Chapter 23
“I was going to make the reservation for eight,” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder to see if Cassie was out of the room. “Is that time okay for you?”
“Can we go a little earlier? Around seven?” Meghan asked. He winced. A later time would have been better but Vivian would have been long gone by then. “Seven’s good. I can come and pick you up, if you want?”
“Uh—” She hesitated.
“Something wrong?” He looked over to find Cassie in the hallway fiddling around with her doll’s clothing.
“No.”
“You sure?” Because she sounded distracted, a little muted.
“Uh—” More hesitation, then, “It’s not important.”
“It’s important to me.”
That seemed to have stumped her and he wondered if he shouldn’t have said it. That she might feel he was coming on too strong. Get over it, Turner. He told himself. They’d had sex. Of course he cared about her. He’d cared about her long before the sex. “I’ve had a disagreement with a good friend and …and so I’m looking forward to going this evening, and, if you don’t mind, I’d rather come and pick you up. If that’s okay?” He understood. She wasn’t the type of girl who wanted a guy to drop her off at the first date; she wanted to be in control. He respected that. “It’s okay,” he said. “You know where I live.” He would tell her tonight, about Vivian and Cassie and the sort of stuff people talked about when they were getting to know one another more deeply. He wanted to know what had happened to the 18 year old in the years between then and now. He wanted to know lot of things.
“See you just around half past six.”
“I’ll see you later, Meghan,” he said, as soon as Cassie walked in.
“Who’s Meg-han?” Cassie asked innocently, drawing out the name into two long syllables.
“A friend,” he said, quickly. “Do you have all your things packed, sweetpea?” Cassie nodded. “And what about that beautifully painted cereal box?”
She nodded but he knew he’d have to double check anyway. He’d been given instructions about the art homework and they’d had hours of fun on Saturday morning, getting messy with glue and paint. Later, that afternoon he’d taken her to the sports center for a fun swimming session with inflatables.
“Can I stay another night, Daddy?”
“Sorry, sweetpea. You’ve got school tomorrow. Maybe you can stay for longer during the holidays.”
“Why are we leaving now?”
“Mommy said she’d been here soon.”
Cassie’s face fell. “Why can’t you take me back?”
“Not tonight, Cassie. Your Mommy and I agreed.”
She looked like a picture of sadness.
“Next time. I promise,” he said, trying to cheer her up. “You can stay for longer, and I’ll make sure I drive you back.” But it didn’t seem to work. “Why so sad, sweetpea?”
“I wish you could live with us. Why can’t you? Don’t you like me and Mommy?”
God, no. Not that again.
“I love you, with all my heart.”
“So why can’t you live with us. Mommy says you’ll come back one day.”
His brow furrowed. “Is that what she said?”
Cassie nodded. “She said we’ll be a happy family again, just like Mimi’s mommy and daddy.” Lance wanted to strike his fist against the wall, but he kept it together, balling his hands tightly instead. “Cassie, Cassie,” he said, crouching onto the floor so that he was level with her face. How could he look at that beautiful little face and crush the hopes he saw in her big, shiny blue eyes? “Sweetpea, the university where I work is near here. It makes sense for me to spend more time here than travelling back and forth.”
“Instead of spending time with me and Mommy?”
He clenched his teeth together. What was he supposed to say to that? He couldn’t remember whose idea it was not to tell her in the first place, but how did you tell a young child that her parents didn’t like one another enough to want to live together? He had a sneaky suspicion that Vivian was probably making it sound as if the divorce was his entire fault. He shouldn’t have agreed to this crazy idea of letting Cassie think that nothing was wrong but he also hadn’t wanted to hurt his daughter and it had made sense at the time. He’d convinced himself that when she was a little older, it would be easier to explain. He wasn’t so sure about that anymore.
One day, one day soon, once the divorce papers were through and things were calmer, he intended to sit Cassie down and explain to her that they were divorcing. It would hurt her the first time she heard it, but after that, she would get used to it. He’d make her see that it made sense for them to split up. He’d probably end up spoiling her and over compensate by buying her lots of things. Whatever it took.
“Sometimes, parents get on better when they don’t live in the same house.”
“But I want you to live with us. I miss you, Daddy.”
He wasn’t going to win this one. He kissed her on the nose again because he didn’t know what else to say.
Chapter 24
She was early and he looked surprised. “I didn’t know whether to wait for you in my car or to just show up early.”
His wide open smile melted her uneasiness. “Wait out there for me? No way. Come in.” He wore a light blue button-down denim shirt and dark jeans, and he wore both very well. A whoosh of air escaped her lungs, leaving her breathless. There was an awkward moment when he closed the door behind her and they looked at one another. He leaned forward, and she leaned forward and their noses bumped, and they sprang back.
Awkward.
He smiled, knowingly, as if he had the same problem. “Let me grab my jacket,” he said, his hand brushing her arm lightly as he strode away. Alone in his living room she noticed he still had cardboard boxes lined up against the wall. “You still have everything in boxes,” she said, raising her voice so that he could hear her.
“I know,” he shouted back. “I’ll get around to it,” he said, walking back into the room, putting on his jacket. “Ready?” he asked, walking up to her. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Blue jeans, grey t-shirt, black leather jacket. Style and confidence oozed from him. It was hard to accept that the guy taught Math at the university.
“This yellow color suits you,” he said, pinching the fabric of her loose yellow silk top between his finger and thumb.
“You think so?” she asked, sounding needy, feeling breathless. It felt as if the wings of a butterfly had skirted along the walls of her stomach. He pulled her towards him gently, his hands resting on her arms. “Relax,” he said, squeezing her arms gently.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “I’m just a little nervous, I guess,” she said, biting her lip. Was this love? Or was it lust and longing? It was difficult to pin point where her childhood crush ended, and where this new chapter began. She looked at him, their eyes locking together for what felt like an eternity. “I just want to hold you,” he said, slipping his arms around her waist and holding her, being gentle and protective, and irresistible. “Thanks for fitting me in tonight,” he whispered.
As if she had anything better to do. She batted her eyelashes at him. “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”
“Would you mind if I kissed you?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t mind one bit.” He kissed her. It was light, at first, such that their lips barely brushed at all, and then just as he pressed down, his tongue finding hers and making her body sing in all the right places, he pulled away, leaving her breathless again. “Shall we go?” he asked, grinning, “Otherwise we’re in danger of not leaving.” She nodded, knowing he’d made the right call, that she wasn’t good at control, not around him. She nodded and they walked towards the door.
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” he asked.
“I don’t have a problem,” she said, and then the doorbell rang just as he was about to open the door. Lance’s eyebrows snapped together as he pulled t
he door open.
“’Daddy!” A little girl flew into his arms.
“Cassie?” Surprise and shock pierced through her senses when she saw a woman standing at the door and staring back at her with an unreadable expression on her face.
“I’m back, Daddy!” The little girl had her arms around him. Meghan stared, confused. Not knowing who to look at or what to make of it. “Vivian?” Lance sounded surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“She’s forgotten her—”
He interrupted, his tone cold and hard. “She’s got her homework with her,” he said. “I made sure of it.”
The scene was surreal. Like something out of children’s cartoon. As if Jessica Rabbit all woman, all big breasts and big hair had just walked in. A silence as long as an injection and just as painful, loomed, until the woman stretched out her hand. “I’m Vivian, Lance’s wife.” Her words echoed inside Meghan as if she were a tin doll, hollow and empty inside. She waited for Lance to say something. Anything.
“This is Cassie, our daughter, and you are?” Jessica Rabbit was all smiles and sweetness to Meghan’s dark wretchedness. “Vivian,” Lance growled. He’d never even mentioned he’d had children, let alone that he was married.
Something inside her cracked. Like a piece of her ribcage imploded and pierced her heart. She at last understood what it meant to be in pieces.
“Meghan,” she said, finally, foolishly, stupidly, when she managed to find her lips and voice. “I’m Meghan.” But it was clear to her that she shouldn’t be here. That she didn’t want to be here. She couldn’t stand here and listen to another word. Her heart had already taken enough of a hammering. More than could be expected for a normal person on a normal Sunday evening.
“Meghan,” the woman said, her voice changing into something soft, something sweet, something fake. Judgmental or jealous? Hard to tell. Hard to think, really. Hard to breathe, too. She wished that any moment now a TV crew would burst in and prove that this was all a huge setup.
“Meghan!” the young girl tittered. “I told you Daddy had a friend called Meghan.” The sight of Lance with his daughter’s arms around his neck and the other woman by his side wounded her deeply. She found herself falling, being sucked into a huge black vortex of despair, and willing him to utter the magic words that would fix everything. But he remained silent and then felt as if she’d hit the ground hard and lost it all, her hopes for him, her childish, high-school memories, disintegrating like castles on the sand. All her hopes for what might be crashed to pieces.
She rushed out, and even in her utter misery, she strained to hear him call after her. But she strained in vain.
Chapter 25
“Cassie,” he said, placing his daughter on the floor slowly. “You’ve packed your doll.” He’d checked her bags, he was sure of it. “Why don’t you go and take another look.” He glared at Vivian. When the child had vanished out of sight, he turned on her. “What the hell was that?”
“Who the hell was she?”
“None of your goddamn business.”
“Baby,” cooed Vivian, her voice sweet as molasses, “everything about you is my goddamn business.” She sashayed towards him until his nose recoiled from the scent of her too-strong perfume. “You are so sexy when you get angry,” she crooned. “Do you remember the make-up sex after our fights?”
“I try not to remember much of that time,” he replied, feeling nothing but hatred for her. He’d seen the look on Meghan’s face—she’d looked broken and he’d been torn, caught between spelling the truth out and hurting Cassie, or saying nothing and hurting Meghan. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what conclusion Meghan had jumped to.
“You’re despicable,” he barked, knowing how Vivian operated. Cassie had obviously heard him on the phone earlier, and Vivian had cleverly planned this. She was a controlling woman whose privileged lifestyle had made her believe that she could have, be and do anything she wanted—which was all well and good when it came to ‘things’ but not when it came to people.
As much as he’d wanted to yell from his lungs, he couldn’t, not in front of Cassie. His little girl had high hopes and Lance didn’t want to crush them, even though it meant perpetuating the lie. But maybe it was now time to come clean? Cassie would be upset but children were supposed to be resilient.
“She looks young,” Vivian purred. “She looks very young. Is she another one of your students?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Are you fucking her?” she asked. He tightened his jaw in answer but said nothing. “Lucky bitch,” Vivian hissed, when his silence answered for him. “I still love you, Lance and I will never give up on us getting back together again.”
“You’re wasting your time. Technically, I’m almost a free man,” he said.
“You’re not divorced yet.”
“I will be soon enough.”
“Baby,” she cooed.
“Stop it, Vivian. Just stop it.” Heat flushed through his body like a stream of lava.
“Found her!” Cassie skipped back in with her doll in her hands and Lance touched his temples, as if he’d forgotten something. He could have sworn he’d packed everything.
“It looks like Daddy was wrong, after all,” said Vivian, jubilantly.
He stared at the doll that Cassie was holding. He’d been so concerned about her art project, that he’d forgotten about her favorite doll.
“Happy now, young lady?” Vivian asked.
Cassie nodded happily, hugging the doll tightly in her arms. Vivian eyed him smugly.
“’Bye, Daddy.” Cassie came over and hugged him.
“’Bye, sweetpea.” He kissed the top of her head.
“Daddy made a mistake. Blaming Mommy for lying about your doll because he was busy with his friend.”
“That’s enough, Vivian.”
She leapt into her car and slid down the seat, wanting to sink into it and hide. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Lance Turner could raise her hopes and sink them faster than quicksand.
He was nothing but a cheating, smooth-talking liar. And his wife. There was a reason the poor woman hadn’t looked at all shocked to see her. How many times had she caught him doing this? It hit her. The man who had been her teacher, and whom she had believed to be coming to her aid and supporting her, he was nothing more than a slick player.
Well, she wasn’t about to make the same mistake this time around. What took place years ago should have given her a taste of what Lance Turner was really like. He was smooth, he did all the right things, said all the right words. All this time she’d been thinking he was a good guy, thoughtful, kind, a real gentleman. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
He was anything but a hero.
Chapter 26
“With any luck this will fix your evening.” Arla put down two glasses of cocktails. “With any luck this will have me face down on the floor,” said Meghan, glumly. She’d driven straight to Arla’s place, and told her friend everything. “Thanks.” She wiped away the condensation on her tall cocktail glass.
“It was buy one, get one half-price, so if you hurry and drink up, I’ll get another round in.”
“I mean, thanks for always being there for me.”
“That’s what friends are for,” said Arla, raising her glass. Meghan lifted her glass slowly. “You can do better than that,” said Arla, “I can’t have you getting depressed over that man all over again. To worthy men and happier love lives.” She touched her glass to Meghan’s.
“I don’t have the emotional energy to deal with either of those things,” said Meghan, glumly. They were perched on high stools around a high table. It was late on Sunday evening and LuLu’s was abuzz with electric energy. The large open-plan room was laid out with long benches and small high-tables; laughter rippled, people chattered and the tinkle of glasses and cutlery all melted into the background noise. LuLu’s appeared to be a mass denial of Sunday evening blues.
“You don’t have the energy
right now, but you will. It must have been painful, seeing his wife and daughter turn up like that.”
It was. Like a shark’s bite.
“Look at you,” Arla patted her hand softly. “I’ve never seen you so broken up like this before. I mean, you weren’t even that upset when you and Mack split up. I don’t get why you’re so depressed about Mr. Turner.”
“Will you stop calling him Mr. Turner!” exclaimed Meghan, crossing her arms, and staring at the bright orange umbrella in her glass of Pina Colada.
“But he’s never been anything else to me.” Arla had a point. Meghan traced her finger around the base of her glass, contemplating. Perhaps he was only a teacher with whom she’d developed a crush a long time ago. And just as those years’ old feelings had remained with her, perhaps they also had with him, and as she’d given in, so had he. It had been an opportune moment, and perhaps he’d taken advantage of it.
Getting over her schoolgirl crush on him at 18 had been difficult enough, but to experience the same again a second time was much harder. This time it wasn’t as simple as a crush, this time she was starting to feel something for him. Real feelings. Not imaginary ones. It was time to learn her lesson a second time. Some men weren’t to be trusted. Some men weren’t the heroes they pretended to be. Her father had been no different. She watched Arla finish her Long Island Iced Tea in record time. “Did you know cocktails are loaded with calories?”
“I’m not counting calories tonight,” said Arla. “Tonight, we’re going to take your mind off Lance Turner.”
“As if a cocktail’s going to help.”
“One cocktail won’t,” said Arla. “But three or four might.”
“I have a day of meetings tomorrow,” insisted Meghan, frowning. “I can’t go to work with a hangover.” Getting drunk on a Sunday night wasn’t wise, getting drunk generally wasn’t wise—it gave her a headache the next day.
“Don’t waste any time thinking about him, Meghan. It’s not as if you’re exactly short of admirers. This is just bad timing.”
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