“I think this is going to cost a fortune.” He watched Pace’s expression quickly turn from hopeful to hurt and had to stifle the urge to apologize. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I just don’t see how this is going to help.” When she stared at him blankly, he looked at his watch and said, “I’ve got to go.” He walked away toward his car without saying goodbye.
As he pulled out of the lot, he glanced over and saw Pace sitting in her SUV. She hadn’t started the car; she just sat in the driver’s seat with her eyes closed and her head bowed like she was praying. Jason turned onto Peachtree Street and into traffic, pushing on the gas harder than necessary. He’d do anything to distance himself from her pain.
He felt like a schmuck, going to see a counselor, watching Pace look at him so expectantly, waiting for him to say, “It’s okay, honey, I believe you.” He wished like hell he could just say it and move on, but he couldn’t let it go. What kind of fool would he be if he turned his back on that kind of evidence?
He pulled into the office lot and looked at the clock. Ten minutes until three. As he sat in the parked car, he thought about when he’d left for their session. When he’d told his secretary he’d be out of the office, she’d questioned his whereabouts. “I’m meeting my wife,” he’d explained. She had the nerve to lift her brows suggestively. Ha. When he’d first gotten a job as an intern with another big firm in town, he and Pace used to meet for lunch as often as they could. They’d smile at each other like a couple of kids playing at being grown ups and they pretty much were. Jason never thought they’d meet in the middle of the day for marriage counseling.
That night the boys started fighting over Lego’s. When Jason heard Pace send them to their rooms as he changed his clothes, Dillon slammed his door and, through the wall, Jason heard him mutter, “I hate her,” about his mother. Jason stormed into his room before Dillon even had time to fling himself onto his twin bed. It still had the dinosaur bedspread he’d begged for when he was four.
“I don’t ever want to hear you say something like that about your mother again. Do you understand me, young man?”
Instead of lowering his eyes and mumbling, “Yes, Sir,” like he usually did when he got in trouble, Dillon stared at his father and shouted, “Why not? You can’t stand to be around her either.”
Jason felt like he’d been slapped by his seven-year-old. He didn’t know who felt more shocked—Dillon, for standing up to his dad, or Jason, that Dillon had figured out how he felt. He and Pace obviously hadn’t done such a great job keeping their problems from the kids. “Mitchell?” Jason called through Dillon’s open doorway. “Come in your brother’s room for just a minute.” When he turned to yell downstairs for Pace, he found her standing at the threshold.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Mitchell pushed past her and joined Dillon on the bed, their little legs dangling from the sides, nowhere near the ground. “We need to have a talk, guys.” Pace came into the room and stood beside him, her eyes wide as a doe. Thank God she’d asked the therapist how to handle the kids.
“Look.” Jason ran a hand through his hair. How the hell was he supposed to shatter their world? “I know you guys know Mommy and Daddy haven’t been getting along lately.” Dillon blinked his eyes quickly and Mitchell looked down at his lap. Jason paused and cleared his throat. He couldn’t turn back now. “We want you to know we’re working on our problems and that it’s okay to be confused and upset about our…disagreement. But you have to respect and listen to Mommy and Daddy just like you always have. That doesn’t change. And if you have any questions or want to talk about what’s going on, you need to ask us. This is a private family matter and you’re not to discuss this with your friends.”
“Are you getting divorced?” Dillon asked with the saddest expression Jason had ever seen on his face. He wanted to tell him no, if only to stop his chin from quivering.
“I don’t think so, buddy.”
He could see Pace fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. She’d twisted the dishrag she’d carried up from the kitchen between her fists.
Dillon turned his head to look at her for the first time since she’d entered the room. “Why can’t you just say you’re sorry?”
For a minute, Jason thought his son knew his mom had been with someone and that he might know who. He almost dropped to his knees and shouted, “Who is it, Dillon? Who was Mommy with?”
“I…” Pace stuttered, took a step toward the boys, and then stopped. “Why should Mommy apologize?”
“Daddy’s mad at you,” Dillon said. “Whatever you did, just apologize and he’ll forgive you.”
Jason heard her sigh, long and hard, before she said, “It’s not that simple, Dil.” Her voice sounded high and soft and he knew she was about to cry. And that was the last thing the boys needed to see.
“You guys wash up for dinner, okay?” Jason ushered Pace into the hallway and down the steps. He expected her to go into the kitchen. He could hear the oven timer beeping and saw a pot on the stovetop with steam hissing out, but she headed into the hall bath and closed the door. Even with the water running full blast into the sink, he could hear her crying.
Chapter 14
Tori hung up the phone without leaving another message. Pace didn’t answer and had obviously ignored her mother’s earlier voicemails. It wasn’t like Pace to pout for so long and over something as ridiculous as Thanksgiving. Pace’s immature behavior was the last thing Tori needed on her plate right now, but she couldn’t help but worry there was something else going on.
She’d decided to hold off confronting Colin until after Thanksgiving. He came back from Washington, chipper as ever, and shifted right into pre-campaign mode, expecting Tori to do the same. Her schedule became packed with luncheon, speaker, and hostess duties she normally would have declined. She only wished she had the commitment to the campaign necessary to ensure Colin’s victory. She’d always been an important part of his success, with her family name and contacts, but after twenty years in the Senate, he’d eclipsed her and, with everything else that she’d discovered, she felt especially vulnerable.
He came in late one night as Tori read an old favorite in the den and sipped a brandy.
“You’re up late.” He joined her on the couch. He looked exhausted as he pecked her cheek. She had to remind herself not to recoil. He’d been more touchy-feely than ever. It should have been her first clue. They hadn’t made love in weeks, but not because he hadn’t tried. How in the hell was she supposed to perform for him knowing he’d compare her body to a twenty-year-old? In her prime she’d have given Heather or anyone else a run for their money, but now…
“Would you like a drink?” she asked.
“No.” He pulled off his tie and absently wrapped it around his hand. “Buddy Ellison was pouring ‘em strong at dinner.” He looked at Tori and smiled. “We missed you. Judy said she hasn’t seen you in ages.”
“I couldn’t stomach another fundraising dinner. I hope you passed along my apologies.”
He looked at her solemnly. “You’re not up for this round, are you, Tor?”
She used to be his biggest fan, his most ardent supporter, even through the worst of times. She used to think it mattered. “I’ll get there, Colin.”
He reached over, lifted the cover of her book, and grinned. “You reading that again?”
She couldn’t help but smile. He did pay attention, sometimes. “You know it’s my favorite.”
“But you know how it ends.” He leaned back against the cushions and she caught a faint whiff of his cologne. “I don’t see the point.”
“It’s soothing and familiar.” Tori shrugged uncomfortably when she realized he stared at her. Was he going to try to seduce her again and would she have the strength to refuse?
He scooted closer and ran his hand over her sweater and along the side of her breast. “So is this.”
She tried to visualize the pictures to harden her reserve, but his charm, the
boyish grin he used on her when all else failed, was hard to resist. She thought of everything he’d put on the line for a piece of ass: his career, their marriage, her sanity. And then there was her biggest fear of all: what if he was with this girl for more than just sex? After years of putting up with his slips, she couldn’t believe he’d put her in such a vulnerable position at a time when he needed her the most. “You’re dead on your feet.”
“I’ve got stamina to spare.”
She looked at him and something in her glare stopped him as he’d reached behind her to pull her into him. “Are you sure?”
He stared at her like he could see into her heart. Tori would have sworn at that moment he knew the gig was up. She felt sure he’d admit it if she asked, but she just stared at him. Why didn’t she ask? What was she so afraid of? This certainly wasn’t the first time.
His face remained unreadable and she could feel the power shift back to her. In so many ways he was still the innocent boy she married. Would he leave her? she wondered for the first time in ages. And what would she do if he did?
He let her go and looked away. “I suppose sleep will do me some good.” His knees cracked as he stood up and walked slowly out of the room. He paused and turned to face her at the door. “You coming along?”
She felt as though he was asking about more than just bed. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
* * *
I’m in therapy. We’re in therapy. Pace kept repeating those words to herself, as reassurance or to acknowledge an impossibility she wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t seem to stop. She passed her neighbor in the car, her son in the backseat with a balloon from the local grocery store, and envied her the innocence of mundane life where her biggest worry had been what to make for dinner. Pace wondered if her marriage would last through the end of the year or heck, the end of the month.
Thanksgiving was next week and she’d agreed to attend yet another over-the-top celebration at her parents’ house. Jason hadn’t even gotten upset when she’d mentioned it, like the thing he dreaded for a full year seemed completely unimportant. He kept shutting her out by working late and barely speaking to her when he finally made it home. She couldn’t stand the quiet at night after the kids went to bed. Neither one of them slept well. He’d moved back into their room after the scene with the kids and they spent their nights trying hard not to touch each other in bed. Just a brush of his skin left her aching. Pace felt sure a day spent with her mother would pull them even farther apart. Her mother with her super detection powers had always been able to see right through her, read her moods with a look. Would she be able to fake happiness for hours on end with the people who, other than her husband, knew her better than anyone?
She arrived early for her individual appointment with Dr. Falcon. He wanted to see her first and she couldn’t help but think he was going to badger her to into admitting an affair. She flipped through a magazine in the waiting room and tried to keep her mind off the unknown behind the door down the hall. She stared at the geometric pattern in the rug, the leather seats in the waiting room, and the variety of reading material—Atlanta Magazine, Better Homes & Gardens, Fortune—and couldn’t visualize Amanda sitting in this very same space, ready to bare her soul to a stranger. Or maybe Pace was the one who couldn’t imagine baring her soul.
If her mother knew she was at a therapist’s office, about to discuss “family matters,” she’d probably drag her from the building or threaten to do bodily harm if she didn’t leave. One thing the Whitfields never did was talk about family. Dr. Falcon cut her pondering short when he emerged from the back hall, sans the client the receptionist told her he was with. She felt a little disappointed at not getting to see another one of his patients.
“Mrs. Kelly.” He shook her hand with both of his as if they were old friends. After a few of these appointments they probably would be. He wore jeans and a blue button down rolled up at the sleeves. Pace thought he looked like a runner, with his long gait and lean build. A picture of a kid sat on his desk, but he didn’t wear a wedding ring. Great, she thought. Advice from an unmarried father. When she sat on the same couch she’d shared with Jason, it felt too big and she wished she’d sat in the other chair. When Dr. Falcon sat down and smiled at her, she figured it was too late to switch seats.
“How are things at home?” he asked. She could feel a lump rise in her throat. How in the world was he going to help her when she couldn’t get her emotions in check?
“Okay, I guess. The same.” She cleared her throat and tossed her coat on the adjoining seat cushion. “Actually the kids asked if we’re getting divorced. We aren’t doing such a great job hiding our problems.”
“And what did you say?”
“Jason told them what you said, that we’re dealing with things and to keep it private.”
“Were you there when he talked to them?”
“Yes.”
“And how did they take it?”
Pace shrugged. He could probably attribute meaning to his son’s every move, but her boys didn’t open up about much, except their devotion to PlayStation and their mutual hatred of girls. “They’ve been quiet since our talk, but it’s only been a few days.”
“Any behavior changes at home or notes from teachers?”
“No, not really. My son asked why I don’t just apologize so Daddy can forgive me.” The memory of it, sobbing in the bathroom and the uncomfortable dinner afterwards, brought back the lump. When she’d come out of the bathroom that night, they’d all been sitting at the table, like the perfect family waiting to be served. Jason had taken the casserole from the oven and turned off the beans from the stove. The look he gave her was the most tender since their whole ordeal began. “I told him it’s not that simple.”
“No, it’s not.” Pace noticed the yellow pad on his lap again. “Do you feel you have anything to apologize to Jason for?”
Why did she feel shocked at the blunt question? He didn’t know her, didn’t know she’d never cheat on Jason. “No, Dr. Falcon, I don’t.” Irritation snapped her out of her weepy state. “I didn’t cheat on my husband.”
He nodded his head, stared at her through his tiny little glasses as if waiting for her to say more. “And how does it feel when he accuses you of cheating?”
Pace sighed, but what she really wanted to do was scream, “How do you think it makes me feel?” “It hurts. I’d never cheat on him. Ever. And yet he seems to think I did and, without a guilty conscience, continue to lie about it. I hate it that he has so little faith in me, in us, and what we have together.”
She looked out the window at the leaves of the plum tree, so bold against the gray day, and thought about how to explain her husband to Dr. Falcon. He and Jason would have their time together, unless Jason refused to come, but even if he did come, she wondered how honest he’d be.
“Dr. Falcon, this thing with Jason, it’s complicated. Deep down I know he doesn’t believe I cheated on him. It’s just, well….he’s not jealous, that wouldn’t be the right term, but…” She tried not to sound naïve or like a know-it-all, but she needed him to understand her tender-hearted, frustrating, multi-faceted Jason. “His parents basically abandoned him. What we have together—our family—it’s his foundation. So for him to be unsure about me…” How could she explain that she knew how he felt, that she understood, despite hating it, the way he’d been acting? “He’s so hurt.”
“What about you?”
“I’m hurt, too. I understand how he feels about the test results and the fact that I lied about what the doctor said, but I won’t admit to something I didn’t do.”
He scribbled something down on the paper. The sound of it echoing in the otherwise quiet room was like nails on a blackboard.
“Tell me about your background.”
Oh, God. She’d expected the question and the subsequent clutch in her gut… “I’m an only child. My parents are…wealthy and pretty well known around town.”
“Well known in what way?”
She tapped her fingers on the soft brown fabric of the sofa arm. “My father is a United States Senator and has been for over twenty years.”
He didn’t ask her father’s name, but since the state’s only other senator had been newly elected, he had to know his identity. “So, tell me what it was like growing up the only child of well known parents.”
Pace wiped her clammy palms on her pants and sat on her hands to keep from tapping. She’d already noticed Dr. Falcon glancing at her nervous fingers. She knew she’d have to talk about her parents and yet she looked around the room for signs of her mother or some sort of recording device. Dr. Falcon must have sensed her hesitation because he said, “Often times a person’s background and family are keys to unlocking what’s going on in their current relationships. You just told me why you think Jason’s having such a hard time with this. I’ll remind you again that anything you tell me stays with me, inside these four walls.”
His reassurance should’ve made her feel more at ease, but it didn’t. She was about to break the cardinal rule of political life. But her marriage meant more to her than upsetting her parents. “It was insulating. I was out of the spotlight, but I went to the most selective private schools and they kept me inside the bubble of a small circle of acquaintances. College was like a wake up call,” she said with all the delight she’d felt at finally being free. “I’d never been around so many people with so many different lifestyles and experiences. I thought everyone went skiing over the Christmas holidays and flew to Europe in the summer.”
“Is that where you met Jason? In college?”
“Yes.” The party, the night they spent talking until dawn, the single white flower he’d brought her the next day flashed through her mind. She never tired of thinking about or telling that story.
“What was your parents’ reaction to your dating Jason?”
How could Pace describe her mother’s horror? “My mother was already planning my wedding with my high school boyfriend. No one but Trey would ever be good enough in her mind, certainly not Jason. I only made it worse by refusing to come home for summer break.”
Misconception Page 11
