Tainted Love A Novel

By

Eva Márquez

Tainted Love is the second novel in a three-book series.

For the first novel, Sweetest Taboo, visit this link:

www.Eva-Marquez.com

Tainted Love Copyright © 2013 Eva Márquez

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except that brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews are permitted.

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products f the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Front cover image: Heidi Sutherlin and Eva Márquez / MyCreativePursuits.com

To my mother who always taught me right from wrong

and never chastised me for making mistakes.

I could not have asked for a more caring,

supportive, loving mother and best friend.

Acknowledgements

During the process of preparing to publish Sweetest Taboo and Tainted Love, I have

been fortunate to meet other writers, literary reviewers, and critics who have

supported my work and have inspired and motivated me to continue writing. It’s not

easy to have a full-time day job, raise a toddler as a single mother, try to complete a

doctoral degree and write quality literary fiction, but with the support and guidance

from many, many literary professionals, family, friends, colleagues, and last (but

certainly not least!), faithful readers, I have been able to achieve small successes day by

day. I would like to take the time to thank all of those involved in helping me create and

publish both Sweetest Taboo and Tainted Love, as their time, critical feedback, and

encouragement have been the secret to my success not only in writing, but in juggling

so many competing interests. I would like to thank my significant other, whom I’ve

known and loved for nearly twenty years, for all of the time he committed to helping

me develop plot ideas and for carefully reviewing draft after draft and providing

critical feedback. I would also like to thank a dedicated reader (and grand prize winner

of a Sweetest Taboo giveaway promo), Yadira Alonzo, who took great care and put much

thought into naming the new male character in Tainted Love.

Preface

D ear Reader,

I suppose many of you may still have unanswered questions that you would like to

ask, given the opportunity to do so. Perhaps you would like to comment on my

behavior and actions. Before you solidify your beliefs about what kind of man I am, let

me try to partly explain my side of the story, and what my thoughts were as to the

decisions I made years ago.

I would like to start by saying, you don’t always have a choice with whom you truly

fall in love with. For those of you who would like to argue the point, well, all I can say

is...have you really ever been in love? I am not talking about infatuation, co-

dependency, or being with someone for such a long time that you feel used to him or

her, so used to them that you wouldn’t know how to live without that person. I am

talking about the type of love that you know, that you feel in every fiber of your being,

a feeling of comfort, of being at home in the arms of that person, knowing that even if

you never saw him or her again, you would continue to love them unconditionally with

all of your heart for the rest of your life? This is how I felt about Isabel. Don’t ask me

why...because I cannot explain, it is just how it was, how it is, and how it has always been

since the moment I laid eyes on her.

The first time I saw Isabel from afar, I felt a connection. I don’t know why I should

have felt anything at all, as she was just one of thousands of students I have seen on

campus over the years. But there was something there, something inexplicably

familiar. I know, you may be thinking to yourself, but she was only fifteen. I didn’t

look at Isabel as an age or as a student, I just felt a strong connection of some sort...it

was just that simple. Nothing more, nothing less. I didn’t see her until the following

year on the swim team, where as you have read, I got to know her quite well. I never set

out to seduce her; it was quite the opposite as she flirted and made relentless advances

by being near me every chance she got. Eventually things happened (against my better

judgment, I might add) as we got to know each other, as we fell in love, and as we

dreamed of a life together.

I will always say that Isabel was never a schoolgirl, she was never an age, and she

was never anyone I intentionally pursued. She just appeared in my life at that

particular moment in time, in that particular place (my workplace, of all places) and

while the relationship that developed between us was strong, it only became stronger

as time went on. To you, the reader, know that I love Isabel with all of my heart, with all

of my soul, and with every fiber of my being. It can and will never be any other way for

me. This I know.

~ Tom Stevens

Chapter One Since You Been Gone

I awoke slowly, turning on to my side to stretch out the kinks of the night. I kept

my eyes closed, though; I didn’t want Tom to know I was awake yet, wherever he was.

We had argued before going to bed the night before and I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk

about it quite yet.

It hadn’t all been arguing, of course. We had reunited, after a full year of

separation, the week earlier, and had been spending every second of our time together

since then. Most of it had been absolutely heavenly. He was just as sensitive as I

remembered, listening closely whenever I spoke and shared my feelings, while giving

me both advice and accolades when I told him about everything I had been up to during

my first year in college. Fortunately, we had a lot of time to catch up. It had been one

entire school year since I had had any contact with Tom. A lot had happened since the

unofficial break-up. I returned to school on the East Coast, got settled, met my new

roommate, took some challenging classes, started writing for the school newspaper,

picked up an exciting new internship with a prestigious publishing house...Evidently

my mind had been waiting for just this opportunity to talk to Tom, because it lined

everything up for me, including things I’d long forgotten.

Once I started talking, of course, it had been hard to stop. I hadn’t made many

close friends at school, except for one or two, and I’d never been able to replace Tom’s

serious, mature and reasonable point of view in my life. I hadn’t realized it, but there

were things I needed to get off my chest, or get advice on, and I had not found anyone I

could trust or anyone that would just listen and give me really great advice. I skipped

from story to story, barely pausing to hear his replies, and listening intently when he

did have a response. With every new reply, I’d remembered how much I loved his kind,

gentle mind and his thought process. Tom always seemed to come up with solutions to

problems I thought were impossible to resolve, and even suggested alternative topics

for a paper I would be working on when I returned to my classes in the Fall. It hadn’t

taken me long to fall in love with Tom all over again.

We spent our first day together sharing iced mochas at our old coffee shop,

dissecting all of the reasons why I thought he might have been having ‘a thing’ with

Christine. And then after listening to him deny any such ‘thing’ with conviction, I had

taken him up on his offer to set some time aside in order for us to work out the issues

that had kept us apart. We decided that we couldn’t stay in town, where we – and the

rumors that followed us – were well known. The coffee shop, where we’d secretly met

when I was in high school, was outside of town, and far enough away that we felt safe,

but even there I felt eyes glaring. I imagined people whispering to each other, pointing

our way, or reaching for their phones to call the school district or even the police. We

weren’t doing anything wrong – just two adults, meeting for coffee – but I felt as if

everyone knew who we were and what kind of relationship we had had. The fact that we

found it impossible to keep our hands off of each other didn’t help. Tom was gently

resting his hand on mine, his face a mix of warm gratitude, affection, and surprise, I’d

nearly crawled into his lap when he pulled my hand up from the table to his mouth for

a soft, sweet kiss. There was no hiding what we were – a couple very much in love, and

reuniting. Although we weren’t really doing anything wrong, we decided it would be

best to leave town altogether and get away for a few days. We had eaten lunch at the

coffee shop and talked about what we were going to do, and then I’d gone straight back

to my parents’ house to pack a bag.

The story I had told my unknowing mother was that I’d been called back to DC

early, for the internship at the publishing house I had been talking about all summer. I

told her I had to leave immediately, if I wanted to keep the internship. It’s a terrible

thing to lie to your mother like that, especially when she was as loving and trusting as

mine was. I really thought my lying days were behind me, but I guess I was mistaken.

“I’m sorry, Mami, but I can’t stay for the rest of the summer,” I had said, my voice

full of regret. The guilt and regret had not been fake, either; I’d felt terrible about

leaving so quickly, and even worse about the fact that I was deceiving my mom yet

again. The fact that I was running off to meet Tom – the very person I’d hidden from

her during all those years in high school – and lying to her about it made me feel even

worse. I felt like I had grown up and made my way through the world on my own and in

an adult manner, and I liked to think that I had matured during my first year in

college. But yet here I was, lying to my mom about the man I loved, just like I had lied in

high school.

Still, there wasn’t a lot I could do about the lying. I just couldn’t tell her that I had

met up with Tom again and that we wanted to have some time alone to make things

right. I didn’t even want to think about the list of questions she would ask me. Where

had I met him? Why had I talked to him, after the scandal he caused when I was in high

school? And what did I mean I’d fallen in love with him? Even if I had fallen in love

with him, did that mean I needed to run off and stay in a hotel with him, play his –

It was too dangerous to entertain these thoughts, so I cut them off before my head

could spin out of control. I knew very well what my mother would say, and how

difficult it would be to make her understand that Tom and I loved each other, that we

could have a healthy and lasting relationship. She was more open-minded than my

father, but she still wouldn’t understand, and with my reinvigorated love for Tom, I

didn’t think I could stomach having her question my love or our relationship. So I lied,

promising silently to myself that I would make it up to her one day. I would tell her the

truth, and explain to her why I felt the need to protect her from my relationship with

Tom. Some day, maybe when I finally had a family of my own, she would understand

all of my reasons for the deception.

“You can’t even stay for dinner?” she’d asked, her forehead creased in confusion.

“You have to leave right now?”

“Yes, sorry Mami, I really need to catch the flight today,” I mumbled, tossing

things haphazardly into my suitcase.

Tom and I had agreed to meet in two hours at the same coffee shop, and I was

already running short on time. I didn’t have my car in California anymore as my

parents and I drove it cross country when I moved to DC for school, so I’d have to take a

taxi which would take forever and would cost a fortune. I didn’t want to be late, even if

it meant rushing out of my parents’ house without adequate explanation and

sufficient goodbye etiquette. “Give Papi a kiss for me, okay? I’ll call Tony later to say

goodbye.” I thought suddenly of my brother, who would never believe this story. I’d

put the scandal of my high school years behind me, for the most part, but Tony had

hinted once or twice that he’d known what happened between Tom and me. I didn’t

know how it was possible since I had been especially careful about our relationship

after the whole police investigation incident. On the other hand, I had talked on the

phone with Tom on many nights even after the investigation, and we had always run a

risk of someone else picking up another phone while we talked. Tom’s wife had done it,

once, and it led to an argument and a subsequently strained relationship between the

two of them. I had always wondered if Tony had ever overheard me talking to Tom on

the phone, or if he had ever picked up the phone to listen in on our conversations. It

would explain his casual references to my high school love life and my interest in older

men. Tony had never made any direct accusations, or any threats, but I knew my

brother, and if I started acting secretive again, there was no way he would let it slide.

In order to keep Tony out of my business, I would have to come up with a better

excuse than the one I used on my mom, because Tony had a tendency to poke around

and ask questions when he wasn’t one hundred percent certain of something.

My mom had believed my story, but she had been beside herself at my sudden

departure and I couldn’t blame her. After all, I had been gone for a year, across the

country attending school, and had just visited during Christmas for a few days. I hadn’t

wanted to come home, to this town where everything reminded me of Tom, and I ran

the constant risk of running into him. Instead, I had focused on my studies, quickly

rising to the top of my class, while landing this prestigious internship in DC. It had

come at a price, though – I hadn’t seen my family much over the last year, and had

started drifting away from my father. My mom and I spoke almost daily over the

phone, but it wasn’t the same as spending time together. I owed her this trip home, and

I owed her more time than I was giving her. I was her only daughter, after all, and we

had a wonderful relationship. She looked forward to my trips home as they broke up

the monotony of living in an all-male home, something my mom was not accustomed

to.

But now everything had changed, because I’d discovered Tom again, and he was all

I could think of. I hadn’t even been sure – after deciding to go away with Tom – if I

would even return to DC for the internship or if I would just stay ‘away’ with Tom for

the remainder of the summer break. I couldn’t wait to run away with Tom, and I’d felt

like I was sitting on top of the world. I hadn’t wanted to think about having to go back

to DC at all, so I’d pushed the internship to the back of my mind, telling myself that I’d

make a decision about it later, and finished packing my things. I’d managed to get out

of my parents’ house with very little crying, surprisingly, and had managed to leave

town with Tom undetected. Tom drove us to a cozy bed and breakfast about fifty miles

south of our town, where we’d planned to spend the next two weeks reconnecting.

Now, as I lay in bed pretending to still be asleep, I realized that the world had

turned upside down on me, yet again. Granted, Tom and I had finally found each other

again and had spent the last week talking, enjoying meals, taking early morning and

late evening walks, and making love at every possible opportunity. This was the first

time that we’d ever experienced the ‘normal’ things that people do in relationships and

it felt incredibly liberating. Anyone watching us would have thought that we were an

attractive couple, deeply in love and very affectionate, two people who would likely

spend the rest of their lives together. The truth is, anyone watching us and thinking

any such thoughts would have been half right. It was wonderful being with Tom again,

feelings his arms wrapped tightly around my waist, to be in the presence of his charm,

which I’d always found so irresistible. I couldn’t believe that I’d gone for so long

without it, and now was having trouble remembering how I’d held him off, and refused

him outright when I decided to break things off with him over a year ago. I

remembered that I’d had a good reason, and that my decision was grounded on my own

emotional turbulence and my inability to picture a future with Tom, but I couldn’t, for

the life of me, understand how I could have gone through with it without breaking

down and running back to him. My desire and need for him felt so innate and so

overwhelming now. The best part about reuniting with Tom was the fact that he’d left

his wife; he was separated and ready to start a life with me. Tom was finally mine, all

mine.

Still, no matter what my reasons were at the time for breaking things off with

him, I had hurt him deeply by the way in which I so callously rejected him and turned

my back on him without giving him the opportunity to explain himself. I had failed to

give him any concrete reasons and had ended our relationship simply refusing to take

his calls. Not very adult of me, and I wouldn’t blame him for being upset and having a

wounded heart, and possibly never wanting to see me again. In spite of all of that pain I

caused him, in spite of the fact that I turned my back on him without giving him the

time of day, without at least offering closure, there was no trace of anger in his eyes

when he looked at me. There was no confusion, no hurt, no frustration or mistrust ...

there was only love in his eyes. Tom had always worn his emotions not on his sleeves,

but in his eyes. The love I could see in his eyes went deep and his look told me he was

ecstatic to be with me again and at peace to have me in his arms where I belonged. It was

obvious where his heart was, and evidently was still stuck on me.

Tom had been overly attentive in the past week, buying me flowers and telling me

again and again how much he loved me, how I was the only one for him, and how he

was so glad I had come back to him. One night as we lay in bed snuggling, with our arms

wrapped around each other’s bodies, Tom asked innocently, “Do you realize how much

I’ve missed you? Do you fully understand what a gaping hole you left in my heart when

you walked away from me?”

I wasn’t sure if he was trying to make me feel super special or incredibly guilty for

leaving him a year ago. With a meek voice, I said, “But Tom, I never wanted to walk

away from you, I just had to, the whole thing was tearing me up and you never gave me

any indication that you would leave your wife, or that you even wanted a real life with

me, a real relationship, a future...I mean, how was I – ”

Tom gently covered my mouth with his hand and shushed me, “I know, baby, I

know. I’m not playing the blame game. I stopped playing that game months ago. We

just weren’t open with each other back then, the way we should have been. Had we been

a little more forthcoming with our feelings, maybe things would have turned out

differently. But sweetheart, it doesn’t matter because that is all behind us. We’re here

now, we are free to be who we are, to be together, to live our lives the way we choose and

not the way anyone else dictates. Isabel, I am so happy you came back, so happy that

you gave me a chance to explain, to tell you that I separated from Danielle, that I was on

my own, that I was loving you and yearning for you the entire time you were in DC. I

am so happy, baby.” Tom kissed me gently and as I closed my eyes to take in the

moment and enjoy his tender kiss, I felt and tasted tears. This time they weren’t mine,

they were Tom’s. I opened my eyes and saw tears streaming down his cheeks, making

their way down his five o’clock shadow.

“Don’t worry about me, Isabel. I’m fine. These are tears of joy and utter

satisfaction,” Tom whispered, now cupping my face in his hands. He came in for a

salty, but delectably tender kiss, the kind of kiss that makes your body shiver to the

core. Tom was sharing his emotions with me, sharing, as he’d not done before. It was

almost like he was making up for lost time.

I’d spent over a year harboring suspicions about him, though, and thinking that

he’d been seeing other people – perhaps just his wife – and doing things behind my

back. We hadn’t spoken since then, and I’d assumed that he had played me for a fool,

the entire time I was gone, and that suspicion had multiplied when I saw what I saw in

the school parking lot. That fateful day when I’d run into him in the parking lot, as I

was trying to warn the Christine, the blonde girl I’d seen in his truck, to tell her that he

Mr. Stevens was not to be trusted, that I had been in her shoes once before. Tom and

Christine had managed to explain the reason why she was in his truck, with help from

Christine’s mother, but the story didn’t quite sit right with me. And then there had

been that scene, that image that has been etched in my mind since, when Christine –

who’d been about to leave – had turned back to Tom and asked for her necklace back,

the necklace he’d been ‘safe keeping’ for her. Of course that exchange caught my

attention, how could it not?

Tom used to hold my necklace for me during swim practice, for safe keeping,

during the very early stages of our flirtatious exchanges. The safe keeping of my

necklace was obviously an excuse for Tom and I to talk, to be close to each other, to flirt

when there wasn’t any other excuse readily available. Tom had held my necklace for

me during swim practice, safe in his front pocket, and singled me out every afternoon

to return it to me. Often times, when we became more comfortable around each other,

the return of my necklace stretched into long conversations, sometimes he would even

offer to put the necklace on for me and I would feel his fingers slightly caressing my

skin as he fastened the clasp at the nape of my neck. Other times the return of my

necklace after practice would result in rides home ... and from there the game had

changed, to him taking my necklace off for me, in far more intimate settings. So that

seemingly innocent exchange, that scene with him handing Christine her necklace

back right in front of me, and all the potential meanings of that loaded exchange – all

the things those moments had meant to me when I was that girl – had raised a hundred

red flags in my head. So had Christine’s defiant grin, directed at me, and Tom’s

inability to acknowledge what had taken place right under my nose. All I remember is

Tom asking me a question about something irrelevant, something so flippant I can’t

even recall what it was, to get my mind moving in a different direction.

By default I’d given in to his charm, though, and had melted into his arms like I

had back in high school, demonstrating about as much restraint as the fifteen-year-old

girl I once was. Tom had sworn that I was the only one for him, told me that he’d been

waiting for me to come back to him for the entire year, and that he’d separated from

his wife so that he could offer me more than just an extra-marital affair, so that he

could offer me everything I deserved. He’d told me that he loved me that he could

never be with anyone else, and wanted to know if I still loved him the way I used to or if

my feelings for him had changed.

All of the walls I had built in the last year had finally crumbled and I had

submitted, torn by my love for Tom and by the overpowering feeling that I belonged

with him. I’d been overwhelmed by the emotion of it all and had found my way

willingly back into his welcoming arms. I hadn’t been disappointed; he’d been

everything I remembered – the charming, sweet, sensitive man from my younger

years. From the moment we talked through the key issues at the coffee shop, all we

wanted was to be alone, to withdraw from the enquiring eyes of the world, if only for a

few days or weeks. The one-hour drive to the bed and breakfast had been a sweet agony

of suspense and desire. Once we were safely in the room, we dropped our bags and

embraced each other for what seemed like an eternity. My hands slowly made their

way under his polo shirt, my fingers feeling that familiar skin again. I caressed his back

as he kissed me, first slowly and teasing, then his kisses turning more passionate and

urgent. Without even noticing, I had helped him to remove his polo shirt, dropping it

on the floor next to us. Tom’s hands expertly unbuttoned my sleeveless summer shirt,

opening it to expose my torso, my chest, my bra. I helped by dropping one shoulder at a

time, allowing the shirt to simply fall off and join Tom’s polo shirt on the floor. As we

kissed fervently, I inhaled a lung full of his skin’s scent, a scent I had missed so much.

Tom always smelled of fresh laundry that when combined with his pheromones made

for a love potion I could not resist. Tom and I made love all night, breaking only for

snacks and a cool drink at midnight. We hadn’t been able to get enough of each other,

our bodies yearning to be one, to be united and connected. During those first twenty-

four hours I’d forgotten about my doubts – the image of Christine asking Tom for her

necklace back and him fishing it out of his pocket – being too enraptured with this man

to think of anything but our love.

The next morning, I’d woken up with a few of those lingering doubts, unable to

push them to the back of my mind. The doubts had been morphing and increasing

since then. I had failed to forget all about Christine, though Tom might have. I could

feel my heart trying to isolate itself and my mind making the attempt to re-build walls.

My thoughts had become so suspicious about Tom’s life in the last year that my mind

constantly doubted, questioned and was now resistant to trusting him altogether.

Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted when I heard Tom’s voice in the

bathroom. Surely he wasn’t talking to me, as I could barely make out the muffled sound

of a hushed conversation. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard him talking in the

bathroom, and I’d seen him carry his phone in there a few times in the last couple of

days. Who exactly was he talking to and why did it have to be in the bathroom, with the

door shut? Surely he wasn’t talking while he was using the toilet, or in the shower! Did

he not want to use his phone in front of me? Why not? What was he afraid of, exactly?

What could Tom be hiding from me?

After a moment, I realized that he had the door completely closed this time. I

could hear that he was still speaking, but couldn’t make out the words. His voice was a

soft, a monotonous hum, devoid of any expression. He was obviously trying to keep

quiet; if I listened close enough I could almost decipher a slight tone of affection in his

voice. Maybe it was just his daughter on the line, I thought, or maybe he was just being

considerate and keeping his voice low, almost silent so he wouldn’t wake me...yes, that

must be it.

Desperate to know what he was saying and to know who he was talking to, I rolled

over and crawled quietly out of bed, then crept toward the bathroom. I stayed close to

the walls to avoid squeaking boards. My bare feet sank into the thick, soft carpeting,

while I moved soundlessly toward the bathroom. When I finally made it next to the

bathroom door I stood silently against the cool wall, holding my breath. In an effort to

keep my shadow at bay, I straightened and pressed my back against the wall, standing

next to the hinges or the bathroom door. The window next to me was open and a cool

morning breeze tickled my legs and blew the hem of my nightie to and from. I quickly

pressed the hem against my bare legs, afraid that my swaying nighty might result in a

moving shadow that would catch Tom’s attention.

“You know it won’t be for long,” Tom was saying, his voice low and urgent. “This is

just how it has to be right now.” He paused; evidently listening to the person on the

other end of the line, then spoke again. “Now you know that’s not true, and I wish you’d

stop saying it. I’ll be home in a week, and then we’ll talk about it. How does that sound?”

I bit the inside of my cheek nervously, drawing blood. As a metallic taste

consumed my mouth, my pulse quickened. I’d heard Tom having heart-to-heart

conversations like that before. At one time the person on the other end of the line had

been his wife, then, but it had also been me at one point when he had been away on

vacation with his family. He’d been apologizing to me for being gone for so long, and

promising to make it up to me when he returned.

Who was on the phone now, and what was he promising her? Was this what I’d set

myself up for, heartbreak for falling back in love with him so easily? All of the

suspicion I’d experienced over the last year emerged all of a sudden and I began to

wonder what I had been thinking, taking him at his word.

Suddenly I heard the phone snap shut in the bathroom, and Tom’s footsteps

walking toward the door. I quickly turned and sprinted back toward the bed and

jumped in, terrified that he’d find out I had been listening to his conversation all this

time. I couldn’t imagine a more terrible situation – him in the bathroom, on the phone

with his mistress or me getting caught with my ear pressed to the door listening in. I

wasn’t happy with what I’d heard, but I certainly didn’t want to discuss it with him here

and now! I quickly pulled the warm goose down comforter up to my shoulders as I

heard the bathroom door open. My eyes slammed shut and I focused on making my

breath slow and even, pretending to still be asleep.

After a moment of tense silence, I felt his caress on my bare shoulder.

“Hun,” he murmured, bending down to brush his cheek along my jawbone. “It’s

time to get up. We have big plans today, remember?”

I groaned inwardly, pretending to fight off sleep. He was right. We had agreed to

go on a tour of several local wineries with another couple staying at the bed and

breakfast. It had sounded like a good idea at the time, but now I wasn’t so sure. After

what I’d just heard, all I wanted to do was to start investigating and find out exactly

what Tom was up to. Spending the day with him, in an atmosphere that promised to be

romantic and in the company of another love-struck couple, sounded like pure torture.

I was never very good at hiding my emotions, especially when it came to Tom, and I

wasn’t sure I could pull off the entire day without an argument or at least an attempt at

what could be perceived as an innocent inquiry.

I took a deep breath, though, and pretended to wake up. I had agreed to go to the

wineries, after all, and maybe it would be a good opportunity for me to play along and

try to do some fact finding during the trip. I was hoping to God that there was a good

explanation for what Tom had said to the other person on the line; I was hoping it was

innocent. Maybe he was talking to his daughter, after all? He hadn’t said anything very

romantic, my rational mind tried convincing me, so why was I so quick to jump to

conclusions? I wanted to believe – or at least my heart did – that he really did love me,

that we were really meant to be together, and that I was the only girl he has ever truly

loved. I wanted to believe that he’d been loyal to me all along, in spite of the fact that I

broke things off with him. I wanted to believe that he’d actually left his wife because he

hoped I’d return to him some day. Although my mind had many, many questions, my

heart was steadfast and I held on to the belief that fate, destiny, kismet, or whatever

you want to call it, was in charge of our future. In spite of the doubts in my mind, my

heart was convinced that Tom and I were meant to be, that he loved me and only me,

and that he had remained faithful throughout simply because he couldn’t imagine

being with anyone else. Was I being far too naïve? Was my mind really allowing my

heart to take over so easily?

Still, my mind was racing with uncertainties and distrust. Things weren’t exactly

turning out the way I had hoped.

Chapter Two Linger

A s I dressed, I tried to get my thoughts under control. There were a million

possible reasons as to why Tom would take his phone into the bathroom to talk. After

all, he had thought that I was asleep at the time – he probably didn’t want to wake me.

Tom was a very thoughtful and courteous person, so naturally he would take a call

somewhere where my slumber would not be disturbed. Besides, I took my phone into

the bathroom back in my apartment in DC all of the time. Granted, it was always so I

could get some privacy (my roommates were really nosy). Maybe Tom just didn’t like

people listening in on his conversations? Throughout our secret affair in high school I

had never seen him take a call when we were together, but then again, cell phone

technology was rather new and I’d never seen him with a cell phone until now.

I gazed at myself in the mirror, trying to decide whether I actually believed in him

or not. The girl looking back only vaguely resembled the teen I’d once been. I had lost

the roundness in my face, and had higher cheekbones than I’d thought possible when I

was fifteen. I looked far more serious now, like someone who belonged in a library or

an art gallery pondering the inspiration of artists, rather than giggling about things

with my friends in a swimming pool. My body had lengthened, too, so that my curves

were less obvious, and I looked more adult. I was almost as tall as Tom, though that had

happened by the time I was seventeen, and my hair had grown longer. My behavior and

thought process was certainly more rational now, and I felt far more mature than that

fifteen year old he’d once seduced years ago.

You seduced him, actually, my conscience reminded me, as I smirked coyly at my

reflection, feeling no guilt or shame. That was true – I’d started the relationship

through sheer will power, and had only myself to blame. I’d never regretted it, though.

Tom was never to blame, and after all, he was the love of my life and even though I tried

to forget him and move when I went to college, it just proved too difficult to do.

Suddenly the man in question appeared in the mirror behind me, raising his

eyebrows in question. “Why are you grinning at yourself in the mirror?” he asked,

poking at me playfully. “Trying to charm yourself? Or have you been thinking about

something naughty?”

I moved away from his playful poking, laughing. “Nothing of the sort! I was just

remembering my sophomore year, when I was just getting to know you. You

remember, when I was still young, and impressionable...” I lifted my eyebrows,

implying that he’d taken advantage of me, and he laughed loudly, a laugh that

communicated two words to me, “yeah right!”

“Put your shoes on, woman, and let’s go have some breakfast. I’m starving, and we

need food before we guzzle down some wine! Besides, we have things to talk about, and

staying in this room does not lend itself well to talking!”

We walked out of the room, laughing in sync, as I put my uneasiness behind me.

When we were laughing like this, and talking rather than thinking, it was easy to feel as

though everything was fine. Just as in the past, I still felt completely comfortable with

Tom, and found it easier to be myself with him than with almost anyone else. I never

felt like he was judging me or wondering what I was actually thinking, and that made it

easier to be honest and open with him. I still hadn’t found anyone else who made me

feel quite this good and free. In fact, since leaving high school I had yet to actually date

the way other freshman girls do when they are away from their parents for the first

time. My roommates were on dates with different guys weekly it seemed. As for me, I

didn’t really like to date and made no efforts to go out, probably because I had still been

in love with Tom. The memories of Tom, of the way he always made me feel, those

memories and emotions kept me from moving on completely. The fact was that Tom

and I got along really well, we enjoyed spending time together, we talked, we laughed,

we could be silly, but we could also be open and have meaningful discussions about so

many things. When I was with Tom it was easy to forget everything else. It was easy to

forget the rumors, the suspicions, the jealousies...

He continued to tease me through breakfast, which we enjoyed in the charming

Mediterranean-style dining room at the B&B. I had scrambled eggs and bacon, my

favorite, and was just scooping up the first bite when Tom started probing.

“So you’ve been studying your English lit, I see,” he said seriously, referring to the

stack of books I’d brought with me to read over the summer. “Forgetting all about

painting, are we?”

I laughed, with my fork mid-way to my mouth. “I never had a passion for painting,

actually,” I said casually, glancing at him through my batting eyelashes. “I don’t have

much talent in that arena, to be honest. Words appeal to me more. I only took art in

high school for elective credits.” I shrugged, as if it didn’t mean a thing to me, as he

snorted in response.

“And you have an internship lined up for the latter part of the summer?” he

continued, growing more serious. “Tell me about it.”

I sighed. The internship was the last thing I wanted to talk about right now, and I’d

already told him some of the details earlier. Still, we’d spent a year apart and were still

playing Q&A trying to catch up on all that had transpired. The internship was a big deal

for me because not everyone was able to land a internship like that after their

freshman year, but I was committed to being as successful as possible in college. I was

heading back to DC, I told him, for a summer program at a publishing company. I

wasn’t certain what I wanted to do with my life just yet, it was still early and I had

another year of general education classes to complete, but I thought I might like to get

into books and editing, and an internship was the best way to get real-world exposure

to the industry. I had worked hard throughout the year, building up my resume at a

local independent bookstore near campus, and making sure that my grades were top-

notch. I had submitted my application for the internship, and then held my breath

until I received the response letter a few weeks later. To my absolute joy, I was selected,

and the publishing house had even sent a catalogue of their titles, along with lists and

lists of things I would be working on for the duration of the six-week internship.

If I played my cards right, I thought, I would be able to leverage that one

internship into another for the next summer, and another after that. I might even have

a career waiting for me when I graduated from college, if I decided that was what I

wanted to do. I’d been dreaming of that kind of opportunity for a year, and now it was

right in front of me.

I was busy listing the duties I would be responsible for while working at the

publishing house, my tone excited, eyes expressive, and glanced at Tom. He was

absolutely beaming.

“I’m so proud of you, Isabel,” he said softly, a look of adoration in his eyes. “I

always knew you were special, but that’s an amazing opportunity for you, to be in DC

and work at a publishing house...” He reached out and took my hand, squeezing it

gently. “Have I told you how much I missed you? It’s been terrible here without you,

like there was no meaning to my life. I felt as though there was nothing to live for, no

one to share my life with ... Do you know how rare it is to meet someone you instantly

click with who has a mind like yours? To be able to sit and discuss anything, and know

that the other person actually enjoys it as much as I do...” He paused, swallowing

heavily, and I felt the tears spring to my eyes. He’d told me that he missed me, but I

hadn’t seen this level of emotion from him. He looked haunted, suddenly, as if he had

spent the previous year living an invisible existence. I squeezed his hand back, already

regretting my suspicions of that morning. This wasn’t a man who would hurt me. This

was a man who had missed me so intensely that he’d almost stopped living himself.

This only served to make me feel even guiltier about the way I treated him when I left.

“I missed you too,” I said softly. “And yes, I do know how rare it is. I went all the

way across the country and still couldn’t forget you. It was like I was fleeing from a life I

knew I couldn’t have with you and I went as far as I possible could. But you know what?

I couldn’t find anyone else who would listen to me the way you do, or take me

seriously, like you always have. No one else talks to me like you do. I’ve been just as

lonely, Tom. Why do you think I came back to find you?”

He smiled faintly then leaned closely toward me. “I have a secret, Izzy. I have

decided to buy a house here. You know, away from Hillside, and the rumors there. I ...

it’s so hard for me to be there, where everything happened, and to face all those people

every day. All I do there is think of you. That whole place is filled with our memories,

but you’re not there anymore. I want a house away from of all that. I want to start over

again. I want to be someplace where I can feel comfortable and at ease to live my life.”

My eyes widened in surprise. He was moving? That shouldn’t have come as a surprise,

though. After all, I had left the town where we’d had so much drama, but he had stayed

behind, living day to day with the discernable looks of contempt and whispers when he

walked down the hallways. If that weren’t enough, Tom was still living in the house he

had shared with his wife and kids, and that had to be difficult. I understood his reasons,

but the idea that he was moving to a new place made my heart stop. He was buying a

new house? Just for himself?

“Move in with me,” he said, reaching out to grab my hand again. His voice gained

an intensity I had not heard in years, and his eyes looked like they were burning with

excitement and anticipation. I gulped. “Say you’ll do it, Izzy,” he murmured. “I can’t

stand to live without you, not anymore, not that we’ve found each other again. You, me

... being here ... it feels so right. I can only liken the feeling to having lived without a part

of my body, and now feeling whole again. I know you’re in school right now,” he said,

waving me off when I parted my lips to speak, “but you could stay with me during

summers and holidays, when classes are out. Then when you graduate, we could make

it permanent.”

I almost choked on my own saliva, though my heart felt like it had swelled five

times its size in the space of thirty seconds. Tom wanted me to move in with him? He

was buying a house here, so that I could move in and we could live together without the

judgment of our hometown? His thoughtfulness and his desire to just be with me at all

costs brought tears to my eyes, and before I knew it dozens of tears were streaming

down my cheeks. I had been overjoyed when we reunited, of course, but I hadn’t

managed to think beyond the two weeks we were getting to spend together. And there

he was, planning our entire future together, willing to buy a house and make it a home

for the two of us, so that we could start over in a new town, as a legitimate couple.

A small part of me became overwhelmed suddenly, and I almost resentful that he

was planning out the rest of my life for me. What if I didn’t want to come home during

the summers, and what if I just wanted to spend that time with my parents and Tony

instead? I suppressed that small, gnawing voice, though, and allowed my heart to take

over. Tom loved me so much that he wanted a life with me, and he was actually going to

turn that desire into reality. It was the most romantic, thoughtful and caring thing

anyone had ever done. My heart fluttered in admiration for this man I once doubted.

How could I possibly love Tom more than I do right now?

“You want to live with me?” I whispered, the words barely making it past my lips.

“Of course, you goof,” he answered, smiling. “You’re the one, Isabel. The one I’ve

been waiting for my entire life. How many times do I have to tell you that until it sinks

into your thick head? I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you,

sweetheart.”

“But what about school?” I asked, my mind reeling with questions. “What about

everything else? I have to go back in a week, for the internship, and then I’m on in DC

again until next summer –”

“We’ll work around it,” he said enthusiastically. He rested his free hand gently

across mine, and looked deeply into my eyes, his expressive hazel eyes taking me in.

“It’ll be part time at first, of course, but then later, we can make it more official.”

My lips parted, but I found my throat too dry to speak. Was he asking what I

thought he was asking? Saying what I thought he was saying? He couldn’t actually be

saying that we should get married – make things permanent, as he said – could he? I

gulped, trying to find words, trying to assess how I felt about any of this. It was all

happening so fast, and though it all sounded terribly romantic, something in my mind

was begging for it to slow down, so I could have time think, to process these events.

Suddenly my phone buzzed next to my plate, and I jumped. I grabbed it, glanced

quickly at the number, and gestured to Tom that I had to take this call. I rose, hurrying

out of the dining room and outside to the foliaged and shady courtyard. The phone call

gave me a chance to step away from the life-changing conversation Tom had

instigated. Maybe with some fresh air, I could figure out how I felt about everything he

had just shared.

Besides, this wasn’t a call I could take in Tom’s presence.