Come Undone

by Jessica Hawkins

  “When’s the service?”

  “Monday.”

  “Okay, I’ll see if I can get a few hours off.”

  “I don’t mind going alone if you can’t.”

  “Babe, of course I want to be there. We can talk about that later, though.” He sighed heavily into the phone. “Stay in tonight. Ask one of the girls to come over.”

  “I can’t.” I shook my head. “Go get lunch. Or dinner, whatever.”

  “I’m sorry for your shitty week. But maybe this time it’ll stick with Mark. And then it’s done.”

  “Let’s hope so,” I said with a sidelong look at David. “Call me later, okay?”

  I hung up and sat in silence, waiting for David to speak, but he didn’t. I thought about Bill’s words: shitty week. It was a shitty week, exhausting both physically and emotionally. But shitty wasn’t the right word. It felt . . . something unidentifiable. We pulled up to my complex, and he turned off the car.

  “He’s not coming back?”

  “He’ll be back tomorrow.” I sighed. “He’s got so much on his plate. He was happy to hear about Mark being in custody. Sounds like he won’t be free anytime soon.”

  I watched David’s jaw muscles tense just as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “What about after the event? Will you be okay tonight?” he asked.

  “Yep. Will you?”

  He smirked at me.

  “No really, will you be? I’m worried. Do you have someone who can stay with you?” I asked sardonically. He looked away . . . Is he blushing? “Wait, do you?” I asked when he didn’t respond.

  “I’m having dinner with someone,” he said, looking through the windshield. “And I may bring her to the party.”

  I forced a smile and swallowed. “That’s good,” I said slowly. My surroundings focused sharply as I tried to respond. “Are you sure you’ve thought this through? I mean, she probably won’t like the theme of the party . . . Although, it is rather convenient that you’re right upstairs.”

  He gave me a reproachful look.

  “Also,” I continued, “don’t forget to tidy up my guest room.” I palmed my forehead exaggeratedly. “Shit, what am I thinking? You won’t be needing it.”

  His chest heaved with a deep sigh. His expression reminded me of the face Gretchen’s brother would make when we pestered him as kids. “I’m serious, Olivia. What about tonight? Can you stay with Gretchen or someone?”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, crossing my arms over my seatbelt.

  “Does he really accept that ‘fine’ bullshit?”

  “What?”

  “You’re always saying everything is fine, even though it’s not. It’s fine that you were attacked last night? It’s fine that somebody you obviously care a great deal about passed away? Does anyone care enough to question whether or not you are fine?”

  “What?” I cried, astonished. “What are you saying? That Bill doesn’t care about me?”

  “No, I’m not saying that, I’m just saying . . . I don’t think he, or your friends for that matter, know you as well as they think.”

  “And what, you do? I’ve known you all of a month,” I retorted.

  “I didn’t need seconds to know you better than them,” he struck back. “And it’s two months. I saw everything I needed to in that moment at the theater.”

  It was the first time either of us had ever mentioned it and tension noticeably thickened between us.

  “You are impossible to read if you’re not paying attention, but I am, Olivia. And I may not know the details yet but I know you.”

  I was completely taken aback. “Ha!” I blurted. “Does that seriously work for you?”

  “That’s fine,” he sat back, unruffled. “If you want a satisfactory marriage with someone who is incapable of loving you the way you deserve, then that’s up to you. What can I do about it?” He shrugged his shoulders as I felt my jaw harden. Nobody had ever spoken to me that way and certainly not about Bill, who, everyone knew, adored me.

  “Satisfactory,” I cried. “Bill adores me!” was all I could think to say in his defense. “I don’t know what you’re,” I faltered, completely flustered, “what you’re trying to pull, but he’s an amazing husband who treats me - ”

  He leaned in and looked me full in the face. “How? How does he treat you?” he asked, his eyes boring into mine. His voice lowered into an almost whisper. “You have no idea what I’d do with you.” My legs began to sweat against the gummy leather, and I shifted in discomfort. I was transported back to the theater, when the red velvet seats had pricked my thighs and his lingering presence had clung to me. He was too close and too comfortable. Could he possibly know me that well? I asked myself. No. He knows women that well.

  “I - I . . . ,” I stammered, looking for the words. The way he looked at me was too much to take, and I fumbled to escape from the seatbelt.

  “Here, let me,” he said coolly, and slipped his hand down between my thigh and those sticky leather seats. His fingers lingered for a moment against my bare skin, and I could feel my pulse rising and my panties moistening. He bent closer so that I could almost touch my lips to his neck, and his faint earthy scent left me dizzy and pining for more.

  He grazed along my outer thigh as he searched for the release, and it was all I could do not to shudder. My breath caught in my throat. Do not squirm, do not squirm. That’s exactly what he wants. He pushed the button and the seatbelt jumped into my shaking hands. David leaned back into his seat and stuck his chin into his hand, looking back through the driver’s side window. I huffed as I pushed the door open and hastened out.

  After a deep inhale, I leaned over into the car. “Maybe you were right yesterday. Maybe any type of relationship is impossible,” I said softly.

  He looked over at me with an unreadable expression. “And maybe I’ll skip tonight,” he said.

  I nodded. “I think that’s best.” That’s it, I thought. It’s done. Shut the door and walk away. And I did.

  CHAPTER 20

  I WOKE UP STILL SHEATHED in my bath towel and with my head on a damp pillow. For once I was glad for Lisa’s help, since it had given me the opportunity to nap. The clock on the nightstand told me that I needed to get up immediately if I was going to make it on time. Five more minutes, I thought, closing my eyes. I remembered the afternoon. It was an apt ending for a turbulent relationship.

  His accusations ran through my head, angering me. How dare he? He’s willing to destroy a marriage, and for what? It pained me to wonder if he’d done this with other women. And where were they now? I couldn’t shake the image of David asking another woman out to dinner, flirting with her and flashing her that seductive grin.

  My stomach flipped when I thought about the upcoming event. I needed it to go well, since it was my idea. I wished then that Bill could have made it. But he would have hated it anyway, I told myself. My phone revealed several missed texts from Gretchen and Lucy confirming our plans for the evening. At least I would have them for support.

  ~

  “What happened?” Ava squealed when she opened the door to their apartment. Her eyes shone with excitement as she questioned me about the bruise. I attempted to give her the shortest version possible. “Then what?” she asked. And then asked it again.

  “I’m going to let Gretchen know I’m here,” I said finally, desperate to escape. I followed the sound of her blow dryer and found her bent over, a mass of blonde hair.

  “Gretch!” I yelled as I stood in the doorway.

  She flipped her head back and looked at me, startled. “Hey,” she screamed over the noise. She held up her hand. “Five minutes.”

  I dropped on her bed and glanced around the familiar room. It was surprisingly unremarkable for Gretchen, with just a bed, a dresser and a hamper in the corner. I picked up US Weekly from the bedside table to scan the first few pages.

  “Shoes!” Gretchen exclaimed suddenly, motioning to my feet.

  “Brian Atwood. A little gift from me to
me for all the stress,” I said. “Do not tell Bill.”

  She dropped her towel. Without her heels and make-up, she seemed smaller than I ever remembered, but trim too, like she’d been working out more. I watched her wrap herself in her robe and tried to see her as a lover might. My nagging suspicion hadn’t gone away. Did David find her attractive?

  She started toward her vanity and paused. “What is that?” she asked, staring at my face.

  I frowned. Apparently I’d done a poor job of covering it up. I resolved to invest in better concealer. She was looking at me expectantly.

  “Mark Alvarez again, the guy from Bill’s case.”

  “The guy who confronted you last month? Shit! Are you okay? What happened?”

  “Can I explain when Lucy gets here? It’s a long story.”

  “No.”

  “I’m okay, don’t worry. All intact.”

  Her mouth sat open for so long, that I began to count the seconds. She made a noise finally. “K, but no excuses when she arrives.”

  She sat down at her vanity and shook a bottle of foundation. “How was your week otherwise?”

  “Great,” I said enthusiastically. Without warning, I began reciting Mack’s e-mail in my mind, and I shook my head forcefully to make it stop.

  “Umm, okay,” she said with a laugh.

  “How was yours?”

  “Mine actually was great . . . Liar,” she accused. “Our biggest client complimented me in front of my boss - you know what a witch she can be. Then a headhunter contacted me today. I’m seriously considering leaving, I mean . . . ”

  I had the sudden urge to hear from her that nothing had happened with David. Despite his assurance, it still gnawed at me. I squirmed inwardly as she talked, itching to ask about Friday night. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense that he must be the surprise guest. A player like him and a single girl like Gretchen, who always got her way when it came to men. They belonged to the same social circle - yes, it only made sense. “How was fishing?” she asked, making a gagging face.

  “Fishing?” I asked. It felt like a lifetime ago, until I remembered it was the same night as the gala. “The usual,” I said. “Lucy said you had an interesting night?”

  “Yes! I’ll wait ‘til she gets here though,” she said, tenderly brushing blush onto her cheeks.

  “No,” I demanded, causing her to look at me. “Er, I want to know now, I’m excited.”

  “You’re acting weird,” she said. “Why are you all pitchy?”

  “I’m fine.” There was that word again. I’d never realized how often I said it. “Tell me about Friday night.”

  “Oh so you can wait but I can’t?”

  “I bet you love telling your story. Mine is just depressing,” I rationalized.

  “All right, but don’t tell Lucy I told you first or she’ll be mad. Guess who I hooked up with? You never will.”

  My teeth clamped when I experienced the overwhelming feeling that David had lied to me. Another act in the David Dylan show. My head began to purr with a dull vibration. Did he actually think I wouldn’t find out? Did he care? Once she said it aloud though, it would help cut the cord once and for all. Anxiety ate at my insides and in my head, I screamed at her to spit it out.

  “One of the hottest guys in Chicago,” she continued. “Any guesses?” I wrung my hands in anticipation. “Even hotter than Frat Guy,” she said, referring to an infamous one-night stand from college. Her fingers pulled at her lids as she skillfully smoothed on liquid eyeliner. “Or remember that guy David from Lucy’s engagement party?” My heart hit the floor and tears pricked my eyes. How could he - “Even hotter than him!” she squealed.

  I released my bottom lip, and a tear made of pure tension fell before I could stop it. I was overcome with relief, followed by body racking embarrassment.

  “Olivia! What is the matter?” she asked, peering at me in the mirror.

  “Nothing,” I said, furiously wiping at my eye. What was I thinking? I felt ridiculous and relieved all at once. After last night, I was ashamed at myself. How did I think I couldn’t trust him? He’d put his life on the line for me. She turned in her chair, eyeliner in hand, and glared at me.

  “Tell me,” she demanded.

  “No, don’t worry, I’m just PMS’ing,” I lied. “Who’s the guy?”

  “Graham Broderick,” she said flatly. I had ruined her moment. I looked up, racking my brain. “Here,” she snatched the magazine from my hand and opened it to an earmarked page. She held it up an inch from my face.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed. “From that movie - what’s it called . . . ? He’s like a real celebrity! And you’re right, very gorgeous.” Definitely not hotter than David, I thought smugly.

  “Well,” she said with a smile, turning back to the mirror. “He was at the event, and my date knew him from high school. He was totally flirting with me so eventually we ditched the party, got drunk and ended up back at his lakefront apartment.”

  “What about your date?” I asked, trying to keep my interest level high in an effort to distract her.

  “Oh, I don’t know. He was just a friend. I left him at the party.” I tsked and shook my head at her. “Anyway, Graham’s my date tonight, so that should get you guys some good publicity.” She expertly whisked on mascara, glancing back and forth between her reflection and me. She screwed the cap back in and came to sit by me on the bed. “Tell me. What is it?”

  I struggled with myself. If I voiced my feelings for David, they would be real. And after the way we had left things, I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again – so did it even matter? What if I were to tell her for nothing?

  But the weight of my rollercoaster feelings since day one had me questioning everything, and it was beginning to scare me. Since the moment I’d laid eyes on David, he’d been an inescapable presence in my thoughts.

  “I . . . ,” I paused. “I don’t know how to say this,” I said to myself. “I think I’m . . . I don’t know. I’m attracted to someone else.”

  “Oh, sweetie, that’s okay. That’s normal.” Relief briefly crossed her face as she patted me on the knee.

  “No,” I sighed. “I’m falling for this person. I have feelings for him.” It was the first time I’d let myself think it. And definitely the first time I’d said it out loud. I didn’t expect it to feel so true. And it wasn’t as ridiculous as I’d expected. I looked down at my fingers, which I’d wrung red.

  “What?” she breathed, and I wondered if I should repeat myself. “But Bill . . . You guys are happy aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I said emphatically. “I think so. Yes. It’s not really about him at all . . . .” Her composed face did not reveal the judgment I’d expected to see. I reminded myself that this was Gretchen I was talking to, not just anyone. Lucy, wholesome and trusting as she was, would have the opposite reaction. “But,” I started again, feeling the tears returning. “I don’t know what to do. I love Bill, and I’ve never even felt the urge to be with anyone else. Ever,” I said with emphasis.

  Gretchen nodded thoughtfully as she processed the information. “And you think you feel that strongly for this guy? Why?”

  “I feel,” I paused, my eyes darting around as I thought. “Connected to him in some way. I think he feels it too, but it gets stronger whenever I’m near him, and I can’t stop it. I can’t stop it,” I repeated to myself. “And we kissed and it was . . .” I exhaled, letting the sentence hang.

  Those Windex eyes grew bigger than I’d ever seen them. “Wow, Liv. You kissed? I’ve never even heard you talk about another guy since you met Bill.”

  “It just sort of happened, and I feel so,” I could choose so many words, I thought. “So guilty,” I decided.

  “Oh, Liv.” She wrapped my forearm in her hand. “I can’t tell you what to do,” she said, recognizing the imploring look on my face. “But,” she proceeded, and appeared to be searching for the words. “Bill has always been . . . ,” she paused thoughtfully, watching me.
“Safe. You fell in love slowly and without any hiccups. I saw what your parents’ divorce did to you. You stopped taking risks. You stopped knowing how to open up, and Bill was safe. Is safe. He has always loved you, and he’d never hurt you.”

  Her words were eerily similar to Lucy’s. I wondered if there was something they knew that I didn’t. Some reason why Bill shouldn’t love me as much as he did. It almost felt as if they didn’t think I was good enough for him.

  “That doesn’t mean you owe him anything though,” she continued. “I know how you can get. Stop being so hard on yourself and take some time to think about what you really want. Not what you think others want, but what you really want deep down.”

  A little of the struggle lifted from my shoulders as Gretchen took it on, but it was hard to ignore the question burning in her eyes.

  After another moment of silence, I spoke. “I can’t tell you who. Then there’s no turning back.”

  She looked disappointed. “Well, my point is, I remember that passionate side of you; I know it’s there, and it was hard to watch it die during the divorce.”

  “My parents fought a lot at the end, but I never expected it to get so bad,” I mused. “I didn’t know they would split. I thought they loved each other.”

  “It was for the best, honey. They were miserable and they were making you miserable. Seeing you almost cry right now, well, I’m shocked. It’s been a long time.” My heart clenched to hear her say it out loud.

  “I know, I’m sorry. I hate crying in public.”

  “Public? Liv, it’s me. This isn’t public.”

  “Yes, that sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

  “I remember when we were kids, Liv, you assumed you were going to have it all,” she said, looking up. “The best job, the best house and the cutest husband. You said he was going to be the best guy in the world, and the tallest too, and that you would love each other more than anyone. Do you feel that way about Bill?”

  “Bill is tall,” I said proudly.

  “Liv?”

  I blinked furiously at her. “Gretch, that’s childish stuff. Everyone thinks that way when they’re ten years old.”