I summon courage because I’m going to need it. Honestly, I’m not too sure why I’m over at Tony’s house uninvited. I trust Lona to do her job. I just…I had to see for myself. How deluded I’ve been.
He’s told me this house didn’t cost him much because he built some of it. I don’t doubt that he added on, but this neighborhood, this real estate is pricy. Probably five to ten times more expensive than anything on my little cul-de-sac.
I ring his doorbell and am greeted by a shriek. There’s two girls, easy to spot through the glass surrounding the front door, who are shirtless, holding each other. And there’s my ex-husband with his shirt off too, looking shocked. I, unfortunately, get to see a lot of nipples and giant boobs bouncing away as Tony gruffly says something to them. He slowly walks to the door, sporting a huge erection under his black jeans that I’m sure he’s not at all concerned about covering up.
The man has the gall to smile at me. But when he gets near, his grin dims. He’s looking into my red, puffy eyes, his expression switching to concern. He opens his screen door quickly.
“What’s going on?” He tries to grab me and pull me inside, but I won’t budge.
“I’m not going inside your house with your girlfriends here.”
He sighs. “They’re leaving.” His grip on my waist tightens uncomfortably. “What’s wrong, Moira?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Are the kids okay?”
I nod, relieved he’s at least worried about them. And I have to remind myself over and over again that Tony’s not evil. He’s not a bad man. Hell, I understand the desire to have two men want me at once. But I hate how every time I needed him, he wasn’t there. How he says we’re good friends, but I never feel like he listens to me, or that he even wants to know who I am. I hate how I fell so hopelessly in love with him and was devastated by all his…I don’t know if he means to lie. He just doesn’t want the truth to be accurate.
But those truths, half-truths, lies, have humiliated me time and time again.
Two giggling girls—thank god they put on their shirts—rush to the entrance way I’m blocking. They stop and stare. I can’t stand their eyes on me. So I move aside, behind Tony.
“Go on. Get on out.” Tony’s voice is rough. Almost mean.
One girl continues to giggle as she hurries by, but the other stops in front of Tony.
“I love you.”
“Just go, Krista.” Tony’s voice is even angrier. A tad louder.
The smaller of the two, Krista, looks at me through narrowed eyes as she passes. She hates me. I hope she won’t be my children’s step-mother. She’s barely twenty if that. Ah, the mistakes we make at that age. Believing the things men say. Feeling flutters in our bellies when a handsome man pays attention.
But am I that different?
I glance at Tony’s wide shoulders. He’s still muscular. Maybe even more so now than when we were married. He’s still a good-looking man. The few grays around his temples make him look distinguished. I wonder if he seduces them, those girls. I wonder if he uses the same tricks he did on me—pretends to be shy until alone when he’ll take over the conversation. Pretends to be humble when he’s got money that he doesn’t share with his children.
Tony’s bare arm is around me, ushering me inside his house. “Come on, Moira. Come in.”
I let myself be guided into a huge living room—two floors high, white walls decorated with Tony’s combination of art that’s part patriotic flags, outdoor shots of bucks, and a few antique rifles here and there. He has a TV that’s the size of a wall with a black leather sectional in front of it. All the furniture is black. There’s no warmth in the room.
“Aren’t you hot in that?” He begins to take off my oxford, as if he has a right to.
I jerk away from him, noting his erection has died down, thank god. But he’s still shirtless, the top button of his jeans undone.
He shrugs. “I’m sorry you saw the girls.”
“Are you?”
He takes in a deep inhalation. “Yeah, believe it or not.”
“She loves you.”
Tony rolls his eyes dramatically.
“You don’t love her?”
“She brought her fucking friend to have a threesome. I don’t have a lot of respect for the girl, Moira.”
“But you’ll fuck her still?”
Tony’s head jerks slightly. “You learned a new word.”
“Don’t fucking patronize me, Tony. Not fucking today.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “I’m not patronizing, honey. I like it. On you.”
I fold my arms under my breasts but then notice the way he’s looking at my chest and stop. My oxford shirt is half off my shoulder and I try to wiggle it higher.
“I’m glad you finally came over.” He gives me a small smile.
“I don’t remember you ever inviting me.”
He sticks his bottom lip out for a beat. “I wasn’t sure you wanted to come. I—I kind of thought you wanted to believe I still lived with you.”
What irritates me more than anything is the pompous man is right. There was a time when I wanted to believe we weren’t really divorced. But I don’t live in that time any longer.
“You wanna see the bedroom?” He arches a dark brow.
I shake my head, throwing my hands in the air. “What is this, Tony? You really think I’m going to fuck you after I saw those girls?”
He smiles even wider then groans and ruffles his hair with a hand. “Yeah, I got sex on the brain. And it doesn’t help that you look so…what are you doing to yourself, Moira? You look good lately.”
“I have a new morning facial routine where I line up about fifteen men and have them come on my face.” I can’t believe I said that. My monster is out and she’s in full force right now. But the problem is I’m not sure if I can do this without her and her outbursts. She’s stronger than I am. And I need her power.
It’s obvious Tony can’t believe I’ve said as much, either. He’s shocked and then slowly starts to smile. “That’s…nasty. I like it.”
Trying to get a rise out of my ex-husband was not what I wanted to do. I didn’t come here for this. I don’t know why I came. Turning from him, I see a huge kitchen, appliances that look like they’ve never been used. But I also see a picture of me. It’s when I was pregnant with Jamie, and I’m laughing as Tony’s trying to take the picture and at the same time putting a hand on my big round belly. The image is blown up and in black and white. You can just make out Tony’s hand on me, as I’m smiling and looking so happy.
“I love that picture of you.” Tony’s voice is soft. “Reminds me of…back when things were good. When you used to look at me like I was everything to you. When you told me you loved me and I thought I could conquer the world.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away.
Tony holds my hand softly, caressing my thumb’s knuckle. “Are you okay, Moira?”
I shake my head, still staring at the picture of me.
“What’s wrong, honey? I’ll do anything for you.”
My beast answers. “I want—I want—I want to have a sex life in my own house without feeling threatened by you.”
He throws my hand back at my hip, scowling. “How the fuck can you come in my house and say this shit?”
“I just saw you with two girls. Don’t I have a right to have that kind of fun too?”
“You want to fuck around?” He’s way too close suddenly. He’s in my face, breathing hot on me, making me flinch. “You want other men’s cocks inside you, honey? That’s what you want? You want my fucking permission—”
“No, I want you to back off. I have a right to have sex. Just as much as you do.”
He grabs my arms. “Well, then, honey, let me show you my bedroom. No?” I’m trying to pull away, but he hangs on tighter. As crazy as Tony is at this moment, I know he’s being a jerk to make a point, not necessarily to hurt me. “You want me to fuck you right here?”
“Stop it, Tony.”
He lets me go, his face red and I see wrinkles along his eyes, down along his mouth. He’s breathing hard and still way too close. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. Not on purpose.
“No,” is all he says.
I shake my head. “‘No’ what?”
He grabs my arm and pulls me closer to the picture, pointing to it. “Don’t you see? Don’t you see it? I’ll always love you. I’m know I’m a fuck up. I—I don’t know why I can’t keep my dick in my pants to save my life, but I’ll always love you. And you’re mine.”
I shake my head, beginning to cry. “Let me go.”
He cries, tears instantly surfing down his hollow cheeks. “No, you’re mine.”
I caress his face, seeing so much agony there. “Please, Tony, let me go.”
He embraces me fiercely. His body’s shaking. “No, Moira. No.”
“You have to let me go…honey.”
He growls—a pained sound, holding me even tighter, lifting me off the ground. “I love you so fucking much.”
“Let me go.”
“I’ll be a better man, Moira. I’ll stop with the girls. I promise. I—now that you have that wicked mouth of yours, we can have fun. I’ll make it good for you. I’ll make you come. I’ll make you happy. I did it once. I can do it again.”
“I’m sorry, Tony. But I’ve moved on.”
“No,” he cries. “No, you’re mine.” He sniffs. “Let’s get drunk like we used to. Let’s get shitfaced and make love.”
“I don’t drink anymore.”
He digs his fingers into me, making me hiss, while he says, “Fuck, Moira, don’t move on. Don’t do this to me. I fucking love you.” He peels away from my chest, but still holds me off the ground, pinning my arms to my sides, looking at me frantically. “Is it Shane? Are you fucking Shane?”
Ah, he does remember Shane’s name. I shake my head. “No.”
He scrutinizes me, my answer. Then another tear falls. “I don’t want you to move on.”
“Tony, you have a girl who’s in love with you.”
He shakes his head. “That doesn’t count. I don’t love her. She knows that. I haven’t moved on and you can’t either. Moira, I can change.”
I shake my head. “But I already have.”
We tumble to the floor. He adjusts me so I’m on his lap and he holds me and sways side to side, crying. And I’m finally done with my tears. At least for now.
I used to love the man holding me, holding me like I’m his doll. I was his doll. I’m not without blame in our divorce. I tried so hard to be the hot, sweet young wife he’d married, to stay the same, to not be myself. So eventually I became Tony’s doll. I tried so hard to do everything he asked, tried to be the person he wanted me to be. But I couldn’t keep doing that. The monster inside me is forcing me to live my life, to wake up. And I’m so fucking awake.
The thing is, I’m grateful for being awake. For my monster.
After a long time, he finally lets me go, and I wiggle away. Although I feel a bit insensitive about the timing, I let him know that I would like more money for our children’s future, for their college, and for whatever else life throws at them. I don’t want a bigger house or nicer things, but I want my house to be mine. He can’t dictate what I do any longer.
His eyes are bloodshot and he nods resignedly. He pulls me on his lap again, and I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t let him manhandle me anymore. But he just holds me.
“Do you love me at all, Moira?”
I take in a breath. “You’re the father of my children. Of course, I’ll always love you.”
He leans his head down and nuzzles against my breast.
“Tony…” I push him away.
“I fucking love you so much. I fucked up so much.” He sighs. “Will you lie down with me? One last time? Just so I can go to sleep.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please.” He sucks in a sharp breath. “I’m so fucking sorry, Moira. I’m so sorry.”
It’s the sorry, his first apology that gets to me. I nod.
He holds my hand and guides me through his enormous house. On the way, he shows me Jamie’s room and Liv’s. I smile and tell him what a good job he did getting the details right, decorating for our children. I can tell from the way he won’t meet my eyes that someone else got those details right for him.
His room is black and a tad on the obvious side, seeming to scream, “I get laid here. And I get laid a lot.” His king-sized bed has black satin sheets and he slides under the covers, holding my hand to ensure I do the same. Once laying on my back, he asks, “Can I lay on your chest? I won’t…I won’t fondle you or anything.”
I nod and he pulls me against him, his head on one of my breasts, his arm wrapping around my waist, his other arm sliding under my head. His hand that’s on my waist moves to the center of my belly and lowers, resting a few inches above my pubic bone.
“Did it hurt when you lost Ben?”
Well, maybe I’m not done crying because he’s talking about our first son. I was pregnant when he asked me marry to him. I said yes, thinking it the most romantic thing that had ever happened to me. We moved in together, got married quickly, and six months later I miscarried. The doctor said that things like that happen, but it’s hard when it’s happening to you. I worried for the next few years if Tony had married me only because I was pregnant.
“Yes.” My voice is scratchy. “It hurt.”
He inhales. “When they had to get him out of you, did that hurt too?”
“Yes.” My voice is without emotion because I can’t let go, can’t feel the grief. Not when it comes to Ben. I loved that child, and my miscarriage was the first fracture in our marriage because I wanted to lean on Tony. But he wasn’t around.
“You didn’t cry. I didn’t know if you were hurting.” He sighs and stretches his fingers wide. “I felt so fucking helpless. I hated myself.”
I did cry. He just wasn’t there to see it. “Why?” I ask.
“Because you were so brave. I know you loved Ben. I know you loved him so much. And I couldn’t even…save him for you.”
I tunnel my fingers through his hair. “You’re sweet for even thinking it.”
“I couldn’t look at you after. I felt like such a fucking failure.”
“You weren’t. It was my body—”
He jerks up to look at me. “No, you did nothing wrong, Moira. Promise me that you know you did nothing wrong. You were perfect. Always so brave and perfect. And I was fucking around on you. I wondered if it was God punishing me for being such a fucking asshole.”
I caress his hair. “I don’t think God works like that, honey.”
He settles back against me. “Moira, when you get a boyfriend, I don’t want to know about it. I mean, if you get married, maybe then. But I don’t want to know if you’re seeing some nice guy who won’t fuck around on you. I don’t want to know about some great guy who treats you the way you deserve to be treated. And if you find some asshole who’s like me, if he fucks around on you, if he hurts you, I’ll fucking kill him.”
“Okay.”
“I make more money than I tell you.”
“I know. I found out today…from a lawyer.”
He sighs. No fighting. He just breathes. “I’ll start paying you more.”
“Tony? I’m proud of you. Your business is doing really good. But don’t take money that should be for our children. Please.”
“You’re right. I was being a selfish asshole. Like usual.”
I pull on his hair, making him look up at me. “Please, quit calling yourself that. I’ll always love you, Tony. In some way, I’ll always love you, and it kills me when you call yourself that.”
“Even when I’m acting like it?”
I smile.
He settles back against me once more. “I’ll always love you, Moira. Not in some way, like you will for me. I’ll always be a little in love with you. You were the
first girl I loved. I think the last too.”
“Tony, you don’t know that. You could meet—”
“Shh, shh.” He cuddles even closer, something he’s never done before. “Let’s go to sleep.”
22
After Tony drifts off to sleep, I leave his huge house feeling…god, so much. The kids and I need groceries, but I don’t want to go to the big, open-twenty-four-hour grocery store. Their wine selection is just too accessible. And with feeling everything from the heartache of really getting over Tony to him confessing he’s in love with me to talking about Ben, my first child, who died before I had a chance to know him, to…God, the list is atrociously long.
So I take the lengthy drive to the small grocery store that reminds me of my father’s, which is the main reason I’ve rarely gone to it. Plus, it’s not at all in my neighborhood. But right now I don’t need any of my nosy neighbors to see me, my eyes puffy and red, my nose a little red too. I look like someone’s died. I think I did. I’m not at all the girl Tony married. And for that I feel bad for him.
I’m a lot like Tony, though, I realize. I’m a liar too. I’m not brave enough to face the truth.
Until now.
I’m an alcoholic. I’m a high-functioning alcoholic who may never have the rock bottoms others do. But that doesn’t mean I’m not dependent on my wine. Because I am.
I’m falling in love with a man who’s eight years younger than I am. I know in these days and times that the age difference isn’t a big deal, but sometimes it feels like it.
And I can’t help but wonder just what my feelings are for Shane.
I stop in the little parking lot of Betty and Glen’s Grocery Store, only a few cars here and most of them not even lining up with the spaces. There’s a big green, fifties-era Ford pickup parked along the outskirts. I’ve always loved those kinds of trucks. I’ve wanted one for myself but never admitted it to anyone. I’ve always felt pressured to have a mom car, complete with boring beige interior and paint. I’ve always felt pressured to be feminine, although I’m never sure what that means, but I always have the sensation I’m not good enough at it. I do like wearing dresses. But I want that kind of truck and to garden. I want a huge fucking garden with purple potatoes and cabbage that weighs as much as Liv. And I want to be dirty all the time. I want the sun on my face as I pick turnips from the earth.
Awake: Book 3 of the Wild Love Series Page 22
