She slid behind the wheel. “Monaco, here we come!”
Monaco? Wasn’t there someplace else… Lil. He frowned. No, he couldn’t go to Lil because…why? He couldn’t think. The evening’s events scrambled around in his brain, while a dizzy darkness threatened, then retreated. Shivering, he pulled his jacket tight.
Belinda thrust a pint of Jim Beam at him. “This will warm you up.”
He tried to focus on the bottle, then on Belinda. She gave him an encouraging grin, and feeling obliging, he unscrewed the cap and tilted the contents to his lips. She watched him a moment, then patted his knee before putting the car into gear. He settled back, feeling a glow from the liquor and her approval.
She glanced at him. “Where you planning to sleep tonight, sweetie?”
He tipped the pint again. His mind grasped an idea, and he marveled at his own brilliance since they were headed for Monaco anyway. “Dodo’s.”
Dodo’d always been there for him. Nobody else had ever loved him except Dodo. He drank and hiccupped.
Belinda gave a small sigh and smiled happily. “Good idea.”
***
Jon slapped at the snow on his rear. He’d fallen on his way up the unshoveled walk, and poor Jim Beam had flown into a drift. Not like Dodo to leave the walk like that. Not Dodo. Dodo Schmodo. But Belinda’d helped him. She was being so nice, his Belinda. Bella Linden. He leaned on the doorbell. She’d laughed at him when he fell, but she’d asked him if he was okay, and now she even was waiting to see if her mother was home before she left him behind. He held his finger on the button, then played it in three-quarter time and listened to the clamor inside, nodding his head to the rhythm.
“Silly man.” She elbowed him aside and inserted a key. “I live here, remember?”
His finger stilled. That’s right. She did live here. He frowned. That wasn’t good. Oh, well. He played the bell again and listened to the song in his head. She tried to push him inside, but he put both hands on the jamb. Wisps of thought in his bleary head told him something was wrong.
“Uh—where’s Dodo? I’m lookin’ for Dodo. I need Dodo.” He dropped back his head and crooned at the thin clouds scudding across the moon.
“Would you shut up? Dodo’s moved in with her sister, don’t you remember? You shipped me off for my lovely garden holiday, then gave Mom a fistful of cash to take off, which has left me high and dry.”
He gripped his head. The shrill note in her voice just wasn’t the harmony he wanted. If she could just land a G an octave lower.…
She shoved him again, and he stumbled over the threshold. She slammed the door shut, stripped off her jacket, and tossed her purse into a corner of the small entry.
She didn’t seem nice anymore. He squinted at her. He’d leave, but it was so cold and the house was warm, she was warm… Well, actually she looked kind of cold in that thin blouse thing, but once upon a time, she was quite a warm handful, his Belinda. Bella Linden.
He sang. “ Bella Linden, Bella Linden…couldn’t ask for more than my Bella…”
Her frown faded, and she switched on a light. He stopped short. The place was a mess; it was never a mess. An empty wine bottle lolled on the coffee table, an ashtray overflowed with butts. Papers and magazines and fast food containers littered the worn carpeting. When he was a kid, it had always been clean. He stood and swayed, then started singing again.
She giggled. “Our song. This is so sweet, couldn’t be better.”
He didn’t answer. Actually, he didn’t understand her, so he just raised his voice until he was belting the song at the top of his lungs. When he finished, he slumped down on the bottom step and clung to the newel post. Every limb felt like a quarter ton of cement.
“That was pretty entertaining, but I think you can do better.” The light at her back outlined her figure beneath the gauze of her blouse. She’d better watch out, she’d gained some weight, his Bella Linda. She was cold, too. Her nipples stood up, a pair of eyes popping against her blouse. He engaged them in a staring contest, but he blinked first.
She didn’t touch him, just stood there and looked at him, hands on her hips, her brow furrowed. He endeavored to arrange his features into the same frown. She chuckled. A happy sound. He chuckled back, and she smiled. He always liked her smile. Liked Lil’s smile, too. Smiles were good.
“Well, c’mon then, country star. I think you need to sleep it off.”
She helped him up. As she drew one of his arms over her shoulder, his hand grazed her breast. Hmm. Nice. He tweaked it experimentally, but she didn’t seem to notice. He lost interest and concentrated on putting one foot ahead of the other. The floor rose and fell. He stumbled and hung on to her to avoid pitching down the steps.
She continued talking, almost to herself. “You can just sleep it off. I have to make a call. And then… Well, we’ll see.”
A warning buzzed in the back of his brain, but he couldn’t wrap his thoughts around it. He was suddenly so tired. His vision swam in and out of darkness. Upstairs, she led him into a room at the end of the hall. He swayed in the doorway while she flung back the covers on a queen-sized bed and plumped two pillows. Then she turned to look at him.
A sly smile quirked the corners of her lips. “What are you waiting for? Hop in.”
As he continued to stare, she laughed. “What do you think I’m going to do? Rape you? Here—” She grabbed his hand, led him to the edge of the bed and pushed him on his butt.
He fell back and his head sank into the cool hollow of the pillow. He groaned with contentment as she pulled off his boots. So tired… His eyes drifted closed.
“Now scoot up. Thatta boy.”
She tugged at his clothing, a draft whispered across his body, then blankets enfolded his nakedness. She reached for the phone, and he burrowed in deep. Hafta sleep. Sleep. He vaguely heard her murmur, and then the smooth satin of her skin slid along his before blackness claimed him.
***
In his dreams, Lil’s sweet smile faded, replaced by a frown and flash of ice blue eyes. He groaned and reached for her, his hand landing on a soft thigh. From somewhere, a low snap and whir sounded, hushed voices murmured, then were still.
A latch clicked softly. Had she left? He called her name, then flopped on his back, muttering, struggling to hold on to sleep. Gentle hands moved up his thighs, skimmed over his chest and came to rest on either side of his face. Pliant flesh pressed against his side. Pliant, naked flesh. His body saluted with an early-morning rise, helped along by a big wet one laid on his lips. Ah, Lil.…
“Wake up, sweetie.” A voice murmured in his ear.
Not Lil.
His eyes shot open. “Wha’ the hell—?”
Hindered by the arms twined around his neck, he struggled up on one elbow, then blanched as his head shattered into a million pieces. His eyes snapped shut.
When he pried them open again, Belinda’s face hovered above his. He bounded out of bed in one leap, a move made with more adrenaline than sense. Pain lanced from ear to ear. He clutched his skull, his stomach catapulted up to his throat, and he weaved side to side, confused.
Belinda sprawled belly down across the rumpled sheets. A weak, winter sun poked between the draperies and highlighted the plump, round curve of her naked ass. She looked up, concerned. “What’s the matter, sweetie?”
Pain and nausea buckled his knees, and he sank onto the bed. “What did you do to me?”
She rolled onto her back and stretched her arms to the ceiling, wiggling her fingers. “What did I do to you? Why, sweetie, I think it was the other way around. And it was wonderful.” She practically purred.
He stared in disbelief. “I didn’t— I mean, I wouldn’t have. Not if you were the last woman left on the planet.” The blunt words spilled out before his brain could engage his mouth.
He immediately wished them back as the round delight in her eyes went flat. “You don’t remember? Not anything?”
Slowly, in an effort to keep it on his neck, he shook
his head. With alarm, he noted the ashtray on the nightstand, wondered when she’d hurl it and if he had the reflexes left to dodge it. But while her color rose, her eyes gleamed with odd satisfaction. Instead of lunging for a weapon, she collapsed across the bed, her shoulders heaving.
“You prick!” The blankets muffled her cry. “I should’ve known better than to let you back into my bed. I should’ve known you don’t care. You never have!”
Old guilt bubbled up. He’d prefer the ashtray over tears. He cursed himself. A drunken stupor was no excuse. How could he have led her to hope he still had feelings for her?
Eyes dry as toast peeked at him, then snapped shut. A single tear squeezed from under her eyelashes. He frowned, his guilt ebbed and wariness took its place. A tiny sob escaped her, and remorse squeezed out suspicion. He hesitated, then patted her shoulder, wishing himself anywhere else, wishing he could turn back the clock. “Belinda, whatever happened, I didn’t mean to hurt—”
His gut seized again, and his words turned into a groan. He stumbled to his feet, and her head popped up, expression alert. He veered off to the bathroom and slammed the door—big mistake. Stomach roiling, he sank to his knees and retched up what remained of last night’s dinner. Last night.…
Trying to focus, he leaned his forehead against the mirror over the sink and twisted the faucet. Last night, he and Lil had fought, that much he remembered. She’d driven him nuts and.… He splashed cold water on his face. Ah, hell. She hadn’t done anything. His own frustrations had been in the driver’s seat, and he’d acted like a grade-A, first-class asshole.
Scrubbing at his face with a towel, he fumbled in the medicine cabinet looking for aspirin and mouthwash. After their argument, he’d gone to the Rooster and had a few beers. Only a few, which in the old days meant he was just getting started, and then that guy had jerked him around.
Seamus’s words snaked through his brain. She’s just not a bright-lights-big-city kind of gal. Never was. Never will be.
What did that prick know? Lil would see reason. Any day now, she’d figure out she’d rather be with him than with her memories of some long gone husband… He’s worth three of you.
Belinda had showed up, and they’d had a beer, then things got murky. He vaguely remembered the drive here, but after that, it all went blank. All except the feel of flesh on flesh before he blacked out completely.
Robbie would never have… Lil was right. Seamus was right.
He looked at himself in the mirror. His old man stared back through sunken, red eyes and stubble. He breathed in, smelling the same rot of liquor and stale perfume. He remembered the fear and astonishment in Lil’s eyes as she’d clutched that bedspread to her throat just like his mother had looked at his old man right before he’d raise his fist.
The enormity of his sins slammed into him and buckled his knees.
He slumped onto the edge of the tub as the realization hit him that he’d never get a chance to prove he could be different.
He’d just lost her.
He’d have to tell her.
He wouldn’t drag her down like his old man had his mother, like he had Belinda. He couldn’t lie and pretend this night had never happened, not to her. Maybe, just maybe, she’d believe him when he said he didn’t know how it had happened, had never meant for it to happen. His chest ached. And someday the sun would set in the east. Integrity was stamped on Lil’s soul, she’d never been certain of his, and there was no way she’d ever forgive—
Oh, God, she would. He cradled his head. She would forgive him, just like his mother had always forgiven his father. Lil’s better off without you. Better you figure that out now, rather than later. Before Lil’s hurt anymore than she already is.
His heart plummeted to his feet.
Lil’s better off without you. He had to let her go. He had to make her go.
He slammed his fist against the porcelain, and pain arced up his arm. He welcomed the punishment. He’d have to hurt her. And how it would hurt her. But one day she’d sink to her knees and thank God he had.
Lurching to his feet, he grabbed a towel and knotted it around his waist. He opened the door, and Belinda looked up. Tears stained her cheeks.
He gingerly lowered himself beside her. “I don’t know what to say. You and me… This…” Nausea threatened and he swallowed hard. “I made a mistake.”
He braced himself for an explosion, feeling he deserved whatever she dished out, but she only touched him with a trembling hand. “Don’t. Don’t say that, please don’t say that. I know I’ve done some awful things, but only because you hurt me so much, I wanted to hurt you back. But I love you, Jon, I’ve always loved you.”
For a moment, he thought she’d drape her forearm over her eyes like a despairing heroine in a silent movie. Again, suspicion wormed into his brain, but when he searched her eyes, she looked so earnest.
She gripped his arm, her fingers ice cold. “At least tell me you’ll think about it, think about us. We had something once. We can have it again, all of it. Last night proved it. Give me one more chance. I’ll show you how good it can be between us.” Desperation blazed across her features. He’d sometimes wondered if all the threats and bitterness were a smoke screen that hid the torch she still carried for him. Now he knew.
He brushed a strand of hair from her wet cheek. What had happened between them wasn’t her fault. Not entirely. But there was no going back. The way she’d treated the kids disgusted him.“I’m sorry, Belinda.”
“It’s her, isn’t it? Miss Happy Homemaker.”
His careful control snapped. “Leave her out of this.” Belinda’s face reddened and he hastily softened his voice. “After last night, I’d be lucky if she’d let me shine her shoes.” He pried her fingers from his arm and reached for his jeans.
She was quiet, then her mouth crooked in an odd little smile. “You’re going to tell her?”
“Does that make you happy? Yes, I’ll tell her.”
“Then why not me?”
He popped his head through his sweater and stared at her. “Wake up, Belinda. Look where I’ve brought you so far.” He slipped on his boots and grabbed his wallet, phone and wedding ring off the dresser. The ring was cold in his fist. He couldn’t wear it. Not today. He stuffed it in his pocket. He looked around the room; there was nothing left to do, except leave. Something he excelled at.
She sighed and plucked at the sheet. “All right,” she said in a small voice. “I think I knew this was a bad idea, but I’d hoped…” She gave another mournful sigh, then angled her eyes at him. “And my babies? When do I get them back?”
He’d wrecked the kids’ chances for having the mother they deserved long term, but he wouldn’t abandon them to Belinda. Lil loved them. Even after this, she wouldn’t renege on their agreement. “You’re not.” He spoke slowly. “I’m filing for sole custody. Permanently.”
“I was right! I knew you’d try to screw me.” The fireworks he’d expected finally erupted, and she reached for the ashtray. “It’s going to cost you, Jon!”
He grabbed for the door, slipped through, and the ashtray exploded against the other side.
“Did you hear me? It’ll cost you big!”
Didn’t it always? He sprinted for the stairway, reached the top, then paused in surprise when she didn’t follow. He looked back down the hallway at the closed bedroom door. It didn’t bang open, Belinda didn’t hurl herself after him and there was no replay of all the fights they’d had in the past. No more screeching, no shattering glass, no sounds of wild sobbing. He shook his head to clear it. He’d never understand her.
Temples throbbing, he took the stairs two at a time, his heart aching at what he was about to do to Lil.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THE GRAY DAY washed fitful light through Lil’s living room, leaving the corners in shadows. She hadn’t bothered to switch on a lamp. Through the picture window, she saw Cordelia’s lone taxi pull up in the drive. She turned away, seating herself on the sofa in
the same spot where she’d sat all morning. A car door slammed, then a key scraped, a harsh sound against the Debussy tinkling from the radio. She’d expected him. He’d called Roy—not her—an hour ago from a gas station. His cell phone was out of service.
Which would be the case if he’d called from near the lake. From Monaco. Roy wouldn’t tell her.
He came in, and she slowly stood, the ring of keys Seamus had delivered earlier that morning clenched in her hand. Even at this distance, she caught the bitter smell of smoke and whisky that clung to his clothes.
“Where have you been?” She hated the waver in her voice. She should be angry, but all she felt was relief.
Jon didn’t answer, just showed her his back as he shrugged out of his jacket. When he turned around, she sucked in a breath. His hair was lank. His face was slack. Worse, though, was the mix of remorse and despair in his red eyes.
“Seamus said—” She couldn’t finish. Wordlessly she held out her hand palm up, showing him the keys. “He brought the Mercedes back.”
Jon slowly walked over to her. Taking the keys, he let one finger trail over the ridges they’d dug into her palm before he slid the key ring into his pocket. Then, he brushed past her and flopped onto the sofa, thrusting a hand through his hair. “Prick just couldn’t wait to tell you, could he?”
Lil stood motionless, then turned. “Tell me what, Jon?”
His hand stopped. He met her eyes; his were bleak. “What did he tell you?”
“That you showed up at the Rooster. Then Belinda showed up at the Rooster. And, after a while, you left together.”
Dragging his hand down his face, he looked away. “Ah, I—”
Suddenly, she didn’t want to hear. “I told him he was jumping to conclusions. That there was some kind of emergency and you wouldn’t—” She veered toward the sofa, changed her mind about sitting and instead plumped a cushion. “The children are with Roy.” Her voice sounded reedy and tight, not her own. “They’re going sledding with Hank and Daisy and Rose. You see, they’re staying with Mother for a few days so Patsy Lee can have some time with Lily. We thought maybe this evening we’d…” Trapped next to his knees between the coffee table and the sofa, she blindly straightened some magazines and pushed a bowl of M&Ms in his direction. All the while, she felt his gaze. “My family’s planned dinner at that steak house on the highway. All of us. Even Alcea, although I’m not sure Mari—”
SING ME HOME (Love Finds A Home - Book One) Page 27