Matter of Choice Page 15
Shannon raked her hands through her hair, palms stopping to encircle her throat as the strands tangled around her fingers. “It’s Greg. He visited me earlier today.” She shrugged and smiled in fake motion. “He remembers everything. Well, almost everything.”
Triston eased down onto the bed, and reached out for her hand, pulling her next to him. “He remembers what? Grabbing you the other day, knocking that boy out? Or how about sleeping with your best friend?”
She shrunk against the coarse words. He had a right to his anger, but he didn’t know that yet. When she spoke, voice barely a whisper, Shannon closed her eyes as he leaned closer. “The important stuff. That I’m his wife, that we’re married. He remembers my being there all this time, waiting for him.”
He smirked. “Does he remember cheating on you? Ripping your heart out time after time and stomping all over it?”
“Triston, please.”
“Please what?” He dropped her hand and leaned away, realization sweeping its cold reality across his features. “You can’t tell me you’re going back to him.”
Shannon dropped her head, tears dripping into her lap.
Triston shot up from the bed and paced to the television. “That’s what you’re here to tell me, isn’t it? That you are going back to that bastard?”
“Triston, he’s my husband.”
“Who you were divorcing not twenty-four hours ago.”
“Everything’s changed now. He knows.”
“Sure he does. Now that you’re not waiting around like some lost puppy dog.”
“How dare you?”
“Wait. How dare I? Shy, yesterday you were in my arms, kissing me. We made a promise to one another to try again, talked about plans for the future and forever. Now you’re telling me you’re staying with him.” He nodded upward in a tight jerking motion. “So what was that yesterday? Payback for something that happened when we were kids?”
“What are you talking about? We kissed, Triston, and that was all. It doesn’t change the fact I’m still married and still have vows to stand by. And I’m not into childish paybacks.”
He neared her, the aggression broadening his shoulders, and she cowered backwards. “So it all meant nothing? I wasn’t here, Shy, because it meant nothing.” Before she could react, he reached out and pulled her against him, lips pressing hard against her resistance as his fingers held firm against the back of her head.
Shannon struggled, pushing against his shoulders, until Triston finally let go with a triumphant grin. “Tell me that meant nothing, Shy. Go ahead and try to form the words on those fevered lips of yours.”
“You arrogant jerk! Animal!” She rushed towards the door, but Triston’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm. Not hard and calloused like Greg, but firm and wanting. Her shoulders rose and fell with desire and hurt.
“Animal?” He laughed. “Oh baby, you need some help with your definitions. The only animal in this game is that dog of a husband you’re married to. I told you yesterday, and I’ll tell you again, even though you’re trying your best to rip my heart out and stomp all over it with those high heels of yours. I love you. Always have, always will. I’d marry you today, if I had the chance, and make up for the mistakes I made when I was young and stupid for the rest of my life. Treat you like the royalty you are.” He stepped forward. “Tell me you don’t love me.”
She shook her head. “Why are you doing this? I’m still married!”
“At least be honest enough to tell me … you love me.”
“No.” Her eyebrows shot upward, eyes stern even as grief plagued her every feature. “It’s wrong and I’m not going to say it.”
“Then make it right. Leave him. Continue with the divorce, and leave him, before he hurts you again.”
“What makes you think you can push me like this? I told you before, Triston, I’m going to do what’s right.”
He sighed. “Then go back to that farce of a marriage you’re in. Wait and see what Greggy boy does once he realizes you’re his again. Because those are the choices you have. But sweetie, as much as I love you, I’m not going to wait around forever. I’m not a martyr. If you go back to your marriage, I wish you the best. Truly, I do. But I will leave. And I won’t come back.” He let go of her. “Let me know what you decide, okay?”
She stood in front him for a moment, staring at the emerald fire in his eyes, wishing she knew what to say to make it better. To make it right. Some way to tell him what he wanted to hear. What she wanted to say.
Shannon’s tongue ran across her lips, the remnants of the kiss still fresh against pink flesh, so longing to say the three words burning within her. Her heart screamed to follow its direction. “I’m sorry, Triston. I can’t do what I want to do. I have to do the right thing.”
He neared her. “Honey, the right thing is not going back to a man who does not value you and has been proving it over and over again. Don’t do this.”
She shook her head. “I have no choice.”
He gritted his teeth. “I hope you see how untrue that is.”
Nothing more to say, Shannon nodded, turned, leaving the room and the man she loved behind.
*
Shannon turned the key and pushed the door open to a darkened foyer and an empty house. She rested the suitcase on ceramic tile and flipped the light switch to bathe the room in the bright light of an overhead chandelier. With a heavy sigh, metal keys tapping against her fingertips, Shannon stretched towards the living room, and then the den. Silence.
She was alone, and her heart plummeted.
She’d been there before. Too often. Shannon glanced over a shoulder, then down to the suitcase. Maybe she should go back to the hotel. Maybe Triston was right. She closed her eyes, breathing steady, begging her mind not to make a wrong choice, the misguided step in a direction where devastation lurked.
A noise from the balcony overhead echoed through the expanse, lifting her attention to see Greg standing against the oak railing. She wasn’t alone after all, and he was waiting for her this time. The right decision. She must be making the right decision.
“Shannon? You came home.” She smiled as she watched him turn and run down the stairs to stand in front of her. The dark hair, gray eyes, angular jaw and chiseled cheekbones, clean shaven and groomed, like she remembered him. He had come back to her. And her heart didn’t rejoice. Every part of her felt only … broken.
With baited breath, she waited for Greg to reach out and hug her. He didn’t. “I wasn’t sure this afternoon you would. I thought I had lost you for good. Thank you for giving me another chance.”
Shannon nodded, but didn’t step towards him. “That’s what marriage is about, right? Standing by each other, even when everything seems lost.” Even to her ears, her voice sounded dead, and she wondered if he heard it, or cared.
If he had, Greg didn’t show it. “Yes, right, well, are you hungry? Or want something to drink?”
She shook her head, feeling like an unwelcomed guest in a stranger’s home. “No, neither.” She didn’t remember him being so disconnected. Maybe it would just take time. After two years with little interaction, she silently reasoned, Greg didn’t know her any longer. “I think I’m just going to bed. Is that okay with you?”
He nodded, but his features clouded. “Of course. Here, let me carry the suitcase for you.”
She watched as he stepped behind her and picked up the luggage, her heart skipping a couple beats. Not the kind accompanying heightened love, or even bubbling lust, but the kind that pounded in dread and uncertainty. A flash of the divorce papers tucked safely in a desk drawer at the Grande, and she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Maybe she couldn’t have come home yet. Or at all.
“Shannon?”
She nodded at her husband, the vague memory of a promise made years ago screeching in her head, and she swallowed. This was right. It was the pledge made, and she intended to see it through, despite how she felt about Greg, or Triston, or anything else. Feelings
pass, only a commitment made by choice lasts forever.
Their footsteps echoed through the foyer, out of beat and clumsy. The urge to cover her ears swelled within and she grabbed banister to steady herself against the tide. Once they reached the top, Greg turned towards the master bedroom. She followed, fury bubbling. The expectations were clear. Take him back. Welcome him back into her heart and bed, pretend the affairs never happened and life was as it always was. Just like that, so easily. Her fist tightened, nails digging into the palms. Greg may remember, and she could even swallow forgiving him in most every way, but forgetting would take time, and he had no right to rush her.
Greg flicked the lights on as they turned the corner. His belongings from the guest room had been moved, the nightstand that stood empty for the last two years now crowded with his alarm clock, books, even a glass of water. Shannon raised an eyebrow, hard stare fixating on him.
Greg glanced at the nightstand and smiled dismissively. “I moved my things back in after I left the hotel. I thought, if we’re going to repair this marriage, there was no point in waiting. And if you didn’t come back, at least I could be comfortable in this room over the guest one. You understand, I’m sure.” He walked over to her side of the bed and laid the suitcase on the floor. “Maybe you’ll feel more like settling in tomorrow after work. Why don’t you just run down and get yourself something to drink, and then we can cuddle a little before you fall asleep. I know how much you like that.”
She watched as he edged around the bed and sat against the mattress, stripping socks and pants off as she stared, face wrinkled with tightness, mouth open, eyes wide. Her mind raced. It was like the last two years never happened. How could he remember everything so completely? Like a light switch. She grimaced. This was what she was hoping for and should be grateful.
He lay back, glancing towards her as he snatched a book from the pile next to him. “What’s the matter? Not thirsty?”
She tightened her lips and then puckered, biting back the words threatening to escape. “No, I guess not. What are you doing?”
He shrugged, charcoal eyes twinkling with an intent she hadn’t seen in a long time. “Just thought, since you’re going to bed, that I would too.”
She nodded slowly as her blood chilled. “Excuse me, I’m going to go change.” She stepped towards the dresser, and pulled out a pair of exercise pants and t-shirt, then headed towards the bathroom.
“You don’t have to change behind closed doors. We’re married, have been for a long time. I’ve seen it all before, right?”
Shannon stopped, the hair on her arms and neck rising on end. The scene wasn’t playing well on her stomach, and she felt sick. Without turning around to face him, she said, “No, but tonight I think I will. It’s been awhile, you understand.”
“Hmm, I guess so. No reason to be shy, but I guess if you feel more comfortable, then maybe tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sure, tomorrow,” she snorted, then rushed to the bathroom and closed the doors behind her, not caring to hear a reply.
Leaning against the door, she closed her eyes. She belonged here, it was home, she struggled to remind herself. Not long ago, the insinuations and intentions would have thrilled her. They didn’t now, but they should. The reactions were wrong.
A memory of a kiss pulsated across her lips. Shannon brushed the sensation away, needing to forget, along with every other recollection of the man who reappeared after so long. Her life resided the same place it had for the last ten years, and it was a happy one before the accident. It could be again.
Stripping from the professional clothes, she donned the t-shirt, hesitated with the pants. She couldn’t hide forever. “I can tonight,” she muttered and stepped into them. Shannon pulled her hair up, and was about to wrap it tight above her head, but released it, allowing the strands to hang off her shoulders. No requirements dictated for eager friendless, but being formal was foolish too. Greg was her husband, Shannon reminded herself, despite the overwhelming doubts.
Gathering her thoughts and making sure she was decent, Shannon opened the door and sauntered clumsily to the bed, delighted Greg didn’t lift his head to look at her.
Lifting up the blanket, she dropped against the mattress and pulled the covering up to her neck, arms folded over her chest.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked, never directing attention away from the book.
“Yes. I’m going to sleep.” Shannon sunk further into the bed, and rolled to a side, back facing the man beside her. Closing her eyes, Shannon willed for sleep to come quickly, but the reprieve hid from her.
Greg’s arm wrapped around her waist possessively, his lips trailing along her ear and down her neck. Her skin crawled and chilled, eyelids squeezed together, hoping he’d stop, lose interest and return to reading.
“I’ve missed you, Shannon. I didn’t realize it, but I did.” Greg’s hand moved up her stomach, hovering just below her breasts.
Her hand shot downward and pulled against his eager palm. “Please, Greg. I can’t do this. It’s too soon. I thought we agreed to give me some time.”
His hungry kisses burned her repulsed skin. “Yes, I know, but you feel so good next to me.” Greg pulled his hand out from beneath the restraint and pushed hard against her breast. “Don’t hide yourself from me,” he groaned.
She jumped from the bed, filth and guilt crawled from head to toe. “I said, I wasn’t ready. What are you going to do, rape me?”
He chuckled as he rolled over and picked up his book. “A husband can’t rape his wife, Shannon. Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t want to make love to your husband, that’s fine. I’ll just go back to reading, and you can go to sleep, and we can try again tomorrow night. It’s part of being married, and if we want our marriage back on track, we better practice some.”
Frozen at the edge of the bed, she watched him for seconds, minutes, it felt like forever. Slowly, she eased back in bed, pulling the comforter to her chin, eyes wide as tears trickled from their corners. With baited breath, she waited, teeth clenched so tightly, her jaw cried in protest. But Greg’s arm never glazed across her skin, his touch absent. The book’s paper crinkled as he turned page after page until gradually, a soft snore resounded in Shannon’s ear.
Next to her husband for the first time in two years, Shannon fell into a restless sleep, curled into an infantile ball, comforter wrapped tight to hide from the stranger next to her.
*
Triston lay in bed, moonlight beams dancing across a bare chest as he stared at the black ceiling above, a finger sitting on his lips, mind straying to places he didn’t want the thoughts going. He was sure Shy wasn’t at the hotel, he thought he’d seen her pulling out of the parking lot a couple hours earlier. She was probably at home, lying next to that cheat of a husband. The knowledge was a lead weight against his chest. Maybe he’d been wrong all the time, the insistence she left her husband, the encouragement he’d given the relationship. She’d said all along she was married, warned him.
“Who’s the one acting lovesick?” he grumbled and rolled on a side.
Was she making love to Greg? Allowing him to hold her? His shoulders tensed, a headache settling in at the temples. Triston rose and eased his legs over the bed, clasped hands wrapping around the back of his head as he leaned forward. His tongue felt parched, his stomach ill.
He stood and headed to the bathroom. A couple of Tylenol would ease the tension, the headache would fade. He’d be able to go to sleep, but it wouldn’t erase the emptiness of knowing she was with him.
Triston swallowed the chalky tablets without water, grimaced and returned to bed. The covers suffocated his skin, and he kicked them off. She deserved better. Better than Greg, and better than himself. Greg, who’d shoved his escapades in front her like some kind of sick parade. And Triston knew he wasn’t much better, pushing and pulling at her to make the decision to leave everything she believed in for … for what? What did he have to offer her? An arm draped across his forehead. Not mu
ch compared to what she already had. Love, yes, but maybe she wasn’t ready.
Triston sighed. Time to leave the Grande, he thought with narrowed eyes and heart wrenching in his chest. He’d get over Shannon, time would set him straight.
It was time to say goodbye.
Chapter Twenty Three
Triston sat on the edge of the sofa near the fireplace, and Shannon knew he waited for her. With hands clasped tightly together, the smile on his face vacant, she also knew the conversation would lead to shattered hopes, and guessed it wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. She looked down the hall, past guests and housekeepers, to the door she knew waited and led to the sanctuary of the office. If she hurried past him, Triston may not notice. She might be able to delay the hurt she was about to cause them both.
She sighed then and set her jaw. Running away wasn’t an option, and wouldn’t be right. Her heels clicked as headed in his direction. She said his name before he looked up.
“Good morning, Shy.” Triston’s voice sounded distant and cool, even with the use of the familiar nickname.
She steadied herself against the peach material. It wasn’t a conversation to confirm her choice. It was just goodbye.
She tried to smile but couldn’t. “I don’t think I want to hear this.”
He stood and circled the couch to stand before her, but didn’t reach out, his face void of emotion. “What did you expect?” He shrugged and shoved both hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I told you yesterday what I would do. I wasn’t trying to threaten you. You have to do what you need to do, and feel good about doing it. But I can’t stay here, heartbroken, while you try to put your life back together with that joker. We both know it’s the wrong choice your making.”
Everything that was horrible about the night before became amplified, her chest constricting and shortening her breath. “I don’t know what to say. I’m trying to do the right thing. And I feel like a broken record, because I’ve said that before, probably a hundred times, yet I know it’s not enough. What more can I say?”