With the decision made and announced, I felt the sharp sense of loss. What if he never came back? What if we never got past this? What if he never tried to have me again?
I tripped after him. “This wasn’t a session. You said so yourself. You can’t hold this against me.”
“Can’t I?” He didn’t turn around.
“No. You put out the rules, and I followed them. It’s not fair for you to change them on me just because you don’t like something you found out. You have to still play.” Please, please still play. Please come back for me.
He spun around then, so quickly, I nearly collided with him. “There is no fairness here, Celia. You still think this is a game? That one of us is going to lose and one of us is going to win? That’s not how this will go. I will win. I will win, no matter what you do or say or don’t say. The only thing yet to be determined is how badly you lose.”
A chill ran down my spine, and this time when he stalked away, I didn’t follow.
Eighteen
“What’s all the activity about?” I asked Tom as I came back from my weekly massage in the pool house. Usually it was just her and Joette in the main house on a Thursday, unless Eliana was over to play chess or Lou was there to do some repairs.
Peter and Sanyjah usually only cleaned on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but here they were, bustling around with the vacuum and duster, and Erris and Marge were trimming the bushes in the back, something they typically only did in the mornings when it was cooler.
Joette stepped out of the kitchen at the sound of my voice, and Tom turned her eyes toward her, questioning.
All the walking on eggshells made the answer clear before Joette said anything. “Edward arrives today. I wanted to tell you, but…”
She trailed off, so I finished for her. “But you aren’t supposed to give me a heads-up on these things, are you?”
Her smile was apologetic. “His plane is landing shortly. Mateo just left to pick him up at the airstrip.”
That was more warning than I’d gotten any other time, and, for that, I tried to be grateful. It wasn’t Joette’s fault I was married to an asshole. No, that blame lay solely on me.
“Thank you for telling me.” I forced the words out, hoping that she’d try to share more in the future if I were appreciative. Then I took off for my bedroom to change into something less grungy.
After tearing off my shorts and tank, I hesitated at my closet door, deciding I needed a quick shower since I was covered in massage oil and sweat from my earlier workout. Once that was taken care of, I put on a simple sundress, threw my hair in a bun, and applied a swift coat of lipgloss.
“He doesn’t deserve this,” I told my reflection. Because he didn’t. After the way he’d left last time, he didn’t deserve my dressing up for him at all. Especially when he’d stayed gone for three months. Three goddamn months. He’d sent gifts as he had before, nothing personalized, things that helped keep my mind occupied, the biggest being permission to redecorate the upstairs rooms and remodel the pool house, a task I’d undertaken with gusto. I loved the work. It was invigorating to have something to do, something I was passionate about.
But no matter how much I enjoyed it or how much mental energy it required, it hadn’t taken my thoughts off Edward entirely. He’d left, and I was pissed. He’d told me I couldn’t walk away, and then he had. He’d told me if I opened up to him he’d come back sooner, and then he stayed away three fucking months.
I’d been so angered by his absence, I’d mentally given him ninety days. If he wasn’t back by August fourteenth, I’d told myself, I was done. I was going to get myself off the island, whatever it took, even if it meant taking a rowboat out on the ocean alone.
But here he was on August thirteenth, as though he could read into my mind, and I was both relieved and devastated.
More relieved than devastated, if I were being honest.
And because he’d shown up within the time frame, I planned to be exactly that—honest. With myself, and also with him. I’d had plenty of time to think about what I wanted to say to him, what our next session would entail, and by God, he was going to hear it, whether he wanted to or not.
Now that, he deserved.
I made it to the front of the house where Joette and Tom had gathered to greet Edward just as Mateo pulled the jeep into the driveway. My pulse picked up, and I suddenly wished I’d had more time to do makeup, that I’d picked something less plain to wear. Despite his unworthiness, I had a sick desire to please my husband.
Even more base than that, I wanted him to notice me, which felt ridiculous under the circumstances.
Still, standing with the two other women who’d become my family over the better part of a year, I suddenly felt like I was the stranger. It wasn’t an unreasonable feeling considering his close relationship with Joette’s family, but it was hard to grapple with all the same.
Mateo had parked with the passenger side toward us, so it was Edward’s long, lean body and devilishly handsome face that I saw first. My breath caught—every time, he stole it from me. It was impossible to get used to how attractive he was, even dressed down in a polo shirt and white jeans. His hair was longer than when I’d last seen him, and a bit unruly from traveling. He still wore the facial hair I’d suggested he grow, and my fingers itched to touch it. His blue eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, but I could feel them sharp and focused as he scanned his welcome committee. As they landed on me.
Just as quickly, they were gone, and he was opening the door behind his, reaching in. From around the back of the vehicle, a figure appeared. A brunette woman also in sunglasses wearing linen pants, a large brim hat, and a long-sleeved sweater over her camisole.
My body felt immensely heavy, like it was being pulled into the earth, and my ribs felt tight like they were being crushed.
He’d brought a woman. A gorgeous, sophisticated woman to the island where he kept his captive wife.
If I weren’t so heartbroken, I’d be seeing red.
But then Edward pulled something out of the back seat—someone—and I realized I hadn’t looked closely enough at the woman. It was his sister, Camilla, and the small boy he’d lifted into his arms was his nephew.
Damn, he looked good holding a child.
I’d seen him before with the kids on the island, seen him tease them and sneak them cookies behind Joette’s back, but this was different. He’d pushed up his aviators, and I could see the pure devotion in his expression as he looked at Freddie. It was knee-weakening. Panty-melting. Ovary-exploding. Men didn’t look at kids like that, not generally, and seeing it from Edward was especially astonishing. And poignant. And overwhelming.
It didn’t help that the little boy resembled his uncle so entirely with the dark hair and deep-set blue eyes. I could imagine it then, what he must have been like as a father when his children were young. What he’d be like with a baby. What it would be like to have a baby with him. The power of those images was so startling and compelling, I almost forgot I hated him because of how badly I wanted to love him.
They started toward us, Camilla smiling at Joette and Tom, which threw me momentarily. They were my people, not hers, but of course she’d known them first. The master upstairs was clearly the one she stayed in when she visited, a crib and play area set up in the adjoining suite. I’d just never thought about her actually being in the space that I’d come to think of as mine.