One Perfect Morning Page 18

  I played it like a movie in my head, rewinding it over and over. He’d be sitting at the bar watching for his temptress, then lo and behold, here I’d come, placing a hand on his shoulder, looking like a million bucks. His eyes would widen, searching for a hiding place, and he’d stammer through a series of lies and excuses about why he was there. I’d play along for as long as it took to finish a martini, then I’d cut to the chase.

  I’d want half of everything, plus the house. Alimony payments until I felt like supporting myself, plus full custody of the kids along with a healthy child support check. And if he denied me? Well, I knew how to spread gossip like spreading dirt on a wall. Especially since most of his patients’ moms were friends of mine in the PTA. Grant’s reputation would be ruined, taking down him and his thriving medical practice. So really, what choice would he have?

  I didn’t want to be that kind of woman – the woman scorned. But he’d forced me here, hadn’t he? It was merely a matter of payback’s bitchiness at work.

  No, I wouldn’t dwell on such things anymore. Today I would enjoy the calm before the storm, then tomorrow let the thunder come. Sixty minutes all for me. The temptation to online browse Wayfair’s ‘must-have clearance décor!’ pulled on me, but I resisted. I could refuse my urges, just like I would refuse Grant’s begging for forgiveness tonight. Instead, I set down my phone and prepared to vegetate. It was the most precious time of week, but when the phone rings, may God smite the person who interrupts me time.

  I had just queued up Stranger Things when the doorbell rang. If I weren’t worried it’d wake up Collette and Lucas I might have ignored it. Muttering my way to the door, I answered it, prepared to politely tell the Jehovah’s Witness I expected to go peddle their Watchtower someplace else. What I didn’t expect was to see a police car parked in my driveway and a plain-clothes detective standing on my front porch.

  An impulsive breeze blew in behind him.

  ‘I’m Detective Rossi looking for Ryan Thompson. Does he live here?’ The detective flashed a badge, then returned it to his jeans pocket. He was wearing an orange button-down shirt that darkened his olive complexion. He wasn’t much taller than me with gelled curls that I imagined crunching between my fingers.

  ‘I’m his mother. What’s this about?’ I knew what this was about. I just never thought it would actually happen. I steeled myself for the worst.

  ‘Please show me to your son, ma’am. I’m going to need to bring him to the station for questioning.’

  A force cut through the air like a guillotine. Somehow I managed not to faint – or to hit Rossi in the mouth. I couldn’t believe this. Owen Fischer was most certainly behind this. After what he had done to Ryan, smashing his face, he had the gall to press charges now? The shock shook my anger loose.

  ‘Is this about Aria Fischer? Because he didn’t rape that girl. She’s a family friend and it was consensual.’

  He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. ‘Ma’am, we’ll be speaking with everyone involved to get the facts. If you want to bring your son to the station, we’ll get all the details and figure it out together. I understand this is difficult for you, but I need to speak with your son.’

  As his words draped one over another, it felt like a red-hot brand to my brain.

  ‘Did Aria press the charges, or was it her parents?’ I demanded fiercely.

  ‘I’m not at liberty to say at this moment, ma’am. Like I said, I need to speak with Ryan in person, down at the station, now. Once we get his statement we can get to the bottom of it. Right now no one is in trouble.’

  ‘So he’s not under arrest, right? He’ll be coming home after your interrogation?’

  ‘No, ma’am, he’s not under arrest. We only need his statement. If the DA feels the charges are legitimate, there will be a formal arrest. But for now, all we need is to ask him some questions, get his side of the story. Is he home?’

  ‘Yes, he’s in the basement. I’ll go get him.’ I opened the door wider, letting the detective step inside the foyer while I headed toward the stairs. I paused as something occurred to me. ‘Do we need an attorney?’

  ‘If he hasn’t done anything wrong, there’s no need for one. Like I said, we just want to know what happened from his point of view.’

  As I turned the corner to head down to the basement, a turret of dark brown hair slid into view. Lucas, awake from his nap, eyes wide with confusion and worry. No child should have to watch his big brother, his idol, being hauled off in a cop car.

  ‘Hey, Fizz,’ I said, lifting him up and smoothing down his bedhead. I grunted as I hugged him against me. My little boy felt so big in my arms. ‘Why are you awake, buddy? Naptime isn’t over yet.’

  ‘I saw the policeman through my window. Is Ryan going to jail?’ he asked.

  ‘No, sweetie, of course not. They just want to ask a couple questions, Fizz. No biggie.’

  I could tell my words held no comfort as his eyes dampened. I pressed my lips to his sweet naïve head, channeling his warmth to my heart. I loved him more than life itself, and I would do anything to protect my children. Anything.

  ‘Hey, I promise everything will be fine.’

  I shouldn’t have made that promise because nothing was fine. My husband was cheating on me. My son was being accused of rape. Everything spun out of control and I couldn’t right it. I had no idea what Ryan would say in that interrogation room, and I was petrified to find out the truth. Because I knew better than anyone that sometimes the truth didn’t always set you free.

  Chapter 29

  Lily

  SATURDAY

  Hiding my head under my pillow, I had ignored six phone calls and four text messages from Robin in the past hour. Only two days into her administrative job for Workout Wonder and already she had double-booked two clients, overcharged another one, and scheduled a prospective client on my only day off. If it was anyone but Robin, I would have fired her ass on the spot and shredded her with words.

  ‘With everything going on, why not wait until things calm down?’ I suggested this morning upon discovering the mix-ups. ‘You’re dealing with too much all at once.’

  But she was adamant about needing a distraction. Anything to curb the anxiety of watching her life crumble around her. So I agreed. Guilt held me captive.

  Guilt and withdrawal, that is.

  My temples throbbed, my eyes hurt too much to read the texts, and whatever emergency Robin had created would have to wait. After last night’s tire-slashing drama, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop wondering and worrying who did it, and why. Normally I would have muted the anxiety with a pill or two – slept it off. My newfound sobriety couldn’t have had worse timing, but I was useless when I was high and I needed to stay clean if I was going to figure out who was behind the threat.

  When the tow truck arrived, the driver chalked the incident up to a teenage prank. Either that or someone really hated my guts. I didn’t laugh, because I had an ill feeling that it was the latter.

  Rolling onto my back, I wrestled my pillow underneath me and stared at the orange prescription bottle of painkillers taunting me from the bedside table. I picked it up, popping off the lid. Inside the plastic they rattled a Siren call.

  ‘No!’ Pills scattered across the floor as I tossed the bottle toward the garbage can and missed.

  The glisten of a knife’s blade caught a stray sunbeam. I had pulled it out of my tire and considered taking it to the police for fingerprinting, but I was sure they’d laugh me right out of the station. A minor vandalism dispute was nothing compared to the murderers they were probably chasing.

  My first thought was Robin. If she had seen me with Grant, making out with her husband, maybe tires wouldn’t be the only thing she’d slash. Maybe the admin mistakes were intentional – an underhanded tactic to bring down my business. But throughout the rest of the baseball game she had acted nothing but normal around me – chatty with gossip, annoyingly occupied with Lucas and Collette, bursting with excitement over working t
ogether. Robin couldn’t fake happy if she tried, wearing her emotions like a scarf that either adorned her or swallowed her, which led me to eliminate her from the list.

  Slashing tires seemed pretty juvenile, which put Willow under the spotlight. Plus she knew what kind of car I drove. But sweet little Willow wreaking havoc on my car didn’t sound like her at all. Plus, after Willow tracked down Ryan’s biological father, Robin had kept the poor girl on a very short leash.

  Who else was there? And what had I done to deserve it? There was only one client I could think of who would have motive to get back at me. Irving was a typical grade-A asshole with unrealistic demands and a penchant for threats. After two months of working with him on his diet and exercise regimen, when he didn’t get the results he wanted and demanded a full refund, I told him where he could shove it. He didn’t like that too much and threatened legal action. Fortunately for me and unfortunately for him, my contract was pretty clear-cut … along with his threats of getting back at me.

  I ignored his calls and texts until he huffed off, tail between his legs, never to be heard from until his most recent legal threat last week, to which I told him to have his lawyer talk to my lawyer. Rather absurd, since neither of us actually had lawyers. It would be just like Irving to resort to this kind of childish vindictiveness, just to boast he had gotten the last word.

  My brain hurt from going in circles, but I had vowed not to take my drug of choice to ease the symptoms, no matter how good half a bottle of painkillers washed down with Jack Daniel’s and Coke sounded. I’d be a trouper and suck it up like a good little addict in recovery.

  Cold sweat soaked my T-shirt, but I was shaking too much to strip it off. Grabbing the damp edge of the bedspread, I pulled it up over my head and curled my knees to my chest.

  Another chime from my phone. Then a knock at the door.

  I threw a pillow at the bedroom door in anger. ‘Dammit, Robin, go the fuck away!’ I screamed at nothing, at everything. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to, but I wasn’t about to invite Robin’s drama into my home.

  ‘Liliana, it’s me, Tony. Please let me in.’

  Tony? What the hell was he doing here? I hadn’t seen him in months, though my memories of him never strayed far. Some days I missed him like crazy, but I couldn’t tell you why. We were toxic together. Maybe I was a little conceited – okay, a lot – but our volatile relationship always reminded me of Cleopatra and Mark Antony. ‘Fool! Don’t you see now that I could have poisoned you a hundred times had I been able to live without you?’ Cleopatra reportedly said to her lover. I know just how you felt, Cleo baby. Tony and I fought battles time had forgotten, but our makeup sex was epic, sheet-scorching stuff. He was my first heroic romance and my first crushing heartbreak.

  ‘I’m coming,’ I called out, jumping up and running for the closet. Tossing my damp clothes in the overflowing laundry basket, I grabbed a fresh shirt and pants, then darted into the bathroom to splash cool water on my face and readjust my hair into a messy bun. I tamped down the nausea rumbling in my belly and answered the front door. I wasn’t exactly in the mood to see him, but I didn’t want to look like a slatternly old hag, either.

  Damn, he looked good in a leather jacket unfit for the warm May weather, white V-neck T-shirt, and dark jeans. I immediately noticed he had lost weight since I last saw him almost a year ago.

  He held out a colorful bunch of flowers wrapped in yellow gauze. ‘Long time no see,’ he said after a moment of disorienting silence. ‘May I come in?’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked, all Italian attitude with my hand perched on my hip.

  ‘Nice to see you too.’ His dark hair hung in loose curls around his face, and familiar tattoos crawled over his skin, peeking out from under his shirt collar in tribal shards. In all our years together I had never grown tired of his face – those lips that savored every inch of my body once upon a time, that cheek scrawled with scruff I still yearned to touch. Sensual. Sexy. Exciting. No matter how much I hated his brooding nature and arrogance, it was unabashedly tempered with my desire for him.

  ‘These are for you.’ He handed me the flowers, then strode past me into the belly of the apartment. ‘What the hell? You’re living like this?’ He gestured to the rumpled blanket on the floor, the scattered magazines, the numerous half-empty glasses littering the table, the partly chewed toast I couldn’t stomach finishing. ‘You ever clean, Liliana?’

  I used to love the way he called me by my real name: Liliana. No one else did, but I always thought it sounded exotic and poetic as it rolled off his tongue. Now it only sounded caustic.

  ‘I don’t recall inviting you over to insult my housekeeping.’ I found a clean vase in the cupboard, filled it with water, and stuck the flower stems inside.

  ‘Sorry. I needed to see you. Talk to you in person.’ He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a chair. A whiff of the leather reminded me of the nights he used to take me out, arm around my shoulder, tucking me against him.

  ‘Oh, well, the mess is because I’ve been sick. Still am, in fact.’ Unable to fake it anymore, I dropped onto the couch, nestling into the armrest. I held a beige pillow in front of me like a shield.

  ‘Sick, huh? You’re not contagious, are you?’ His voice was skeptical. I couldn’t tell him I was sick from withdrawal and anxiety over the tire-slashing business.

  ‘No, don’t worry your pretty little head. You can’t catch it. And in case you were wondering, yes, I’m clean.’

  ‘Oh. Gotcha. I’m sure you are.’

  I heard the condescension, and I couldn’t ignore it. Not after all we’d been through together. ‘Wait – back the truck up. What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I don’t want to fight, Liliana. Clearly you’re working through some stuff, and if this is withdrawal, then good for you. I hope you stick it out this time and get sober.’

  ‘I am sober, Tony.’ I was so convincing I even believed myself. ‘I got my shit together and I’m doing really well, actually. Is that why you showed up unannounced – to check up on me?’

  ‘Of course I’ll always care about you. But no, I’m not checking up on you. I’ve moved on with my life. That’s what I need to talk to you about. I met someone.’

  ‘Oh?’ This time the nausea had nothing to do with the withdrawal and everything to do with a sudden panic surging through me. No matter how bad we were together, I could never imagine Tony with someone else. He was mine. Always had been, always would be. ‘Some skanky bar ho?’

  ‘Stop it, Liliana. Grow up, wouldja? She’s a great girl, and I want to ask her to marry me. But I can’t until … well, you know.’

  ‘You want a divorce.’ My heart cracked around the edges just saying the words.

  ‘Yes, it’s time, isn’t it? It’s been over a year of separation now and I want to get this sorted as quickly and painlessly as possible. I’ve already filed the paperwork so I just need you to look over it, have your attorney check it out – whatever you need to do. I think you’ll agree it’s fair and pretty straightforward. We each take what we brought into the marriage, and Workout Wonder is all yours, obviously. I’ll sign over whatever I need to.’

  ‘This is what you want?’

  I was sure he was being manipulated into this.

  ‘Yes. I love her.’

  I couldn’t let him go. I wasn’t ready. I’d never be ready. We fit together, were broken when apart.

  ‘Tony, you can’t deny the chemistry between us, and I know she can’t hold a candle to what we had. Why can’t we try again? I swear it won’t be like before. I’m clean. No more pills. I can be a better me – for you, for us.’

  He shook his head. Was that pity in his eyes? ‘We’ve been down this road a million times. I’m through. And I think you should move on too. Get clean for you. Get better. Get your life back on track. You’ve always been better without me, Liliana. Let’s just let each other go without the drama. Please?’

  No. I wouldn’t accept it. I needed
to know who I was dealing with.

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Why do you want to know?’

  Ah, defensive. So she was a secret, was she?

  ‘There’s no need to be so guarded about her. If you’re as serious as you say you are, I’ll find out eventually. I’m just curious.’

  ‘Fine. Her name is Sienna.’

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘Does it matter? We love each other. We want to start a life together, maybe even have kids together.’

  ‘So she’s young then.’

  ‘God, Liliana, get over yourself. She’s twenty-three, all right? Older than when we started seeing each other.’

  ‘Wow, you’re old enough to be her father. How’s it feel being a sugar daddy?’

  ‘You know, I expected your resistance, but I didn’t expect you to act like a damn child. Just sign the papers and stop harassing me, okay?’

  ‘Harassing you? What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘The constant texts. The voicemails. You drunk dial me all the time. It’s pissing Sienna off, and me too, for that matter.’

  ‘No I don’t!’ At least I didn’t think I did.

  ‘Oh, really? Here, have a listen to this.’ Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he pressed a series of buttons on his phone and held it out for me to hear. ‘This was from two nights ago.’

  My voice on speakerphone, slurred and sounding like a pathetic, needy loser:

  Hey, sexy thang. I miss you. Thinking of you and your hands all over my body. I want you back if you’ll take me. I think about you constantly. Call me. I love you, Tony. I’ll always love you. Oh, and it’s me, Lily. I’m sure you figured that out already, though. I miss you. Did I say that already? I don’t know, but get your ass over here. Puuhhleeeease?

  It wasn’t one of my finer moments. I was definitely high when I left this message, but I had no recollection of doing so.