Back Where I Belong: A Wonderfully Witty and Completely Absorbing Love Story (Susan Wade Series Book 3)

by Virginia Gray

  “Okay, it’s a little chilly, admittedly, but we’ll get used to it. We can adapt. Plus, I got a cherry deal on a snowmobile.”

  He pulled me into his arms. “Snowmobile? Now we’re talkin’.”

  The elevator pinged to our floor. “Nice hallway,” Pete said, pretending to admire the wallpaper.

  I threw open the condo door. “Ta-da!”

  Pete carried Audrey to the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. “Would you look at the view?”

  “I picked this unit because it faces downtown. We’ll have the city lights to enjoy at night.”

  “Very nice. And I’ve never seen so much snow before.” He probably hadn’t. North Carolina, Nashville, Los Angeles; those were sun places. I suddenly realized he probably didn’t even know how to drive in snow. I had handicapped him in more ways than I could count.

  Pete wandered the space, making positive comments. My angst waned when he turned to me with a brilliant smile. “It’s our new home.”

  “For now,” I said, thinking of the neighborhoods and schools.

  “Yeah, for now.”

  I came home nightly to a big smile and a wet kiss. We made love like wanton teenagers. We lay naked on the thick carpet in front of the giant windows, gazing at the twinkling city below, making plans, talking—just talking. The feeling of being together again was extraordinary.

  I handed him a beautifully wrapped box—okay, fairly beautifully wrapped, since I had to do it myself (press-on ribbons are a godsend). He held out his arms, and I settled in his lap. “Crappy birthday, I know.”

  “Well, you can’t knock it out of the ballpark every year.” He glanced out the window at the blowing snow. “New venue. That’s something.”

  “Unwrap it,” I said, smiling into my wine glass.

  He tore open the paper and then raised his eyebrows. “Condoms?”

  “Flavored ones!”

  “Flavored condoms. Definitely a surprise.”

  “This day usually comes with a curse, and I am not getting pregnant again.” Smiling brightly, I rummaged through the box and ripped open a purple one. “Let’s party, dude.” Slowly unbuttoning his shirt, I leisurely kissed down his neck and chest. His head fell back against the chair, and he let out a little moan as I ran my tongue across his washboard stomach, and then began my teasing journey down his happy trail.

  “Well, this part I like,” he breathed.

  ♥

  I refused to work late—refused. I needed Pete to know I was committed to our family. That lasted all of two weeks. Work was piling up like the ever-falling snow. Five-thirty turned into six-thirty then to seven–thirty, and finally eight-thirty.

  “What did you do today?” I asked, setting my briefcase on the island.

  “Walked around the mall.”

  “Didn’t you do that yesterday?”

  “Yep. And we’re plannin’ on doing it again tomorrow. My girl loves shopping.” He popped a bottle in Audrey’s mouth and looked at me, his smile overzealous.

  He’d already taken her to the contemporary art museum, the conservatory, an ice sculpture exhibit, and a cultural festival.

  Friday, I brought home NHL tickets and waved them in the air. “Scored frontrow, right behind the glass. I’ve even hired a babysitter from a professional service. We can have an early dinner, then drinks after the game. What do you think?”

  “Can’t wait,” he said enthusiastically, taking me in his arms and kissing me solidly. “I’ve always wanted to see a professional hockey game.”

  Another performance; the guilt was overwhelming. “Stop it! Just stop it!”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop pretending everything is just wonderful and you love living here. You’re acting far too happy. You’ve got too many nice things to say. You hate it.”

  “No.”

  “Admit it. You’re freezing to death. There’s no water. No ocean. I miss the hell out of the beach, and I only lived there for two years. You’ve had it your whole life. This has got to be killing you.”

  “It’s not.”

  “It is!”

  He sighed. “Alright, it’s a bit brisk.”

  “It’s negative ten outside. It’s cold as hell, Pete. Stop putting a sunny outlook on everything. You don’t have to love all this. I know I don’t. But for me, I’ve got an office, the comfort of a work I know well. I have a purpose and a reason to jump out of bed in the morning. You don’t—”

  “Audrey’s my reason,” he snapped. “And you—when I get to see you, that is.”

  I contacted Trisha and stacked the next few weekends with open house visits. Pete needed a mission, a raison d’être other than entertaining Audrey, who could no more appreciate the things he was showing her than a newborn kitten. He feigned interest, asking her lots of questions, though I couldn’t imagine any of the cookie-cutter houses interested him in the slightest.

  Slowly, Pete dropped his mask. He was clearly miserable, and I felt both responsible and helpless. It became increasingly difficult to meet his disapproving looks when I crept home late. Meetings ran over, travel took me away for overnights. I was beginning to hate myself.

  I clearly remember the day I bought my first roll of Tums from the ground floor kiosk. Unpleasant memories flooded my brain as the flavor hit my tongue. The petit vendor and I became fast friends over the next few weeks. While not the black cloud of despair surrounding me when I lived in Columbus, a gray fog of disappointment and frustration swathed me, and I found myself increasingly less driven to hurry home to the man who meant everything to me.

  It was nearly midnight when I slipped under the covers. Deeply sleeping, Audrey’s cherub face was filled with a peace I’d never know again. I’d watched her for close to an hour, shocked by the changes I hadn’t noticed; she was growing so fast. When I kissed her forehead, her brow furrowed slightly. That expression palely matched the one staring back at me from the bathroom mirror: scrunched brows, frowning face. The old me.

  Pete rolled over and brushed my hip.

  “Hi,” I whispered.

  “Hey.” His voice wasn’t groggy in the slightest. Rather, it was tense; he’d been waiting. “You missed a nice supper.”

  “I’m sorry. My meeting ran late, and then I had some emails to send.”

  He exhaled audibly and propped up on one elbow. His furrowed brow matched mine; we were a set. Wonderful.

  “We moved up here to live as a family, and because I couldn’t stand bein’ away from you. I thought you felt the same, but nothin’s changed. And lately, it hasn’t been just you climbin’ into bed with me. Work gets you all day. I will not share you with it at night.” He slipped from the covers, snatched up his pillow, and left the room.

  I lay on that cold mattress, remembering a time when my bed was always cold, remembering when I’d awaken to a pillow drenched with tears, my chest leaden with sorrow, desperate for the feel of Pete’s arms.

  My phone pinged: a reply to an email I’d sent two hours ago. Sitting up, I switched on the light and scanned it. The bedroom door opened, and Pete walked back in, carrying his pillow. His rueful expression morphed into indignation.

  “Seriously?!”

  “Pete, wait!” He slammed the door behind him. Audrey’s high pitched cry sounded like a siren. I raced into her room. She was already in his arms, and he was apologizing for waking her in the sweetest and most lulling tone. “I’ll take her,” I said.

  He glared at me. “Fine. You’re up anyway.” He gently placed her in my arms, turned on his heels, and stalked back into our bedroom. Returning seconds later, he tossed my phone into Audrey’s crib.

  “I’m sure you’re gonna need this,” he sneered.

  After a wicked game of peek-a-boo, Audrey and I had a good long talk about men, priorities, and responsibilities to one’s self and one’s family. She made some good points, but in the end, I turned a deaf ear. Just as I laid her sleeping form back into her crib, my phone pinged again. Four a.m. Who was awake at this hour? Th
en I snorted. This was INTech. I quickly typed a response.

  My gloved hand was on the doorknob when Pete staggered into the kitchen. I gave him a quick peck, but before I could turn, he pulled me against his chest and inhaled deeply. “I love you more than anything in the world. I hope you know that.”

  “I love you, too,” I choked out. My tears beat me to the garage.

  I promised myself a shorter day. In fact, I was bundled up with briefcase in hand at five sharp when Jacob walked into my office, carrying a stack of papers. “You’re leaving?” He glanced at his watch. “Are you ill?”

  “It’s our anniversary. We have plans.”

  “I keep forgetting you’re married.” He ran his eyes over the black and white image of Pete, leaning against the Oceana pier railing, wearing one of his killer smiles. I’d hung the large canvas opposite my desk my very first day.

  He smiled salaciously. “He is so hot.”

  “He is so mine, thank you very much.”

  “If things change between you two…” He raised his brows suggestively.

  “He’s also extremely straight.”

  His full lips puckered in a mock pout. “Things aren’t always as they appear.”

  I snorted. “What do you need?”

  “Could you sign off on these papers? They’ve got to be couriered to legal.”

  “Can’t it wait until morning?”

  “No. They want original copies by midnight.” He rolled his eyes. “Lawyers. My ex- is one.”

  I sighed. “Give them to me.”

  I called Pete. “I have a work emergency. I’ll meet you at the restaurant at six-fifteen, okay?” I’d booked reservations at Capital Grill, hired a professional babysitter, and made arrangements for Champagne to be waiting at our table. “I’ll probably beat you there.”

  Sounding less enthusiastic than I’d hoped, he said, “Okay.”

  Because I realized I needed to thoroughly read through the verbiage, and then make corrections, and then review the new copy before signing off, the process took a bit longer than I’d planned. It was nine when I scribbled my name on the dotted line. I’d called Pete twice, but he hadn’t picked up. I’d called the restaurant and was told he’d left nearly two hours ago. I called a priest next to have the evil spirit plaguing me exorcized.

  Walking into our darkened apartment, I groaned. A scribbled note lay on the counter.

  Out.

  “Well, I can see that,” I snarked at the emptiness.

  I slammed my laptop shut and hopped up when I heard the sound of Pete’s voice singing off-key as he jiggled the lock. I was still taken aback by the sight of him in a knit hat, scarf, and down coat. With snow peppering his head and shoulders, he looked like a friggin’ North Face model. I’d like to say his face lit up when he saw me; I’d like to say that. Unfortunately, I couldn’t.

  Other than meeting my eyes for a long moment, he walked past me and into Audrey’s room; his singing now sounded forced.

  “Dinner was great. Especially the champagne. The flowers were a little over the top, though.”

  “Pete—”

  “Would’ve been better with my wife across the table. Anniversaries usually are, ya know.”

  There was a long, empty pause. Pete fell into his recliner and picked up the remote. Channel surfing, he eventually settled on one of those stupid HGTV home makeover shows. I wondered if he was missing work as much as I had during those long weeks of bed rest.

  “Have you heard back from any of the firms, yet?” He’d applied to all six in the greater Minneapolis area.

  “Yeah. Two.”

  “No luck?”

  “I have interviews with both.”

  “That’s fantastic! Did they call today?”

  “Earlier in the week.”

  “Why didn’t you—” He shut me down with a look that could freeze lava. “When do you go in?” I asked quietly after the program’s would-be homebuyers/underpaid actors had left the third overly priced hovel.

  “Tuesday for the first, Friday for the second. You’ll have to take Audrey to work with you.”

  “I can’t do that,” I blurted out. “I have meetings all day.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You’re the boss, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then you can take her.” He continued focusing on the screen, his jaw muscles clenching.

  I nodded. “Fine. No problem.”

  As he changed the channel to a house flipping show, a smile crept across his profile like a spider. He’d won an argument I had never intended on entering. I hurried into the bedroom and quickly changed into the sexy black lingerie I’d ordered.

  Returning to the living room, I draped myself against the doorjamb provocatively. “Come to bed,” I whispered. “It’s our anniversary. I have big plans for you.”

  He glanced at me then back at the TV screen. “No, I want to watch this. I’ll turn in after a while.”

  I’d never felt more jilted—or ridiculous. I was being punished, and I couldn’t hide the hurt in my voice. “Oh. Okay. Well…goodnight?”

  “Night,” he replied absently.

  After stuffing the two-hundred-dollar lingerie in the garbage, I donned a pair of raggedy PJs and curled into a ball. I was back in Columbus again, only the man I loved was right outside the door; right there within reach; right there wanting me to be his wife, losing faith in me by the moment. There was little to do but cry.

  I did wake when he climbed into bed. I was grateful he’d chosen ours rather than the guestroom’s.

  “This will get better, I promise,” I whispered.

  “I’m wonderin’ if we’ll see each other at all when I start working.”

  “We’ll have weekends.” I regretted those words even as they left my lips. “I mean—”

  He exhaled sharply then put his back between us. I did the same.

  49

  Airport Bombing

  Pete met me at the door, his face drawn. He took a bundled-up-to-her-nose Audrey from my arms and the large bag of Indian take-out sloshing against my briefcase.

  “Oh Pete, there’ll be other jobs. This was just your first interview. Give it time.”

  His chuckle was void of humor. “No, I got the job. Made me a damn nice offer, too.”

  “That’s fantastic! Let’s pop open a bottle of champagne.” He shook his head. When he set the food on the island, I noticed the open bottle of whiskey and half-empty glass. “I know it’s not what you want, but—”

  He sighed mightily. “The job’ll be fine. It’s just…someone’s made an offer on the house. A good one.”

  We’d spent the last couple of weekends house hunting with a vengeance. The ice was thawing, and we were now able to identify the surrounding lakes. I’d spent time playing with Audrey and made a concerted effort not to go into the office as an olive branch of sorts. Admittedly, my laptop and I had enjoyed some quality bathroom time, but that didn’t really count.

  “The one we liked?” I fished out my phone and scrolled through the contacts. “I’ll call Trisha. We’ll just outbid them.”

  He shook his head. “No, sweetheart. Our house.”

  A small yelp escaped my lips, my vision instantly blurring as I slumped onto the couch. It was our stronghold, our North Carolina anchor; Pete’s lifeline. Mine, too, in all truth. “I didn’t think it—can’t we keep it? I mean, you know, rent it out?”

  He smiled weakly. “We’ve already had this conversation. Face facts. Even with my new job, we can’t afford two mortgages. Two big mortgages. No one’ll pay what we’d need to break even. Especially on the sound side. Were it on the beach, maybe. But it’s not. It’s our home. Or was,” he muttered. The flash of resentment quickly fled his eyes, but its heat left my insides charred. Suddenly his defeated expression transformed into resolve. “This is what we signed up for, Susan. We’ll take the offer.”

  We sat in silence on opposite ends of the couch, separated by a great wedge of sorrow. If Audrey a
nd I were his first loves, that plot of soil and shoreline came in a close second. Suddenly he stood. “I’m gonna take a walk.” He pulled me to my feet and kissed my hands. “I want you to know that I love you with my whole heart.” And with that, he left.

  I took the next few moments to quietly mourn. The door opened again, and Pete reached around the jamb to snag his parka from the coat rack.

  He chuckled. “It’s damn cold outside.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry about. We’re adults who’ve made adult decisions. This is our present. Call the realtor and buy that house ya like.” His smile didn’t come close to reaching his eyes, but he’d made a valiant effort. I did the same.

  Nearly two hours elapsed before his return. He set a growler from the nearby microbrewery on the island and got out a tall glass. “I imagine you need a drink as much as I did.”

  I responded by putting the whole damn jug to my lips. “Take me to bed. I need to hold you,” I said.

  We made love, a feeling I’d nearly forgotten. It wasn’t wild and overwhelming, or even playful, but it was terribly sincere and wholly tender. We held one another until the alarm went off.

  ♥

  “Hey, Susan!” Mona chirped, her voice a warm ocean breeze blowing into my ear. I’d missed several calls from her, and I’d been so busy prepping for Quarterlies I hadn’t returned them.

  “You’re never gonna believe what happened!”

  “Tell me.”

  “Jayne and Joe Pat are gettin’ married!”

  “What?”

  “He proposed to her in the bar a couple nights ago in front of everyone, and she said yes! I’ve never seen him so happy.”

  I knew they’d gotten close, but married? “Have they set a date?” I’d so love an excuse to go home.

  “Well, that’s the most excitin’ part. I dropped by work on my way back from Raleigh, yesterday, and she was gone.”

  “So?”

  “So, Kirsten was cussin’ up a storm, sayin’ she’d run off to Mexico, and how dare she leave, and a lot of other things that didn’t make any sense.”