Tainted Love (Sweetest Taboo #2) (7 page)

So there I was, heartbroken again, knowing that the one person in the world that I truly loved, and couldn’t be with, was once again with someone else. It was very difficult for me, but on the other hand, I knew why she’d done what she had. She was a teenager, after all, and was behaving like one. And a reckless one at that, going to the canyon with someone she didn’t know very well! Needless to say, although I rationalized why she was kissing other guys when she said she was in love with me, I never really accepted it or understood it emotionally.

And I’d never gotten over it.

The thought that she might be seeing someone else now, though completely rational – I hadn’t seen her in a year, after all – was also terrifying, and that thought had my insides in turmoil as they had been years ago. She’d been at college, and of course she’d had experiences there. Of course she’d slept with other guys, flirted with her professors, maybe even started a relationship with a frat guy… Knowing this, or at the very least assuming it, hadn’t made me feel any better. I’d been completely loyal to her memory, but that didn’t mean that she’d done the same. And what right did I have to ask that of her?

The important thing, I told myself, was that she was here now. She’d just spent the last week with me, getting to know me again, and surely she wouldn’t have spent all this time with me if she wasn’t serious or if there was someone else in her life.

After a moment of tense silence, during which Isabel buried her phone deep into her purse, we began to talk about our plans, and the day’s events. I was a bit down, after her mystery phone call and knowing our time together was coming to a close soon, but I tried to put my best face on. At this time last year, I never would have dreamt that I’d be sitting here, across the table from Isabel, planning a day of wine tasting. I was lucky, I reminded myself, especially after she saw me driving Christine home. I’d been sure, on that day in the parking lot, that Isabel would leave, miffed at me for what she’d misperceived as a relationship with another student. It would have been a logical assumption, I realized, after what she saw. Isabel must have thought that I’d dated students regularly, and moved on to another after she graduated and left for college.

The truth, of course, was that I’d known Christine since she was born, and she was practically a daughter to me. She was my best friend’s daughter, after all, and I’d stood as her godfather at her christening. Thinking about anything going on between us…well, it was ridiculous. And completely untrue. I gave her rides home after school, but that was the extent of it. Thank God her mother had shown up when she did, to save me from that awkward confrontation.

Isabel still didn’t seem to believe that I could never move on from her. She was the love of my life, something I always knew – the girl I was meant to be with. She was the only one I could think of, the only one who mattered. I’d even left my wife and the girls, moving out of the house entirely, in the hopes that Isabel might one day find her way back to me.

And now she had. I buried the suspicions away as deep as she had buried her phone, and turned my thoughts to the future. We were together now, and that was all that mattered. All the drama could remain in the past, as far as I was concerned; it was time to finally make things right with Isabel, the love of my life.

Chapter Five - You Learn

T
he day out at the wineries was amazing. The weathers was absolutely beautiful – one of those rare, crisp days in early August – and we’d hired a limo to take us to the vineyards. The couple we went with were in their mid 30s, and looked like they were still very much in love. They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, and were very affectionate throughout the entire trip.

I found this rather awkward, since we were stuck in the limo with them and they seemed to become more and more affectionate as we enjoyed the estate wines. However, it did give Tom and me a chance to talk, and we spent most of the time between wineries discussing the details of a new house, what we’d put in it, and how big we wanted it to be. I wasn’t completely sold on the idea yet – I had a long life to live, and I wasn’t even sure what I wanted to do with it yet. Committing to moving in with someone, when I was only twenty years old, seemed unimaginable. But Tom was so excited about the possibility that I couldn’t disappoint him. He was like a child with a new toy – one he’d been dreaming about for years – and his enthusiasm was infectious.

I tucked my fake ID – the one I’d acquired in high school and had been using in college, which I’d needed to furnish in order to confirm the wine tasting tour – back into my wallet and laughed at something he’d said. “What’s wrong with the picture? It looks just like me!” I asserted.

Tom snickered, “right, because your name really is Concepcion Sanchez and you really are 23 years old.”

I couldn’t help but laugh because he was right, I did not really look like the olive skinned Concepcion Sanchez on the ID, but we both shared long brown hair, brown eyes, and a stature of 5’8” so the ID always worked for me. Tom was still chuckling and in one of the best moods I’d seen him in for days.

“You’re like a kid on Christmas day, Tom” I told him affectionately. “How long have you been thinking about buying a house and inviting me to move in with you? I can almost imagine you having this all planned out before we even reunited!”

“Oh no,” he said, shaking his head. A smile played around the corners of his lips, though, showing me how happy he was. “The truth is, I can’t believe I’m sitting here talking to you about this at all. At this time last year I was sure that we were finished, and that I’d never see you again. Izzy…” he put his hand on my knee, squeezing gently, and I swallowed heavily. His touch had the same effect now that it had when I was younger, though I liked to consider myself more worldly and experienced now. I still slightly trembled whenever he touched me. That electric shock, the feel that we were somehow connected by more than just a touch…

“Yes?” I asked softly, leaning toward him.

“I’m just so happy,” he murmured back, his eyes full of joy. “I can’t believe how happy you’ve made me. A year ago I was ready to give up on the world. It was torture living without you, baby. I really don’t know how I did it. Now it seems like everything is so perfect.”

I smiled and leaned in to kiss him, willing to let my actions do the talking. We’d been to several vineyards by that time, and the wine was starting to go to my head. After a long, gentle kiss, I laid my head on his shoulder, thinking that I’d never been happier. I hadn’t been sure, at first, but now I was. This was where I was meant to be. The world had a soft, hazy glow, which made the complications of our situation disappear. For the moment.

***

I woke up an hour later, confused and groggy.

“Wake up, sleepy head,” Tom murmured. “You fell asleep on the way home.”

I looked around, confused, and realized that I was in fact still in the limo, pressed up against Tom’s side. My neck felt stiff, like I’d lain in the same position for the last hour, and my mouth was cottony and dry. We’d drawn to a stop in front of the bed and breakfast, and the lack of movement must have stirred me. I laughed at myself, realizing that the wine had gone to my head, as I struggled to sit up.

“I don’t drink very often,” I explained ruefully. “I guess the wine must have made me sleepy.”

Tom laughed. “I guess so! We missed the last winery – I told them that I didn’t want to get out and wake you, so we just kept driving. Never mind that, though. I thought we’d have some lunch, and then go do some shopping. After all, if we’re going to get a house, we’ll need to furnish it,” he said, his eyes dancing.

I grinned back. I wasn’t sure how the whole ‘new house’ and living together arrangement would turn out, but I was always up for a shopping trip.

***

An hour later we were in the downtown district, going through shop after shop, looking at furniture, interior decorations, rugs, sculptures, and even kitchenware. I’d seen a lot of things that I liked, but we were already finding things we disagreed on. Tom liked a simple country style of furnishings – simple wooden tables, whitewashed picture frames, light blue couches. I’d been raised in a Hispanic household, though, and liked to have more color in my home. Bright florals and prints, dark, glossy wood, and plenty of artwork. My parents were Catholic, and I’d been raised with crosses and Bibles. Tom, however, said that he didn’t like advertising religion, and shot me down anytime I picked up a decorative cross.

This certainly wasn’t what I’d expected when we talked about shopping for furnishings for the house. Ordinarily we liked the same things, and agreed on everything. Looking back, though, I wondered if that perception came from the fact that I’d been young, and unsure of myself. Maybe I’d given in to him more often than not, unwilling to stand up for what I thought? Now, with a year of college under my belt, I knew what I liked and wasn’t afraid to share my thoughts and opinions on just about anything. That independence wasn’t meshing with Tom’s opinions of how this shopping trip should go. Still, we were enjoying ourselves as we planned a possible future together, and wondering how many rooms the house would have. Tom had bought me a bouquet of roses from a street vendor, and I was carrying them like a beauty queen, stopping every so often to smell them. We’d already decided that we were going to go to our new favorite restaurant for dinner, a lovely and picturesque Mexican spot. Though we’d been arguing about whether ash or mahogany was a better wood choice for a dining room table, I was euphoric. For the first time, I felt like Tom and I were two adults, discussing things on equal footing.

Although we’d always been in love, this felt like a real relationship. The difference was obvious to me, and I wondered if Tom felt the same way.

I turned toward him, looking up at him through my lashes and was about to ask when I spotted someone just steps away. The sight stopped me in my tracks, and I felt my mouth fill with the taste of adrenalin. What was
he
doing here? My brother Tony had come out of nowhere, from around the corner, and was walking straight toward us. He looked up and glanced in my direction, and I instinctually thrust myself behind Tom. From there, I darted into the nearest storefront doorway, my breath coming short. I peaked around the corner, praying with all my might – to every deity I could think of – that Tony hadn’t seen me. I’d told him that I was going back to school, for both the internship and a boyfriend I couldn’t stand to be away from anymore. I’d promised him that I’d be back for Thanksgiving, and made him promise to hug his wife for me. I didn’t think he’d suspected anything then, but if he saw me here…with Tom…

Glancing past the door jam, though, I saw that he’d turned around and was walking quickly in the other direction. There was a tension about his shoulders, but that might have been from the heavy bags he was carrying. He must have come to town to shop for something specific. This sighting of my brother was nothing but very bad timing. If I had any luck on my side, I thought, he’d been too caught up in his own world to notice his little sister walking along the sidewalk with Tom.

If he’d seen me, though, I knew I was toast.

***

I whirled around and walked the other way as soon as I saw Isabel, practically sprinting in the other direction, while at the same time trying to deny what I’d just seen. Trying to convince myself that I hadn’t actually seen it, or that I’d been mistaken.

After all, why on Earth would my little sister be in this town, and with that man, when she was supposed to be on her way back to DC for her internship? Why would she have lied to me, and to mom and dad about where she was going and why? If she’d wanted to stay in a different town, with friends, she could have just said so.

Deep down, though, I knew it was her. I’d know the shape of that face, and those wide, doe-eyes, anywhere. And I knew exactly why she’d lied to us. That had been Izzy, and she was in fact walking along the street of this small town, holding hands with Mr. Stevens, announcing their relationship to the world. But not to her family. No, she’d lied to us, probably to protect us or maybe just to protect herself.

I’d heard the stories. Of course I’d heard the stories. Who hadn’t? And especially when my own sister was a big part of that rumor mill – the police had called her in Chile for questioning, for God’s sake, and they’d actually talked with mom and dad on the phone as well! Telling them the terrible things that were being said about that very teacher – Mr. Stevens – and what he was alleged to have been doing with my sister and other female students. Saying that my sister – our Izzy – was part of it, that she’d fallen victim to his charms and given in to him. That they’d been having a relationship, and that she wasn’t telling the cops the truth because she was trying to protect Mr. Stevens. They had called her an ‘uncooperative victim.’ They’d even threatened her at one point, saying that she had to cooperate with them or this was going to go on her permanent school record. She’d spent the night in my room, crying to me about it, telling me that they wanted her to lie so that they could get their arrest and close the case.

She hadn’t been part of any of it, of course. She’d maintained her innocence through it all, saying that nothing had happened. Mr. Stevens had been her swim coach, and he’d been friendly with many of the students, both on and off the swim team. He’d been seen driving students home often, and had known many parents outside of school. In the end, that had saved him. Isabel was the only girl named, for whatever reason, so her denial of the allegations had meant that he’d gotten off scott free.

Personally I’d never believed in the innocence she claimed, though she was my sister and I’d kept quiet to protect her. The last thing I wanted was her being drawn into a messy trial. In my heart, though, the thought of that man taking advantage of her – of him using my kid sister! – had made me sick. I didn’t want to know what happened, but I couldn’t help but wonder. If he’d abused her, I wanted to know, so I could do something about it. Protect her, even if it was far too late. I’d asked Isabel, but she’d never told me the truth about what happened. Or rather, she’d never deviated from her story. Somehow, though, I’d never believed her.