Mitch couldn’t move. Emily could. "What is going on?"
"It’s nothing," Mitch said, but she could see the sweat on his brow.
"It’s obviously something." She paused. "It always is."
Mitch licked his lips. "It’s just...email."
Emily felt all of the blood rush to her face and the rest of her body go cold. "Email of what? Words? Pictures?" She flashed to him sitting in that study at home, alone, for so long. She’d felt like such a jerk for being mad.
Mitch closed his eyes. "It wasn’t real."
"Who is on the other end of them?" The words just came tumbling out. If she had thought, she wouldn’t have asked. She didn’t want to know.
"It isn’t what it sounds like."
"Who?!?" Emily shrieked. Mitch couldn’t open his mouth. Emily didn’t dare move toward him, because she wasn’t sure anyone would hold her back. "Say it. Or can’t you admit that whore got to you again?" She turned to Robert. "It was Kyra Allen, wasn’t it?" Silence, which enraged her more. "You’re just as much of a coward as he is. You’ve got nothing on me, you piece of garbage, I’ll be happy to—"
"Yes!" Mitch shouted. "Emily, stop! I’m sorry. Yes. It was Kyra."
Emily took her ring off her finger and threw it at Mitch’s face. It just barely missed his eye. "Was it good for you, baby? Want to show us what you got from her? How about you show me what you sent back?" She wished she could have thrown something else at him. "You make me sick."
Mitch bent to pick up the ring. Emily looked down on him, even when he stood up. "I want to explain, but not here."
"I’ve got it, you moron. You work so late you pretty much just sleep next to me, but you find all kinds of time to sit in the dark and jerk off while you get your e-porn from her." She put her finger in his face. He didn’t move. "I begged you to meet me for lunch, or come down to your lobby to see me before I had to pick up Hellie. But you never had the fifteen or even five minutes to spare. How long did it take to read your email? How much time did all of those minutes add up to?"
"You don’t understand—"
"That again?!?" Emily threw her arms open. "You’re right, I didn’t, because it didn’t make sense. But now I do understand, clearly. Fine, you didn’t screw her, you just pretended to. Ireland or your computer—just another place for you to play pretend. And you deserve it, because this grown up, married, daddy-thing is too much for you…never mind that it was your idea." She took a breath. "Go back to work, Mitch. Go back to your email, go back to your fantasy girlfriend. Come back tomorrow after I’m at work and my daughter is at preschool. Get your stuff, and get out. And stay out."
Zainab looked at everyone in the room. Everyone had lost something. She stood and walked up to Robert. He didn’t move. "Is there anything else?" she asked calmly.
He shook his head. It took him a moment for him to find his voice. "No, that’s all."
"Glad to hear it," she said.
"Yeah, me too," Jessie said, her face white and red. "And just for the record, Bobby, you weren’t the only one faking things." Then she stormed down the stairs.
"Jessie, wait!" Richard called out as he ran after her.
Zainab turned to Miranda. "You should go after him," she said. "He’s going to need someone to talk to."
"That’s a great idea," Alex said quickly. "I’ll drive you home."
"The Hell you will!" Miranda said angrily. "Stay away from me!" She ran down the stairs after Richard.
"Miranda!" Alex called. He ran past Lucy, but not before she gave him a look that would chill the sun. She shook her head at Robert, and then left herself. Joanna looked at Emily, who forced a smile. She forced one too, then left.
"Sorry, but I’ve been waiting all night to say this," Emily said as she stood up again. "Detective Teague, get the Hell out of this office now. And take him with you," she gestured at Mitch. "So help me, I hope I never see either of you again."
"My pleasure," Robert said as he turned around.
Mitch stayed where he was. "Emily, we need to talk."
"Wrong. We needed to talk. I begged you to be a husband, but you always had an excuse. Enjoy those excuses now, alone." Still he stayed. "Get out of here now!" she shrieked. Mitch, tearful, finally obeyed.
Emily and Zainab cried when everyone was gone. Then they both laughed at how ridiculous it all was.
CHAPTER 17
Miranda hadn’t slept the whole night. Jessie screamed at Richard until two in the morning about her mother, about Lucy, about Zainab. She threw things, she cried, she told him he was worse than everyone else. She alternated that with telling Miranda what an idiot she was for marrying Michael and then being with Alex. Miranda knew that half of Jessie’s tears were over Robert. Miranda pleaded with her to calm down anyway. And Richard didn’t defend himself, he just begged her to go to sleep. And then Jessie cried and hugged Richard until they both fell asleep on the couch.
Throughout the night, Alex had called every number they had. Miranda finally shut off and unplugged all of the phones. She could have kissed Richard right then for having the sense to hire a security guard.
At five in the morning, she took a shower after having lain in bed for two hours and done nothing but stare at the ceiling. Then she paced in her room until six. She should call Emily to check on her and Zainab. But she knew Emily would be getting Hellie ready for the sitter. Oh, God—was Hellie going to grow up without her father? She should call Mitch, but what was she going to say? Was he going to stay with his parents? Then there was Lucy. Miranda couldn’t conceive of her being someone’s victim, much less...Alex, Alex, Alex. Ruthless, cold blooded, callous—the old words, but they just didn’t stack up. How could he? She thought of what Richard had said. Richard knew all along? His father...Joanna...it was so confusing. She was happy to be confused.
At seven, Miranda realized that she couldn’t deny what she was thinking or feeling anymore. She grabbed her coat and ran downstairs.
Richard was coming out of the kitchen with some coffee when she came down. Jessie was still sleeping under a blanket on the couch. "Where are you going?" he asked, looking at his watch.
"Where do you think?" she replied as she opened the door. She was gone before he could stop her.
He flopped onto his chair and threw his head back. One more thing he wasn’t going to be able to fix today.
~~~
Miranda didn’t walk, she ran. She was sure one moment that he was going to be there, and then equally sure the next that he wasn’t. She was running fast—that’s why her heart was beating the way it was.
She got to the corner. She stopped. She looked at the house. She trembled. She put one foot forward and then the other. She had to know either way.
She got to the bottom of the stairs. She looked at the door. She walked up the stairs. She put her hand on the door. It was cold. And then she remembered where she was, and that this had been her home during the happiest time of her life. And that she wasn’t allowed to go back, whether he was home or not.
Before she could move her hand, the door swung open. She gasped as she fell forward. Two strong arms pulled her up and in. The door slammed shut. He pushed her against the door. "What took you so long?"
Miranda couldn’t believe her eyes. Michael Abbot. His face looked just a little older, and he was more tanned than he had been before. But those were still the same dark eyes, and that was still the same voice. "Bastard," she said breathlessly. "You’re not supposed to be here."
"How long did you think I could stay away? How long could I ever stay away from you?" He leaned forward and kissed her. She punched him once in the chest then stopped. She grabbed his back and pulled him into her. She wanted to take him in as if for dear life.
He kissed her ears and neck. "God, I missed you," he whispered. She moaned and pulled at his wavy hair, now a little shorter than it had been. She closed her eyes. She could stay here forever, just as always.
But she couldn’t. She pushed him back and stepped
away. "No!" She put her hand on her mouth as if she could wipe him away. "That’s not why I came here."
He pulled her back. "Who are you trying to convince, me or you?"
"You, you crazy, stalky creep!" She remembered to be angry. "You made me think I was losing my mind. That I was imagining you. But you were there. You were stalking me just like you always used to. Well, now I know, so you’re little game’s over, and you’re going to have to stop." He was smiling and moving closer. She turned around again. Her face was burning.
"But the music in the café—wow, you’ve got to get points for creativity on that," she said quickly. "What did you do, break into the house when I wasn’t there and grab my iPod?"
"You know, you’d be surprised at what you can get online," he said, right behind her. "And using my father’s name as your password..." He traced his finger down her spine and she trembled. "You made it too easy."
She clutched the back of the couch. "Stop it, Michael. Please, I’m begging you. Stop it."
He turned her around again. She couldn’t breathe. He kissed her again. She didn’t even try to fight him off. He stopped. "You already begged me once. And I did what you asked. And it was the hardest, worst thing I’ve ever done. I hated you for asking me to do that."
"Good, Michael. Keep hating me, but let me go."
"I can’t do either," he said. He kissed her again. They fell back onto the couch. She grabbed his face. She rubbed her hands onto his chest. He started to undo her pants.
"No," she said. "We can’t."
He stopped, but grabbed her thigh. "Tell me why," he said, kissing her neck and chest. "Because I can’t think of one good reason."
"Because of Michael Abbot Senior," she said angrily. "Remember him?"
"He’s dead and gone. He doesn’t matter."
"But he left his marks, didn’t he?" Miranda said, unable to fight back her tears. "And we’re his marks."
He thrust her hands under his shirt. She kissed him again. "We can’t," but she wrapped her leg around him.
He started unbuttoning her shirt and kissing her skin. "It’s legal, Miranda. It’s legal in this state, and a bunch of others. It’s legal in Europe. There’s nothing wrong with it."
"We couldn’t have a normal life," she said, closing her eyes as she felt his mouth on her. "No, no, stop. We couldn’t have a family together. It wouldn’t be safe."
He stopped. She sat up with her back to him and buttoned her shirt. "Is that why you’re with Alex?" he asked as he roughly ran his hands through her hair. "You’d rather have children with that old man than have this with me?"
"This has nothing to do with Alex," she insisted.
"This has everything to do with him!" She turned around again. He was angry. She had always been afraid of him, before, when he was like this but now she put her hand on his face. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face against her wrist. "Who do you think arranged to send me away so he could get you alone?"
She looked down at the floor as her face contorted with misery. She remembered the day she’d gotten her mother’s birth certificate, then seeing Michael’s grandfather’s name on it. She remembered that she’d pushed him away. She remembered how much she’d wanted to die when he was gone. She remembered how much she’d needed him to come back. She remembered...but that was too painful to remember right now.
He kissed her again. She unbuttoned his shirt and kissed his chest. He lay back and she got on top of him. He held her face. "Tell me you don’t want me, I dare you."
"It doesn’t matter," she said, kissing him. "We can’t."
"Right," he said, kissing her neck and unbuttoning her shirt again. "Because you never thought about me, even before I got back?" He unclasped her bra. "You never think about how I used to touch you?" He undid her pants. "You never lay awake at night thinking about me?" He put his hands inside her pants. "You don’t have to touch yourself like I used to, just to stop feeling so lonely, just to get some sleep so you can pretend the next day that everything is fine." He looked so sad. "Even if you’re in his bed. God, Miranda, how could you have gone to him after what we had?"
She moaned and bit his neck. "Stop it, please!" He moved his hand then flipped her over so he was on top of her. Her heart was in her ears, her brain. Her lips trembled. "Please?"
"Let’s play a game. You used to like games. How about we stay right here, but I don’t touch you? How about all I do is kiss you? How long do you think it would take before—"
"Stop it!" she said. "I had enough games last night."
He scowled. "I’m so glad Alex is trying to be creative to make up for his other deficiencies."
"Oh, shut up!" She pushed him off of her and put her clothes back on. "It wasn’t Alex’s game. Oh, he was there, but so were a lot of other people. And it was the kind of game where everyone loses in the end. You know that kind, right?"
"What are you talking about?" he asked, still sitting there without his shirt. Now that she was looking, not touching, she could see how much more muscular he was than he used to be. She blinked. He smiled, and then she forced herself not to look at him.
"You’re a real jerk for not calling Richard, but you should fix that today. Richard’s world fell apart yesterday."
"What happened?"
"Some cop who hates Lucy decided to take it out on Richard and Jessie."
"Cop?" Michael was silent for a moment. "Do you mean that ginger nut?"
"What?"
"You know? Carrot top? Redhead?" Miranda looked surprised. "And sort of tall? Oh yeah, that guy was tailing me too. I threw him off."
"No, you didn’t, you idiot. How do you think I knew that you were back?"
He got up and kissed her neck from behind. "You already knew; you just didn’t want to admit it." She turned around. "Just admit it now," he whispered. "You can’t stay away from me."
"Why did you come back?" she asked, biting his lip.
"You mean why did I stay away," he said, kissing her again. "I wanted to die when you made me go, I didn’t want to exist anymore. You might as well have ripped my heart out."
"I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t do it to hurt you."
"But you did, Miranda. Worse than losing my parents, worse than living in Alex’s house all those years." He kissed her again. "I went to Monte Carlo. I drank, I gambled, I screwed anything that remotely reminded me of you. I did anything to make me forget how empty I felt." He held her, and she thought she was going to melt into him. "And then I got the final divorce papers. Richard was so damn efficient. And I lost whatever was left of my mind. I wanted to drink myself to death, but it just wouldn’t come quickly enough. Then I got into a car and I drove as fast as I could." He inhaled. "I wanted to go off a cliff, I wanted to explode—I wanted anything that would make me forget you. And for a minute, I got it. But I was too drunk to even get that right. I hit a tree. It knocked me out for a day. As soon as I woke up, they dragged me in front of a judge and threw me into jail. And then—hey!"
Miranda hit him, scratched him and pulled his hair. She hit him with a pillow in the face, hard. "You stupid, selfish jerk! You tried to kill yourself? What were you thinking? What would I have done if you’d been gone? Was I supposed to die too? How was I supposed to live if you were dead? How was I supposed to go on? Don’t you know how hard it was without you anyway? I hate you!" She cried and put her head on his chest. "You don’t know."
"I do," he said huskily. "You were the only thing I thought about when I was sitting in that tiny little prison for a month. I didn’t have anything to make me stop. Just one more drug. The only thing I was ever really addicted to. I went into rehab. A real one." He teared up. "I haven’t had a drink or anything harder than chocolate for two years. This is all me."
Miranda stroked his face and kissed his forehead. "I’m glad you’re better, Michael."
He shook his head. "I’m not better. I’m not ever going to be. Because I can control everything else, but not this. I started thinking that you were rig
ht, that maybe we shouldn’t be together. I wanted to stop loving you. I wanted to stop feeling like you had a piece of me that I couldn’t get back. So I got myself a shrink, and we talked about everything. My parents, Alex, all the horrible things I’d ever done. You. You, you, you. I kept waiting for him to tell me that what we had was wrong, that I needed to move on. But he never did. Because there is nothing wrong with loving you. And I don’t care if it bothers anyone else, because this is good. And that’s why I’m back. Because this is my home," he touched the center of her chest. "And I’m not leaving again."
Her exhaustion was starting to overcome her. "So that new therapist I’m seeing isn’t going to make you go away?"
"Sorry—doesn’t work like that."
"Michael, please."
"Go ahead; tell me you can’t, because you want to be with Alex." He kissed her. "Tell me that all those other people you love would rather see you with him than me." She closed her eyes. "And don’t forget to tell me that you don’t love me."
"It’s not that simple," Miranda said.
Michael smiled and stroked her face. "Tell me what’s so complicated about this?"
"They were all I had when you left," she said sadly. "I can’t cut them out of my life again."
"Because they’re such good friends, right?" A single tear escaped. "Because they didn’t stop you from being with Alex even after everything he’d done. Even Richard," he said bitterly. "How could they?"
"Believe me, no one is happy about Alex after last night," she said, half to herself.
"What did he do now?"
Miranda opened her mouth to speak and then shook her head. "No. If you want to find out, you call your cousin. I mean it."
"Yes, ma’am," he said softly. "Now just tell me what else you want me to do."
She smiled in spite of herself as she looked at him. She got up. He took her hand and kissed it. She kissed him one last time, then turned and left before she could change her mind.
He stayed on the couch, smiling to himself. Michael Abbot smiled a lot these days.
CHAPTER 18
The China Doll Page 11
