Layers Peeled (25 page)

Under Mr.
Cross’s kind arm I was led down the aisle. My mom placed a bouquet
of daisies in my hands. At the sides, each pew was decorated in
white flowers and glistening ribbons. And at the front, in his
white fluffy sweater, Tristan waited with the widest smile I’d ever
seen. Once I joined him it felt as if we were encased in our own
bubble, away from the world, repeating our vows after a voice from
the heavens which of course was the priest’s. Looking at my husband
to be, I’d never been so mesmerized by anyone or anything in my
life. Tristan held my hands, giving them an extra squeeze as if to
affirm every promise and commitment he’d made to me that day. And
even if our family was present, when we’d said our
I do’s,
it was just me and Tristan and no one else – and I couldn’t have
been happier. I didn’t choke the way I thought I would. The words
seemed to flow naturally, without a flaw.

And someone must have clicked
that fast forward button again, because the private ceremony seemed
to pass in a few seconds. Thankfully my maid of honor had a camera
ready for the event, and one day I’d be able to watch the tears,
the laughter, and the happiness of one of the best days of my
life.

Back at the
hotel, Tristan carried me over the threshold to our suite. He set
me down. The moment I’d said “I do,” I couldn’t help but notice the
shift in his face. The one that said “I want you and I want it
now.” That was part of the reason the rest of the ceremony was a
haze for me. Once I saw that conspicuous look, I couldn’t get him
out of my mind – even in church where those kinds of thoughts
should have been banned, or at the least left outside. I just
couldn’t get rid of them. I was sure someone had reserved a private
spot in hell just for me, and made a mental note to make up for the
thoughts of my naked husband.

There would be
no reception until we returned to the States, but I didn’t really
care about one either. The most important people in our lives had
just witnessed us getting married, and they were all who mattered.
I’d make sure Laura would get to throw me a bachelorette party, the
way she’d always planned, but other than that, I was sure my friend
would understand.

We had dinner
at a local restaurant. I loved the fact that Tristan didn’t close
it down just for the family and we could share our joy and
announcement with the rest of the guests, who cheered and sang and
danced. Mr. Cross bought a round of drinks for the entire
restaurant, my mom snuck a few tequila shots and couldn’t wipe the
smile off her face, and Emma flirted with a local boy whom Julian
and Tristan watched carefully with a guarded eye.

Tristan locked
the door and set me down, slowly removing my clothes, starting with
my top. The sound of the zipper unfastening my jacket sent goose
bumps to my arms. Tristan’s breathing and my pounding heart all
sounded so alarmingly loud. What was happening to me? He hadn’t
even really touched me, and I was already running out of breath. I
couldn’t wait to get in bed with... my husband.

“If you told
me this morning I’d be spending my wedding night with you, I’d look
for a camera to make sure I wasn’t being punked.”

“Ah, come on.
It worked out so well.”

Off came one
of his boots, then the other.

“What would
you have done if I’d said no?”

I flipped my
leg up so he could pull off my white Uggs.

“I don’t
usually ask questions I don’t know the answer to,” he smirked, and
pulled off his sweater. And there it was, that chest that made me
want to rock his body from dusk until dawn. And the scar that now
seemed so insignificant; in my eyes from now on, it would only pass
as a beauty mark.

“Cocky a
bit?”

“Always, baby.
Now get those tight pants off your ass so I can make love to my
wife.” He yanked my shirt from inside my pants. And by then the
rest of our attire was flying all over the hallway, the living
area, and we finally ended up in the bedroom bare naked. This suite
was bigger than my old apartment. And why in the world was I
thinking about the layout of our hotel room?

As I lay back
on the bed, a sparkle of my platinum wedding band reflected the
lamp light onto the ceiling. “I can’t believe I’m married.”

“And I can’t
believe how lucky I am.” Tristan knelt and then slowly lowered his
body beside mine. “I promise to love you and cherish you forever,
Mrs. Cross.”

“Ditto, Mr.
Cross.”

“Now make love
to me, please.”

He didn’t have
to beg nor ask me, as there was nothing more that I wanted than to
consummate our marriage.

Never in my
life did I think the first week after I got married would be the
most stressful week of my life. Security had been increased at
Cross Enterprises and at the Cross households. Three armed guards
followed my every move. They watched me twenty-four hours a day.
Among them was a female who never left my side, including
accompanying me to the bathroom. It seemed none of them ever slept,
as they were there with me from the moment I woke up and still
there when I went to bed at night. My mother stayed with my
in-laws, where the guards watched her as well.

And all this
commotion was because of one man: David Wright.

Our
conversation with Laura when we’d returned from Austria still
played in my mind. At first I couldn’t believe what she was saying,
but it all began making sense. He’d planned this all along. David
Wright was not only an obsessed son of a bitch, but also a
meticulous mastermind of manipulating people and events to his
benefit.

“I have some
info on that guy who bought Marissa,” Laura said to me at lunch the
first day at work. I’d spent the entire morning recapping Gabe and
Sam’s wedding, Christmas, Tristan’s proposal, and my own change in
marital status, so we hadn’t had a chance to talk business. Then
Laura concentrated on planning my bachelorette party. So it took a
few hours before our normal day began. And it just so happened that
Tristan was in the lunch room at the time, so the shock of our
conversation hit him as hard as it did me.

“Really? I
knew we’d get the bastard.” I smiled. I shouldn’t have.

“It looks like
you were right to feel your connection with Marissa. This guy is
from the same town you were born in.”

Tristan’s head
jerked up.

The hairs on
my neck stood tall.

“And?”

“And he was a
cop once. That’s who bailed her out all the time.”

This had to be
a coincidence, right?

Wrong!
The devil on my shoulder screamed, but this time its comment was
not a scowl but more of a warning.

I shut my eyes
and felt Tristan’s arms around me.

“Allie, this
guy’s in California now. We’d have to fly out to get him.”

Yup,
definitely not a coincidence. Had he been searching for me and
instead found Marissa, my look-alike? And what he’d done to her and
her unborn child… Oh, my gosh, I couldn’t think about it. It was
that day all over again.

“Are you all
right?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

Tristan
squeezed his arm tighter around me, and I felt my trembles fade
into his body.

“Do you have a
name?” he asked.

I didn’t want
to hear it. I already knew the name she was going to say.

“Yes, David
Wright. He had some pretty strong connections, even in
Washington.”

I turned to
Tristan, saying, “Marissa was in our house. He knows where we
live.”

“When did this
happen?”

“When you were
in Washington. I forgot to tell you. It was all so quick, and then
she was found dead. It didn’t seem to matter at the time.”

“Allie, calm
down. The bastard pushed this too far. He chose his fate, which
will end this week.”

“Okay,” I
said.

“Can someone
please explain what’s going on?” Laura crossed her arms over her
chest.

Once I’d run
through my childhood, what happened to my mother and the events of
the past few months, Laura officially became my fourth body
guard.

And now, four
days later, and excruciatingly long ninety-six hours later, we sat
in Tristan’s office, waiting for that call. The team Tristan hired
was supposed to capture Wright and bring him to justice. Tristan
said he had enough evidence on him, including DNA, to put him away
for Marissa’s murder. And I was sure the evidence I’d collected
over the years with respect to my father’s hunting accident would
add another lifetime to his sentence. My mother even agreed to
press charges, but I’d assured her she didn’t have to go through
the pain of testifying and reliving that day.

I bit my
fingernails. The tips of my fingers began to ache. My knees shook
under the table, and when the phone rang, I nearly jumped out of my
seat.

Tristan turned
on the speaker-phone and answered the call.

“Tristan
Cross.”

“Sir, it’s
done.”

I held my
breath.

“Details. Give
me the details. Do you have him?”

“No, sir.
Well, sort of. He refused to come with us. There was an accident,
and the house was set on fire. He perished in the house.”

I hoped he
roasted in there like a pig and was now suffering in the pits of
hell.

“I want a
confirmation the body was found.”

“Sir, it was.
He was burnt to a crisp.”

“Then get me
his dental records. Call me once it’s confirmed it was David
Wright.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Tristan hang
up and wrapped me into his arms.

“He’s dead?” I
asked.

“Apparently
so. You’ll never have to see him or fear him again.”

“Then it went
better than expected,” I said, thinking how blessed I felt that I’d
never have to see his face again.

“Yes, it
did.”

Or had Tristan
planned for Wright not to come out alive all along? I couldn’t
tell, but it wouldn’t have surprised me. Wright was dead, and that
was all that mattered.

“Let’s keep
the security until they confirm.” He kissed the top of my head.

“Yes, of
course.”

Two days later
Tristan received the confirmation we were waiting for: David
Wright’s matching dental records and a death certificate.

The bastard
who’d haunted my family was cremated and now filled a small urn. He
was nothing but ash.

It would be a
while before I came to terms with this truth; after all, I hadn’t
seen his body, and it would be difficult to believe I could
actually move on with my life.

It would be
another four months to reclaim my life and feel at peace.

I shouldn’t
have.

The day
couldn’t have been more perfect if I’d sent a special order to God
himself. The sun was up, and the pure blue sky was reflected in the
ocean, blurring the boundary between heaven and earth into one.
Tristan and Julian had gone out to fish. Their weekend ritual had
been in effect the day Kendra put her foot down and insisted that
Julian take more time away from work. I had to say I didn’t blame
her, and I loved having Tristan at home on the weekends, especially
with the babies on the way. Two months from now, our twins would
join the family—a family who had no clue they would get a double
surprise. Today we’d be putting the final touches on the twins’
bedrooms. The only remaining question was the sex of the second
fraternal baby, which did not want to show us its secret.

Looking out
toward the shore, I saw the two brothers standing on the dock with
their rods cast. This morning I’d opened the kitchen window wide,
opting for a natural breeze to cool the house instead of the air
conditioning. In truth I was hoping to lure Tristan back home with
the appetizing smell of homemade waffles.

It was only
eight in the morning, and the heat was already collected into sweat
on my back. Summer had decided to arrive a month earlier than
usual. I made a mental note that if I planned any more kids in the
future, I’d prefer a spring baby. This heat wave was not doing my
swelling feet any favors. But who was I kidding? With Tristan
around, any kind of baby planning was out of the question. I was
sure no matter how hard we tried to stay safe, it wouldn’t take
long for our family to expand once again. I had a feeling the
vasectomy fairy would soon visit Tristan to have a little chat.

Resting the
bowl on the counter and against my belly, I swirled the batter. I’d
finally gotten the courage to cook. After a few lessons from
Olivier, I was ready to be the mother of all mothers and the wife
of all wives.

Well, at least
I could try and pretend to be one.

Given the
twins were coming home within two months, I had better learn some
skills other than how to dial for takeout. My mother had said her
waffle recipe was simple and in our blood. So after fourteen years
of eating Eggos instead of delicious waffles, I braved the
impossible.

The dough
smelled better than I expected. In fact, it reminded me of when I
was little and the good times before Daddy died. Back when my
parents danced around the kitchen laughing and spilling flour all
over. I still remembered the dusty cloud of white powder hovering
in the air, my dad’s black jeans slowly fading into gray as the
flour settled.

I smiled and
poured the batter onto the checkered skillet, closed the lid, and
twisted the handle.

Part of me
wished Daddy was here with us, the other part came to terms that I
had to go on for my new family without him. But I trusted he was
looking out for me. He always had been. And today, more than any
other day I felt his presence. Was he proud? Was he happy we
finally moved on with our lives?