Love's Deception

by DC Renee

  There came a point when things stopped adding up, when you stopped believing the fancy lies.

  There came a point when your silly feelings became harsh reality, and you learned who you were truly married to.

  And I was married to the mob.

  I’d managed to push any doubts, any troubled thoughts aside for a few months actually. I’d buried them deep down, telling myself I was just being paranoid. I still hadn’t visited Nolan’s work in that time, but I’d lost my desire to. I think, maybe deep down, I was afraid I’d burst my own little bubble that was already threatening to pop.

  So what changed? There was finally a time when I walked into a situation with no reasonable excuse.

  We’d gone to one of Nolan’s big family gatherings. One of his aunts usually had it at her house for some reason or another. This time, however, one of his second cousins was hosting because it was their thirteen-year-old daughter’s birthday. They had gone all out—caterers, an open bar with a bartender, a DJ and an MC, and decorations galore.

  We were all having an amazing time and drank way too much. I was wonderfully tipsy, just at the point before getting drunk.

  “Oh no,” I gasped in the middle of dancing with Nolan.

  “What?” Nolan asked, a look of worry entering his features.

  “I have to break the seal,” I announced, to which he threw his head back and laughed.

  “That’s the oh no?”

  “That’s a big oh no,” I told him. He laughed again. “Oh shush,” I said as I playfully hit his arm, “and point me in the direction of the bathroom.”

  “I’ll just take you.”

  “Okay,” I replied cheerily. We walked hand in hand toward the door but were stopped just a few feet away by one of Nolan’s uncles.

  “Mind if I steal you for a few minutes?” he asked.

  Nolan looked at me for a response. “No, that’s fine. Just tell me where to go.”

  “You sure?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll be back in a few.”

  He explained where the bathroom was, but when I got there, it was occupied. I waited and waited, but whoever was in there wasn’t coming out. I knocked, and I heard one of his aunts call out, “Sorry, must be something I ate.” I cringed, feeling sorry for her and for my bladder.

  I shuffled from foot to foot for another minute before deciding I either had to find another bathroom or find a bush. Bathroom sounded better.

  The problem was that I wasn’t familiar with this house.

  And that was how I somehow managed to make it to what I thought might be a bathroom but turned out to be a wine cellar. I opened the door and saw a set of stairs that led down. I realized that wasn’t the bathroom, so I went to close the door until I heard a grunt. I should have minded my own business and turned around and left. Maybe that way, I would’ve stayed in ignorant bliss. But curiosity got the better of me, and I found myself walking down a few steps. I managed to stay out of their line of sight when I saw the scene before me.

  I gasped silently, covering my mouth with my hand as I watched three of Nolan’s cousins beating the ever-loving crap out of someone. I couldn’t even tell anything about the person they were currently using as a punching bag because he looked like he’d been through a meat grinder.

  I didn’t stay more than a few seconds before I turned around and ran back up the few stairs I’d gone down. My bladder forgotten, I ran out to the side of the house and threw up in the bushes.

  “You all right?” someone asked, but I didn’t answer.

  A minute later, I felt Nolan’s presence beside me. “Lise?” he asked as I lifted my head. “Let’s go home. I think you might have had too much to drink.” He started leading me away, and I let him. Not because I wanted to get away but because I was still in shock.

  It wasn’t until we were almost at the car, coincidentally away from everyone, when I finally found my voice. “They were beating him!” I yelled.

  “What?” Nolan said as he stopped and turned to face me.

  “I saw them. I saw your cousins. They were beating someone raw,” I told him, my voice panicked and slightly raised but no longer yelling.

  “I think the alcohol is affecting you,” he said calmly and pulled my hand.

  I pulled it out of his grip. “I didn’t drink that much,” I seethed. “And I know what I saw. Who the hell was he? And why were they trying to kill him with their fists?” I asked, my voice somehow taking on a fake calm.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He might have been right. He could have had nothing to do with it, but somehow, I knew he did.

  “You’re lying,” I told him. “You’ve been lying for a while. Who are you?” I asked. “Who the hell are you?” I asked again. “I have a right to know just who I’m married to because you’re not who you say you are. So, tell me, husband … who the fuck is Nolan Corrington?”

  We faced off for several minutes, neither opening our mouths, only the sounds of our breathing mingling with the distant sounds of the party going on behind us. I saw the minute he decided to tell me the truth. The blinders lifted from his eyes, the defeat entered his shoulders, and the mask came right off. It wasn’t perceptible to anyone but me, but I knew Nolan well enough … or at least I thought I did.

  “I’ll tell you everything,” he said. “Let’s go home, and I’ll tell you everything.”

  I nodded and silently got in the car. We drove in the same silence all the way home, not saying a word until we sat at the dinner table opposite each other.

  He stared at me, searching my eyes for something. I’m not sure if he found it, but he sighed before speaking.

  “I’m still me, Lise. I’m still Nolan Corrington. I’m still the same man who fell in love with you, and the same one you fell in love with too. It’s just … my family business. It’s not exactly the kind you introduce people to.”

  “Oh my God, I’m married to the godfather,” I announced, cutting him off, realizing without his admission just what the hell had been happening. My eyes had been blind, but my mind hadn’t been.

  He gave me a sad, sardonic smile. “Sort of,” he answered with a shrug. I’d half been expecting him to say no. “It’s not exactly what the movies make it out to be, but yes, we’re a family connected similar to what you’re probably thinking in your head.”

  “I … I can’t,” I said as I started to get up. “I’m married to the fucking mob!” I screamed at him.

  “Lise, no, it’s not like that,” he said and stood.

  “Then what exactly is it like?” I asked.

  “We have legitimate businesses all over. We own restaurants and shops, and we do export and import goods, anything from bathroom vanities to telephones. But we also have some dealings that I’m not going to get into. They’re not bad, Lise, not what you’re probably thinking, but they’re not what the average person would do.”

  “Drugs? Guns?” I asked.

  “No,” he said with a shake of his head. “Government secrets,” he finally admitted after a few minutes of us staring at each other in silence. I was willing him to be open with me, and he was begging me to drop it. “We’re not bad, Lise.”

  “No, you just sell out countries and beat the shit out of people,” I said dryly. “Oh! And you lie to your wife,” I added sarcastically.

  “We sell bad secrets to good governments,” he said with urgency. “But even still, it’s not exactly an honor-bound job, and it’s not exactly legal. As a result, we have many enemies. People who want to do us harm. They aren’t good people, Lise, not by any stretch of the imagination. The guy you saw getting beat up? He came to the party with a loaded gun, intending to kill whoever got in his way, children too. He’s a hired killer, not giving a damn who gets hurt in the process,” he spat out angrily.

  “I … What? No,” I responded, shaking my head back and forth angrily.

  “I’m not going to lie, Lise. Ages ago, we weren’t noble. We started with drugs and guns, and everything
you’ve seen on TV, but times changed, and we evolved.”

  “The gash on your arm?” I asked, pointing at the scar residing there.

  “Attack,” he admitted softly.

  “My God!” I cried out. “This … this isn’t what I signed up for. You lied to me,” I said quietly. “Our entire life is a lie!” I screamed, and Nolan came around the table, grabbing me and pulling me to him.

  “No, Lise!” he yelled back. “Only what I do is a lie. You and me, that has never been a lie.”

  “How can I believe you?” I asked. “You lied to me,” I told him. “You lied to me,” I repeated, and then suddenly, it became a chant as I pulled away from him just enough to beat his chest, pound on it as I repeated that he lied. My pounding and my chanting became a cathartic lullaby. I was getting my anger out, my frustrations, my feelings, my betrayal, even my love. And he let me. He stood there, taking the beating, taking the hurt and the pain.

  And finally, I was spent.

  I stopped suddenly and bowed my head in defeat.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” I admitted, looking back up into his face.

  “What are you saying?” Nolan asked, his fears and worries written loudly and brightly in his voice and his face.

  “I-I don’t know what I’m saying,” I told him. It wasn’t like I just stopped loving this man. Love wasn’t a switch you could turn on and off. My heart didn’t just decide to do a one-eighty. I took in his features with his face so close to mine. I knew every line, every crease. He wasn’t just my husband, my love; he was also a part of me. He was ingrained in my soul, buried deep in there. Could I walk away from him? Could I leave him? I should. But I didn’t know if I could. “I think I should go stay at a hotel,” I said.

  “No, Lise, please, don’t. You just need some time to process this. Please, don’t leave. Don’t leave me.” He sounded so broken, so distraught, that even though I couldn’t face him then, I also couldn’t break him. Not like he’d just broken me.

  “I’ll stay,” I said quietly even though it took everything in me to even say the words. I felt his heart beat under my hand still on his chest as I felt my own shatter. “But I think it’s best if you stay in one of the guest rooms.” And then he hung his head in shame.

  “Okay,” he said, looking at me, the anguish so apparent that my heart broke a fraction more. You did this to us, I thought but didn’t say the words out loud. If he’d only just told me in the beginning … but then what? Would I have stayed? Would I have given us the chance to fall in love? He could have told me then … but would I have walked away before we were tied together forever? I didn’t know, but I knew this was his fault. We were at this point because of him. Yet I still didn’t want to hurt him. That was love. Taking the pain for yourself before allowing it to touch the person you cared about. Maybe that meant Nolan didn’t love me. Or maybe him lying to me was his way of taking the pain so that this life didn’t touch me.

  “It’s a lot to process,” I told him. “I just need some time to sort it all out and figure out what I’m going to do.”

  He nodded in response. “I understand. But know this, Lise. I lied about what I did, but I never lied about who I was. And I sure as hell never lied about my love. I love you with everything I have and everything I am. And if I could have left this life to be with you, I would have in a heartbeat, but once you’re in, you’re in. I couldn’t leave no matter what. But I couldn’t not have you in my life either. I did everything to make sure it wouldn’t touch you, but I failed you, and for that, I’m so sorry. I’ll always be sorry. Just never doubt my love for you. Never. That has been unwavering. And it’s only grown stronger and stronger every day. I love you, Lise.”

  I believed him. I did. Or at least I believed he believed it. I just wasn’t sure if his love was enough. “I know.” Then I pulled out of his arms completely, turned, and walked away, leaving him standing in the kitchen as I walked to my bedroom—our bedroom—and closed the door behind me. Tonight, it wouldn’t be ours. Tonight, it would only be mine.

  “I CAN’T DO this,” I told Nolan over dinner. I’d been thinking that for the past few days, but my thoughts hadn’t manifested into words or actions, and I didn’t think they would. Yet there I was, blurting it out over homemade spaghetti Bolognese.

  He looked up sharply, his fork full of pasta, frozen in midair. “You said you’d try,” he said quietly but without conviction, almost like he knew this was coming. Maybe he even felt it was justified but still didn’t want it to happen.

  “And I have,” I countered. I truly had. It’d been a month since I’d found out just who I’d married. That night, after I found out, I hadn’t slept. I’d spent the entire evening and night in our bedroom by myself, thinking and rethinking, going over everything and wondering where things went wrong, trying to figure out how I’d missed the signs. In the end, I hadn’t actually missed any signs, I just chose to ignore them or believe the plausible lies I was told. My gut, though, had always pointed in the right direction.

  I hadn’t just spent the night beating myself up for being naïve. I’d also contemplated my next steps. Was I leaving Nolan? Or was I staying?

  I chose to believe his words, that what they did wasn’t “so bad,” but it still wasn’t right. It wasn’t legal. And it sure as hell was obviously very dangerous.

  I didn’t like it, not one bit. But what truly bothered me the most was that Nolan hadn’t trusted me with this when he loved me. I understood why he didn’t tell me in the beginning. It’s not exactly “normal” dinner conversation. But once the “I love you’s” were said, why didn’t he tell me then?

  I can’t tell you if I would have hit the ground running, fast and far away, once I knew, but I have a feeling I wouldn’t have. You tended to accept a lot more than you gave yourself credit for when you were in love. Love automatically came with special filters that like and lust didn’t have.

  I had a feeling I would have appreciated his honesty, his trust—on his behalf and on his family’s since I now would have had knowledge that could screw them over, and the fact that he gave me a choice. I might not have been happy about it, but I would have at least known what I was getting into.

  But Nolan didn’t give me that. He took the choice from me. He didn’t trust me until he had no choice but to fess up. And I clearly didn’t know what I’d gotten into. It had blindsided me. I felt betrayal significantly more than any other emotion.

  I opened the door to the bedroom the following morning and found Nolan sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and his head in his hands. He was asleep, and I cringed on his behalf, knowing he couldn’t possibly be comfortable. Even in his sleep, he must have sensed me because his head shot up, and I took in the sight of him. He looked absolutely miserable. I had a feeling he had just fallen asleep and had spent the entire night on the floor beside the door, wondering … waiting.

  When I had opened the door, I still hadn’t come to any conclusions on what I was going to do, but seeing him there like that tipped my heart ever so slightly in one direction.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked him. “I’m not asking about when we first met. I’m asking about when you knew I loved you, and you could have trusted me. When you could have shared your life with me, your real life, and not the façade you gave me. Why didn’t you tell me then?” I asked him.

  He stood slowly like it hurt him to do so, and only when he was standing in front of me, his bloodshot eyes staring directly into mine, did he answer, “Because I couldn’t take the chance you’d walk away. I risk a lot in my life,” he admitted. “But you were the one thing I couldn’t risk. Selfish, I know,” he said unapologetically. “But I couldn’t lose you. I love you, Lise. Even if you doubt everything else, don’t doubt that.”

  “Okay,” I responded, his simple but sincere words tipping my heart the rest of the way. “I’ll try.”

  If relief could be a visible action, Nolan would have displayed it in spades right then. You co
uld actually see the veil of agony lift from him.

  He grabbed me so suddenly that I didn’t even have time to protest, pulling me into his arms and wrapping me in so tightly that I almost couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t mind. In that embrace, I felt every emotion he felt. He didn’t kiss me, and I was grateful for that. Not because I didn’t want to kiss my husband but because it would have felt forced then.

  “I have questions,” I told him after we broke apart.

  “I’ll answer them all, but I will warn you if you ask a question you might not want an answer to.”

  “Fair enough,” I responded with a nod.

  “Now?”

  “Now’s as good a time as any,” I said with a shrug.

  We spent the better part of the morning with me asking every question that came to mind—from how it all began with his however many great-grandfathers to the day-to-day activities. He answered most and told me when I probably didn’t want an answer. Some I chose to skip, and some I made him answer anyway.

  It felt cathartic. It felt freeing. And I was actually feeling a sense of hope after our talk. When it was over, I yawned, and he followed suit.

  “Come to bed. I think we’ve earned a nap,” I said and held out my hand. It was a peace offering, and he took it immediately.

  After we woke up, we made love, and there was something so different about it, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

  And then bam, poof, we were back to normal for a whopping two days—as if nothing had happened. Those two days were great, really. We felt closer. A big boulder that had been dropped between us had suddenly been lifted. Everything was exposed with no more secrets. We were finally completely together.

  So then something big changed that all, right? No. It was nothing big at all. It was just the same stuff from before, but this time, I was actually aware of what was going on. Those late-night calls—I realized they weren’t harmless calls from distributors across the ocean. The angry meetings from his office looked drastically different. Even his daily work schedule had me feeling off-kilter.