Come Alive (19 page)

“Oh,” I said softly. “No, I’m okay.”

“I think . . .” He paused and looked over at the
coffee table. “I think it might be time to see someone.”

“Someone?”

“Therapy. I know what you’re thinking, and yes,
I still think
it’s
sort of bullshit. But I’m running
out of ideas, and this is getting to be a little much.”

Glossy pages crinkled when I clenched the
magazine. “Therapy?” I repeated angrily. “For me or for us?”

“For you,” he said, drawing back. “Why would we
need therapy?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Why would I?”

He hesitated. “One minute you’re up, the next
you’re down. At this point I’m willing to try anything.”

“I – I . . .”

“I don’t know what else to give you, and it’s
fucking with me.”

“I’ll go see Mack,” I blurted.
Mack
. His wife had died, and I’d been
neglecting him out of my own selfish fear of what he’d be like without her.
Without the love of his life,
Davena
.
I sighed. “Maybe that would help.”

“That’s a great idea, babe.
Really
great.
I think that would be a good start.” He took my hand and kissed
the back of it. “How about Saturday morning? I’ll take you.”

I nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Great,” he said again. “What should I tell
Jeanine?”

“Actually,” I said, looking at him over the
magazine, “I promised George I’d put in some time at the shelter on Sunday.”

“Okay. Maybe next weekend, then,” he said. He
smiled, but his mouth drooped at the corners.

~

Mack
had been very gracious over the phone. After four months, I was ready to see
him, but a knot sat heavy in my stomach. It had been too long.

I almost didn’t recognize the man who opened the
door. He’d lost weight, and his sallow skin drooped, but it was lively eyes that
gave Mack away.

“Come in, come in,” he coaxed to us.

I handed him a plateful of brownies I’d baked
the night before. “I know these are late, but I wanted you to have them.”

“My favorite, dear, thank you,” he said, setting
them down.

“I’m so sorry,” I rasped. I felt my eyes flooding
as I stepped into his embrace.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, petting my hair. “It’s
okay. It’s been hard for all of us.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated as tears spilled onto
his shoulder. “I miss her so much,” I whispered. “She was so good to me, and I
never deserved it.”

He pulled back to look me in the eyes. “How can
you say that? Of course you deserve it. She loved you like her own, and there’s
no reason she shouldn’t have. You brought her so much happiness.”

I shook my head. “I’ve been terrible,” I said
through blurred eyes. “I’m awful.”

Mack raised an eyebrow over my shoulder. “What
is she talking about?”

“She’s taking this very hard. It’s been a rough
few months, Mack. In fact, this is the first time she’s cried since she found
out.”

“Can you give us a minute?” I choked out. There
was a hesitation before Bill agreed, but when he did, his voice pitched with a
hint of bitterness.

Mack guided me to the same couch I’d sat on with
Davena
during our last visit. I fell rather than sat
and bawled rather than cried into my hands. He handed me a box of tissues, and when
I could, I looked up to face him.

“I think about her every day, Mack, and you too.
I hope you know how much you mean to me. There’s no excuse for not coming
earlier.”

“I know. People grieve in different ways. You made
her happy, and that’s all I could ever ask for.”

I sniffled and looked at my hands.

“Is there something the matter?”

“What kind of person am I for not visiting?
You’ve been there for me through everything, and this is how I repay you? I’m
terrible,” I said quietly and erupted into tears. “Terrible, terrible,” I
ranted, “I’ve done something terrible.”

He scooted closer and wrapped me in his arms,
rocking me back and forth. “That’s it, just let it out.”

Mack’s love was overwhelming. I wondered how it
could be so strong. It hadn’t diminished in the absence of his wife, even
though she’d been, and still was, the center of his world. It was my greatest
fear, here in front of me. To love someone the way he had loved
Davena
and to lose him suddenly to something that was so
wildly out of my control.

“How do you get up every morning?” I asked into
his shirt.

“Reluctantly, like everyone else,” he kidded.
“Really, life is too short to be so unhappy. You have to let go of the past or you’re
denying yourself a future. Whatever is holding you back – whatever you’ve
done – you must forgive yourself.”

“What if what I’ve done is unforgivable?”

“Olivia . . . Nothing is unforgiveable. But only
you can figure out how to move forward. I can’t tell you how.”

“Did you ever doubt your love for
Davena
?” I asked softly.

He squeezed me closer. “We fought a lot, dear,
we were very different people. Did I ever tell you that we separated once?”

I pulled back to look at him. “No.”

“We did, a long, long time ago for a few weeks.”

“So even you had doubts?”

“Doubts?” he repeated. “No. I never doubted that
I wanted to be with her. Not since the moment she agreed to have dinner with
me. Those few weeks were the worst of my life. I was miserable without her. I
know it’s cliché, but I felt incomplete, and not until we got back together did
I feel whole again.”

Goose bumps sprang over my body at his words.
Whole. Make me whole again.
He continued
before I had a chance to let the meaning sink in. “We separated because it felt
necessary at the time, but I would’ve died before I let her get away.”

I looked away and held a tissue to the corner of
my eye.

“Now, now. That doesn’t mean it’s not normal to
have doubts about your partner. It’s not common to be so sure.
Dav
and I were different. We had an exceptional love.”

He drew me back to him. I had declared to Lucy
that I didn’t believe in soul mates, but contrary evidence held me in its arms.
Did I have any doubt that Mack and
Davena
were meant
to be? Or even Lucy and Andrew for that matter?
What if I’ve been wrong all along? What if there is such a thing as
soul mates, and what if . .
. ?

David recalled something unidentifiable in me
that I’d been missing since my parents’ divorce. His embrace, his scent, his
adoration felt natural, effortless. When I was away from him I was cold and empty
and longing for something more.
Why then
is it so wrong?

I’d been trying to rationalize away my fears
about making a home with Bill. But the image he’d painted for me was different
than what I’d seen in the Oak Park house. He had seen us, children,
a
warm and open home. And what had I seen?
David.

It was true, I thought. I’d done a terrible
thing. I’d led Bill to believe that he could trust in me.

Was there a wrong way to fall in love? I
couldn’t remember when or how it had happened with Bill. Gretchen had called him
safe. He couldn’t hurt me because I wouldn’t let him close enough for that. He
couldn’t hurt me because he wouldn’t, and I had known that from the start.

Bill didn’t deserve to be loved with my hands on
the wheel, controlling the direction we took. Even though he couldn’t
understand the depth of it, I was hurting him – I had been even before
I’d met David. And the way David opened and closed to me, as though he was
fighting himself, I saw that I was hurting him as well.

Things could not continue as they were.

There was only one option. The idea of losing
David constricted around my heart like a snake. When he returned, I would have
to end things for good. I’d taken a vow, and even if David thought he wanted
more from me, it wasn’t mine to give. And not only that, but he, as a lifelong
bachelor, couldn’t understand what more meant.

I wanted to tell David everything. Every feeling
I’d experienced since the moment I had met him; what it had meant to make love
with him and how it felt to become one with him. But saying those things to him
was even worse than my physical betrayal, and so I had to bury it. There was no
other way.

Mack never once asked what it was I had done
because to him, it didn’t matter. He loved me regardless. “Come now,” he said
into my hair. “Let me make you some tea, and we can catch up.”

The three of us spent the morning remembering
Davena
. The despair I’d been holding in over her death
flowed from me finally. Mack told us about her foundation, and how he had been
coping by pouring himself into it. We talked about work, and he congratulated
me on my promotion, assuring me that
Davena
would
have been proud.

On the walk back to the car, Bill was quiet. My
time with Mack had been cathartic in many ways. And though I knew what I had to
do, I felt no clarity from my decision.

As the silence dragged uncomfortably between us,
I chewed my cheek anxiously.

“You never cry in front of me,” he said finally,
squinting ahead.

I swallowed, unsure of how to respond. But he
didn’t look like he wanted me to. On the way home, I sought the words to
comfort him but came up short. I didn’t know how exactly I would
proceed,
only that something had to give.

~

Bill
crossed the bathroom and raised his eyebrows at me. “Wow.”

“I hope that’s a good wow.”

“Where’d you get that?”

“The costume shop.” I looked down at the ivory
floor-length ball gown that billowed out from a tight corset. My breasts were
trussed up, and I had pinned half of my hair back and curled the rest into soft,
brown waves. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah.”

I brushed my hand over the fabric of the skirt.
“Do you really?”

He straightened his tie and smoothed back a few
stray pieces of his hair. “I said yeah. I like it. It looks expensive though.”

“It’s a rental,” I said with a shrug.

“A rental,” he said with a scoff. “For one night?
Is that practical?”

“It’s a special occasion, babe.”

He grabbed his mask from the table and slid it
on. It skewed left a little, a black piece of plastic with two cutouts for his
eyes. I’d bought it for ninety-nine cents, knowing he wouldn’t wear anything
elaborate.

“How do I look?” he asked.

“Good.” I picked up my own mask and fingered it.
It had come with the dress and was more intricate: ivory lace overlay, glass
pearls at the corners of the eyes and a spray of white feathers off to the
side.

“What’s wrong? Are you still upset about this
afternoon?”

“No.” I gave him a reassuring smile.

“K.” His shoulders slackened, and he smiled
goofily. “Tonight’s going to be fun. I’m looking forward to it.”

I nodded, wondering at his shifty mood. As of
late, our dispositions had rarely been on the same page. So as I stretched the
mask over my hair and fixed it on my face, I promised myself that I would be in
high spirits for the night.
No matter what.

CHAPTER
18

TICKETS
TO THE BALL had been expensive, but Bill knew how much supporting the shelter
meant to me. It was held at a private mansion just outside the city, a lavish
home with curved staircases and velvety gold décor that reeked of luxury. Bill
and I circled the silent auction table, joking about how much we would bid on
an eighty-two-foot yacht or a ten-day Jamaican vacation. We found Lucy and
Andrew hovering over courtside seats for the Bulls, and I shook my head at Bill
as soon as he gave me a pleading look.

“You look stunning,” Andrew said, appraising me.
“Well done!”

“Thanks,” I said with a sheepish smile. “You
guys too.”

Lucy donned an ornate sky blue dress that
matched both Andrew’s tie and her Venetian mask.

“Your waist is so tiny in that dress,” I heard
from behind me.

“Oh. Hi,
Dani
.”

“Really
Liv
, you’re so
little.”

“I’m not
little
,”
I said with a hint of irritation. “Lucy is barely five feet –
she’s
little.”

“You know what I mean – skinny,”
Dani
said, waving her hand nonchalantly. Her chocolate hair
was long and luxurious in perfect ringlets, and her eyes were especially green
behind a brown mask. A pang of envy washed over me, and I remembered the stupid
pink hoodie. Hadn’t David broken things off? Why did she look so happy?

“Not much of a mask, Bill,” she quipped.

He shrugged. “Better than Phantom of the Opera
over here.”

Andrew visibly blushed under his mask. “What’s
wrong with mine?”

“You look very handsome, honey.”

We all laughed and headed into the ballroom to
take our seats. I waved at Lucy from across the room and texted her to save me
a dance. The director spoke about the shelter’s mission and their goal to
spread the word about animal adoption and the plight of homeless animals. Bill
squeezed my knee. He whispered that he was proud of what I did, even though I
knew in my heart it wasn’t enough. When her speech concluded, the room filled
with applause.

“That was nice,” Bill commented.

I gave him a close-lipped smile, but he was
watching the dance floor where people had begun to gather. When the music
started, he turned to me and grabbed my hand. “Come on.”

“What? I don’t know how to dance to this.”

“Just come,” he said, pulling me to the dance
floor.

I started laughing, more from nervousness than
anything. “Bill,” I protested between giggles.

He whirled around and stood in front of me
before bowing at the waist and offering his hand. “May I have this dance?”

I adjusted my mask and put my hand in his.
“Certainly.”

He stood just slightly from my body while
gripping my hand in the air. He began to dance, leading me in a waltz. I wasn’t
surprised, since I knew of his childhood lessons, but I was thrown by how
confidently he led me. I moved easily with him, unable to hold back a big
smile.

We glided across the floor, darting through some
couples while the less experienced ones moved aside to watch. He danced in sync
with the tempo, and I let myself get carried away, spinning faster and faster
as the music hit its stride. His posture lengthened with the acceleration, and
soon all I could see was the flurry of my skirt, and all I could hear was the
violin. Just as the music hit its apex and Bill whirled me, chestnut brown eyes
hit me like a wall. At David’s masked glare from across the room, I lost my
step, and Bill broke just in time to catch me. My smile fell instantly at the piercing
fury radiating from David, despite the distance between us. Bill whisked me
around again, and David was gone. I finished out the dance, not wanting to ruin
Bill’s moment, but dread built inside me.

Lucy and Andrew rushed over before I excused
myself to the bathroom. Bill gave me a hurried kiss on the cheek, laughing as
he explained to them how his parents had forced him into classes as a teenager.

I exited through the doorway where I’d seen
David. A quick scan of the foyer gave me nothing. My next stop was valet in
case he meant to leave. It was then that I saw him, pacing off to the side of
the house, dark and portentous like a brewing storm. I picked up my skirts and
ran over to him, not knowing what I would say but just that I had to know what
that look was for.

“David,” I hissed, and his head jerked up.

“What?” He resumed his march.

“I thought you were in New York.”

“I was,” he snapped. “I got back last night.”

“You’re mad,” I said, moving my mask to my forehead.

“I can’t even look at you right now.”

“Me? What did I do?”

He stopped pacing in front of me and ran a hand
through hair as black as his tuxedo. His grip tightened on the silver mask in
his hand when he asked, “Are you happy with him?”

“David,” I said, my eyes darting around. “We
can’t do this here.”

“Answer me, damn it! Are you happy?”

I glared at him a moment before walking further
around the house. I heard him tramping behind me as I led us to the first
concealed spot I could find – a small, intimate garden.

I jumped when he threw his fist into a tree. “I
can’t do this anymore!” he yelled. “To see his hands on you! It’s too fucking
much!”

I blanched for a moment, unprepared for the
assault. He fisted the mask so tightly in his other hand that it cracked in
half.

 
“Please, calm down,” I pleaded when he
started pacing again. “Let’s talk about this rationally.”

“I should be the one touching you like that, not
him. It should be me.”

I drew a sharp breath. “David, we need to
– to talk,” I said.
My heart jumpstarted as though it
were on the verge of exploding.
I readied the words in my head, fighting
back hot tears.
We’re through. You have
to go away. I have to push you away even though what I want is to run to you,
to drown in you . .
. .

He shook his head hard. “I can’t. I can’t share
you like this. It makes me want to just . . .” His gestures were wild and
desperate as he spoke. I gasped when I noticed his bloody knuckles, but he
pulled back when I reached out. “He has you, and it drives me fucking crazy. It’s
all I can think about and then to see you in
there
dancing with him . . .”

“He’s my husband,” I said in a small voice.

“No fucking shit. I can’t believe I let myself
get so involved with this.”

I attempted to swallow the lump rising in my throat.
“I don’t know what to say. You knew what we were getting into.”

“So it’s my fault, I guess.”

“
We
did this to ourselves.”

“You have to tell me what you want. I can’t do
this anymore.”

I gritted my teeth, fighting back unwelcome
tears. “I – he’s my husband.”

“So that’s it? You’re not even going to consider
. . .”

“What, David? I don’t know what you want from
me.”

“If I tell you what I want, then this is it. You
have to decide.”

“Decide what?” I screamed, surprising us both.
“I already told you. My decisions are made. There are no options.”

“Well, then what the fuck am I even doing here?
Go on and be happy with him, your
fucking
husband.”

“Me? What about you?” I shot back, suddenly
incensed. “Why
are
you here tonight?
Did you come with
Dani
?”

“I told you, it’s over.”

“Then why are you here?” I demanded.

He was quiet as he paced, shaking his head from
side to side. Pieces of his hair had broken from their marble wave, and it was
the most disheveled I’d ever seen him.

I nodded and crossed my arms. “That’s what I
thought.”

“She begged me – ”

“You claim you want more, but you can’t even
give up
one
of your girls. How many
others are there? Are you still with Maria?” I stepped in his way to stop his
pacing short. “Answer me! When was the last time you fucked Maria?”

“Olivia,” he pleaded.

“You can’t even give one of them up for me.”

“For you?” he growled with menacing heat. His
expression shifted into something that had me cowering back. “For you I would
give up anything!” he raged. “It’s all for you, everything I do! Can’t you see
that? Everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve ever built is for you!”

His words sliced through to my heart. I backed
away and shook my head. “You don’t . . . Stop.”

“You asked what I want, Olivia, I want
you
. I need – ”

“Stop!” I cried. “It can’t be, please just stop.
It can’t be.”

“I need you,” he said, lunging forward and
covering my shoulders with his hands. “Now.”

“Don’t
touch
me. Stop!”

I turned to leave, but he grasped my waist and
yanked me against his concrete body.

“Stop!” I yelled, pushing his chest as he backed
me into the tree. “We’re done! We can’t do this anymore!”

He suppressed my words with a hard kiss. His
pelvis pinned mine to the trunk, stilling me while his hands feverishly
gathered up my dress. His hand ran up my clenched thighs, and when he released
an animal growl into my mouth, I responded with a traitorous moan. I shoved him
again, knowing I wouldn’t be able to resist if his hands lingered any longer,
but even our lips didn’t separate. A fiery need tore through my body as he
found my panties and effortlessly ripped them away.

He bit my lip as he slipped a finger inside me,
and I whimpered into the kiss. He had yanked my mask around my neck and feathers
tickled my jaw. The hiss of his zipper spiraled me into
a
frenzy
. He would be inside of me any moment, quenching my need and
filling me in the way only he could. I fisted the lapels of his tuxedo and
yanked him closer, kissing him back heatedly.

He opened me urgently with his fingers. I
instinctively wrapped a leg around him, and we moaned together as he thrust
into me. He drew back and drove into me, bouncing me up the tree. His drives grew
quickly frantic, and as out of control as the look in his eyes. Harsh
punishments tore across my back from the bark, but I barely noticed. I bit down
on my lip to keep from screaming my pleasure.

“Oh Christ – yes, Olivia,” he hissed into
my ear.

At the sound of my name, I cried out, and he
clamped his hand over my mouth. “Yes,” I yelled into it.

His eyes squeezed shut, and he pumped as fast as
our position would allow. With another throaty growl, he seized my other leg,
fastening me to the tree. I accidentally bit down on his hand and he snarled,
tightening his grip on my face. When I thought I couldn’t take anymore, he took
both hips in his hands and hammered me so wildly, that I had to grip his
shoulders so I wouldn’t fall off the trunk.

 
“Yes,”
I breathed, “don’t stop, don’t stop, David, fuck me.” He didn’t stop, and
within seconds, I was coming around him, tormented by the feathers at my neck and
grasping for his body while I was hit with waves so extreme that they bordered
on painful.

“Shit,” he breathed. “I’m
gonna
come.”

“Come, baby,” I urged.

With a guttural groan he withdrew and, supporting
me with one hand, came feverishly on the inside of my dress. My labored
breathing hitched in my throat as I looked down between us. He set me harshly
on the ground, and my cum-soaked skirts fell around me.

“What was that?” I cried.

He zipped his pants up and leaned over, placing
his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Did you just come on my dress?”

“I told you, Olivia,” he said, snapping upright.
“I won’t come in someone who doesn’t belong to me, and
you do not
.”

I gaped at this man I didn’t know. His demeanor
was cold
;
a stark contrast to our last clandestine
meeting. He cursed and turned his back to me, kicking a concrete bench in the
process.

“I – I . . .” I stood there in shock,
trying to wrap my head around everything that had just happened
;
the words, the actions . . . the implications. “I have to
get back.”

“Go, then,” he bit out. “Just fucking go.”

My hand flew to my mouth as I stifled a sob. It
wasn’t just the daggered words that hurt but the dismissal. This was the David
I’d been
expecting,
the one I always knew would appear.

I stumbled backward before turning to run up to
the house. I wanted to run
to
him, not
away – to comfort him, find comfort
in
him, let the world fall away in his arms . .
. .
The
pain was physical, almost too much to bear; it was the reason I never let anyone
get too close, even Bill.