Dillon pushed to his feet and walked around his desk. He placed his hands on my arms. “I understand where you’re coming from; I feel the same way with Julie.”
I breathed out, so relieved to hear those words. “You do?”
“Yes, and you should leave before Tom gets here. He’s too worked up; he won’t listen to you like I have. I will talk to him and try to get him to understand.”
“Thank you,” I said, a sob escaping.
Dillon pulled me into an embrace, giving me a big hug. “It’ll work out. Just don’t go near that rich prick again.”
I returned the hug. “I won’t.”
He let go, moving his hands back to my arms. “Good. Now, go home.”
I nodded, giving him one more hug before releasing him. I opened the door, and quickly headed for my car, not wanting to be here when Tom arrived. Dillon was right, because no matter what I said, Tom wouldn’t believe me. His trust in me had been broken, regardless of whether it was my fault or not.
I got into my car, praying that Dillon could convince Tom of my sincerity.
***
As soon as I walked through my front door, I saw just how messy I’d allowed the house to become. But now I saw it as one of the many reasons why Tom got so frustrated with me, and why I wasn’t good enough for him. He worked so hard for our family. I wasn’t saying I didn’t work hard on my writing, but it never paid off, and when I finally thought it had, the illusion was ripped away, leaving me with nothing. After years of trying to make my writing career work, I finally realised it was never going to happen. And worse, I had placed my writing above my husband’s happiness. He didn’t want to be doing the long hours and dealing with clients. He wanted to come home and relax with his family, without finding this mess all over the house, the kids arguing, and me on the damned computer, trying to make something work that he knew all along wouldn’t. I had failed and I needed to face that. I couldn’t write anymore, I had to give it up for Tom—even if he didn’t come back. I knew it would kill me, but it was killing me even more to be failing like this. If anything, I should’ve stopped a long time ago, especially after seeing so many new writers making a success from their writing, while I struggled to sell even a few. I couldn’t cope with it anymore, I just couldn’t.
I walked to the couch and sat down next to the pile of clothes. I picked up a shirt and started folding it, grabbing another one once I’d finished. Even if Tom wasn’t coming back, I needed to face reality. I was an addict, and writing was my drug. I had to give it up for my own health as well as my family’s, then I needed to get my house in order and find a full-time job. My mother was right, only a lucky few ever made a living from writing, and I wasn’t one of them. The only thing I had any luck on was meeting Tom all those years ago in high school. I just hoped that Dillon could repair the damage I’d done.
Once I had finished folding everything, I picked up the first pile and walked to the room Tom and I had once shared, putting the clothes into our cabinets. After the last shirt was tucked away, I collapsed onto the bed, catching a whiff of Tom’s scent, my hope of him coming back diminishing. He didn’t need me, I needed him. He supported me, whereas I just spent his money. I barely paid him attention, my writing often coming first. Even though I hadn’t had an affair with Eric, I didn’t deserve Tom back, because I sure as hell had ruined our marriage through my selfish obsession.
The sound of a car pulling into my driveway snapped me out of my thoughts. My heart started hammering in my chest, the possibility that it was Tom terrifying me. I wanted to talk to him, to get him back, regardless of whether I deserved him or not, but was he here to tell me to stop calling, to leave him alone, or was he returning to me?
I pushed up from the bed and walked out of the room, heading for the front door. I unlocked it and looked out, freezing as Eric came into view. With his eyes on me, he lowered his hand, no doubt about to knock. He appeared dishevelled, his clothes haphazardly thrown on, not his normal suave self.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“No.” I went to shut the door. He pushed it open, making me stagger back.
“I’m not giving up on you,” he said, closing the door behind him.
“I don’t care! Just leave!”
He took a step forward, making me back up into the ironing board. “You’re lying, you do care, and although you may not love me right now, you could if you gave me a chance.”
“I love Tom,” I snapped.
He moved in closer, making me shift to the side, the man scaring me after what he’d done at his house.
“Eric, please leave.”
“No. You already had one man leave, but this one won’t. I want you and I’m willing to fight for you.”
“Please...” I started crying. “You’re scaring me.”
“I’m scared too, but of not seeing you again.”
“I want my husband back.”
“He’s not coming back, whereas I’m here for you, and again, I know you care for me. You looked at me with desire. Tom saw that, that’s why he believed the photo over your word.”
I shook my head.
“You can deny it all you want, but you still want me, and if Tom didn’t get that photo you would’ve continued to sleep with me if I hadn’t stupidly fucked up and gotten drunk.”
“No.”
“Why are you denying it?”
“Because it didn’t work out. Natalija destroyed the arrangement. Tom wasn’t happy, I wasn’t happy.”
“Only because of Tom, and he was a fool to let me fuck you at the club. If I had a woman like you I would never go back there again, and I would never share you with anyone. Obviously, he was missing something in his life, which was why he went there, trying to find it, since he didn’t have it here with you. I also went to the club because I was missing something, and I found it in you. Tom isn’t for you, I am.”
I shook my head.
“Deny it all you want, but it’s true, you just have to accept it.”
“I don’t have to do anything, but you do, so leave.”
“Not without you.”
“I have children that will be home soon, two kids who want their father back.”
“But what about you? Do you truly want him back after he put your career down?”
“I have no career now. I’m giving up writing.”
“No! You’re good at it.”
“It’s ruining my life.”
“You have a million dollar contract. How is that ruining your life?”
“Because it lost me my husband!”
“You’re saying this because you’re upset. When you calm down, you’ll see you’re making a mistake.”
“The only mistake I made was meeting you.”
Eric flinched. “You don’t mean that, I know you don’t. You made love to me like you meant it.”
“Just leave!”
“No.” He moved forward, making me back up into the wall. He grabbed my shoulders and bent down to kiss me.
“No, Eric!” I cried, jerking my head to the side. “Stop it!”
“Get your hands off her!” Tom hollered, making both of us jolt.
Eric let go of me and turned around, yelling out as Tom’s fist barrelled into his face, knocking him to the floor. Tom kicked him, causing Eric to yell out again.
I pushed myself in between them. “Stop it, Tom!”
He stepped back, his expression vicious. “He was forcing himself onto you. I saw it!” His angry gaze shot to Eric as he pushed to his feet. “You and your psycho girlfriend played me, made me think that Kelly was cheating when she wasn’t.”
Looking pained, Eric touched his jaw. “Natalija did that, not me. I was drunk.”
“I don’t fucking care! Leave and don’t ever come near Kelly again!”
“I can’t do that, I have to see her for work. She will be going on the book tour.”
“Fuck your book tour, you’re not stealing my wife.”
“She sig
ned a contract.”
Tom pushed me aside and stormed up to Eric. “You will fucking tear it up, and don’t think I won’t be getting Kelly to press charges against you for assaulting her.”
Eric breathed out, his expression pained. “I stopped, I didn’t take it further. I apologised.”
Tom shoved Eric into the wall, looking like he wanted to kill him. “Is that what you were doing just now? Apologising as she yelled at you to stop?”
Eric moved to the side. “I was trying to make her see how much I care about her.”
Tom clenched his hand then unclenched it, his voice coming out as a growl—low and dangerous. “Either leave now or I’ll fucking smash the shit out of you.”
Eric’s gaze moved to me. “Come with me, Kelly.”
Tom launched himself at Eric, kneeing him in the stomach. I screamed at him to stop, but instead he yanked a winded Eric forward, shoving him towards the door, yelling, “Fucking get out of my house! NOW!”
Eric knocked into the doorframe, coughing and spluttering from the strike, but didn’t leave. Instead, his eyes went to me. “Please, Kelly,” he coughed, “come with me.”
I shot in front of Tom as he went for Eric again, wrapping my arms around him, my husband breathing like a crazed bull, his muscles flexing for more of a fight. But Eric wasn’t fighting back, just leaning against the doorframe, looking like a wounded animal, begging for me to come with him, not caring about getting beat up.
Tom went to move me out of the way. I held onto him tight, yelling, “No, Tom!” He went still, though his breathing was still heavy, his anger barely contained. “Leave,” he said to Eric.
“Not without, Kelly,” Eric replied. “I love her.”
I looked over my shoulder at Eric. “I love Tom,” I said, upset at his pained reaction. After what he’d done to me, I still didn’t want him hurt—I just wanted him to leave.
Looking despondent, Eric nodded, his pale eyes telling me he did love me. “I will wait for you,” he said, then turned and disappeared out the door.
Still holding Tom, I focused on him, praying he didn’t push me away. “He will be waiting forever. I want you, always have.” I jolted in fright as he wrenched free from my hold, making me cry out. He didn’t want me—
The thought was erased from my mind as he grabbed my face and kissed me hard. After a few breathless moments, he let go and rested his forehead against mine. “Please forgive me.”
I let out a shuddering breath, not believing my ears. “I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness, not you.”
He shook his head. “No. You did nothing wrong. I did. I should’ve trusted your word. You’re my wife, my better half.”
“It’s not your fault, it looked bad,” I said, melting at his words.
“No matter how bad it looked, I still should’ve believed you. I shouldn’t have needed Dillon to knock some sense into me.” He took a hold of my face again and brushed his lips over my forehead, his touch so tender. “I love you, always will.”
“I love you too,” I sobbed.
He wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me closer. “No man is ever going to touch you again, and I won’t ever touch another woman either. You’re all I need.”
“You’re all I need too, and I will do anything for you.” I slipped my arms around his waist, my next words the hardest, yet the easiest I’d ever said. “I’m giving up writing. I will do anything you want me to. Even get a full-time job.”
He shook his head. “I read your book.”
I breathed in sharply, now scared for another reason.
“You wrote about us,” he said.
I went still, his words confusing me. “No, I wrote about your mum.”
“Not in the one on the computer.”
My face fell. He was talking about my newest book, an unfinished draft I’d written up quickly.
He continued talking, “When I asked for the computer, I found it left open, so I decided to have a read.”
I pulled back, staring at him in shock. I’d also written about Eric, the sex scene with the three of us not something I ever wanted Tom to read.
He brushed my hair aside. “You chose me over Eric.”
Stunned, I nodded.
His smile widened. “And we lived happily-ever-after.”
I frowned. “But, I haven’t finished the book.”
“You will, and you will end up with me no matter what,” he smiled, “because you’re mine, Mrs. Hamlin—for now and forever more.”
EPILOGUE
ERIC
I drove home, growing angrier by the minute, Tom’s attack making me want to destroy the violent bastard. I was going to take him down, but with more than fists. You fought dirtier in my world, hitting your opponent where it hurt the most—in the bank account. When I got home, I was going to phone my friend to find out if Tom had signed the hotel contract. If he hadn’t, then I would squash any chance he had of getting it, but if the prick had... I smiled, seeing a much better route to take. Tom would be out of the city for weeks on end if he got the contact, leaving Kelly home alone. It would give me enough time to work on her, to make her see that Tom wasn’t right for her. Tom couldn’t provide for her the way I could, that was plain to see with that dump of a house. And although she had chosen Tom over me right now, I knew I could change her mind, I just needed to find a way to make that happen.
I headed down my driveway, noticing Natalija’s car parked next to Tate’s, two people I didn’t want to see right now, especially Natalija, the woman having caused all of my problems. I could’ve gotten Kelly much sooner, could’ve done it all without Tom finding out until it was too late, but Natalija had to let her jealousies and damn personality get in my way.
I got out of my car and walked towards the front door, pushing it open. Music was coming from my son’s bedroom, some New Zealand grunge band he liked. I closed the door and headed for Tate’s room, knocking on his door. Giggling came from within, making me realise he had a girl with him. I turned to go upstairs, wanting to get Natalija the hell out of my house. Tate’s door opened, pulling my attention back to his room. I froze at the sight of Natalija stepping through the doorway, the top of her blouse left unbuttoned.
“What the hell are you doing in Tate’s room?!” I boomed.
“Having sex with someone more my age.”
“Get out of my house!” I yelled.
A shirtless Tate emerged from behind her. “She’s my woman,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist, “so she stays.”
“She’s using you to get back at me,” I spat, both angry and hurt that my own son would fuck the same woman I had. It was disgusting and wrong.
“That just shows how vain you are,” Tate replied. “You think everything revolves around you.”
“She attacked me. I had to call the police to get her out.”
“You lied.”
“Do you honestly believe I would do that?” I said, hurt he would think so low of me.
Ignoring my question, Tate turned to Natalija. “Go back into my room, I’ll deal with him.” She disappeared inside, leaving me and my son alone.
“I’ve still got the bandages to prove she attacked me,” I added. “I don’t want her, so she’s going after you to get back at me.”
Tate’s head snapped around. “You are always doing this to me!”
“What am I doing?”
“You don’t give a shit about me, so you use anything to hurt me.”
I shook my head. “You’re the one having sex with my seconds, not the other way round.”
“She’s not seconds, you are! You’re the one who keeps chasing married women who don’t want you, like that author.”
“Kelly wants me.”
“Then where is she?!”
“At her house,” and back in my bed soon.
“Then leave my woman alone.”
“She’s not your woman, she’s a manipulative bitch!”
Tate swung out at me, hit
ting me in the face. I staggered back, shocked he’d struck me. Tate’s expression dropped, a look of remorse washing away his anger. We stared at each other, both lost for words, then Tate finally spoke: “I’m moving out; I can’t take this anymore.”
I shook my head. “I came here to be with you.”
“And you spend most of your time at work or with women. Face it, Dad, you don’t have room in your life for me.” He turned to go back into his room.
“No, Tate, I do.”
He closed the door on me, what he’d said hitting me again. I was completely alone now. My wife was dead, my youngest son didn’t want to be around me, while my other son was overseas, and Kelly...
I walked up the staircase, heading for the wine cabinet, something that Natalija had filled. And I had been drawn to it on the anniversary of my wife’s death, the cause of all my troubles with Kelly.
I opened the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of vodka, taking it to my room. I closed the door behind me and sat down on my bed. I removed the cap and lifted the bottle to my lips, hesitating. I’d fought so hard to give up alcohol, and now I was falling right back into the black pit I’d struggled out of.
I put the bottle down on my bedside cabinet and picked up my phone, dialling Damian. He answered after a few rings.
“Tom’s gone back to Kelly,” I said. “He caught me trying to convince her to leave with me. He attacked me, and said that she’s not going on the book tour with me and to tear up the contract.”
“She can’t get out of it; she’s signed on the dotted line. Plus, you gave her that ten grand advance. She doesn’t have a legal foot to stand on.”
I breathed out. “I know what’s in the contract, but it doesn’t stipulate she must go on the book tour with me.”
“I will go with her, and you can meet up with us on the British leg of the tour.”
“I want to be on all of it.”
“Do it for the part where she can’t fly back. You’re charming, you’ll work out how to win her. She’s hot for you, anyone can see that.”
“She loves her husband.”
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