Chapter Twenty Tessa
Chapter Twenty
Tessa
I toss and turn as Gabe snores softly beside me.
I’d like to blame my insomnia on his snoring.
I’d like to blame it on the pregnancy, too, how there isn’t a single comfortable position even with the body pillow.
It’s not the snoring or the pregnancy that’s keeping me up.
Every time I roll over, I see Dan and Claire at his premiere, hands entwined, his touch a comfort to her.
Then I see Dan hunched in the canal, leaning over Regina as he presses her face into the shallow water, holding her down until she drowns.
I poke Gabe, hard enough that he murmurs, “What was that for?”
“You’re snoring.”
Gabe mumbles “Sorry,” rolls back over, starts snoring even louder.
It’s like a horse braying. When I can’t take it anymore, I slip out of bed and head downstairs for a glass of water.
The night’s quiet enough to hear the ocean even with the French doors closed, those dark hours before sunrise when the helicopters are no longer searching, the sirens no longer chasing, the only time of day when I don’t get that persistent feeling of being watched.
Across the canal, a front door slams so loud, it reverberates through the empty basin, vibrating our patio doors.
The entryway light at the Huntsmans’ goes on as Claire storms into the living room in a plunging emerald dress, hair in a complicated updo.
Dan stumbles in behind her, fists clenched.
I freeze, my glass of water midair, debating what to do.
The lights are off at our house. They can’t see me.
Dan screams at Claire, tossing pillows off the couch, books off the shelf where they’ve been refiled after Jasper and Summer tore up this same living room more playfully than Dan is now.
Claire speaks to him from across the room, trying to placate him.
Once he seems to have calmed down, she walks over and places her hands on both his cheeks.
They stare at each other, and just as I think he’s going to embrace her, he slaps her so hard she falls to the floor.
I gasp, instinctively clamping my hand over my mouth, even though there’s no way they heard me.
Except Dan twitches. Claire uses both arms to lift her torso from the floor, the side of her face that he’s hit away from me, so I can’t see the extent of his violence.
They stay frozen for a few moments until she nods at him.
He yanks her up by her perfect updo and throws her violently over his shoulder.
Though I can’t hear her screams, I can see her legs kick as she tries to break free from his grip.
He’s too strong. He easily contains her as he heads toward the stairs, where they disappear from my view.
Terrified, I waddle upstairs, my uterus pounding inside me with every rushed step.
At one point, I have to stop and let the twinges subside before I can continue.
When I get to my bedroom, Gabe’s still sleeping.
I rush over to the window, hoping that Dan hasn’t hurt her again.
Their drapes are shut, a narrow strip of light visible along the edges.
I can’t see them, can’t tell what he’s doing to her.
I don’t think so much as react. I couldn’t save Regina, but I can save Claire.
My phone’s charging on my bedside table. I grab it and rush into the hall to call 9-1-1. When the dispatcher asks me what’s my emergency, I tell them to come quickly. The short call ends, and I cradle the phone, knowing I’ve done the right thing.
“Come on. Come on,” I mutter as I monitor their house from my bedroom window, waiting for the familiar sound of the sirens, certain they’re too late. If something happens to Claire, I’ll never forgive myself.
After what feels like hours, the sirens grow louder until they echo through our bedroom, loud enough to wake Gabe.
He sits up, strands of his sleep-churned hair illuminated by the light outside, emanating from the downstairs of the Huntsmans’ home. “What’s happening?”
When he realizes the sirens aren’t a part of his dream, Gabe bolts out of bed, finds me by the window, and envelops me in his arms. I lean into the comfort of his embrace, the certainty that I’ve saved my best friend.
Up and down the canal, one bedroom light turns on and then another, everyone still on edge from the drowning a week ago.
Gabe and I watch as Dan leads two police officers into his living room, where Claire is quickly returning the pillows to the couch, the books to the shelves.
Dan’s shirt’s misbuttoned, half tucked. Claire stops tidying up and pauses, staring out at the canal, her face fully visible to me.
Her skin is as porcelain as ever. And that’s when a new worry settles in, deeper in my gut, one I don’t fully understand.
I saw Dan hit Claire hard enough to leave a mark.
More than a mark. A bruise. A swelling. But the skin on her cheek looks completely untouched.
Beneath our window, a figure appears on the walkway.
I tense. Gabe feels it. He nestles his chin against my forehead and kisses the top of my head.
Momentarily, I think she’s a phantom, the ghost of Regina, until I recognize that posture, arms behind her back, short white hair pulsating with red and blue light.
Judy peers up and finds me through the window.
She shifts her gaze to the Huntsmans’, where Claire and Dan are speaking with the police, then back to me, smiling before continuing her patrol.
It sends a chill through my core. Judy knows what I’ve done.
I will myself to relax as Gabe continues to hold me. Judy can’t know. No one can. No one will. After a few minutes, the police leave. Claire and Dan remain in their living room. He’s pacing, growing angry again. She’s trying to calm him. It’s different now. They aren’t mad at each other.
Abruptly, Dan wooshes past her toward their back door and trudges into his garden. He charges toward the bridge and crosses over to our island. He can’t be headed for our house. He can’t know it was me. Only, he’s opening the gate to our garden and is banging on the French doors.
“Let’s go back to bed,” I say too quickly. Gabe’s arm goes limp around me.
“T.,” he whispers. “What’s going on?”
I hesitate and Gabe’s arm flinches around me.
“I can explain.”
Dan’s banging continues. “Tessa? Get down here.”
“Stay here,” Gabe says.
From downstairs, Dan’s voice booms. Gabe has let him inside. Dan Huntsman is in our house. I tiptoe into the hall.
“I know it was her,” Dan barks. “Every time I look, she’s watching us.”
Is that true? Do I watch them? A shiver runs through me. That means he’s been watching me too.
“If it doesn’t stop, I’m filing a restraining order. Be a man and control your wife—” He pauses when Claire interrupts him.
“Dan, come on. Let’s go home.”
Before I can second-guess myself, I race downstairs.
Everyone freezes when they see me, their expressions mismatched.
Dan, expectedly, is furious. Gabe, concerned.
Claire—her flawless face blushed and bronzed—distraught.
And that’s when I see them, gleaming from her earlobes.
Three tiers of diamonds. My earrings. Claire’s wearing them. Dan bought them for her, not Regina.
“Claire—” I start. She shakes her head no, reaches for her husband’s hand, and gently tugs him out of our house, his cold glare fixed on me the entire time.
Gabe watches our garden after they’ve disappeared.
I wrap my arm around him, leaning my chin into his shoulder.
Gabe’s a patient man. His clinic runs hot with emotions.
Parents-to-be, especially fathers, are prone to frustration, sometimes anger.
They unfairly accuse him, branding him a greedy liar when treatments don’t work.
He’s trained himself to remain collected no matter how vitriolic they get.
I sense it now, the way he fights to maintain his composure.
“I can explain,” I whisper.
He waits, ready to listen, and I have no excuses.
The only proof I had was pinned onto my best friend’s ears.
I don’t understand how Claire wasn’t hurt by the slap I saw, the slap I practically heard.
I still don’t know what Dan’s capable of, but he didn’t buy Regina those earrings. He didn’t kill her.
I flop onto the couch. “I came downstairs for a glass of water, and I saw him hit her. I saw him drag her upstairs. I thought he was going to kill her, but she doesn’t have a mark on her.
Her hair—” I mimic him pulling Claire’s hair on my own head.
“He pulled her up by her hair, but it isn’t messed up at all. I saw it, though. I didn’t imagine it.”
The tears flow as I try to fight them. They’re manipulative, even though I don’t mean them that way.
Gabe sits beside me and pulls me against him. “I’m sure that was scary.”
I let my body relax into his until he chuckles suddenly.
“You realize you called the cops on your best friend’s kink?”
“What do you mean?”
“T., they were role-playing. You know.” He waits for me to catch on. “How sometimes you like me to play doctor.”
“What? Who would fantasize about that?”
“Claire, apparently.” He laughs. It isn’t funny. It’s twisted, disturbing. It makes me think I don’t know my best friend at all. “Oh, come on. It’s kind of funny.”
I manage to summon a smile. I stand, smooth out the only pajamas that currently fit me. “I’ll apologize. I’ll go over and explain.”
“No.” Gabe rests his hands on both my shoulders. Those golden brown eyes bore into me. “Let it go.”
He has no idea how much more I need to let go than Claire and Dan.
“Do you think Claire’s mad at me?”
“I think she’s probably more embarrassed.” He pulls me onto his lap, kisses my hair. “She’ll get over it. Give her some time, and she’ll see it’s actually pretty funny.”