by Holt, S. w.
“Grant! Wow, you do have some R-rated ideas to share. I'll admit that I'm incredibly turned on though. Just so you know, I'm counting down the days until we can be together.”
“That's good because I'm looking forward to seeing you too. So you don’t have anything to add, nothing that you want to do to me?”
“Of course I have a lot to add but unlike you, I would much rather take you by surprise than spell it all out. I like the element of mystery and surprise.”
“I never said when or how I was going to do those things to you, just that all of those things and more are coming your way.”
The tingling in my core is almost unbearable. The thought of Grant doing any and all of those things to me makes me want him right now but due to our distance, it will have to wait.
“I wish I was coming home to you right now instead of an empty house.”
“Where were you?”
Laughing lightly, “I was at my ex-in-laws. I told you I was taking Charlie there for Marcus's wedding tomorrow. It's hard to believe that he's marrying her. It's so unreal yet I'm happy to have him off my back. He will be wound around her finger so tightly that he won't have the time nor the energy to spend interfering with my life.”
“Yes, that's obviously a good thing. Listen, it's getting late here so I should probably get going. After all, I need to get my beauty sleep. We are having a family gathering tomorrow which is usually wild and crazy. Did I already tell you that we are moving my Dad to the facility Monday?”
“No, you didn’t. I had no idea you were doing it so soon.” I feel a little confused.
“We found the facility a couple days ago and with his health rapidly declining we decided to move forward sooner than planned. You'll still get to meet him, it will just be at the facility instead of the house. That's why we are having the big party tomorrow, it's sort of paying homage to my father and his clan. He's a proud Irishman and one last hurrah is the least of what he deserves.” He makes a coughing sound and I realize that he's choked up about his father.
“I wish I was there for you now. I know how hard this is going to be for you.” I say tenderly.
“I appreciate that and the fact that you will be here soon is part of what is keeping me going. I know that my Dad is going to love you as much as me.”
“You are amazing Grant. I love you too.” My heart is singing right now.
“I hope you realize what you are getting yourself into, my family is not a docile bunch. They are boisterous and speak their minds and don't forget their accents are as thick as my mother's if not worse so if you think you have a trick understanding me, just you wait.”
I giggle, “I think I'm up for the challenge.”
“Ah well, once again as much as I hate to end this call, I need to go to bed.”
“Make sure to have sweet dreams and best of luck tomorrow with the party. Wish I could be there.”
“I do too and I will most certainly have sweet dreams as long as they are about you. Now get home safe and good luck to you tomorrow as well. It can't be easy that your ex is remarrying despite how you feel about him.”
“You got that right. Sleep tight!”
When the call disconnects I am left to the loneliness of my thoughts, which, of course, are focused on the wedding tomorrow. Now I wish that I had made some plans that would have kept me busy to keep my mind off everything. I don’t know how many of my friends have decided to attend the event tomorrow. Aside from it being short notice, so many of my friends were seeking out my permission to attend. When I finally told them to make up their minds themselves, I stopped hearing from them. My assumption is that they are all attending out of the curiosity with which I share.
Chapter Nineteen
Home again, home again, all by myself. I am singing in my head while pulling into the garage. I throw my keys and purse onto the wrought iron console table by the garage door then pad down the hall to the kitchen.
Setting my phone on the counter, I load a tea pod into the Keurig then hit start. I figure I'll take a cup of tea upstairs with me and curl into bed with a book. As I stand at the counter waiting for my tea, I realize that something doesn't feel right. Now I'm a little freaked out when it occurs to me that the alarm wasn't on when I came in from the garage. I'm almost positive that I set it before Charlie and I left for the evening. I have been fumbling around the kitchen in the dark, so I walk over the switch and flip on the overhead lights. As they heat up, I hear a click come from the direction of the family room. With every nerve in my body on alert and the hair at the back of my neck standing on end, I turn around to see the lamp on the side table flick on. I suck in my breath.
“Hi, Delaney.” He slurs.
“Marcus! What the hell are you doing here?” I holler while my body begins shaking.
He looks around the room then back to me, “Oh you mean what am I doing in my home with my wife?” Still slurring it's obvious to me that he's been drinking and is skunk drunk.
“I'm not your wife and this is not your house! Are you going to tell me what you are doing here or do I have to call someone?”
He lets out a sickening guffaw while moving to the edge of the stuffed chair in which he is seated, “Oh yeah, and who you going to call? Grant is out of the country and Ryan is currently with my ex-fiancée consoling her after we had the fight of the century.”
I gasp then my hand flies up to cover my gaping mouth.
“As I'm sure you can guess, the wedding is off. Would you also like to guess why?” He asks with a snarl on the left side of his mouth.
Trying to disguise the feeling of triumph I answer meekly, “So Ryan was correct, the baby is his?”
“Yep.” Is all he says.
“So how did you get her to submit to a paternity test and how did it come back so quickly.”
Shaking his head while he gets up from his perch and wanders into the kitchen straight to the liquor cabinet. He pours himself a generous glass of the Irish whiskey then tilting his head; he throws back the entire glass in one swift chug. Wiping his mouth with the backside of his hand he looks at me with accusing eyes, “Looks like your Irishman is draining all of my whiskey.” Then he pours another glass equal in volume to the last.
“Look that's not your whiskey, I bought it and you should slow down there, I can tell you've already had too much to drink.” I say with caution not wanting to engage him in an argument.
Unfortunately, I was not successful. He pours another drink then sways over to where I am standing on the other side of the kitchen by the archway to the foyer.
He smiles, “Just look at you. Always the classic beauty. You are so graceful and classy and you never lie do you? Not like your slutty friend. She actually had me believing that the baby was mine. When you told me that I needed to doubt her, I was furious at you because deep down...I knew the truth!”
Grabbing onto my arms he's steadying himself as he sways again.
“Shit! And here I am crying on your shoulder. The last person I should be looking to for sympathy.” He stumbles backward then walks or more like staggers over to the family room and plops down on the sofa with a thud!
“Yes and the last person who would ever give it to you Marcus. Tell me why you’re here and what possessed you to let yourself into my house and lay in wait for me in the dark.” I pause trying to collect my thoughts, “Don’t move, I'm calling you a cab. You aren’t staying the night here.”
Grabbing my phone off the counter, I dial the number but before I can place the call, Marcus has jumped up and is heading toward me. Dropping the phone like a complete idiot, I go to the other side of the kitchen putting the island between us.
“Like hell I'm not staying here tonight. I'll sleep in one of the guest rooms and then drive myself home in the morning. Wherever home might be.”
Taking into consideration that he's drunk, I have to choose my words carefully, “Why are you doing this Marcus? I mean why are you here? We are finished, there is nothing left betwee
n us but to share raising Charlie.”
Now he's up again by the island, leaning on the counter, “Get me some water.” I shoot him a look, “Please.”
I pull a bottle of water out of the refrigerator then hand it to him.
He brushes his hand across my knuckles then looks at me with his bedroom eyes. My pulse quickens and fear sets into my stomach. In the years that I have known and been with him, I've never feared him until now. I know who this man is obviously but in the last year, I have come to the realization that I don’t know him one bit. He has become an angry person with rage bubbling just below the surface.
“Laney, what we have done? We were so good together, we made a great team, what happened? I mean I loved you so much....I worshiped you!”
“We? Sorry, but it wasn't we who ruined us!” I spat, “You are far too drunk and I'm far too exhausted to have this conversation tonight.” I start to pick up my phone off the floor when I have a change of heart. “Go ahead and sleep in one of the guest rooms, but you have to leave first thing in the morning.”
He sighs and then mutters something like 'thanks' under his breath. Thinking all was well, I never expected his next move. After I bend over to get my phone when I come back to standing, he is right in front of me grabbing me by the arms with a forcefulness that scares the hell out of me.
“What are you doing?” I scream!
Instead of answering me with words, he bends his head down while wrapping his arms around me planting his lips hard against mine. He forces his tongue into my mouth while his hands are grabbing at any body part that is within his reach. Giving my breast, a sharp squeeze sends searing pain through my body.
I try to scream, but his mouth is still engulfing mine. I writhe and twist trying to get out of his grasp. I feel my silk blouse rip under his fist and finally find the right moment to make my move, pulling my knee up straight, I run the top of my leg straight up into his crotch.
“Owwww!!” He hollers as he drops to the floor curling instantly into the fetal position. I take it as my chance to jump out of his grasp. Unfortunately, my phone is nowhere to be seen. It must have dropped again. I frantically search for the phone while he calls me 'bitch' over and over again. I tune him out while I continue to search for my phone knowing full well I only have moments until the pain subsides and he may come after me again. Full force.
Finally, I locate my phone by the sofa. In the scuffle, it must have slid over to the family room. Snatching it off the floor I run into the foyer by the front door as I get ready to dial emergency.
“Wait Laney! Hold on, please, I'm sorry!!” He pleads from the kitchen archway.
My finger hovering over the send button, I debate on what to do. I know calling 9.1.1. is the most sensible thing to do, but I'm just not sure what will happen on the other end.
With the room whirling and my heart pounding I change my mind and call for a cab like I tried to do earlier.
He staggers down the hall toward the bathroom as I feel my nerves still clenched like a fist ready to punch.
With the cab now on its way, I let out the breath I had been holding but continue to hold up camp at the door. If he makes a move toward me, I will make my escape.
He has been in the bathroom throwing up, serves him right. His alcohol tolerance has always been small and I know that he is drunk tonight just from the shots he took in the kitchen. I don’t feel one bit sorry for him, I just can't wait for the cab to arrive.
Hearing the toilet flush, I brace myself assuming he will be coming out of the bathroom soon. Now more than anything, I wish I was already on that plane heading toward Grant. This nightmare should have been over a long time ago, but it just seems to keep continuing. I just can't wait to get away from Marcus, he has already ruined our marriage, and I don't need for him to ruin the rest of my life.
Finally, I hear the door open and the sound of his feet shuffling down the hall toward me. I brace myself hoping my decision not to call emergency wasn't one I'd regret.
“Laney, I'm so sorry.” He says as he approaches me.
“You should be more than just a little sorry Marcus. You attacked me!”
Looking at me with shame written across his face, I feel satisfied that he's sober enough to understand. “I know, I have no idea what came over me. I'll go outside and wait for the cab.” He says as he reaches past me to open the door.
Flinching he stops reaching for the door and waits for me to move. He looks me up and down then the look of horror replaces the shame on his face. All at once he collapses to the floor covering his face with his hands, he lets out a gut wrenching sob as his body appears to shudder.
I hardly know what to do for him because I'm afraid of him and his tumultuous frame of mind. Instead of doing anything I let him work through it while I inch open the door past his crumpled body on the floor. I peek my head out to see if the cab has arrived and to my disappointment it's not here. Marcus continues to make moaning noises on the floor which is getting the better of me.
I finally interrupt his moment, “Marcus, you need to stand up and pull yourself together. The liquor did you no favors tonight.”
Putting out my hand to help him up, he accepts and with my assistance he's now back to standing on his own feet.
“Thanks.” He wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt then he gasps, “Wow, did I do that?” Pointing to my blouse, he looks horrified.
“Yes, you did while you forced yourself on me.”
Shaking his head rapidly, “My God Laney, I'm so sorry!”
“I know you said that a little bit ago.” I say dryly. Hearing the cab pull up I look out the open door and feel immensely relieved.
“Saved by the cab.” He attempts to sound lighthearted.
“Marcus, just so you know, I didn’t call the police tonight only because I didn’t want it to somehow affect Charlie. And, I sincerely hope that you would never have pushed yourself on me if you hadn’t been so drunk and in so much pain. Right?”
“Right. I hope you know that I haven’t turned into a bad man. Apparently I've got some things I need to work on and I do appreciate that you didn't call the cops. An arrest would have only added to my long list of issues. Thanks for everything Laney.” He looks away nervously, “I had better go, and the cab is not likely to wait much longer for me.”
Sticking my hand out with palm up, “Uh Marcus, give me the house key, you won't be needing it anymore.”
Quietly he takes his ring out, removes the key and places it on my hand. I close my fingers around it and wait for him to pass through the doorway. Without a word, I shut the door, locking it immediately. Before I realize it, I find myself slumped on the tile floor, sobbing.
Chapter Twenty
The next few days are spent making final preparations for leaving the country for a month. Marcus has tried to contact me repeatedly, but I have ignored all of his calls. He's also sent me at least a dozen bouquets of the Lilies that I love. If not for Charlie having been so excited about the flower deliveries, I would have thrown them to the curb.
Mid-day on Wednesday, Ryan sends me a text that he is almost to my house and that he needs to speak with me. Wishing I weren’t home, I debate whether I ought to leave or if I should brace myself for the conversation I'm not looking forward to having with him.
Fifteen minutes later the bell chimes and I answer the door with a lot of trepidation. I already know most of what Ryan wants to discuss with me and I don’t really care to be sandwiched in the middle of this drama.
“Ryan, I only have a few minutes since I leave in two days. Come on in, don't mind the locksmith.”
He eyes the door with the new locks being installed.
“I hesitate to ask what's with all the locks.” He looks puzzled.
“Let's just say it's time to change access and add a little security, you never know who can be trusted with a key or code these days.” I sigh.
“Okay, now I'm even more confused. Are you going to continue to talk in
riddles or am I going to get the whole story?”
“Come, let's sit out back, it's a lovely day for sitting outside.” Leading him to the kitchen, “Do you want anything to drink?”
He shakes his head then holds up his Starbucks travel cup.
“I see you've come prepared,” I say smiling.
Once seated I look at Ryan and see that he is obviously waiting for me to speak.
“Fine, I'll tell you the short version. Marcus came here last Friday night. He was going on about how the baby isn't his and what a liar Amelia turned out to be and so on and did I mention that he was trashed? He had a lot of whiskey when he got here, but I could tell that he'd already been drinking. The reason for the locks is because he let himself into the house before I came home and sat here in the dark waiting for me to return. It scared the hell out of me but what was worse, he tried to force himself on me and in doing so, we had a brawl.”