Matter of Choice Read online

  When she spoke, Shannon’s voice sounded small against the timber of maples and conifers. “I’m sorry to bother you. I have no right to expect anything, I know, its just, I have no one left to confide in.”

  Triston cocked his head in her direction. “How many times do I have to tell you, you are not bothering me. What happened?”

  “I fired Lauren just a bit ago. One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. She apologized, was crying, and I …” She looked to the sky as it peaked through the tops of the trees. “Oh, Triston. I never even heard her. The way I talked to her, the things I said. I’ve never been that hard on anyone, not in my entire life.” She stopped and hung her head. “How could I have not seen it? I’ve known about so many of his indiscretions. How couldn’t I have known?” She shook her head. “This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t be talking to you about any of this. We haven’t been close anything in years. What am I thinking?”

  Triston stepped in front of her and dropped his head to the side, eyes firm while his broad hands wrapped around her shoulders. “First of all, I told you, you never have to apologize to me. Certainly not for wanting to talk to me. Us spending time together, I never thought I’d another chance to do that with you. Second, you’re not the idiot. Greg is. How the man could not look at you and want you is completely beyond me.”

  “Triston.”

  “No, wait. Listen. I don’t care what condition he’s in. How could he not see you, Shannon? How could he not see how beautiful you are? There is no excuse. And that ‘friend’ of yours – that’s a joke.” He squeezed her shoulders and smiled. “No wonder you came looking for me.”

  Shannon laughed in spite of herself. “You came looking for me, remember? Wait. Did you? Did you come here looking for me?”

  He smiled, but didn’t answer.

  Shannon shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

  They started walking again, footsteps in perfect unison.

  “So what are you going to do now?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. Firing Lauren was the first step.”

  He laughed. “I bet it felt good.”

  She nodded with a smile. “Small triumph. But now,” her voice broke, “I just don’t know.”

  “You have options.”

  She pursed her lips together into a tight smile. “Right. Options. Like breaking my wedding vows. And getting back together with you when all it takes to turn your head is a smile and a flash of leg.”

  “That’s not fair, Shy.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe not. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” She bumped a shoulder against his. “But, the truth is, I really don’t know. The vows say for richer and poorer, in sickness and in health, for better and for worse.”

  “Sounds like you’ve gotten the short end of the stick on everything but the richer, poorer part.”

  “I guess so. Still, that’s the promise I made. How do I break it now?”

  “Easy. You go home, pack a few things, and tell him you’re leaving. He’d never know the difference anyway, he’s so utterly idiotic.”

  The trees broke open, revealing an outlook perched on an outcropping of rocks to overlook the tranquil water below. They stood for moment as a freighter passed by, and Triston faced Shannon, scanning the area before clasping her hands. “You leave him, and then you come with me. I can’t promise much, nothing like this, but I can promise you I’ll never hurt you again. I’ll never take you for granted. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life proving to you just how wonderful I know you are.”

  She smiled, heart quivering at words she’d, for so long, wanted to hear Greg say. “Now how could any red blooded woman pass all that up?”

  “Exactly.”

  She smiled and turned to the river, heaviness hard against her chest. Triston’s stood behind her and wrapped her waist in a gentle embrace. Shannon’s head leaned against his chest while his chin nestled in her hair. With eyes closed, she listened to his heartbeat, the sounds of spring birds chirping in the distance, the breeze as it passed through the branches and tussled the leaves. In the distance, a horn from a barge signaled its passage while the aroma from The Schooner’s kitchen wafted through the delicate spring air in an inviting mixture. For a moment, she could feel the simplicity of it all, and how easy it could be for life to be different.

  She pulled out of his arms. “We can’t do that, Triston.”

  “We’re not doing anything.” He took her hand, gently turning her to face him. “There’s lots of things we could do. I could kiss you right now, and no one would know or care.” He angled his head down, lips a breath from hers. “You’re a good woman, Shy. Too good to be with Greg, or even with me. When are you going to see that?”

  Her eyes dropped to the mulch at their feet, shaking her head, unable to find her voice. If only she could be so sure.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The ride home was longer than any Shannon remembered. The traffic was clear, the weather good, the commute should have been a smooth one. But as she ambled towards the address on Whitmore Lane, she didn’t see the familiar landscaping, the gas station where she filled the tank of the Escapade, or the grocery store stocked with items you couldn’t find at Walmart. With fingers drumming a rhythm against the steering wheel, her thoughts consumed her. She couldn’t imagine what to do once she arrived. Talk to Greg? Scream at him? Ignore him and what he had done, like so many times in the past? She grimaced. How much longer could she really do that?

  She leaned forward and clicked on the radio with her music of choice. A little easy listening should quiet the nerves. But as one of Greg’s favorite songs traveled across the airwaves, she clicked the song off and pushed fingers through her hair. Forget the music. With both hands on the steering wheel, she breathed in and out, stretched her neck side to side and rolled her shoulders.

  “There. That feels better.” A car raced past, and she considered the speedometer. Ten miles slower than the speed limit. She rolled her eyes and pushed a foot harder against the pedal. Glancing in the rear view mirror, she saw the following row of cars ease off and her mind chastised her. Focus, just focus.

  As if in retaliation, the trail of thoughts shifted to Triston and suggestions made earlier. Spending time listening to him, him listening to her, nearly everything she’d been craving.

  That, and the absence of infidelity.

  But not from just anyone, from her own husband.

  She closed her eyes as the SUV slowed at a stoplight. After the scene in Lauren’s office, she doubted Greg would ever give her those things. If he ever did come back, would she be able to wash the scene from her memory files? She didn’t think so.

  The cars honked as the red turned green. She turned left onto scenic Whitmore Lane with its brooding oak trees, wrought iron fences, cobblestone driveways and pretty mailboxes decorated with ivy and azaleas. With homes averaging half a million or better, Whitmore was picturesque upper middle class majesty.

  She glanced out the window to a father darting across his front yard, young daughter in chase. Even through the glass she could imagine the laughter, the beaming smiles lighting their faces spoke volumes. She tried to smile at their joy but failed, selfishness seeping from the darkest corners of her heart. Her focus returned to the road, which led to one of the largest homes on the block, the stark realization of the dreams traded when her life was promised to Greg materializing as glaring phantoms.

  Shannon dismissed the specters. It was a choice she made freely.

  Now she wondered if Triston was right. Maybe the only answer was to leave. It wasn’t like she hadn’t given him every possible opportunity. Nights of candlelit dinners and inviting lingerie always ended up with a trashcan of wasted food, satin and lace traded for a t-shirt and sweatpants when he didn’t show up or retreated to the bedroom never noticing her efforts. Some time ago, she stopped begging, and he hadn’t asked since long before that.

  Loneliness was her companion, and Shannon shook her head as she sl
owed near the driveway. She could live with that, but she couldn’t handle the cheating anymore.

  She wiped away a few stray tears and turned into the long driveway leading to the French chateau-inspired house she called home for the last ten years. Eight bedrooms, seven baths, seventy-five hundred square feet. The kind of house most people in America dreamed to one day own, but never would. The kind of house most people envied. But while everyone else thought it was the Cinderella castle of their dreams, it wasn’t a home to Shannon any longer. Just a place to crash. To pretend what was going on behind the gray and white brick exterior and closed interior doors wasn’t happening, and her heart wasn’t breaking every time she drove up the driveway, or stepped into the foyer with the double winding staircase. It was a façade she hated.

  As her heels stepped onto the concrete drive, her mind seemed made up.

  It was time to let it all go.

  *

  Triston stooped at the place where he stood with Shannon earlier that day, thoughts turning as he tapped a branch against the dirt. It surprised him, at the time, when he offered to take Shannon back to Wisconsin and start a future. The words came out before he even had the opportunity to consider what they meant. He wasn’t even sure how he felt about the idea. They still had so much to relearn about one another.

  Standing, he pushed past the growth to stand at the edge of the river, the water rolling feet away. He could see why Shannon loved the valley so much, and why she loved the river. The landscape was intoxicating.

  With a deep breath of fresh air, he clasped both hands around his head, mind racing. People grow and change. But it was hard not see the Shy he loved before within the woman he stood looking at the river a couple of hours earlier. Hopeful, loving, devoted, all the things he loved in high school were still there. They still could talk, he’d bet his left leg they could laugh, and the rest … he grinned. Triston was sure the rest would be amazing. Being friends, lovers, companions. He could see all those pieces coming together with Shannon, even though he’d never seen it with anyone else.

  He turned to walk the path to the hotel, then broke into a jog. The burning muscles and heavy breathing invigorated him, the surrounding forest humming in unison to the pounding footsteps. He hadn’t gone on a run since he’d arrived, and the path was the perfect place, breathing more life into his circling thoughts.

  He slowed as the path twisted towards the front lawn of the hotel to make the steep climb uphill to the hotel, jeans and shirt sticking to his body as muscles bulged with enthusiasm. Resting his palms against bent knees, a thought locked in place. He needed a good old-fashioned date with Shannon. Give her a break, give him a chance to know for sure, give her a chance to see him again. He sniffed and wiped the sweat from his brow, scanning the people coming and going in their Maseratis, Lamborghinis, and Porsches. Lots of money, and a lifestyle he couldn’t compete with. But he wasn’t broke, and he’d give Shannon a whole lot more than any of these moneybags could offer her, because he loved her.

  A breath choked in his throat, and he coughed. Loved her? The thought had trailed along so naturally, as easy as swallowing or blinking. Could he really love her already?

  Then it occurred to him, he never really stopped.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Her keys remained in hand as she walked across the kitchen floor – this, the last time she would walk through the kitchen that had hosted Thanksgivings and Christmases. Turkeys, presents, friends and families’ laughter and cheers. Phantom voices from another time, when happiness rang through the walls, and now tore at her as Shannon struggled to keep her focus off the past. She didn’t look at the cabinet where the wine glasses once nestled, or the vases where dead flowers remained soaking in browning water. Every fiber beckoned her to remove them and clean the vase, but she steeled against the urge. It was Greg’s problem now. It was no longer home and belonged to someone else now. A ghost.

  She was trespassing.

  Shannon steadied her footsteps while trembling vibrations pulsed through each finger. Gasps of air surged through her lungs as she edged up the back service staircase. Even the narrow stairway, lacking decoration and embellishments, elegantly climbed upward through walls that eased into a curved ceiling, boasting the quality and refinement taken in the architecture. But it’d always been more than a showplace. It was a home, one Shannon had made sure was inviting for any guest with the same attention and care she showed at the Grande. She gripped the banister, fighting the urge to count each step as it led one step closer to the end. A countdown to the inevitable.

  She paused, listening to the silence, searching for a reason to change her mind. None came.

  Trudging feet crossed the threshold into her bedroom, where the impression of warmth and romance remained, resonated in the rich colors, satin sheets and fluffed duvet. But she knew differently. A cover for nights of loneliness and tears, a place she seldom stayed. The hotel felt more like a home. Not bothering to pause or reminisce, she headed to the large walk-in closet and retrieved a suitcase from the shelves, carrying it to the bed, propped open against the mattress. She turned and stared at the open doors displaying a wardrobe of designer clothes bought along 5th Avenue. Money earned from a career she loved and given to her by a husband rich with Wall Street wealth. Now she stared at it all with hands on her hips. She didn’t want anything given or bought with Greg’s money.

  Her steps eased forward as fingers ran along the line of suits and casual wear. Materials which didn’t simply clothe a body, but draped it with elegance. Designer sweaters, cocktail dresses, tailored business wear. Sweatshirts and jeans made of the best cottons. Her hand dropped as she considered the apparel. Two weeks of suits, a week’s worth of casual wear, underwear and a couple pair of shoes that went along with everything. Maybe a cocktail dress in case of an event popping up she needed to attend. That should be enough. Everything else could be picked through after whatever came next. Most of her jewelry, her collectibles, the furniture, all of it could be replaced. It reminded her of the marriage anyway. She didn’t want the house, didn’t want the riches accumulated from her husbands’ family, none of it. All she wanted were day to day clothes, toiletries, and the jewelry she had come with when they married. Even the diamond could stay behind. She just needed to live, and to keep the hotel. Everything else from the life with Greg could be left behind. It meant nothing to her now.

  She plucked business suites from their hangers, pulled jeans from the maple shelving, and opened the thin drawers where underwear and bras nested. A couple of cocktail dresses and six pairs of shoes, a dozen trips back and forth to her suitcase and garment bag, she closed the doors and drew in a deep breath.

  At the doorway of the bedroom, Shannon stood fixed for moment, scanning the room that had been hers for so long. A room she had personally sat with interior designers for hours on end dressing perfectly to her tastes. Memories locked remorsefully within walls she and Greg had poured over blueprints before they were even married, meticulously plotting the perfect dream home. Images of him carrying her under the archway the first night, promises and dreams in tow. The playing and teasing, nights of arguments and slamming doors. Tens years of marriage, ending.

  No tears fell, only a strange chill nipping at her heart.

  “It’s time to walk away, Shannon.” Her disembodied voice prodded her unmoving feet.

  The urging was all she needed. With suitcases in hand, she turned her back on the bedroom for the last time.

  *

  Room 309.

  Shannon settled her suitcases down in the new, temporary home. It doesn’t matter, she thought. She had been living at the Grande off and on for a long time. But deep down, she knew, it did matter. Because it was different. This time, the key to the house had been left on the kitchen counter with a simple note she figured Greg wouldn’t read. If he did, the simplistic explanation would mean very little. This time, there was no where else to go.

  Kenny G’s saxophone cried low in the back
ground from the Bose system sitting on the blonde oak credenza as Shannon settled on the edge of the sofa. Her body unconsciously swayed to the music, a trance of sadness and contemplation. A future, once so clear and full of promise, blurred with uncertainty. Her chin rested in her hands, gaze locked on the dark grey carpet at her feet, and wondered if Greg was home, if he had seen the letter. Her jaw tightened. It didn’t matter if he did or didn’t. There was no going back. The marriage died the day the drunk took Greg’s mind. Maybe, she thought, in a lot of ways, so did I.

  It was time to reclaim her life.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Shannon stood in the back gardens, a picked rose bud rolling absent-mindedly between her thumb and forefinger as she stared off in the distance. She expected Triston to arrive any moment - she needed to talk and there was no one else. After she had left the message an hour ago, she hung up, instantly regretting the call. But what was done was done, and as she waited, she couldn’t deny the comfort the idea of seeing him brought her.

  There were so many decisions and choices needing to be made, an unchartered road she had no idea how to navigate. The sweet fragrance of the blossom teased her nose as she smelled the bud, tips of the tender pedals tickling her lips. What was she supposed to do next? Meet with a lawyer? Talk face to face with Greg? She turned the blossom, eyes unfocused and preoccupied. She wasn’t sure. This was no where she ever imagined finding herself - divorcing her husband and talking to Triston again. She closed her eyes. Dangerous roads she was traveling on now …

  “Shy? I came as soon as I returned to the room and received the message. I’d taken a ride up and down the shore. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

  Shannon turned around with the same brave smile she mastered over the past years. Guests, family and friends admired it and believed the front.

  Now the mask was unsuccessful. “What’s wrong, honey?”