by Wendy Owens
“That’s her right there in the front. Beautiful, right?” Colin graciously offered me up to the crowd, my face now bright red and extremely warm.
“Stand up, love,” one of the bandmates chimed.
“Yes, stand up, baby,” Colin agreed.
Wanting the embarrassment to cease, I did as I was asked, the crowd whistling at me in response. All I could think was that everyone in the bar thought how completely overdressed I was.
“Babe, since I met you my life has been so different. Better. I feel alive. I know you’re a tough nut to crack, and that’s why I want to sing a little song for you,” Colin continued.
I decided my only hope to make it through the event would be to focus on Colin, staring only at him, letting the crowd fall away. “You sing?” I mouthed toward him in disbelief.
“Yes, sweetheart, I sing. Perhaps not well, but you’re about to find out though. Ready guys?” Colin asked looking back at the group. As soon as they began playing the music I recognized the song: “Stubborn Love,” one of my favorites.
When he began I could hear the nerves in his voice, but after only a few words, it faded away. He took a step closer to the edge of the stage, locking eyes with me, and in that moment we were alone. After about half the song passed the rest of the band joined in. This was my life now; I was with a man who would get up in front of a crowd of people and serenade me alongside a band he knew I loved.
“Give it up for Colin Bennett everyone!” the lead singer shouted as the song came to an end. Colin was like a rock star up there, exchanging some sort of handshake only the cool kids could possibly know the sequence of.
Leaping from the stage he scooped me up into his arms, dipping me back, and delivering a passionate kiss. As I broke free, he whispered into my ear, breathing heavily, “I love you.”
Colin had forgotten about the conversation I wanted to have with him after the concert, and who could blame him? Quite honestly, I had not thought about it again until the next morning. I probably should have rushed to his side in that moment and told him everything, but how could I? He loved me. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was starting to fall for him. Christmas break was close, and I decided I would tell him then. We would have a lot of time alone, and I knew we could really talk it out.
The idea of telling him I was married before, and that I had driven my husband to suicide, wasn’t something that came easily for me. I wanted it to not be my past. It had actually started feeling like it wasn’t—like it must have happened to someone else—because there was no way I could feel the way I did with Colin, if that had happened to me.
Monday had come before I was ready for it. My shift in focus was starting to concern me. When I first arrived, all I did was look forward to class, but now, the end of the weekend meant a break in my time with Colin. He was spending more time sleeping at my place than at his own. Tearing myself from his warm arms, forcing my naked body out into the cool morning air, was becoming one of the hardest things I did each day.
I no longer wore Ashton’s shirts to bed; I hadn’t even seen one in over a month. I kept them hidden away, just as I was trying to do with our story. Colin never wanted to wear clothes to bed. He explained that during the night, he sometimes needed to satisfy urges, which I was more than fine with. I had lost count of the number of times I woke up with his face between my legs, coaxing me into an orgasm.
But on this day, I managed to get up, and despite snow flurries, forced myself to class. The thought of Colin in my bed, waiting for me, propelled me forward throughout the day. As the last class ended, I bounded down the stairs and out the front door. Due to the nasty weather, I even considered a taxi rather than the fifteen-minute walk. Though, with the roads, I was probably looking at a similar travel time for the mile distance.
“Clementine Stirling!” a voice shouted behind me. I froze. I knew the voice, but the name was no longer familiar to me. I left that name behind when I left Ohio in my rearview mirror. How in the hell did William Stryker know that name?
I looked around for a moment, gaining slight comfort from the crowd surrounding us. The last time we saw each other was not under the best of circumstances. I squinted at him through the white haze, the cool flakes pelting me in the face, melting on contact.
“What do you want?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Don’t you want to know how I know that name?” he inquired, trying to taunt me.
“I don’t really care how you know that name. I just want you to leave me alone. I thought I made that quite clear,” I replied, trying to keep my voice firm. Everything in me wanted to know how he knew my married name, but I was certain I did not want to engage him any more than absolutely necessary.
“I see, then maybe I should go talk to your little boyfriend again. I bet he would like to know all about Clementine Stirling.” I could see his glee as he threatened me.
“No!” I exclaimed, immediately regretting the desperation in my voice.
“So he doesn’t know,” Stryker gathered.
“What do you want?” I asked again.
“We need to talk.”
“Just tell me what you want, please.”
“There’s a coffee shop right down the block. It’s freezing out here, so let’s go talk there.”
“Starbucks?” I scoffed; Colin had definitely turned me into a coffee snob.
“You don’t have to drink anything, but we need to talk.”
I hesitated.
“It’s crowded so you don’t have to worry. It’s about the Stirlings. You’ll want to hear what I have to say,” he added.
“How do you know about them?” I asked, watching him nervously.
He didn’t answer; instead, he walked past me, crossing the street. I didn’t move, but just watched him as he nearly dropped out of sight in the sheet of white. I took a couple steps closer, where I saw him standing in front of the coffee house, waiting for me to join him.
We didn’t speak again until he had gotten himself a cup and joined me at the table I was waiting for him at.
“Now, will you tell me what the hell is going on?” I demanded.
“When I met you I told you I do research,” he began as he stared at me, eagerly awaiting my reaction to his news.
“Yeah, so…”
“I was doing research—on you.”
“What?” I asked as the room began to shift around me. “I don’t understand.”
“Mr. Stirling hired me.”
“Hired you to do what?”
“You see, after you left town, and changed your name, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe his son’s death didn’t go exactly like you say it did,” Stryker explained, unable, or perhaps unwilling, to wipe the smirk from his face. “So, he sent me here to find out what I could. Get to know you, ask you questions, get to the truth.”
“What truth? Ashton blew his brains out goddammit! What else does he want to know?”
“He wants the whole story, which I was trying to figure out until pretty boy got in the way,” Stryker snarled.
“Oh my God, you actually think you had a shot? I ditched you on our date because I thought you were a creep. Jesus, you’re thick.”
“Watch your mouth, or maybe we’ll just go tell him right now about your killer past.”
I took a deep breath; the room was now starting to actually spin, and a ringing sprung up in my ears. My mind shifted between the fact that this man before me had lied about who he was, taken me on a supposed date in order to gain information, and the fact my ex-father-in-law was hell bent on getting me to confess something dubious about his son’s death. I’d had enough.
“Mr. Stirling wants the truth? Fine. I wasn’t coming home from the grocery store like I told everyone. In fact, I had just told Ashton we were over. He told me he was going to do it, but I didn’t believe him.” I could hardly believe I was actually saying the words. Besides my mother, I had never told anyone wha
t happened that night. The guilt was tiring. I didn’t want to feel like I was lying to everyone anymore. “I told him to do what he had to do.”
“You told him to kill himself?” Stryker asked, amazed as well by my sudden confession.
“I told him to do what he had to do,” I repeated, standing. I looked at Stryker before turning to walk out. “Tell Mr. Stirling whatever you want, but just leave me the hell alone.”
“Wait just a minute princess.” He jumped to his feet, closing the distance between us. “We’re not done. You can tell Prince Charming about who you really are, or I’ll do it for you.”
“Why? What is it of your business?” I asked. “You got what you came for.”
He looked me up and down. I could feel his eyes undressing me, and licking his lips first, he said, “I didn’t get everything I came for.”
I shivered in disgust. “You can’t be serious?”
“Your boyfriend assaulted me. I think I deserve something for all of my pain.” He paused, leaning in closer and whispering next to my ear, “Sleep with me, and I won’t tell him.”
It was as if I had lost all control of my body. Pulling my hand back I released all of my might on his jaw, the slap echoing throughout the coffee shop, an instant audience ensuing. “Fuck off.”
I turned and walked out, ignoring the shouting from Stryker behind me, warning me of his wrath. I wanted to get home, climb into my shower, and wash away the mental filth I had just been subjected to. How I could have ever thought that creature was attractive was beyond me.
“Please, will you just tell him I’m sick?” I pleaded through the locked door.
“How long do you think he’s going to take that as an answer Emmie? If you won’t talk to him, will you please talk to me?” Paige spoke softly from the other side of the door.
“Fine, whatever. I can’t talk to him, though,” I answered.
“Colin? Yeah, I know. No, she is a hot mess.” I pressed my ear to the door, to better hear the one-sided conversation Paige was having on the phone. “No, don’t… Because she doesn’t want you to see her like this… It’s a girl thing, but don’t worry, I’ll take care of her. When she’s done puking her guts out I’ll have her call you… Okay, bye.”
I pulled open the door giving her a disapproving glare. “Really? Hot mess? Puking my guts out?”
“You’re the one who said to tell him you’re sick. He would be over here taking care of you if I didn’t tell him all that,” Paige argued, and she was probably right.
“Thanks, I can’t face him right now,” I replied, walking to the couch and collapsing onto it in a pile of despair.
Paige stared, studying me intensely. “What is your deal?”
“Nothing,” I replied, attempting to dismiss her question.
“Since you started dating Colin, you have been walking around this place looking like a sex pot. You come home today, climb into oversized sweats, and out walks Miss Frumpy,” Paige pointed out, the truthfulness striking a little too close to home.
“That’s not true. I put these on because it’s freezing in this place.”
“Hey, your landlord is the boyfriend. Don’t look at me,” Paige jested. Sitting next to me, she placed her hand on top of mine, the warmth of her touch causing a wave of emotion to flood over me. I wasn’t sure if I could contain myself much longer.
“Oh Paige,” I moaned.
“You know you’ll feel better if you talk about it,” she urged, bending over to get me to look her in the face.
“I can’t do that,” I replied, still managing to avoid eye contact, despite her efforts.
“It can’t be that bad. Is it something about Colin?” she probed. I decided to play along to the twenty questions and nodded.
“Okay,” she contemplated for a moment. “Did you cheat on him?”
I slapped her in the arm with the back of my free hand. “No! I would never do that.”
“Well, I don’t know. You’re acting like someone died,” Paige defended herself.
I gasped, looking up at her in horror.
“Oh my God, that’s it. Someone died? Emmie, is it your mom?”
“No, no, she’s fine,” I replied shaking my hand.
“This is just between us, I promise. You can tell me.” I looked at her and saw it in her eyes. I could trust her. She was my friend; I hoped she still would be after I told her the truth.
“You can never tell Colin,” I reaffirmed.
“Fine, I won’t tell him. What’s going on?”
“I’ve been married before…” I began.
“What?” Paige asked.
“Let me get through all of it, or I won’t be able to finish,” I instructed, and Paige nodded in response. “I married him right out of high school. I was a nobody, and he was everything in the town I came from. I felt like I was lucky he even wanted me. Anyway, long story short, it was a mistake. He was abusive, and I finally decided I’d had enough.”
“Good for you,” Paige commended me before covering her mouth, realizing she hadn’t let me finish. “Oh, sorry.”
“So, the night I told him I was leaving, he was wasted and pulling his same old crap, telling me he was going to change and begging me not to leave him. He must have known I was serious this time because he threatened to kill himself. I didn’t believe him, Paige. I never thought he would do it, you have to believe me.”
“Oh God, sweetheart,” she whispered as I fell into her arms. I didn’t need to say it; she already knew how it ended. “When did all this happen?”
“It’s been three and a half years,” I answered.
“And Colin doesn’t know?” she asked. With my head lying in her lap, she wiped my hair away from my wet cheeks.
“I tried to tell him, but I couldn’t. I love him so much. How can I tell him I kept that from him, or worse, I drove my ex to kill himself?”
“Stop right there, Emmie,” Paige commanded sharply. “You can’t possibly think your ex-husband killing himself was your fault. I think I know you well enough to know you would never do anything that would hurt someone. Colin will understand that, too. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“If you say so,” I muttered half-heartedly.
“I do say so, and once you tell Colin and he says the same thing as me, you’ll see I’m right. Your ex was the one who made the mistake, not you. Colin has to know though, Emmie.”
“I know.” And I did. “I have to tell him soon, too.”
“I agree,” Paige said.
I sat up. She had no idea about the urgency of the situation. “No, you don’t understand. Do you remember that guy, Stryker?”
“Uh yeah, Stryker the stalker,” Paige snarled in disgust.
“Yes! Him. He’s not a stalker… well, sort of. He’s a private investigator my ex-father-in-law hired. He wanted him to track me down and see if there was more to the story about Ashton. Jesus, Paige, I told him. I told him everything, and if I don’t tell Colin, he will.”
“Wait, slow down. I don’t understand… didn’t everyone already know what happened to your ex?” Paige attempted to clarify what had happened that night.
I shook my head, dropping it in shame. “I lied. I wish I would have told everyone then, but I didn’t think it mattered. I told everyone I was coming home from the grocery store. Nobody but my mom knows I was ending things with Ashton that night. How could I tell his mom and dad that he told me he was going to do it, but I didn’t believe him?”
“You were just trying to spare them… it’s not your fault,” Paige attempted to comfort me.
“You don’t understand. I snapped. I told Stryker. He confronted me after school today and told me who he was. I lost it and told him what happened and that he could tell Ashton’s dad but to just leave me alone,” I said. Unable to hold the rush of emotions back, they caused my body to shake.
“Hey, that’s a good thing. Now they’ll know the truth, and you don’t have
to be the one to do it.”
“He said he’s going to tell Colin unless—” The words stuck in my throat.
“Unless what?” Paige inquired hesitantly.
I wiped the tears away, trying to regain my composure. “Unless I sleep with him.”
“What? Fuck! What a slime-ball!” Paige yelled. “Then you need to tell Colin, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow? I don’t know if I can handle it right now.” I don’t know why I felt the need to ask for permission to wait. Maybe I wanted her to confirm it wasn’t because I was afraid, but rather I deserved the night’s rest before jeopardizing my relationship with the first man I had managed to love again.
“First thing in the morning, all right?” Paige confirmed. For one more night, Colin would think I was the woman of his dreams before I ruined everything with the truth.
The moment my phone began to vibrate I knew it would be Colin’s smoldering image on the screen. I had been preparing myself all morning for the call, and during my braver moments I even considered calling him myself, but of course that never happened. I waited for a few more bars of the “Stubborn Love” ringtone to chime before swiping the phone with my finger and lifting it to my ear.
“Hello,” I whispered, playing up the sick story from the night before.
“Babe? Are you all right?” he asked immediately.
I cleared my throat. There didn’t need to be any more lies between us. “Yeah, I’m better today.”
“Thank God. I was so worried when I didn’t hear from you.” I could hear the genuine concern in his voice. I imagined him the night before, pacing in his loft, thinking about me, wanting to do anything to help make me better. The guilt actually made me shiver. I hated it; I couldn’t see him because I was having trouble telling him the truth—the truth about who I really was. The lies kept building, and I had put him through enough.
In that instant I knew if I didn’t get this over with soon, I would probably never tell him. “Are you busy?”