I watched her as she picked at her cuticles. I had no words. No thoughts.
“Anyway . . . after that dream—which was super vivid by the way—I looked up ways to recharge. To renew. I wanted to become better, not only for myself, but for Dad too. I couldn’t keep putting up a guard against my own father, you know? He’s all I have. I needed . . . help. So I did my research and found out about this meditation retreat in India. After I did a little more digging, I made it an official thing. I was going and I was going to come back a better person. A new person that saw the world differently.”
“And you did,” I murmured. “Theo says you’ve changed a lot—in a good way.”
“I mean, it helped some. I spent some time alone and meditated with a personal guide, who helped me clear my head on most things. He was a really nice and wise guy.” She glanced over, as if nervous to speak now.
“What is it, Iz?” I asked softly.
“Well . . .” She sat up a bit and I did too, giving her my undivided attention. “They assigned me to meditation classes that were two people per trainer every three hours. And I was stuck with this guy named Cameron Hughes. He was sweet, funny, and easy to talk to—a surgeon. Cameron made the trip ten times more fun for me. Since we were partnered for meditation, we pretty much did everything else together. We met up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We walked around the resort and mostly had small talk about our lives. I told him I’d just graduated and was getting into acting. He said he worked long hours at the hospital and needed a break from the real world.” She swallowed hard, rather painfully. “I thought that was great, you know? He was bettering himself, just like me. It was something we had in common. We wanted to cleanse ourselves—be better people for the real world. At first it was just a friendly thing between us, you know? We had our sessions together to meditate, we continued eating meals together so we didn’t end up being the loners. We laughed—a lot. Talked about things I probably would only talk about with you. I figured a guy like him wouldn’t tell my secrets. He didn’t know where I lived or who I really was, and I didn’t even know if what he’d said to me was true either. But it was fun. The mystery of that was exciting.
“We had one free day there where we could do whatever we wanted. I decided to go to the spa, get a massage, a facial, and then go back to my room and read up on future scripts for auditions. It was around midnight when I got a knock on the door. It was Cameron, so I let him in. I don’t know why I was so happy to see him, maybe it was because he had brought along a bottle of wine that he wasn’t even supposed to have, or maybe it was just his presence alone that made me happy.” She giggled.
I did as well.
“Anyway,” she went on, sighing heavily, “I got us some paper cups and we drank while eating some of the snacks they brought to our rooms every day. It was light and innocent, really. He talked about his free day and how he had gotten this amazing massage and then walked the resort to think, swam at the salt-water pool, and then came back to his hut to take a nap. I told him about my day, how simple it was, but then he caught me off guard with something.” She pulled her gaze from mine. “He told me that he had been thinking about coming to my room all day. I told him where it was a while back, just in case he wanted to practice meditating, breathing techniques, or anything of that nature. He caught me completely off guard that I spit all over him. Literally, red wine all over his white shirt. I panicked then and rushed for some towels to help him clean up. But when I came back to the room, his shirt was off. And I couldn’t breathe, Chlo. It’s like . . . my whole guard went down. All of my self-control went flying out the window. I was stupid to pretend I really wanted to help him clean up. I mean, his chest was a little damp from the wine. But I helped him wipe it away and before I was done, he grabbed my wrist, pulled me closer, and told me he wanted me. And . . . I didn’t hesitate. I let him kiss me and then take me. I let him take me on the bed, and against the wall, and even on the floor. He stayed the night and I felt . . . whole. I couldn’t explain it but I knew I didn’t want him to leave and I was glad we had a session together the next morning.”
“Wow—Izzy, I—that’s great, right?” I smiled bright.
“No.” My smile failed me. “I don’t know. Something about it felt wrong, even though all at once it felt right. I knew it was bad, but it’s like while we were there, nothing else mattered. I mean, we hardly knew one another. We were in an entirely different country, no one to stop us. No one to interrupt or tell us it wouldn’t last. It was just us and it was so perfect. Like a dream or some kind of romantic movie.” That sounded familiar.
“We had sex all over that damn resort,” she continued. “Got couple massages, fucked in the pools late at night after they were closed.” She sighed, and the woman painting her toes looked up rapidly, eyes wider now. Izzy laughed, embarrassed while holding her hands up. “Sorry,” she murmured, and the woman pulled her gaze away, finishing up her paint job.
“Anyway,” she went on, looking over at me. “I knew it was going to end soon, and he did as well. Two months we were alone together, doing shit we shouldn’t have been doing. We were in my bed together on our last night and I asked him if he would keep in touch with me when he got back. He told he would—swore he would. He promised he would even try and see me one day. I gave him my number just in case, but I should have realized then that he didn’t give me his and it was most likely on purpose. The last day there, we kissed goodbye and I thought it was only for now. At the airport, I was so desperate to see him again that I found him on Facebook and sent him a friend request.
“When I got back home I felt so rejuvenated. I felt amazing and truly refreshed. Really, like a brand new person. Remade. I was hoping to hear from him within the next few days, but I didn’t. Then two weeks passed, and still nothing. Not a single text. Not a call. Nothing.” Her head dropped. I could see her eyes glistening. “Another month and still nothing. Two months,” she huffed, “nothing. So I finally decided to check his Facebook. He had finally accepted my request—I don’t think he knew it was me—and that’s when I finally saw that he was married. Had been for six years. And he and his wife had two kids together.”
I stared at her, not expecting that one. “Oh my goodness, Iz.” I grabbed her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“No. It was my fault,” she murmured. “I should have known better than to trust an American man that I met in another country. It was just a fling for him. He was free of his wife and kids and he took full advantage of that. But to me it was much more. I mean I’ve never shared so much time with just one guy. I’ve never gotten so deep with someone until him. I told him things about me that I shouldn’t have. Things about you and Dad. When the reality of it set in, I realized he’d only told me what he wanted me to hear. How he wanted me. How he was thinking about me. It was all bullshit and I should have known, but I was so blinded by his beauty, his personality, and our uninterrupted time alone.
“You know, I tried messaging him on Facebook to ask him why he didn’t just tell me he was married with kids? It showed that he saw my message, but he didn’t respond. And then the next day I tried to check up on him and we were no longer friends. I think he saw it was me, the girl from the resort, and blocked me. He never knew my real name. He just knew me by Izzy.”
“Wow. What a fucking dick,” I snapped.
Her smile was painful. “I deleted my account after that. All of my social media accounts. I changed my number. I wanted nothing to do with him and I never wanted to see or hear from him again.”
Damn.
“The resort was great, but I was never going to go there again. It wasn’t a regret, but more of a disappointment. But I guess that’s what I get for believing his lies. For thinking I was really that lucky. That was two years ago. I’ve tried dating since then but I can’t trust anyone enough for it to last.”
“That was shitty of him to do, Izzy. You can’t blame yourself for his actions.”
She was quiet for a while, almos
t too quiet and too still. She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared down at the woman applying a clear coat of nail polish to her toes.
Theo was right. Something was bothering her, and it was this. She’d fallen in love with a married man and he’d crushed her, because he’d lied and manipulated her.
I felt so sorry for her. I didn’t even know what the hell to say to her in that moment. All the words kept getting lodged in my throat. How was I supposed to make her feel better? What was I supposed to say?
“I get what happened between you and my Dad now . . . at least I think so,” she finally said quietly, chewing on her bottom lip. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh. Instead, I should have put myself in your shoes.” She huffed a laugh. “I think it’s funny how that all worked out. Karma is one hell of a bitch, huh?”
“No,” I cooed. “Hell no, Izzy. Don’t say that. You fell in love with him. That’s not Karma. That’s life.”
“Exactly, but if I hadn’t been so bitchy, self-centered, and close-minded about the idea of you and my dad . . .” She gasped a little. “I just thought it was so gross and dumb. Like, what the hell would he want with my best friend? A girl my age? A girl that was like a sister to me? I figured he was going through a mid-life crisis or something like that.” Her eyes became glassy as she threw a frustrated hand in the air.
I couldn’t look away, which gave me the urge to want to cry too. But I kept it together for her, because this time I was her shoulder to cry on. She needed to let this out. She’d been holding it in for so long, I could tell. I was certain this was the first time she was saying all of this aloud.
“But after you left, I spent more time with him. And I realized that while I was there and didn’t know about you and him yet, he was so much happier. He was smiling. He was full of life. He laughed and joked and hardly spoke of Mom—at least, not in the negative way like he used to. He was . . . remade. And afterwards, I was still too selfish to think it was because of you. I convinced myself that it was just sex between you guys—some pointless, stupid act on your part.”
Her lips smashed together. She was fighting her tears, hard. She was on the verge. I knew it. That hadn’t changed. They were going to fall soon.
“But then you left because of me. And he became so miserable and quiet, and made every conversation we had hard to continue and mostly awkward. He was always checking his cellphone, like you would randomly call or text him one day, but you never did. He would walk alone, and not show back up for hours. He would get so drunk. I realized then that I would have much rather seen my father happy and alive and remade, than like he was during that time without you. That’s why I wrote you that letter. Too afraid to face you, so I wrote it. But I’m glad I did. It made me feel somewhat better.” Her smile broke through the falling tears. “Even with Sheila, he wasn’t completely happy with her. In all honesty, I felt like he was trying to make something of it with her for me, but it wasn’t working. I could tell he was forcing it. He was faking it. He didn’t want her. He cared about her, but didn’t want her. He’d settled for someone like her because he wanted me to be happy and to have a family to come to and he wanted to forget about you. Prove a point or something that maybe it was just a summer fling. But I was wrong. So, so wrong.”
She reached over and touched my arm.
“After my trip, I knew exactly how he felt when you didn’t call. I checked my phone constantly. My Facebook. Months went by. And then they rolled into a year. Still nothing, even though I knew he was married and all. I just figured he hadn’t completely forgotten about me. But I saw more photos of him and his wife and that was the day I decided to I delete my account. I just . . . felt broken. Because he was smiling so big and looked so happy with her, but only months ago, he’d told me he needed me and wanted me. I should have known it was a lie. He was just another man, alone during a trip, wanting to have a good time. I was stupid to think it was actually something. I needed a cleanse of the mind and body, like my meditator had told me in India. Stalking him on Facebook had become a toxin. I had to get rid of it. I needed to start over, so I put my career first and I worked hard to get gigs. Granted, they paid only enough to get the bills paid, but it was better than nothing. It was my dream, and I was making it happen—still am making it happen.” She smiled appreciatively. “I don’t hold anything against what you and my dad have. If anything, I’m happy that you guys are making it work again. He’s happy. You’re happy, and we all deserve happiness, no matter where it comes from. Who am I to stand in the way of that?
“I wanted to deny it, but the proof was there. It was real and true and still is. I thought Mom was his soulmate, but apparently I was wrong. I guess after seeing them together for so long, I couldn’t picture him with anyone else—especially you,” she laughed. “But I don’t control fate or how the stars align or any of that other spiritual bullshit.”
I laughed, she giggled.
“So, you don’t have to worry about me. Okay? I can tell you love him and you have for years. You know him, probably way better than I ever could.” She watched me carefully. “Just don’t . . . leave again. Okay? Don’t hurt him again by walking away. I think right now is when he needs you the most. He acts all macho-man around you, but deep down I know he’s just as nervous as you are about everything—from what I will think, to getting through this divorce with bitchy Sheila, and what it will be like once he’s finally free from it and spending all of his time with you.”
“I won’t, Izzy. I wouldn’t do that to him again,” I told her.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
She smiled and then reached over to hug me around the neck. “I hope you can forgive me, Chloe?”
“Of course I do,” I sighed. And I really meant it. I’d never been angry with Izzy. Hurt? Yes, but never angry, because I understood. I’d betrayed her trust. If anything, I was the one that needed forgiving.
We were moving forward now. Trying to make something work out of this, and I was so happy she was accepting the truth.
She was right. This wasn’t a fling. This was real and true and it was never going to fade.
Chapter 28
Theo
I could hear their voices as I sipped my coffee. Chloe and Izzy bustled through the door moments later, just like old times, laughing about God knows what.
“I take it you two had fun?” I inquired, stepping around the corner as they dropped their purses on the couch.
“Oh, Dad, it was great,” Izzy sighed. “I feel so much better. Getting that pedicure was much needed.”
I looked over at Chloe who simply shrugged, grinned, and then sipped on her iced coffee. I returned an identical grin.
“You guys eat anything?” I asked.
“We had cheese danishes from Starbucks before we got here.” Chloe lifted her cup in the air and shook it so the ice could rattle. “I think I’m good for now.” She walked towards me. “I have something to do really quick.”
“And what’s that?”
“A phone call. I need to call and settle some things with you know who.” She made a face and sighed.
“Who? Sterling?” Izzy called from the kitchen.
Chloe looked over my shoulder at her. “How’d you know?”
Izzy half-shrugged. “Had a hunch. What can I say?”
Chloe fought a laugh, pulling out her cellphone. She kissed my cheek and started for the balcony but I caught her elbow before she could step out. “Let me know how it goes. You hear me?”
“Yeah, I hear you,” she whispered, studying my face carefully. “I wouldn’t hide anything from you, Theo. You know that, right?”
“I trust you. Not him.”
“It’s okay. Just let me handle this and I will be back to tell you everything.”
Reluctant, I pulled away, but nodded. She twisted around and slid the glass door shut behind her, placing the phone to her ear and tucking a lock of hair behind the other, already exasperated.
Footsteps sou
nded, and Izzy popped up beside me, releasing a small huff. “It’ll be okay, Dad.”
I looked down and her eyes met mine. “What makes you think I’m worried?”
She snorted. “Who do you think you’re kidding? You’re sweating like a pig in a slaughterhouse.”
I rubbed the sweat from my forehead. “It’s the coffee. Makes me hot.” I walked towards the kitchen, dumping the rest of it in the sink. As I did, I heard Izzy coming towards me again. When I looked up, she was already watching me.
Forever, Mr. Black (Tainted Black #3) Page 16
