Chapter 4
When Peter arrived at his apartment that evening, he found Tara in the kitchen cooking dinner. She made a habit of coming over two or three times a week, often spending the night.
“Hey.” He removed his key from the front door.
“I hope you don’t mind. I took it kind of personal.”
“Took what?” Peter looked up.
“The fact that you haven’t returned any of my calls. I checked the machine. They’re still on it. Did I do something wrong?” Tara came close to him, clutched his shirt, and stared into his eyes. Her thick mascara had left spots on her eyelids, and her perfume was overwhelming. He’d never noticed that before. “I was so scared. My mother said I probably was being too bossy and focused on the wedding details. She said, ‘That turns a man off.’ I don’t want to turn you off. Have I? Turned you off?”
“No, you haven’t.” Peter laid his hand gently on her shoulder and stepped around her. As she leaned in to kiss him, he saw the shoebox on the kitchen table, and his blood pressure rose. Tara was still speaking as he inspected the box, setting the lid back on carefully. It wasn’t the fact that she had gone into his bedroom that bothered him, because she often borrowed a shirt. What made the hair rise on the back of his neck was that she had touched items Maddy had touched. Even Jake had known to leave the shoebox alone.
“Do you want to tell me about that?”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Peter stood over the box, rubbing his neck. “Jake found it at his house. It was a long time ago.”
“An old girlfriend?” Tara raised an eyebrow.
“Madeline,” he said with a slight smile.
“Madeline,” she repeated.
The very sound of her name on her lips made him feel ill. “Tara, why don’t we sit down?”
“Really, Peter.” Tara crossed her arms. “Get a grip. I’m not one of those wimpy women that can’t handle an ex-girlfriend or two. I know what I want, and I know what I got. Other women do not intimidate me. Other women are intimidated by me.”
Peter laughed. “Amanda isn’t intimidated by you.”
“Yes, well—I mean other women. I’m not going to bicker with you about my little sister.” She re-crossed her arms and looked at him.
“Tara, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” He loosened his tie.
“Why all the drama suddenly, Peter?”
“There isn’t any drama—” He was having trouble with the knot.
“I thought you were going to take a shower.” Tara threw up her hands. “So take it. We can talk later. I have to watch my sauce.” She went around the counter to the stove and began adding meatballs. “Dinner will be in an hour. Do you want wine? I’m opening a bottle.”
He looked at her for a moment, then shook his head and went into the bathroom without replying.
As he took off his clothes and stepped into the shower, he thought about the shoebox. Why did it upset him so much? He wondered if Tara had tried on the necklace, pressed the little heart of tiny diamonds against her neck in front of a mirror. A shiver ran down his spine.
Steam clouded the glass shower door creating fog, and he stood under the hot water remembering something he hadn’t thought about in twenty years, a tiny mole on Maddy’s neck. He jerked away from the shower as the image of Maddy’s naked body swam into focus.
He shook his head, soapy water in his eyes. When he opened the shower door, Tara was holding a towel for him.
“Are you all right? You’ve been in there half an hour.”
“Half an hour? I just got in.” He took the towel and wiped his eyes.
Tara was staring down at his body. “Peter?” She reached for him, her hands on his wet backside.
“You’re going to get all wet.”
“I don’t care. Peter, look at me!” Her voice was sharp. “Maybe I love you more than you love me, but I don’t care.”
“Don’t say that.” He stood naked before her.
“Shh! Listen. It makes no difference what’s in that box. If you’re still hung up on the past, and you’re worried you haven’t completely gotten into this relationship—don’t be. You’re a grown man. All I care about is our future. It may not seem clear to you right now, at this moment, but it will someday. You’ll be sitting somewhere or driving to someplace, and it’s going to hit you like a ton of bricks, that the life I want makes you happy.”
Peter tried to speak, but Tara put her hand on his lips.
“Shut up and kiss me.” She flung her arms around his neck and pulled him roughly to her.
Peter closed his eyes, and when he lost his footing they fell together to the bathroom floor. He groaned as she touched him, kissing his face and neck. As much as he wanted to move her hand away he couldn’t, and before he could catch his breath they were making love there on the cold, hard tiles.
It was freeing in a way. He was mentally exhausted. The past few days had been stressful, and he longed for a moment in which he simply didn’t have to make decisions. Jake was right. This was a good thing, perhaps even invigorating. He could love Tara if he tried. Maybe she was the one he needed.
As he walked toward the bedroom afterward, drying his hair with a towel, he noticed something shiny on the table—Maddy’s silver necklace dangling out of the shoebox.