Chapter 17
F iona poured herself a cup of tea before checking her phone for messages. There was one from Tomas and four from her mother. Figuring she’d save the best for last, she listened to the ones from her mother.
“We must have been cut off, because a dutiful daughter would not hang up on her mother. Call me back.”
“This is a mistake, Fiona. What are you doing there? Call me back.”
“You foolish, stupid girl, we will be talking about this, and you will listen.”
“Do you know how many women he has been with? Do not give yourself to him. You are a novelty, and when he is finished with you, he will toss you aside.”
Each message whittled away at Fiona’s self-confidence. The last was a direct hit. Was she a novelty? A notch in his bedpost? She’d awakened with the glow of having been well-loved, and now…now she felt used.
For most of her life, she’d been submissive, doing what she was told to do. Studying business in college, working for HFH, and applying for Keeney Works. She thought she would gain some independence by marrying Eddie. Instead, she traded a controlling mother for a controlling husband.
Was her mother right? Was she wrong to sleep with Tomas?
Did she do it because it was exactly what her mother didn’t want her to do?
Possibly, but Tomas was everything Eddie wasn’t.
He was interested in what she had to say.
He listened to her. He was protective. Protective or controlling?
She shook away that invasive thought, pressing the button to listen to his voicemail.
“Morning, princess. I’ll be on a job site until six. Don’t cook. I’ll bring dinner.”
Frowning, Fiona sipped her tea. Presumptuous? Possibly, but he was also bringing dinner, which was thoughtful. But he didn’t ask. He didn’t ask if you were busy. He just assumed he could show up whenever he wanted.
There was nothing on her calendar for the evening.
But that wasn’t the point. Entering the bedroom to finish getting dressed, she stared at the rumpled bed, specifically the dented pillow where Tomas had been.
After signing her divorce papers, she’d wondered whether she’d ever wake up to another man in her bed. Apparently not. Tomas didn’t stay.
“Give your head a shake,” she muttered and made the bed with quick, efficient movements.
It was going to be a busy day, and she concentrated on her calendar as she went through her morning routine: doing her makeup and arranging her hair while standing in front of the bathroom mirror.
She wiped out the basin and cleaned off a smudge of toothpaste with a tissue before dropping it into the wastebasket. On top of a condom wrapper.
Novelty.
She stared at the foil package as the word circled in her head, taunting her. She wasn’t. Was she?
Chewing off her carefully applied lipstick, she retrieved her phone to tap out a reply. Not tonight, but I’ll talk to you soon.
The message disappeared into the ether just as the realization that she’d done precisely what her mother wanted hit her.
She stuffed her phone in her purse and finished preparing for what would undoubtedly be a crappy day.
S lam!
The locker door bounced back, and Tomas slammed it again.
“What is going on in here?”
He turned to find Hilary and Marcia standing at the door to the break room, concerned looks on their faces.
Shit. He’d thought he was alone. He grimaced and turned to close the locker fully. “Nothing. Sorry to bother you.”
Shouldering past the much taller Hilary, Marcia entered the room and went to the coffee machine.
“I talked with your mother this morning. She said dinner went well last night and the family loves Fiona.” She filled a mug and topped it with cream and sugar.
“Can I pour some for either of you?” She peered over her shoulder at the others.
Hilary nodded, but Tomas shook his head.
He wanted coffee, but he wanted to escape the nosy woman in front of him. Not for the first time, he wished he lived in a town where his actions would be anonymous. However, not only was Marcia his mother’s friend, she was a coworker and Vincent’s mother. Being rude was not an option.
“Thank you, but I have to get going.” He shoved his phone in his back pocket and headed to the door.
“Not so fast.”
Groaning inwardly, he turned. Marcia and Hilary leaned against the counter, eyes focused on him.
“Taking out your frustrations on a classroom of unsuspecting students will not solve your problems,” Marcia told him.
“I don’t have a problem.” He crossed his arms, trying not to glare.
“Well, something happened between you leaving Fiona’s place at midnight and now.” Marcia looked up at Hilary and explained, “Iris is a light sleeper. She heard him leave. She said the last few days Fiona has been as giddy as a schoolgirl.”
“Then how come she doesn’t want me to come over tonight?
” Unable to stand still, Tomas prowled around the room.
“Last night was great. Fabulous. She got on with Mom and my sisters. Enjoyed herself at dinner. We talked and we went back to her place. And—” He looked up to find the women rapt with attention.
“And it was good. When I left, we talked about getting together. So this morning I called, and she must have been in the shower, so I left a message telling her what time I was coming over tonight. She texted back and said not tonight, she’d call me soon.
What the fuck is that?” Running out of steam, he pulled a chair out from the table and threw himself in it.
“You told her you were coming over?” Marcia’s voice rose.
“Yeah.” He looked up to see Hilary shaking her head and Marcia giving him a flat-lipped glare. “And not to cook. That I’d bring dinner.”
“You didn’t ask, you told her?” Marcia blew out a gusty sigh and took a seat across from him. Hilary sat next to her, folding her hands on the table.
Tomas nodded, unsure what he’d done wrong. But seated across from the two angry women, he knew it was something big.
“Has she told you much about her family?” Hilary asked.
“Some.”
“Did you know that everything was mapped out for her? That her mother made all the decisions? Then her piece-of-shit husband told her what to do.” Marcia exchanged looks with Hilary and continued.
“Taking the apartment was the first time Fiona went against her mother’s wishes.
And then being with you? That’s huge. An independent choice that will seriously piss off her mother. And Fiona will hear about it.”
Glancing between Marcia and Hilary, Tomas thought about Fiona hanging up on her mother and what the fallout might be.
Hilary leaned in, her eyes sympathetic. “So you telling her, not asking….”
“Is not giving her a choice.” He rubbed a hand over his face. Choice was taken away from him when he entered prison. Where he went. What he ate. Who he saw. Fiona’s prison didn’t come with cement walls and razor wire, but her world had been restricted. “Shit. I have to make this right.”
The two women nodded.