Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The last few days have passed by quickly. The first night alone in the house was a little spooky. It’s amazing how many sounds you hear when another individual doesn’t distract you.
I found two vases of flowers next to the gate when I came home the first night. Since then, he has had them delivered to the office so I don’t miss them. Everywhere I go smells like fragrant blooms of roses and lilies.
We have talked every night this week. I fall asleep to him telling me how much he loves me, and I wake up to him telling me to have a nice day. Everything seems to be going so well.
Until the appointment reminder came in, I completely put the idea of a pregnancy out of my thoughts and worked on the guest list.
The new numbers are in for the prom. We have over six hundred confirmed couples. We are going to fill the third floor to capacity. The decorations will go up Friday night after the close of business. I’m so excited. It’s not because it’s the prom, but more so because I pulled it off. I wasn’t happy when Anthony dropped this in my lap. I know he did it so I could prove to myself I was capable of more than fetching coffee and proofing ads. He’s a sneaky man .
Just as I reach for the phone to call Kat and tell her I’m heading out, it rings.
“Hello, this is Emma. How may I help you?” I answer, using my most professional voice.
“Hi, Emma, it’s Tom Wakefield.”
Great, just what I need. “Hello, Mr. Wakefield, what can I do for you today?”
“I was just calling to see if you read the article?” There is silence on his end.
“Yes, I read it. Thank you for taking the time to visit and see beyond the rumors.”
“I was hoping maybe we could meet again for coffee. Since you indicated Mr. Haywood’s private life is his own business, I assumed you don’t exclusively see each other.”
My mouth drops open as I look at the phone. It’s not like I can see him through a handset, but I’m shocked he’d be so bold as to call me at work. “I’m flattered, Mr. Wakefield. Unfortunately, I can’t accept. We do see each other exclusively.”
There is a moment of silence on the other end. “How does that work for you, Emma? You stay exclusive, and your boyfriend trots all over Dallas and Phoenix with another redhead?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Mr. Wakefield. Anthony is in Dallas taking care of business, and I don’t like what you’re inferring.”
“You may not like it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not happening. I’m sending some photos to your email now. If you change your mind about coffee, call me.”
The ping of an incoming email sounds just as he hangs up. I debate whether to delete the emails or open them. You can’t keep running from the things you don’t want to deal with. My finger hovers over the email that says, “While you were away.” I have an internal battle, and the curious girl wins. I push the button and watch as the pictures materialize .
There are at least ten of them. They start with the picture of his hand on the small of her back. I know they are at Anthony Haywood’s because of the A-H engraved on the door handles.
Picture number two shows her face, and it stuns me. She is so similar looking to me, it’s unreal. My hair is a deeper red, and my face is a little thinner.
Picture number three shows her standing by a car, and he is holding the door open.
Picture four shows her kissing him on the cheek.
Picture five is dated yesterday. It shows the girl with her arm slipped through Anthony’s. They are in a parking lot. There are circles on several license plates. I enlarge the photo and see all the cars have Arizona plates.
I can’t look at these anymore. I have to get to my doctor’s appointment, and what I’ve seen has rocked my world. Not only is he with another woman, but he has also lied to me about where he’s at. There is no excuse for that. I know things have been stressful for a few weeks, but he’s been so loving while he’s been gone.
I forward the pictures to my private email, gather my things and head out to see if I’m carrying a lying, cheating bastard’s baby.
I present my arm to the nurse. One quick poke, and that’s done. I look up at Dr. Clark. She has been my physician for years.
“It’s too late for me to get results today, and the lab is closed over the weekend. I’ll have them Monday morning; until then, we will assume you’re pregnant. I can do an exam if you’re eager to find out.”
I contemplate my options and decide to wait. I have enough on my plate right now. I have a unique talent for compartmentalizing, and that’s precisely what I plan to do about his situation. I’ll pretend it’s not happening until then .
“Monday is fine. I’ve waited this long, so what’re another three days? In the event I’m not pregnant, I want to go on the shot, please. I don’t want to have another scare like this. In the event I am pregnant, I’ll need to hear about all my options. My relationship with the father is in question at this point.”
“Okay, well, let’s table this until Monday. We’ll set you up an appointment. It won’t take long to read the results, and we can make some decisions based on them then. Is there anything you need for now?”
“A bottle of red wine, but I suppose that will have to wait as well.”
I set up my appointment for Monday morning and drive to Anthony’s house. I make a cup of coffee and sit down at the breakfast bar. My laptop sits in front of me and calls for me to open it. I flip open the top and watch as it springs to life. The light shines brightly in the dark room.
Is this what I want? I look around me and see my surroundings. Anthony is everywhere. He’s in the kitchen scrambling eggs. In the living room yelling at the screen when his team loses. I look out the glass doors at the surf to see the moonlight glimmering on the water. The white foam glows as it breaks on the beach. In my memory, Anthony emerges from the water after his daily swim. I wanted this. I wanted him.
I walk back to the breakfast bar, sit down, balance the cup of coffee in both hands, and inhale the aroma. I bring the cup to my lips and sip. It’s decent but not as good as he would make it.
I open my email and click on the forwarded message. The pictures pop up like boils on a baby’s butt. They’re painful to look at. I enlarge them so I can analyze them one at a time. I gloss over the first five since I’ve already seen them.
Photo six shows him dining with the girl. She is smiling, and he looks like he’s laughing. I can’t see if anyone is with them or if they are alone. Is she the accountant? I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, but the meeting looks cozy. He’s wearing one of my favorite shirts. It’s a baby-blue Henley. The cotton is so fine it almost feels like silk. Every time he wears it, I bury my face in his chest and rub my cheek up and down to feel the soft fabric on my skin.
Photo seven is almost like photo three.
Photo eight is of him entering a hotel. The photographer caught the image perfectly. I can see Anthony clearly, and the name of the property. Royal Palm Resort is printed on the door.
Photo nine shows him alone at the front desk.
Photo ten shows him alone at the bar in what appears to be the lobby.
I don’t know who this girl is. I alluded to her in our previous conversation, and he said he was probably opening the door for someone. I don’t feel like I can ask again without sounding like a jealous girlfriend. After getting on him about his jealous tendencies, doesn’t that make me a hypocrite if I display the same behaviors?
I drink my coffee, even though it’s turned lukewarm while I was studying the photographs. I decide I won’t ask him about her, but I’ll ask him how Dallas is. If he comes clean and tells me he’s in Phoenix, then at least we can talk about it. If he lies to me, then I’m done. I sit back and wait for him to call.
I watch the surf from my seat at the bar. The warm ocean breeze coming through the open door is soothing to the soul. My hair whips around my face as I lean against the chair and think about my life. I’ve come to a lot of realizations this week. I learned I could overcome fear. I’m stronger and more capable than I thought I was. My motto was always “Fake it until you make it.” I guess, in the end, I made it. My past can no longer define my future.
My weakest link is Anthony. He’s my Achilles’ heel. With him, I’m jelly. He speaks, and I get gooey all over. When he’s near, I can barely think for myself. How can one man have such an impact on me ?
The phone startles me from my thoughts. “I’m Too Sexy” plays two verses before I answer.
“Hello,” I whisper. My voice is a whisper.
“Where are you at? I can hardly hear you.” His voice gets louder as if he’s trying to compensate for the softness of mine.
“Hold on.” I walk into the kitchen. “Is this better?”
“Yes. How are you?”
“I’m good. I’m happy it’s the weekend and plan to sleep in and then get my nails done in the afternoon. What are you up to?” I wait for him to give me some information. Maybe he’ll say he had to fly to Phoenix and check on the restaurants. I pray silently he tells me anything that will give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Same old stuff. I was meeting with the accountant. I think I may be home Sunday. We’ll see.”
Here’s the thing: she could be the accountant, but why wouldn’t he say that when I asked about the redheaded girl? I have to think about this for a while.
“It’s a warm and balmy day here today. How’s the weather in Dallas?”
“Hot and humid,” he says without a moment’s hesitation.
“Good luck tomorrow. I’m going to take a bath and head to bed. It’s been a long week. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” The lump in my throat is just about choking the life out of me.
“Are you all right? You sound a bit off.” His voice sounds concerned.
“Yes, just tired. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“I love you, Emma.” His voice sounds sincere.
When did he learn to lie so easily? Has he always had this skill, and I couldn’t see it because love blinded me?
“Love you, too,” I respond. I do love him, and it will take some time to get over that. Fate has dished me up another serving of bullshit. When I feel like my stuff is straight, she says, “Here you go, take this and choke on it.” Fate’s a bitch!
I close my laptop and descend to the ground floor. The spigot squeaks as I turn the bath taps on full force. I need a relaxing soak to clear my head and think about how I will handle it.
My natural reaction would have been to yell at him and call him a liar. That behavior hasn’t worked well in the past, so I have to develop a new plan.
The bubbles cascade over my body, and I sink into the water until it gently laps over my chin. I wish I could stay in this bath the whole night. Unfortunately, I have to pack up my clothes and load my car. If Anthony is coming home soon, I don’t want to be here for a confrontation.
Feeling calm and clear-headed, I begin packing up my life with Anthony. I start in the closet first. I have a lot of clothes. I have no idea why I need this many pairs of jeans. I probably have at least twenty pairs, and I rarely wear them. I’m more of a dress girl. When I get settled, I’m going to have to clear things out. This is excessive.
I continue to make the trek up the stairs and into the garage, where I load my car. I shove shoes in every nook and cranny possible and put a suitcase full of cosmetics and bath supplies in the front seat.
I walk back into the house and look around. I was getting used to the idea that this place was going to be my home. Now I have to say goodbye. I wipe the silent tear that falls down my cheek and wish I could call Kat, but I wouldn’t want to put her in a position to choose. She’d feel obligated to her future husband to tell him what’s going on. She’d also feel her loyalty to me should take precedence.
I pick up my phone from the table in the kitchen and text Roxy.
Sorry for the back-and-forth confusion. I’m moving back in with you tomorrow. I’ll be there fairly early and didn’t want to startle you.
Thanks for the warning. It will be nice having you in the house. The creeper was back today. I called the police, but he left before they came. I’d have freaked if the door opened unexpectedly.
That is creepy. I’ve never seen anyone lurking in the neighborhood, and I’ve owned the house for years.
Yes, it’s weird. I’ll see you tomorrow. We can talk about why you’re running away again. I have to finish my shift, so I can’t talk now.
I put my phone back on the table. Who is this man that keeps showing up outside? He started coming around the day she moved in. She’s going to have to rack her brain to figure that one out. I never had a stalker before, and it’s suspect that he showed up the day she did.
I walk back down to the bedroom and climb into bed. His pillow smells like him, and I inhale deeply. He is always fresh and clean, with a hint of citrus, and I’ll miss him.
I think about my texts with Roxy. Am I running away again? Is this a pattern with me? When things get tough, I just run for cover? I don’t think so. Usually, I fight back; however, I’m always in preservation mode. That may make me more self-centered than I should be. I’ll have to think about that.
I wake with a start. My heart is racing, and I am covered in sweat. I was running in my dream. Each time I turned around, I saw a faceless person. Just before I woke up, he grabbed my arm, and when I turned to look at him, I saw Anthony. Is this my subconscious’ way of telling me I’m indeed running?
I look at the clock and see I’ve slept longer than expected. I get up and throw on some clothes. I walk upstairs and start the coffee and open my computer and watch the emails rush in. The first in the queue is a message from Anthony.
Emma,
I’ve been away far too long. I booked the first flight I could. I’ll be home tonight. Wear something sexy for me. I’ve missed you so much.
Yours,
Anthony
Wow, I wasn’t expecting that. I’d hoped I’d have a few days to figure this out. Now he’ll be here tonight, and I’ll be gone. I don’t want him to come home to an empty house. I want to get brave and talk to him. He deserves an answer, and I deserve the truth.
I shoot him an email back, hoping he’ll get it before he boards the plane. According to his message, he should be arriving today around 6:30.
Anthony,
Come to Ahz for dinner. I’ll reserve a private room for us. See you when you get here.
Em
I pour a cup of coffee and walk out onto the deck. It chokes me up to know I won’t wake to this view every morning. I look out to the ocean and try to remember the last time I saw Anthony emerging from the water after his daily swim. Can I leave this all behind? Honestly, there is only one answer. It’s yes, you can’t live with a man who cheats on you and then lies about it. My pissed-off girl is back, and she’s in the driver’s seat for the day.
I stroll back into the kitchen, rinse my cup, and put it in the dishwasher.
The house is all locked up, and I’m ready to go. I walk to the garage door and look around me one last time before closing the door on my past. Seated in my car, I start the engine and head toward my uncertain future.