Tell Me a Truth (The Story Series Book 5)

by Tamara Lush

  Sarah walked in, scowling. “What happened to the two of you?”

  I grinned. Caleb grinned.

  Sarah rolled her eyes and spoke in a singsong. “Never mind.”

  I giggled and took a few steps toward the hall. “I’m going to change. Be right back.”

  Caleb caught up with me in the semi-dark hall, grabbing my elbow and speaking low into my ear from behind. My skin shimmered when I felt his warm breath.

  “Emma, I feel like I should tell you. I’m sleeping in your bed tonight. Our bed. Tonight. And every night after.”

  Chapter 11

  November slipped away, with an emotional Thanksgiving. Everyone at the dinner table sniffled and cried when we talked about how thankful we were to have Caleb back. And to have Charlotte in our lives.

  We were finding our new normal, my husband and I. Christmas, New Year’s—they came and went. He lavished Charlotte with gifts and they bonded fast. He was amazingly tender and patient with her, and her face lit up whenever she saw him. I was a bit jealous, truthfully. But I tried to hide any negative emotion and focus on the positives. And those were accumulating by the day.

  Like how he sent a dozen red roses to the condo each Friday. I’d open the attached envelope and hope to see three little words. Instead, I’d find romantic quotes from literature or a line of Shakespeare.

  Let's go hand in hand, not one before another.

  Or something suggestive.

  I’m going to push you against the wall tonight and kiss the hell out of you, he wrote one week.

  And another, more philosophical: I don’t care how complicated our situation is. I still want you.

  Each Friday, I’d sit on the terrace with my tea and the note for a half-hour, parsing the meaning behind every word. The phrases were always beautiful. And yet, they puzzled me. They never included the word love. Would I ever understand Caleb again? Would he ever tell me he loved me, like he used to?

  The therapist privately told me to give Caleb the space he needed to form his own emotions. I still hadn’t talked to Dr. Santamaria about Colin. Wasn’t sure how to even form the words, really, so I tried to push the incident back into the recesses of my mind where they belonged.

  Caleb went back to work, and I stayed home most of the time—although two days a week, I did go into the bookstore. I restarted my plans to open a second, romance-only bookstore. I wanted my career back. Needed my whole life back. It wasn’t easy, though.

  We continued our weekly therapy sessions and kept exploring each other through sex. Despite Caleb’s fantasies—or memories—we didn’t indulge in rough play. There was no spanking, no squeezing of my throat, no bondage. Our sex was that of two people getting to know each other: hungry and furious at times, and at others, languid and tender.

  And yet, something was off. Caleb wasn’t the same. He was more introspective, quieter than he used to be. Sometimes he would read in bed and I’d walk in. He’d glance up, and the expression in his eyes made my heart sink to my feet. It was if I was nearly transparent, the way he looked at me.

  I knew he still didn’t fully recognize me. Didn’t know what made me tick. Like before.

  “Hey,” I whispered, climbing into bed one evening, wearing an almost-sheer pink cotton nightie with nothing under it.

  “Hello, Emma.” He returned to his book and I blinked. Since he’d returned, he’d never called me any of his pet nicknames. Especially not Emma doll. When I dwelled on that, it made me angry. But I kept it inside. I tried not to push or probe too much, because that’s what Dr. Santamaria had suggested.

  We existed on the razor’s edge of life. If we fell to one side or the other, chaos would ensue.

  I didn’t want chaos in my life. Nor in my marriage. Not after how I grew up.

  So I stayed silent. At least until one Friday night in the spring when I’d drank one too many glasses of wine. Charlotte was in bed, it was late, and we were sitting on the terrace.

  “I’m going to Miami with Colin next week,” Caleb remarked. “We’re meeting with contractors about the new building. And Colin is supposed to hook up with some woman he met online. Cassandra? Penelope? Alexandra? I can’t remember. Maybe this will be the one for him.”

  I rolled my eyes, the memory of my own time with Colin in Miami still somewhat raw and painful.

  “What? You don’t think Colin deserves happiness?” Caleb said, a tone of edgy amusement in his voice.

  “I do. It’s that I don’t think he’s ready. He’s so ravenous…” I trailed off.

  “That’s an odd word to use.”

  “You and I used to talk about this. I’ve used the word before, and you agreed with me, back before you went to Brazil. So did Laura. Colin is seeking his own pleasure. He’s not particularly interested in a woman’s pleasure.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Maybe it was something about Caleb’s questioning tone. Or maybe I was annoyed that I’d been repeating myself all week, things that I’d told Caleb for years before he left. It could also be that I was angry because Caleb wasn’t trying harder to get to know me. Somehow, he accepted me as-is. As if he’d walked into a new life, with a wife and child. No questions asked.

  Or maybe it was simply because I was tipsy and angry that he hadn’t told me he loved me. Not a mature reaction or rational emotion, I knew.

  But this needed to come out. I didn’t want any secrets between us.

  “I have a confession.”

  Caleb cocked an eyebrow. “Yes?”

  “While you were missing, in late October, I went to Miami for the big book festival.” I swallowed. Was I really telling him this? I hadn’t asked our therapist his advice. But I felt Caleb had to know. He needed to hear what I’d been driven to do while he was gone, out of grief and loneliness.

  “Yeah?”

  “And Colin was there, happened to be there on business. We were staying in the same hotel, the Mandarin—”

  Caleb held up a hand and shot me a dangerous smile. “You don’t need to say any more. I know where this is going. You spent the night with him.”

  I sipped my wine. “I didn’t, exactly. I didn’t have sex with him if that’s what you’re thinking. Far from it, in fact.”

  He snorted a little laugh, and his eyes hardened. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not jealous. How can I be jealous and angry over something that happened to a woman I feel like I met a few months ago?”

  I gasped. “Jesus, that’s harsh.”

  “But it’s true. I mean, I’ve become attached to you. Very attached. I love sleeping with you. We do have an incendiary physical connection.” He straightened his spine and glanced away from me.

  “But…you don’t love me.” There. I got to the core of my anger.

  He turned, his whole body rigid. His cool, blue eyes bored into me. “There are no buts, Emma. I’m still sorting out my feelings for you. I do find it interesting that you’ve been sitting in therapy with me for months and haven’t said anything about my brother. If you loved me so much, why did you want to move on? Why did you turn to Colin?”

  I shook my head. “It wasn’t that simple. And I thought about asking Dr. Santamaria privately about this but…” My voice trailed off.

  “But what?” Caleb’s upper lip was now arched in a sneer. “But you wanted to hedge your bets? You described us as soul mates.”

  “No. I didn’t want to give that night with Colin legitimacy by writing it down, by putting words into an email. Because it was nothing. Less than nothing. Your brother and I were both pretty drunk, and I was hormonal after giving birth. And…I was grieving. I was mourning a loss. The loss of you. I still am, I think. Because you’re not the man I married.”

  He snorted and didn’t say anything. I did.

  “And you and I, we were perfectly matched. Compatible. I still think we are. That we can be. I thought you were dead for nine months. And you, of all people, should know that grief is not simple. That people don’t do rational things when they�
�re in pain like I was. Like your brother was.”

  He fixed his eyes on me, and for the first time, I felt fear that he’d reject me for good, that he’d walk out of my life forever.

  “So why didn’t you fuck him for fun if that’s what you were after?”

  His harsh tone made my eyes narrow. I stood up, too angry and upset to want to continue the conversation. I took a few steps.

  “Or did he ultimately not want to fuck you? Did my brother suddenly sprout a conscience while he was naked with you? Or were you the one with the conscience?”

  I whirled around. Had Caleb been closer, I would have thrown my wine on him. Or slapped him. “I guess you didn’t hear a word I said. And, for your information, it was because I called him by your name when he was on top of me.”

  I stomped into the bedroom and locked the door. Caleb could sleep wherever he damned well pleased, but not in my bed. Not tonight.

  * * *

  “You take Charlotte with you to the party. I’m not going.”

  It was the next morning, and I was talking to Caleb through the half-cracked door of my bedroom. He’d slept in the guest room. Charlotte was in the bedroom with me, playing with toys on a blanket on the floor.

  My husband cleared his throat. “We told Colin and my family that we’d be there. It would look weird if we didn’t go together. They’ll be concerned about us.”

  “I don’t care. Tell them I’m sick.”

  “Emma, can you please open the door a little more? I want to say something to you.” His tone dropped to a smooth, kind hum.

  Why did his voice have to sound so alluring and honeyed? I sighed and opened the door.

  “What?” I asked, trying to maintain my annoyance. It was difficult because he was dressed in a pale blue linen shirt over dark jeans. I was powerless in the presence of my tan, muscular husband in a linen shirt. Something about the fabric made me want to run my fingers over his arms. Maybe he was aware of this on some subconscious level.

  Dammit.

  “I’m sorry about last night, Em. I want to apologize. I was out of line. My words were too harsh under the circumstances.”

  I nodded and chewed on the inside of my cheek.

  His eyes flicked and flashed. “Okay, I was more than out of line. I was jealous.”

  Why couldn’t he have said that earlier? Why hadn’t I deciphered that in his words? Was I unable to comprehend my own husband now?

  “You said you weren’t jealous.”

  “I didn’t want to admit it, but I was jealous. Am jealous. And the idea of you and Colin together pisses me off. Especially after Tara. I always wondered if she truly had feelings for him. And maybe he had feelings for her. I don’t know. I never asked. I wasn’t self-aware enough to realize that during our marriage.” His mouth twisted downward.

  Huh. Odd. He’d never revealed that before. I softened and stepped toward Caleb. Hugged him and sank into his body.

  “I understand. And it should piss you off. I’m sorry it ever happened. I never wanted him, not really. I only ever wanted you.”

  Caleb wrapped his arms around me, and the space between us thickened in silence. We both went to speak at the same time.

  “Go ahead,” I said.

  “No, you.”

  I heaved a sigh. “Please believe me when I tell you that it wasn’t intentional. That I didn’t plan or scheme to be with your brother. That it happened quickly, when I was really drunk. And truthfully, it was a train wreck. Meaningless, to me. Please don’t say anything to him. Please don’t be angry with him. Your absence hit him so hard. He looks up to you, and when you went missing, it was as if his compass was gone. His whole world, even.”

  Caleb nodded. “He does seem more serious than I remember.”

  I rested my cheek on his chest. “I’m sorry about what happened with Colin. Sorrier than I’ve ever been for anything. That night came at the most confusing time of my entire life. The worst time of my life. I feel guilty.”

  Caleb nodded into my hair, then kissed my forehead. He sighed.

  “I don’t want you to feel guilty. You thought I was dead.”

  I shuddered in a breath. Had I? I guessed I had, and that made me feel guiltier than my night with Colin. “I’m sorry.”

  “I won’t say anything to Colin. And I accept your apology about him. And about thinking I was gone. Of course you would’ve thought that. I was away while you gave birth, for God’s sakes. But I think that, whatever happened during those months I was away, we should pretend that they never existed. Let’s forget about the past entirely. We should move forward together. I can’t account for my time entirely, after all.”

  “Okay.” I was now sniffling and teary-eyed. Then I paused. “Wait. Are you trying to tell me that something happened in Brazil?”

  Caleb stepped back but continued to hold me. “Emma, I don’t remember everything about Brazil. I don’t remember entire months in Brazil. Even if I was with someone—and I don’t think I was—would you want to know?”

  We stared at each other, unblinking, until I finally shook my head. There was no point in rehashing the past if we didn’t remember it.

  “No. I wouldn’t.”

  “So let’s let the past go. All of it. Start fresh. We’re good together, I can tell. You’re caring and lovely, and I like you a lot. You have deep feelings for me. We’re both crazy about Charlotte. We can be amazing together—again—if we look to the future.”

  I swallowed, unsure. For some reason, the idea of erasing the past—his past, my past, our past—slayed me. If we didn’t have our shared memories, then what was left?

  He brushed a quick kiss on my cheek and walked off, saying something about getting Charlotte ready for the party.

  I didn’t think my heart could fracture any more than it had, but it did.

  Chapter 12

  Colin’s home was in the exclusive town of Windermere, population 2,500. Although it was only a few miles from downtown Orlando and our penthouse condo, it might as well have been another universe. The six-bedroom, eleven-bathroom (I always rolled my eyes at that detail) sprawling mansion had lake views and was on a golf course. It had three stories, an elevator, a fitness room, and a movie theater. Maybe because I’d grown up about thirty miles away in a trailer park, I was almost always ill at ease at Colin’s home, and this evening was no exception.

  The mansion was nestled between the home of a famous philandering golfer and a famous young football player. I think the football player was at the party that evening. I wasn’t sure, because I didn’t follow the sport like seemingly everyone else. All I knew is that two hours into the evening, women in expensive dresses cooed and laughed when a giant of a man waved at Charlotte and spoke in baby talk to her.

  She responded with a raspberry, unimpressed.

  “That’s my girl,” I whispered in her hair. I carried her out to the pool, where Laura and Colin sat on lounge chairs, alone and staring at the night sky. I wondered why he was outside and not with the crowd. Not being his usual outgoing self.

  “You okay?” I asked Laura.

  “I was feeling a little panicky inside. All the people.” She shrugged. Ah, that was probably why Colin was out here. To comfort his sister.

  Colin didn’t acknowledge me. I didn’t say anything to him and continued talking to Laura.

  “I get it. Practically makes me have an anxiety attack, too, with all the polo shirts and golf coordinates. There’s a lot of people in there. I assumed this would be a small party.”

  I’d gone straight-up Florida retro for the night, with a wild, red vintage 1960s mod shift dress that showed off my legs and my curves. I wore white peep-toe sandals, coral lipstick, and had curled my hair in big, bouncy waves to channel my inner, tropical version of Dita Von Teese.

  I’d noticed that Caleb hadn’t taken his eyes off me since I’d gotten out of the car. In fact, that was the other reason why I’d left the living room. Not only did I want solitude from all the partygoers, but I
also wanted to tease Caleb a bit and make him wonder about my whereabouts. Even after the earlier, dispiriting conversation, I still wanted him.

  Still loved him.

  Colin piped up and stared at me with his cool blue eyes. “Everyone wanted to show up to see the man who came back to life. Your husband.”

  “Yeah. I’m not so sure which life he came back to, though,” I muttered.

  Laura shot me a quizzical look, and I sank down into the lounger next to Colin. Somehow, our night together seemed very long ago. As if it had happened to a different woman.

  I guess it had, in a way.

  “Is everything okay?” Colin asked softly.

  I glanced up. There was concern in his eyes, and I shrugged. “It’s been tough, getting to know your brother again. Two steps forward, one step back.”

  “The only step I want to take is with you, alone.” Caleb’s voice rumbled through me. I twisted in my seat, and he was suddenly behind me, scowling.

  “Excuse me?” I smiled, trying to be playful.

  “I’d like to chat with you for a few moments, Emma. In private. Let Laura and Colin spend time with Charlotte.” The storminess in his blue eyes stirred something inside of me. Oh God. Did he think I was out here because of his brother?

  “So demanding, the men in my family.” Laura smirked. I gave a wry grin in response and didn’t look at Colin.

  I handed the baby to Laura and stood up, shooting her a what-can-you-do look. Caleb leaned into Charlotte and kissed her cheek. “I love you, little one. Be good while Daddy and Mommy talk.”

  I wondered for the millionth time why he told Charlotte that he loved her and not me.

  Caleb led me into the living room, through the throngs of people, down a hall and up a set of stairs in the back of the house, meant for the help. We walked down a hall, side-by-side.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere private.”

  I stopped in the hall and reached for his arm. He stared down at me, expressionless, and I bit my lip.