Bittersweet Chocolate (29 page)

Who was he trying to kid? He knew why she didn’t tell him before. She was terrified of losing him, and if he were honest with himself, his anger wasn’t about her silence. No, the futility of the situation made him want to kill something. Those bastards had almost destroyed her without a single thought for the overall cost of their actions, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Shit. He was twenty-seven years old, in love with a woman seven years his senior, and he wanted her to have his children, but this wasn’t about him. It was about Marissa, what he could do to help her, besides being there for her, and loving her. He had to make her believe he loved her, regardless of what had happened to her.

He stopped walking and looked around, bewildered. He didn’t have a clue as to how long he’d been walking, but must have been going in circles. He stood in front of his car. What time...he glanced at his wrist. Damn it, he’d left the house without his watch. Climbing into his car, he started the engine, looked at the clock and noted he’d been gone over an hour, and headed home.

Turning onto his street, slowing in front of the house, he pulled onto the drive but remained in the car, waiting for the last vestiges of anger to dissipate.

In a much calmer frame of mind, he stepped out of the vehicle, stretched, and sighed. He had to hear the rest of her story, even though she said it would be worse. How, he couldn’t fathom, but she needed to finish. He opened the front door, walked inside, and froze. The place looked burglarized.

Pulse racing, he called out, “Rissa.” Silence. “Marissa!” With a sickening wave of fear welling up inside, he rushed to the bedroom and stopped on the threshold. Closet doors were open, empty hangers hung drunkenly entangled on the clothes rods, and some littered the floor. He turned and charged into the garage. Her car wasn’t there.

“Damn it, no.” He staggered to the sofa, sat down, raked his fingers through his hair, leaned back, and closed his eyes. “Rissa, the anger wasn’t meant for you.”

* * * *

On her way to Vi’s, Marissa wondered if she should call Vi at work.

She reached her destination, parked on the street, let herself into the house, and went straight to the kitchen to get a Pepsi from the fridge. Returning to the living room, she settled down on the sofa, leaned back, and sighed, deciding she wouldn’t call Vi...no point upsetting her.

Tristan’s walking out had been a virtual slap in the face. Feeling dejected and unsettled, she realized she was trembling and yanked the afghan off the back of the couch. She wrapped the throw snuggly around her body and lay down. Tears blurring her vision, she closed her eyes and cried herself to sleep.

The next thing she was aware of, Vi stood over her, shaking her awake.

“Marissa, what’s wrong, how long have you been here? Why are you sitting in the dark?” Vi spoke as she moved around the room, turning on lights before she came back to the sofa and sat beside Marissa.

“I have to get away for awhile, and I don’t want Tristan to know where I am.”

“Whoa, girlfriend, the other day, everything seemed—wait a minute, damn it, you told him what happened, everything. I thought...” Vi shook her head. “I gather he didn’t take it too well.”

“Take it well?” Marissa laughed, a forced, hollow sound. “You should have seen the look on his face, then he just stood and walked out, never said a word.”

“Shit. I thought he would be different.”

“Yeah, I hoped.”

“What do you think upset him the most?” Vi asked. “Not telling him before now, or not being able to have children.”

“The children. He seemed understanding until that point.”

“I’m sorry, but don’t leave, wait and talk to him before you disappear out of his life,” Vi urged. “You love this man, don’t you? Give him a chance. Perhaps it’s not about your inability to have kids.” Marissa’s eyebrows shot up, mouth open. “Right, maybe it is, but at least talk to him first and make sure.”

“I can’t. Not while he’s so angry. I don’t react well to anger,” Marissa remarked, smile shaky. “I love Tristan, and I don’t want to hurt him, or force him to hurt me in self-defense.”

“You know you can stay here as long as you want.” The phone rang. Both turned in unison and stared at it. “Maybe not.” Vi reached for the phone.

“Vi...”

“What do you want me to tell him?”

“I’m not here, and you haven’t seen or heard from me.”

“You’re sure?” Marissa nodded as Vi picked up the phone. “Hello.”

“Vi, this is Tristan. Have you seen Marissa?”

“Not since the other night. Why?”

“She’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?”

“Gone, Vi. As in, she has taken her clothes and disappeared, damn it,” he snapped. She stayed quiet. “Hell. Vi, I’m sorry, I’m upset. I love Marissa. I don’t want to lose her.”

“What happened? Did the two of you have a fight?”

“No, she...wait a minute, can I come over and talk to you. You’re her best friend, maybe you can help me.”

“You have me worried, Tristan. Why don’t I come over there?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll see you in about twenty minutes.” Vi hung up and turned to Marissa. “I’m going to talk to him, try to find out exactly how he feels about all of this. Honey, you could be wrong about him.”

“Just don’t tell him I’m here.”

“I won’t. Promise.”

* * * *

Mouth tightened into a stubborn line, Vi left her house. Damn the man, Marissa seemed so happy and relaxed with him.

Ten minutes later, she frowned as she stepped out of her car and saw Marissa’s front door ajar. She approached with caution and eased the door back. Tristan was sitting on the sofa, drink in hand, staring into space.

“Tristan?”

“You’re fast.”

“What the hell is going on? This place is a mess.”

“This is how I found it.” He looked around, bewildered. “I guess Marissa was in a hurry.”

“No shit. But why would she leave?”

“She left because I’m a self-centered ass. After she told me about what happened to her as a teenager...you know, don’t you?” He waited for Vi’s nod before continuing. “She said she couldn’t have children and I walked out.” He shook his head. “Vi, I was stunned. I want to have children with her, but that isn’t the most important thing in my life. I just want to be with her.”

“Why didn’t you tell her that?”

“Because, well, damn it, I’m pissed, but God no, not with her. I feel helpless.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I want to hurt somebody, the bastards who did that to her, and I can’t.”

“Wait a minute. You obviously didn’t let her finish.”

“No, I don’t believe she did. She said the rest was worse, but what could be worse than being unable able to get pregnant, not having the choice. Hell, the shock hasn’t worn off yet.”

“That’s obvious.”

“I’m a damn fool, and like a dumb ass, I left, went out to calm down. God, I must have hurt her, leaving that way.” His face twisted in anguish. “She’s so insecure about our relationship, I bet she believes I’m disgusted with her. Why can’t she believe I love her?”

“Tristan, after what she’s told you about her life, your age, her past. You’re white.”

“So what, damn it, I’m here! Doesn’t that mean anything? The differences don’t mean squat to me.”

“Clearly,” Vi mumbled. “I believe you, but do you really think it comes easy for her to trust anyone...a man? She trusted once and it made a lasting impression.” She sighed. “I think you should hear the rest of her story. Maybe telling you will help her put everything behind her. If you love her, you can help her get past her insecurities. And Tristan, it gets worse.”

“How is that possible? What else could the bastards have done to her?”

“Oh, it’s possible. For her, it’s the memories of what she did, afterward. When she returns, and I believe she will, hear her out.”

Tristan stared at her, his eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute. Do you know where she is?” He stood, towering over her, his eyes smoldering.

Vi surged to her feet, wary of his angry demeanor. Feeling the animosity emanating from him, the dramatic change unexpected. Hell, she could understand Marissa’s reluctance to confront him in anger. Shaking her head, she just wanted out, and started to pass him, but he grabbed her arm.

“Don’t lie to me, Vi. This is important to me and Marissa.”

Although scared shitless, and trembling, Vi stood her ground, refusing to cower. “Let go, Tristan.” She managed to speak without a quiver in her voice. “If she gets in touch with me, I’ll tell her you want to talk to her.”

“Sorry.” He released her arm and raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m worried about her.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” She put her hand on his arm. “And I believe you love her, but I’m not the one. You have to convince Marissa.”

Vi rushed from the house and drove home, unable to erase the image of Tristan’s frightening outburst. Out of sync with her impression of someone who didn’t sweat the small stuff, why the meltdown. What had he expected when he persisted in reopening old wounds from a past Marissa dreaded revealing?

Well, now he knew. Wasn’t love supposed to conquer all, forgive past transgressions, heal all wounds, and be empathetic? Oh wait, he did say his anger wasn’t for Marissa but the bastards who hurt her...maybe he did have the forgiveness and empathy.

Damn. She’d become such a cynic, she couldn’t comprehend the concept of people loving one another unconditionally. But for Tristan to be so out of control, evidently, he bought into all that hokey shit about love.

Vi reached home, found only one light on, thought Marissa had gone to bed, and headed for the guest room to check on her, see if she needed anything. “Marissa?” Her knock went unanswered and she eased the door open. The room was empty.

“Damn.” She hurried back through the hallway to the living room window and peered outside. Marissa’s car was gone. How had she missed that when she drove into the garage? She reached for the phone and dialed Marissa’s number.

“Rissa...”

“No, Tristan, it’s Vi, and I’m sorry. I thought I was helping both of you.”

“Vi, what? Not Marissa, she’s not hurt, is she?” he whispered, voice edged with tension.

“No, but she was here when I talked to you and she made me promise not to tell. Now she’s gone.” Tristan cursed fluently and at great length. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. But where would she go? Her family’s back East, she doesn’t have any friends out here, except me. Where the hell could she go?”

“I don’t know, but if she contacts you again, please let me know.”

“I promise,” she stated. “Tristan, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect her to run.”

* * * *

Tristan hung up the phone and stared at the chaos in the living room for some time before he pulled himself together. Moving through the room, he picked up scattered papers, books, and clothing. Everything had to be right when Marissa came back. This was her home. She’d come back.

He had to believe that.

She drove aimlessly around town. The streets were deserted, her concentration shot, and she didn’t have a destination in mind.

Unable to shake the image of Tristan when he stormed out of the house, a dull, empty ache gnawed at her insides, and the chill of the night air seemed to seep into her soul. Gripping the steering wheel, she pulled over and looked around, surprised to find herself outside the Sheraton hotel. The same hotel she’d stayed in when she first came to town, all those years ago.

She grinned. Her father’s favorite saying came to mind―what goes around comes around.

Overcome with exhaustion, she checked into the hotel, carried her clothes and luggage inside, and went straight to bed. She didn’t want to think anymore.

Turning over, Marissa stretched, and glanced toward the windows, surprised to see sunlight.

She plumped up the pillows behind her head, checked her watch, and relaxed because she had an hour before she needed to get up. Her smile wistful, she began formulating a plan.

Her relationship with Tristan had become too intense, within a short time. For sure, she needed a few days away, a chance to step back, distance herself from him. See if what they had could prevail despite her insecurities. She had vacation time, and she wasn’t working on anything critical at the job. Once she explained the situation to her boss, Hal would understand, and she could use the time away to think things through without the distraction of Tristan’s presence.

Plans set, she showered and dressed, neatly packed her hastily gathered clothing, and put her luggage in the trunk of her car. She checked out of the hotel and headed to work.

It was inevitable, the several messages waiting for her at work.

“They seemed pretty anxious to talk to you,” Megan remarked, eyeing her curiously.

Marissa glanced at the messages, suspecting who had left them—three from Vi, five from Tristan. Who would’ve guessed? She trashed the messages and continued toward her office.

“No calls, Megan. Tell everyone I’m out of town. You won’t be lying. I have a sudden urge to take a much-needed vacation. Three weeks ought to just about do it.”

“Marissa, isn’t this sudden. Does Hal know?”

“I’ll be leaving around noon. I’ll talk to Hal before I leave.” She paused in the doorway to her office. “Megan, I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Okay. Anything I can do to help?”

“Yes, come into my office.”

With dogged concentration, Marissa cleared the most pressing work from her desk. With Megan’s help, it didn’t take long. A little before noon she dotted her last
i,
crossed her last
t,
gave Megan final instructions, and headed for Hal’s office.

Explaining to Hal had been easier than she’d expected, but he had taken her under his wing from day one. Hell. Her arrival in California was less than auspicious, she must have looked like a lost soul, and Hal seemed to understand, without her going into much detail.

She put away a few personal items, picked up purse and keys, and started to leave her office. The sound of the outer office door opening made her pause.