At least have enough respect for me to be original.”

“Whoops,” Lana laughs.

I’ve never been violent toward a woman in my life but I have to fight the urge to put my fist in this one’s face. At the very moment I feel like I could explode, I punch my clenched hand through the wall next to her head. She appears somber and fear creeps into her eyes. She’s frightened by my display and potential of what I might do to her. Good. I hope I’ve managed to put a stop to her game. “I never want to see your face again.”

I push away from her to go find my wife and I see Evan still bartending as I pass through the kitchen. “Did Laurelyn come through here?”

“Umm … yeah. I think she went out the door to the garage.” I’m guessing she has Daniel on his way and plans to sneak out. She won’t if I have anything to do with it.

It’ll take him at least twenty minutes to get here so I walk over to the kitchen sink to wash my bloody hand. Evan calls out, “Whoa, bro! Who’d you punch?”

It stings as the cold water hits the open skin. “Not who. Tell Emma she can pick a new color for the hallway if she wants since you’ll be needing some sheetrock work.”

“I’m assuming that was no accident.”

“Definitely not. Laurelyn thinks she saw me fucking around with Lana.” Even I admit it must have appeared that way. “You know I wasn’t. She set it up to look that way.”

“I knew she was up to something when she called Emma out of the blue. She was fishing for an invite to the party so she could get to you and Laurelyn.”

Emma walks up. “Who wanted to get to you and Laurelyn?” She looks down at my hand. “Oh hell. What happened?”

“A shitstorm named Lana.” I don’t want to explain this again. “Catch Emma up. I gotta find L and explain.”

I go into the garage and find no trace of Laurelyn so I call her phone. I hear the faint Hawaiian rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” and follow its melody toward the courtyard. She’s sitting at the bistro table digging through her purse to find the noisemaker. I’m sure she wants to silence it so I don’t discover her hiding place. Too late.

She’s crying and it breaks my heart to guess what’s she’s imagining. “You’ll go away if you know what’s good for you.”

“I’ve already told you I know what’s good for me, and it’s you. Always you. That’s never going to change.” I want to go to her but I’m afraid she’ll push me away.

“Really? Because you sort of looked like you thought Lana might be good for you a few minutes ago.”

“Does it make sense that I would walk away from you and fuck around with Lana two seconds later when you could come out of the bedroom at any second and see me? Come on, L. You know that was a total setup. Just like her cornering you outside.” She doesn’t reply but she doesn’t dispute my allegation, either. “Babe, it’s impossible for you to wrap your head around the malicious things Lana is capable of because your heart is so good and pure. Trust me when I say she’s venomous. And determined. She’ll do anything to get what she wants.”

“She wants you.”

“And you too.”

She looks confused, as she should be. “What?”

“I’m not the only one she’d like to have. She proposed a threesome.” She looks as though she’s waiting to hear me say if I accepted or declined the offer. Shit, I can’t believe she’s at a point where I have to confirm that. “I said no.”

Lana has successfully fucked me after all.

“I think there’s been a lot of misunderstandings tonight and I want to clear them up.” I drop to my knees in front of L and take her hands. “I don’t want Lana, even though she tried to make it appear as though I did. I love you. You’re the only one for me.”

“That may very well be the case but I’m not ready to say all is well and get over what just happened.” She looks down as tears fall from her eyes. “I’m just so … damn mad.” Her words convey anger but her tears, along with the sob that follows, tells me she’s something else—in pain.

How did it come to this? I didn’t do anything wrong yet I feel like a bastard. My wife is upset and crying and I don’t know how to fix it.

The car’s headlights shine on us when Daniel pulls into the drive and I ask if she’s going to let me come home with her. She has a habit of making me leave when she’s angry. She doesn’t answer immediately and my heart pounds. She sighs. I know she probably wants space but I don’t want to be away from her tonight. I think being apart could cause more harm than good. “Please don’t make me stay somewhere else tonight.”

She reaches for her purse and gets up, leaving me on my knees. “Come on. Daniel’s waiting.”

She doesn’t utter a single word on the drive home—and neither do I. I can only guess what she’s rolling around in her head right now, but I’m predicting it isn’t good.

We arrive at the apartment—our temporary home while visiting Sydney—and I can’t believe this is how we’ve spent our first New Year’s Eve as husband and wife. We walk toward our bedroom, me following her, and I totally expect her to slam the door in my face or tell me to find another place to sleep. She doesn’t.

She’s a little unsteady from Evan’s painkillers so she leans over to hold the footboard as she kicks off her pumps. “I hope you know you’re not putting your hands on me tonight.”

I look at the time and see it isn’t yet midnight, but it’s close. This isn’t how I want our first year to end so I decide to take a leap—one I hope doesn’t land me on my face. “It’s almost midnight. I don’t want to go into next year like this.”

Tonight’s events aren’t small, so I’m sure Laurelyn has things she needs to say. She’s hurt and her wound can fester, causing damage to our marriage. As her husband, it’s my responsibility to contain this infection known as Lana.

“We have five minutes before we begin two thousand fourteen. I want you to take these last moments to say anything you’d like. Rant and rave. Kick and scream. Tell me you hate the way I’ve lived and what I’ve done in the past. Tell me if I’m fucking up this marriage. Say or do whatever you feel you need to so we can move beyond this night. Let me have it good, babe.”

I’ve stunned her speechless.

This is probably the stupidest idea I’ve ever had. She’s incredibly hurt and angry so if she takes me up on this offer, I should expect her to say harsh things. But I want to give her this outlet. She needs it. “There’s nothing you can say to make me unlove you, so go for it without looking back.”

“I’m not doing it unless you do the same. Tell me the things you’d like to say yet choose to hold inside.”

Is it possible to make these confessions, not discuss them, and move on as if nothing happened? It suddenly feels like a challenge—a game of truth or dare—and is no longer about Lana. This is something more and goes deeper than tonight’s events.

Women are so different from men. We are pissed off for a little while but get over it quickly. Women have long memories and hold grudges so this might not go well for me. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I can always handle anything you say, as long as it’s the truth.” I get this now. She wants my true confessions.

“I’ll agree but only if you swear you’ll have no regrets. You can’t dwell on anything I say.”

She’s terrified but excited. At least that’s what I think I see in her eyes. “Do your worst. Tell me your fears and the demons you hide.”

I set the timer on my phone. “A three-minute confession. We squeeze in whatever we can in a hundred and eighty seconds. Say it, get it off your chest, and move on without discussion or explanations. When the timer ends, it’s a new year, a new start. Do you agree?”

“Yes.”

I press start on my phone. “Go.”

She looks at me, bewildered. “I don’t know if I can. I’m afraid.”

She’s overthinking this so I’ll go first—starting with her sorry-ass mother and father. “If your parents ever treat you poorly again, I’m telling them to fuck off, especially your mum. She really pisses me off.” Laurelyn’s eyes grow large and she doesn’t reply. I don’t think that’s where she expected me to start. “If you don’t say anything, that means you forfeit your turn and I get to go again.”

“I despise what you did with those first twelve women because of Lana. I understand it’s irrational for me to be angry about things that happened before you knew me, but it doesn’t stop me from being pissed off every time I think about it—which is often.” This isn’t surprising to hear. I often think about her being with Blake, as well, although their relationship came before us.

Speaking of Blake … this grievance is all on me but she should know the way I feel. “I’m furious with myself because I was tending to business instead of being with you the night Blake attacked you. I have to work very hard to not see the image of him on top of you with your dress shoved up to your waist.” I look down because I can’t look at her when I say the next part. It’s bad. “And sometimes I wish I hadn’t heard your voice telling me to stop because I wanted to kill him. I still do.” I’ve probably scared the shit out of her, but damn, that feels good to get off my chest.

She doesn’t give me time to dwell on what she thinks of hearing me say I want to kill Blake. “I worry you’ll miss the thrill of being with other women.”

I’d like to address that one—to tell her it isn’t possible to ever be thrilled by the thought of being with a stranger after having something so real and true with her. But what we’re doing now isn’t about explanation; it’s about confession. “I worry that one day you’ll figure out I’m not worthy of your love.”

“I’m terrified you’ll decide I’m too complicated and not worth the trouble I cause you.” Never. She’s a complication I can’t live without.

“I’m afraid you’ll never get over my past and what I did with those other women.” I’m worried more than ever now because she has admitted she thinks of them often.

“I’m still pissed off that you almost added a fourteenth to your list of companions.” Can’t blame her for being pissed off about that one—what a total fuck-up on my part.

“I’m scared you want to put off having a baby because you’re not really sure you want to be with me forever.” I check the time on my phone. “Thirty seconds left.”

“I’m scared I’ll be a shitty mother like my mom.” Not possible. She’s nothing like her mother.

“I wasn’t unhappy when you told me it was your birth control patch I had pulled off.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “I’d beat you senseless with a handbag right now if I had one handy.”

How can she think she’d be a shitty mother? She already acts more like my mum than her own. “You’re becoming more like Margaret McLachlan every day.”

I hold up the phone and she announces, “Ten seconds.”

It’s her turn but I’m going again. We’re almost out of time and I have something to say. “I want you to have my baby … please say you will.”

She says nothing and the timer alarms, signaling the end of our timed confession. My heart and mind feel clear. Do hers? Or was that the worst thing we could have done?

That was stupid of me to ask her to have a baby during a three-minute confessional. I want to know what she’s thinking, but dammit, I can’t ask. We agreed this wasn’t about discussion.