by T. A. Foster
“Mmm. Sounds yummy.”
He whisked the shrimp around the stir fry pan. “Want some wine?” he asked.
“Yep.” I pulled a chilled bottle from the fridge. “How did the interview go today?” I struggled with the cork.
He rubbed the back of his neck. I knew by now that was the first sign he wasn’t as relaxed as he wanted me to think. The apron made him look playful, but the weight of the campaign was suffocating him.
“Hughes is cutting me off at every turn. I don’t know how he did it, but he fed the reporter all kinds of accusations. It was like I showed up to a firing squad, not a feature piece on my softer side. This was supposed to be a complete fluff piece, not this bullshit.”
“That bad? Was there something new?” I handed him a cold glass of wine.
“A lot of the same. Something new. But I know why he’s doing it.”
“Why is that?” My feet dangled over the counter. I liked watching him in the kitchen.
“The poll numbers came out yesterday. I’m ahead two points.”
“You are? That’s great!”
He added more shrimp to the pan. “It is, except now the mudslinging is really going to start. He’s not going down without a fight. He’s had that office so long I think he convinced himself no one else has a right to sit in it. It’s time things change in the senate.”
“What were the accusations? There can’t be anything new on you.”
“There’s a girl I dated in college. She says I got her pregnant.”
“What?”
He turned the gas off the stove, finally turning to face me. “My senior year at the Citadel, I met someone.”
“But I thought you and Sarah were college sweethearts.” We didn’t talk about her, but my quick online search the day we met gave me the basic rundown.
“We were.” He swallowed half the glass of wine. “But there was a time around the holidays when we weren’t sure where things were going.”
“And you slept with someone else?” I tried to keep the judgment out of my voice. It seeped in through every syllable.
“It sounds bad. It looks bad. But Sarah wanted to break up and we didn’t spend Christmas together that year. I took a ski trip with some buddies and I hooked up with this girl at the resort. It was over with her before the semester started. Sarah changed her mind, we got back together, and I never told her. I didn’t see the point in hurting her.”
“And this ski girl is just now coming forward?”
“She has never contacted me. Never. I don’t know how Hughes’s people dug her up. I don’t even know if it’s her.”
“And the baby?”
He shook his head. “That’s the part that’s maddening. They’re claiming I helped pay for her to have an abortion against her family’s wishes. I strong-armed her into keeping quiet and paid her to keep the secret from the press and Sarah. They have pictures of her leaving a clinic.”
“Oh my God.” I jumped off the counter. “This will destroy your campaign.”
“The reporter is holding the story for me until the weekend, but then it’s going to be front page news in Sunday’s paper.”
“You seem awfully calm about this. Shouldn’t you be out digging up proof? Trying to track this woman down?”
“I have people who do that for me. There’s really nothing I can do. I denied the accusations. Now it’s up to my team to smother the story. I’m lucky my dad owns a large share of the publishing company.”
“So that’s the reason she’s holding it? Not because she’s giving you a chance to prove your innocence?” I asked. “She owes your family a favor.”
“There’s always an angle.”
I don’t know why I was disappointed. I guess I had hoped the reporter believed there was information that would clear Pax’s name and make running the story unethical.
“If you need to handle this tonight, I understand. We can take a rain check.” There wouldn’t be another night like this anytime soon, but I offered anyway.
“No.” He planted a kiss on my mouth, the taste of wine lingered on our lips. “I have people. They will take care of it. We need tonight. I need you tonight.” His eyes flared.
“There isn’t any part of you that wonders if there was a baby? Or is a baby?” I didn’t know why I kept pushing the issue. He should be more upset.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess it’s possible, but what am I going to do about it now? I don’t know her name. My family has led a public life. If she needed help, she could have tracked me down years ago. I just don’t buy it.”
He took my face between his palms. “This is the dirty side of politics. People fabricate stories. They try to tear you down. They don’t stop until you’re destroyed.”
“Then why are you doing this? Why put yourself through it?”
“Because I can take it. I don’t have skeletons in my closet.” He stepped away to pour the noodles in a colander in the sink.
I cleared my throat. It was ironic really. I was in his kitchen, watching him cook a meal for us. Me, a married woman. Him, the widower. And after we finished the meal and drank the last drops of wine, I would put on the scraps of black fabric for him. We probably wouldn’t make it out of the kitchen. I’d let him take me on the table or the counter. My skin prickled thinking about him pressing against me. But he didn’t think of us as an affair. We weren’t a piece of dirty laundry his opponent could unearth. Paxton was either naïve or more arrogant than I admitted.
“Do you think you’ll seek another office after you win the election?”
“I plan on it. And I like that attitude. You’ve come a long way since our first talk on education.”
“You know I’m going to vote for you.”
“You better.” He rubbed his thumb along my lower lip.
“What other office? What’s your next campaign?”
“Well, this isn’t public knowledge.” There was an assortment of cheeses he started grating.
“I think I’ve proven I can keep a secret,” I teased.
“That you have.” He wiped his hands on the apron and picked up the spice canisters, reading each label. He was precise in the kitchen. “There are experts on political projections. We’ve brought in a few. I’ve had some meetings, and we’re starting to set our sights on the governor’s office.”
“You want to be the governor of South Carolina?”
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
Paxton was an attorney, or at least he had a law degree, but he never discussed cases. He was a professional politician. Groomed and molded for the role. But governor. Governor was influential and powerful. It sounded ambitious, but if he wanted it, I knew it would be his. He was the kind of man who got what he wanted.
“I’m not. I think you would make an excellent governor. A sexy one at that.” I winked.
He abandoned the pasta and walked toward me, brushing his lips over mine. “Are you implying I’ll only make it to the governor’s mansion because of my sex appeal?”
I inhaled deeply. “Something like that.” I waited for the kiss to leave me breathless.
His finger outlined my throat. “That sounds rather sexist.”
“How does it feel?” I tilted my chin forward.
His eyes rested on my mouth. “Are you trying to bait me into a discussion on how women are objectified in politics and men aren’t?”
I studied him, his dark bedroom eyes, the squareness of his jaw, the way his lips always seemed to be ready to smile.
“Oh, I think you’ll be objectified plenty.” I let a giggle slip.
“Is that so?”
He swiveled on his heels and returned to arranging the plates, leaving my un-kissed lips feeling heavy.
“You know everyone in book club is going to vote for you.” I hopped off the counter and refilled my wineglass. “All I hear from them is how amazing Paxton Tanner is.”
“I’d like to think it’s because I have a strong stance on women’s issues.” His
brow furrowed. “I’ve really been pushing wage increases in every county.”
“Pax, you know I’m playing with you.” I squeezed his shoulder.
I wanted to turn the conversation to something lighter. I sensed he was stressed about the Hughes situation, although he was trying not to let it interfere with our evening. I didn’t need him to convince me he would fight for women’s rights.
“The issues matter the most to people, not how hot you look on a magazine cover.”
“Hot?” he asked.
“Yes. I can say you’re hot.”
He chuckled. “Votes are votes I guess.”
“They are. You’re always telling me it doesn’t matter how you get there, just as long as you do. You’ll show all those women you can help them from the senate seat.” I paused. “Or from the governor’s office.”
He grinned. “I like how you say that.”
I don’t know why I blushed. I felt like I had navigated him around the edge of a cliff, and I was proud. I made him smile.
“Dinner is served.” He lit a candle in the center of the table. “I hope you like it.”
“It smells delicious. I’m sure it will be great.” I stabbed a shrimp and blew on it to cool it.
“It only took years of burned shrimp and soggy pasta to get it right.”
I giggled. The wine was strong. Pax said it was something he had imported. I was impressed with his culinary skills. The meal was prepared with just the right amount of seasoning.
“I’m glad you’re spending the night. I like waking up with you.”
“Me too.” I smiled.
“I don’t like sleeping alone.” His voice lowered.
I looked at him. “You won’t tonight.”
“Do you think we should do something to change our situation?” He refilled my glass.
“Change it? What do you mean?”
“I want this, Audrey. I want you.”
My heart raced the same way it did when his hands were on me. “Are you asking me to leave Spencer?”
“I thought that was the direction we were headed.” He stated it matter-of-factly.
“Is it?” I asked. When the affair started, I assumed it would end. Affairs end. But the ending was never clear to me. I couldn’t picture how I would leave Paxton.
“Yes. It is.” He cleared the table, dropping the plates in the sink. “Finish your wine.”
I did as he asked.
He blew out the candle. “Come with me.” He walked out of the kitchen.
I chased him, trying to catch up. He walked through the living room and the hallway. He climbed the stairs. I had never seen the rooms on the second story. The master suite was on the first floor. I took each step after him.
It was dark. I reached the top and I couldn’t see which direction he turned. “Paxton?” I moved slowly, expecting him to answer me. “Pax? Where are you?” I listened for the sound of his breathing. “Really, where are you? I’m going back downstairs.”
I placed a hand on the banister when I felt rough arms circle my waist. His mouth pressed against my ear. “Tell me you love me.” His hand trailed against my throat, squeezing a breast, then sliding along my stomach. “Tell me.”
Seized with fire, I pressed against him, wanting him to take me right there. His teeth sank into the back of my neck, his hands spreading my legs.
“Tell me, Audrey.”
“I love you.” I had never said those words to him before. It was more surreal than the kiss under the magnolia.
He gripped my hips, rocking me against him. He was hard. “Tell me you want to be mine.”
I closed my eyes. It was a test. I didn’t want to fail. His hands shoved my shorts to the floor. “Tell me,” he breathed.
I whispered in the dark, “I want to be yours.”
“That’s all I needed to hear.” He picked me up and carried me through the hallway, laying me on a bed.
In the darkness, we found each other. Desperate for him, I whimpered and begged until I felt his skin slide against mine. He was urgent and forceful, claiming me. I panted with exhaustion and screamed his name as we collapsed in unison. I drifted off to sleep, Pax still inside me, his weight canvassing my body.
When I awoke, I reached for him but the covers were flat. It was still dark. I rolled on my side, closing my eyes as sleep found my sated body again.
I stretched my arms, my naked body sore and satisfied. I sat forward and looked around the room. It was a standard guest room. I didn’t know why he had taken me here last night, but I picked up his shirt and slipped it over my head. I wandered downstairs, hoping he had made coffee.
I stopped in front of his office. “Good morning,” he mouthed. He was on a call.
I pointed to the kitchen and he smiled. I hoped he had good news about the accusations facing him. What kind of person would make up such garbage? I was glad I was able to keep him distracted. The campaign was getting nastier, and Pax needed someone he could talk to about everything. Someone he could trust. He needed me.
There was creamer and sugar on the counter. I added them to my mug.
I held the mug near my chin. Was he serious last night? Did he want me to leave Spencer? Was I the kind of woman who could leave her husband? If I was the kind who could cheat, maybe I was. Then I thought about the glimmer of hope in this. Maybe all along I was supposed to meet Pax. Maybe I wasn’t a cheater. Maybe this was a true love story, our love story. Then I thought about Spence and closed my eyes. I had a love story with him too.
Paxton’s call lasted thirty minutes. I showered, then dressed and rinsed out my coffee cup. I poked my head in the office. “I’m going to run over and let Pepper out.”
“Ok. But hurry back. I want to spend some time with you this morning.”
“Don’t you have a luncheon with the Daughters of the Revolution?” I asked.
“I do, but it’s not until one. That gives us plenty of time to finish our conversation.”
“Oh.” I hesitated.
“I meant it, Audrey. We’re going to be together. We just have to figure it out. I want a life with you.”
“Pax—” The things I said in the dark weren’t the real me, or were they more me than I knew? Was he the one showing me what I really wanted in my life? I knew I couldn’t make a decision like this so quickly. It wasn’t just my life. It was Spencer’s too.
Last night, I was a different woman and he and I both knew it. I told him I loved him.
“Ok. I’ll be right back.” I left him sorting his emails. I snatched the key from the hook and pulled mine from my bag. It hadn’t made it out of the kitchen. There would be another occasion I could parade around in that vixen number.
I crossed through the bushes in the spot where our backyards connected. On the other side, I saw the blue lights and the police car parked in my driveway.
My first instinct was that something had happened to Mrs. Ellerby, but there was no ambulance and the car was here instead of across the street. It didn’t make sense.
It was as if a virus had taken hold of my body. My legs trembled; my mouth went dry. I felt sudden fever on my cheeks.
I stumbled through my backyard, the entire time hearing Pepper’s bark from inside the house. He was jumping to get out. I walked toward the flashing lights, but there was no one there. I stood next to the car.
“Mrs. Kingston?” An officer walked around from the front of the house. He was holding his hat in his hand.
“Y-yes?” My knees were quaking so badly I had to steady myself on the hood of the car.
“Can we go inside for a minute?” He raked his hair at the top where it was receding.
“S-sure. What’s going on?” I tried to think which route to take. The garage was closed. The front door was locked, and Pepper was howling at the backdoor for freedom.
“Let’s go inside for a minute.” He waited for me to show him the way. “I’ve been knocking on the door awhile. Were you out?”
I nodded. “Yes. I we
nt for a walk.” I punched in the garage code. My nerves couldn’t handle it. I looked down at my flip-flops and flimsy boxer shorts. He wouldn’t believe I walked in this for one second.
I noticed he ran his hand along the hood of my car, and then gave me half a smile.
I opened the door and Pepper pounced on us. He wagged his tail and licked my leg. “Calm down, Pepper. Calm down.”
“He looks like he hasn’t seen you in a while,” the officer commented.
“He’s always like that.” I shooed the dog into the backyard. “Can I get you something to drink, officer?”
“No. I think we should sit.”
The shaking resumed, this time rattling my shoulders. “What is it? What’s happened?” I wished he would spit it out.
“This is always the hardest part of my job, ma’am.” He paused and I thought I would crawl out of my skin. “There is no easy way to deliver this kind of news.” He coughed into his fist. “There was an accident this morning.”
“Oh, God. What kind of accident? Who? Who?”
“It was your husband.” His lips drew together in a thin line.
“Spencer? Where he is? Is he ok?” I frantically searched for my phone, realizing it was charging in Paxton’s kitchen.
The officer shook his head. “I’m sorry. He was killed.”
“Killed?” The word sounded vile.
“I realize this is shocking, but your husband’s car was found on the side of the road, near Tranter’s Creek.”
“Car accident? Spence was in a car accident?” I kept repeating words, trying to string comprehension into something that was unfathomable. The room felt fuzzy. I wrapped a blanket from the back of the couch around me, but the shaking wouldn’t stop.
“It wasn’t just a car accident. He was shot. We believe he died instantly, and the car crashed as a result.”
“Shot? That doesn’t make sense. Tranter’s Creek is just outside of town. This is wrong.” I stood up, tossing the blanket. I shook my head. “No, you have the wrong Spencer. My husband is in Columbia right now. He’s finishing up an acquisition. It’s not him. There’s a mix up.” I felt better. I felt terrible for the other Mrs. Kingston, but the relief was welcome. They had the wrong guy.
Officer Newton stood and shoved his phone in front of me. “Is this your husband?”