Tainted Love (Sweetest Taboo #2) (23 page)

Chapter Nineteen - You’re Still the One

N
ot a single person was privy to my plan. It was best if no one had any details about my travel, my whereabouts, and my scheme.

I had my mom cancel the plane ticket she’d bought for my trip back home for the holidays. My parents were disappointed to hear that I had been given additional hours to work at the bookstore due to the shopping rush, but were appeased when I said I’d do my best to get home on Christmas Eve to celebrate the holiday with family. I didn’t say a word to Tony, nor did I respond to his email. I figured my parents would share the news since my brother was at my parents’ nearly every day mooching meals and probably just trying to get some time away from Emily who was a huge nag – and a downer, if you asked me.

I also sent Tom an email letting him know I was unable to make the trip back home, citing the same excuse I used on my parents – if I wanted to keep my job at the bookstore, I had to work during the holiday season. I considered calling him, to ask him about the story in the paper, and the rumors Vicky and Tony had passed on, but decided against it. Tom wouldn’t admit to anything that was written in the paper, wouldn’t admit to the rumors, just as he’d never admitted to his wife that he had been with me years ago when I was in high school. Tom would say that it was all cooked up, and that of course he’d been faithful to me. Doubts still lingered, but that was probably because I was so far away and couldn’t get a pulse for what was really going on. My heart believed in Tom, and was trying to convince my brain that if Tom had been involved in something like that, if he had been with others and knew that sooner or later it would all be revealed by the police during their investigation, he would have come out and just told me the truth. Maybe he was embarrassed and wanted to keep it a secret, shelter me from all of the commotion? Or maybe he was naïve enough to think it would all be handled by the time I got home?

Although I really wished he would have said something to me, written me some sort of message divulging all of this to me and asking for my guidance or support, I had already decided what I was going to do, and this time my heart did all of the deciding. I was in love with Tom, and I always had been. My heart had sunk at the thought of him being with anyone else, but it had rallied to his rescue when I gave it time, and there was no way I would go into rescue mode if I actually believed he was having relationships with his students, cheerleaders or any other women for that matter.

I needed to get home and make our relationship official – and public – so that the rumors would cease. My declaration would introduce new complications, no doubt, but they were complications that would be manageable and could be managed but the two of us. Together, we could decide how we were going to make things work and how to go about sharing the news of our relationship with Tom’s colleagues, friends, and my family.

A part of me was extremely excited about surprising Tom with my visit. He’d been asking for one for so long, and I had to turn him down time after time. I could just imagine the look on his face when he opened his front door and found me standing on his porch, smile on my face and arms splayed out in preparation for one of our home-coming embraces. I did some research before heading to National Airport, dragging my carry on behind me on the metro, and found that his new home number and address was listed in the white pages. In an email, Tom had shared that he had moved to his new house and was busy making it cozy and preparing it for my arrival. I never bothered to ask for the address, though, assuming he would be the one driving me to the new house.

Susie drove me to the airport, giddy at my excitement over going home, and dropped me off at the curb. She was the only person who had been fully briefed on my plan, and she would be waiting for daily reports. It took me hours to get through security and check-in – this was definitely the worst time to fly anywhere, with the holiday coming up. The rough weather was causing delay after delay, so there were also a lot of people killing time in the airport. Since my flight was going to LA, there were no delays – it was gorgeous in Southern California, of course – but the wait at National nearly killed me. A quick trip to Cinnabon and some relaxing Enya albums on my iPod helped to keep my nerves at bay.

Once we were finally in the air, I popped a single pink Benadryl, shoved my purple fuzzy travel pillow against the window, and fell asleep. I had absolutely no intention of staying awake for the five-hour flight, which would be sheer torture. I didn’t want to think about what I was about to do any more than absolutely necessary. If I excelled in anything at all, it was planning. My plan was firmly in place and required no additional thought. It would either work or it wouldn’t, and I’d had even come up with second-line plans for each scenario.

***

The flight attendant woke me as we descended into LAX. “Please put your seatback in the upright position, miss.”

“Of course,” I responded groggily. “Could I get some water, please?” I asked hopefully.

She nodded and handed me a plastic cup, having expected this particular request, and I smiled in gratitude. I’d ended up paying for my own ticket, and had splurged on a higher-end domestic airline. Now I was reaping the benefits of that particular treat. My seat had been roomy and comfortable, and the flight attendant anticipated my needs and offered me drinks and snacks, and left me alone as I slept, which I very much appreciated.

A moment later we were touching down, the sprawl and smog of L.A. engulfing us. I ran my eyes over the horizon, taking in the familiar sights of L.A., and tried to breathe calmly. From here, it would be a one-hour ride home, and then the moment of truth. I’d called ahead and arranged for Liz to pick me up from the airport. She was one of the only people who knew about Tom and me, and she had been the only friend I felt I could trust with my life. She’d also known that I saw Tom when I was home over the summer, and had been the one to advise me about what to do after seeing him with Christine in his truck. She had been the force behind the confrontation I had with Tom, Christine, and even her mother. 

“You should trust him, Izzy,” she’d said. “He left his wife for you and he’s always treated you right. If he was with someone else, why wouldn’t he tell you? Why would he hide her and go back to seeing you? You’re being ridiculous, and you know it.”

I smiled, remembering that conversation. If anyone could tell me what I should do now, which way to turn, it was my gregarious best friend from home.

“Thank God you’re back,” Liz said when I saw her, throwing her arms around me and giving me one of her famous bear hugs. “I’ve missed you so much! There’s no one to gossip with when you’re gone, not that anything exciting ever happens around here. Oh, except for that thing with Mr. Stevens.” She added the last line with a grin, slanting her eyes sideways at me. Liz looked great. She had lost weight, had cut her hair in a shorter more fashionable style (picture
the Rachel
cut which was so popular these days). Her tall and broad presence still dominated, though, and her maternal demeanor was ever present.

I threw a fake punch in her direction, but forsook the argument in favor of getting to the baggage claim as quickly as possible. I’d arrived at mid-day, and that meant we needed to hurry if we were going to get to the other end of the county before early afternoon traffic took hold of the freeways. And anyway, she was spot on. Tom was the reason I’d come home, and the sooner we could get inside her old beat up VW Bug – where I planned to drill her for every detail – the better.

On the drive through L.A. and out of the metropolis, I regaled her with tales of classes, my new job, and Marcus. She ogled the picture of him appreciatively when I handed it to her, taking her eyes off the road long enough to make me nervous.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Liz!” I snapped, grabbing the picture back from her. “You’ve been staring at this for like five minutes!”

“Can’t help it,” she quipped back. “He’s absolutely gorgeous. So sophisticated! I can’t believe he invited you to Paris for Christmas and you turned him down. I’d give my right hand to jet off with someone like that!”

I grinned, unable to resist the humor that I’d always loved about her. “He’ll still be in DC when I get back. But there’s more to it, Liz. He’s just gotten divorced, and well, it looks like he’s been using me to make the ex-wife jealous, and to see if he can lure her back. I’m not even sure if he really wants to be with me, or if he just considers me this hot young thing that cooks nice meals for him and that puts out afterwards. I mean, I can go to Paris, enjoy the holiday, drink cappuccinos and visit amazing museums…oh, and have great sex, but then what? Besides, I had something important to take care of here. Some unfinished business.”

She grew serious at that, and thought about it for a moment. “About that, Iz. Are you sure you want to do this? You know you could get in a world of trouble, and coming out like that is going to really upset your parents. Are you…are you absolutely sure that Tom’s worth all of this?”

“What do you mean?” I asked quietly. Did Liz have information she hadn’t shared with me? Why was I constantly feeling like I was the last to know about every critical detail that affected my life?

“Just, well look, Izzy, you don’t know what he’s been doing since you’ve been gone, do you? You don’t know for sure whether he’s actually been seeing Christine or not. You don’t know if he’s been faithful to you. Don’t get me wrong, Iz. I do think he’s been faithful to you because if he hasn’t then he’s a real idiot without any sense at all. But who’s to know? That’s just my feeling, but I don’t really have any proof either way. And it’s been rough around town – there are rumors flying all over the place, girls and parents pointing fingers, and he’s right in the thick of it. What they’re saying is true. From what I hear, he does hang out with students an awful lot. I mean he’s making a bad situation even worse by always being around those cheerleaders. I don’t believe it, myself, and I don’t know if you do, but I just wonder…I mean, are you sure you want to put your neck on the line for someone who might be fooling around with someone else?”

“Liz,” I answered, putting my hand on her arm, “I appreciate your concern. You know I do. But I love him, and I really do believe in him now. Things are different, you know. It’s not like when I was back in high school and we had to sneak around because he was married. He’s free now, he’s with me, and he bought a house for
us
, for the two of us to live in. I really do think these are all rumors and I think he needs my support. If the district, the students, the faculty, the town, heck…the world for all I care, if they all know that he and I are together, that we’re a couple now…you know that we were in love in high school but waited until I graduated to actually be together, then all of those rumors will be squashed. I just have to give it a try, Liz, for Tom. After that, we’ll see what happens.”

She nodded, and just then I remembered another thing I’d always appreciated about Liz. She knew exactly when to let things drop.

Chapter Twenty - Tainted Love

W
e ended up sitting in traffic for two hours, despite our early start, and took a break in Pasadena to get some lunch and kill time. By the time we got home, it was already six in the evening and very dark. We’d planned to stop over at Liz’s first, to get some snacks and let her mom know that we were going ‘out’, but with the late hour we decided to drive straight to Tom’s house, while Liz phoned her mom to tell her we’d be home late. At this time in the evening, we thought, Tom was sure to be home, as he was not really a guy who had plans every night. He was more of a Friday Happy Hour kind-of guy.

I was wearing almost twelve hours of travel by that time, but I didn’t even care. I wanted to see Tom. If he was going to upset with me for having been so distant during the semester, I wanted to get it over with, and if it was going to be a sweet reunion, I wanted to experience it sooner rather than later.

Liz drove slowly down his tree-lined, narrow and dimly lit street, following the directions I printed from the Internet, and we started searching for addresses. It didn’t take me long to see Tom’s truck parked in front of a large two-story house at the end of the cul de sac. The house was lovely, and for a moment it was hard to take my eyes off of it. He’d bought that house for
us
. It was fairly new, and built in a Mediterranean style, with a terra cotta tiled roof and cream-colored stucco on the walls. The landscaping was absolutely beautiful, with a large green lawn and planters lush with palm trees and blooming bougainvillea. I pointed it out without speaking, and Liz drifted to a slow stop about twenty feet away, behind another car. From where we were parked, we could see the house quite clearly, while still remaining hidden from anyone who might be watching.

Crouching low in the passenger seat of Liz’s VW Bug, I could make out Tom’s shadow behind the front panel of windows. My heart was racing. He walked back and forth in what was likely the adjoined living and dining room, his shadow distinctive with its broad shoulders and trim hips. He was doing something that required repetition, given the way he was moving. Setting the table for dinner, maybe, or folding laundry? I swallowed at the thought of these everyday tasks; things that we would do together if I were living in the house with him. Things we had enjoyed doing together and that we would be doing again in the future. Tom paused at one point and came to the front window taking a peak between the curtains, glancing out into his driveway, his face expectant and anxious.

For a moment I wondered if he knew I had come home, if someone had tipped him off about my surprise visit. Maybe he was waiting for me to arrive? Maybe he was looking out the window, expecting me to drive up, get out of my car, walk up the stone pathway and knock on the solid wood door?

My heart jumped at the thought, and I put my hand up against the car door. It was time to do this, time to find out if our love and relationship was still in tact. Before I could unlock the door and get out of the Bug, another car drifted slowly past us, heading right for Tom’s driveway. To my surprise, it pulled in next to his truck and its engine ceased. The driver – clearly a woman – paused for a moment, using the mirror to apply a coat of lip gloss or lipstick, it wasn’t clear to me from where I was crouching, and then opened the door. I pulled my hand away from the door’s useless locking device and continued to crouch low in the passenger seat, watching carefully. Tom had been expecting someone else, apparently.