What Lies Beneath: Romantic Suspense (3 page)

4

I put Theo’s message out of my head.

As I walked into my home, I was struck with the urge to redecorate. The walls were painted bland off-white. I had the mad desire to paint them canary yellow.

I got back in the car and went to the hardware store. When I’d told the salesman I wanted to paint the living room neon yellow, he looked at me like I was insane. His distaste sent me into a fit of laughter which made me look even crazier. Eventually, I settled on a more sensible olive green. I knew it would look nice with the dark hardwood floors, but I wasn’t sure it would match the furniture.

When I got home I started to pull all the furniture out of the house. The couch wouldn’t fit through the backdoor so I had to push out onto the front lawn. I was in the process of trying to pull it through the doorway, where it had become wedged in the frame, when Theo snuck up behind me.

“Hello,” he said.

I screamed and jumped.

“Sorry,” he said, holding his hands up. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He looked over my shoulder into the house curiously.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, you didn’t return my call and now it looks like your moving out.”

I laughed. “I’m not moving. I’m redecorating. I decided to repaint the living room and I’m trying to get the furniture out.”

“Oh, let me help you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got it,” I said, though I wasn’t sure how to get the couch out.

“Go around to the other side. You push and I’ll pull.”

I walked through the garage and into the house. Theo lifted the sofa and tilted it to the side as if it weighed nothing at all.

“Push,” he said.

The couch went sailing through the door. I stumbled out behind it nearly falling on top of it. I rubbed my hands on my jeans.

“Thanks,” I said, a little out of breath.

“No problem. Do you need any more furniture moved?”

“Actually, could you help me move this into the garage?”

“Sure.”

We carried it between us, though Theo did most of the heavy lifting. An awkward silence fell over us. It was then I remembered his voicemail.

“Did you bring Aiden’s things?” I asked.

“Yeah. They’re in my car.”

I waited for him to go and get them, but he didn’t move. He kept staring at me.

“What?” I asked self-consciously.

“Nothing. Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. Say, before you start painting, why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”

“Um, I have a lot of work to do, and…”

“I understand, but you do owe me,” he said with a boyish grin.

I couldn’t help returning his smile. It was infectious. “Owe you for what?”

“For helping you move this furniture. I think I threw my back out.”

He grabbed his back as if he was hurt, but he was obviously faking.

I laughed.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, do you?” he said with a smile. “No guilt at all.”

He shook his head and made a tsk-ing sound of disapproval, but he was only joking.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a hard time taking no for an answer?”

“Never. Let’s go.”

He grabbed my hand and started to lead me to his car.

“Wait,” I protested. “The front door is still open, and I don’t have my purse, and I’m not dressed.”

“Nonsense. You look beautiful.”

I wasn’t sure about that. I was wearing leggings with an old black tunic top and sneakers. 

“You don’t need your purse,” he said. “My treat. But you probably should close the front door.”

He released my hand. I found myself running up to the house, eager to shut the door. I wasn’t sure if it was because I wanted to get this over with, or because I was excited to go out with Theo.

He opened the passenger side door for me. I got into his car and held my breath.

5

“Where are you taking me?” I asked. “We just passed the café.”

I watched the coffee shop fade into the distance in the side mirror.

“We’re going for a drink, not coffee.”

“Oh. It’s a bit early to start drinking, isn’t it?” It was only one o’clock.

“I’m disappointed. I heard you were quite the party girl.”

I scoffed. “From who?”

“Around. I have my sources,” he said with a mischievous smile.

“I was never a ‘party girl.’ Whatever that means.”

“I didn’t mean anything bad by it, just that you like to go out, drink, have a good time.”

It was true. I used to love to go into the city to see a concert or an art exhibit. I could spend all night drinking and laughing. But that was the old me.

“Maybe when I was younger. I’m too old now.”

“Too old? You’re younger than I am. Are you saying I’m too old to be going to bars?”

“Yes,” I said drily.

We both laughed.

We drove a ways before coming to a bar a few miles outside of town. We stepped out of the car and walked up to the building. I furrowed my brow. The place looked like a shack. It was covered in rotted wood and old highway road signs.

“Don’t be fooled by its appearance,” Theo said. “It’s actually quite nice inside. It’s trendy now to take these roadhouse joints and turn them into Hipster bars.”

“Hipster bars? I think I
am
too old for this.”

“I know, I know, but the only other bar in town is a redneck place. I’m not too comfortable in there, are you?”

“Well, no.”

“Some of the people who drink here are, well, obnoxious hipsters, but they have good food and good drinks.”

“Alright,” I said.

My skepticism gave way to curiosity as we entered. The inside was really nice. It was covered in polished wood and expensive looking tables and chairs. The entry way walls were covered in plants. Little signs stuck out of them indicating their names. I read: thyme, mint, parsley.

We were greeted by a hostess who said: “Welcome. Have you been here before?” She didn’t give us a chance to answer. She continued on with her script. “We pride ourselves on a vast selection of homebrews and wines. All of our food is locally sourced, organic and made from the freshest ingredients.”

She led us to a table and set two menus in front of us.

“Your server will be with you shortly,” she said with a turn of her heels as she left.

I opened the menu; it had more choices of beer than I’d ever seen before. I flipped a page and saw an equally long selection of wine. The second menu was full of food. It was the kind of food you’d eat at a bar except made fancier. There were cheese fries made with truffles and fried in duck fat; there were Banh Mi sliders and hummus.

I didn’t know where to start. Then I saw the prices. My eyes went wide. The food was insanely expensive; the alcohol was just as bad.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked.

“Yeah. My treat. Get whatever you want.”

He must have seen the doubt on my face because he said: “Don’t worry. Being a nanny pays better than you would think.”

“Really?”

“You’d be surprised. It’s become a social status issue with the rich,” he said distastefully. “It’s not enough to have a nanny. They want a nanny that’s college educated and speaks multiple language. Wealthy families like the Devereauxes pay top dollar.”

I wondered what else Mrs. Devereaux paid top dollar for.

My eyes drifted over his arms. Theo was wearing a tight black athletic shirt that clung to his biceps. The fabric looked like it was on the verge of ripping. I swallowed hard and quickly looked back down at my menu. The names of beers and wines bled together. I couldn’t concentrate.

“Why don’t you order?” I said. “I’m not sure which to choose.”

“Okay. Do you prefer beer or wine?”

Normally, I drank wine. “Beer,” I said.

If I was on a date with Tom we would have split a bottle of wine. I wanted this- whatever this was- to be different.

The server came over. Theo ordered us each a beer and appetizers. I started to fidget while waiting for the drinks. I rearranged the condiments on the table, straightening everything again and again. I wished the server would hurry up with the beers. Anxiety had taken root deep in my gut. Alcohol would soothe my nerves.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Mr. Devereaux shouldn’t have treated you that way. He’s a real piece of work.”

“So is she,” I muttered.

Theo frowned. “She shouldn’t have spoken to you the way she did. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

I waved away his apologies as the server set the beers in front of us. I was grateful to have them. I took a long drink from mine. It was ice cold with a sweet aftertaste of cherries. It tasted amazing. I took another deep drink and felt my anxiety retreat.

“Besides,” I said, “I’m the one who should feel sorry for you. You have to put up with them every day. And with Mrs. Devereaux’s reputation, I’d be surprised if she hasn’t sunk her teeth into you already.”

It had been a while since I’d had alcohol; the drink went straight to my head. I knew I was being rude, but I couldn’t help myself. I took another drink.

“I mean, why else would she hire a guy as hot as you? She’s so transparent.”

“Is that what you think?” he said. “That I’m only good for, what? Sleeping with Mrs. Devereaux?”

His body was tense; I’d struck a nerve. I should have apologized. Instead I took another drink and said: “Look, if you want to sleep with her that’s your prerogative, but don’t expect to sleep with me too. I’m only here because you won’t take no for an answer.”

He considered me closely then looked away. Guilt replaced the anxiety in my stomach. I was being nasty and for no good reason except that it felt good to vent my anger and frustration. Theo had done nothing to deserve this. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to apologize. I was sick of being the one who was sorry. Life had dealt me a bad hand. I felt bitter.

“You shouldn’t have pressured me into this,” I said.

“Into having a drink? I enjoy your company and I wanted to apologize for the way you were treated at the Devereauxes’. We were enjoying each other’s company until…”

Theo let his words drift away as if he was trying to regain control.

“Until, what?”

“You have to learn to move on with your life,” he said, ignoring my question. “You have to stop living your life in fear.”

I scoffed. “I don’t live my life in fear.” Though, clearly I did. My face burned red. I hated how quickly he’d sized me up.

“The worst thing that can happen has already happened to you.”

“‘Life can’t possibly get any worse for you,’ is not exactly the most inspiring advice.”

“The point is that you have to move on and the only way you will is by living life. You can’t fear the future.”

The beer left a bitter taste in my mouth. My head swam. I stood and walked quickly out of the bar. I heard Theo call my name. I kept walking. It suddenly occurred to me that I had no way to get home.

Without thinking, I started walking down the road. It felt good to be out in the open air. I breathed in deeply. After walking for a few minutes, Theo pulled up beside me in his car. He kept pace with me as I walked.

“Will you please get in the car?” he said from his rolled down window. I ignored him and kept walking. “Sabine, we’re miles away from town. You can’t walk back home.”

I stared straight ahead.

“Don’t be stubborn.”

I stopped in my tracks and turned on him. “Who do you think you are? I never asked for any of this. I didn’t ask you to take me out, or for your advice, or for my husband to die.”

I stopped speaking and turned away. I couldn’t bear to see the look on Theo’s face. Why had I said that? My husband had nothing to do with this. I wanted to die from embarrassment.

I heard the car door open. Theo wrapped his arms around me from behind. I leaned against him and felt his strong chest against my back. I closed my eyes and let the warmth of his body wash over me. I’m not sure how long we stood like that.

The sound of a car honking broke the spell.

Wordlessly, I stepped away from Theo and got into his car. We drove home silently. 

I couldn’t look at Theo. I exited his car, keeping my eyes on my house. Neither of us spoke. I was grateful. I didn’t want to fight, or hear anymore advice.

I got out of the car, walked inside my house and stared at the bare living room. I’d lost the desire to paint and I didn’t have the energy to bring all the furniture back inside. I went to my bedroom, laid down and pulled the covers over my head, shutting out the world around me.