Author's note: Sorry it has taken so long to update this. Real life kicking my bum again. Plus this chapter has been giving me problems. You'll know why when you read it.
And I'd wish everyone a Happy Scorpion Monday, but I don't think it's going to be happy at all. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be repeatedly screaming "No!" at my TV around 11 o'clock.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Mmm. . .five more minutes." Paige snuggled up against Walter's warm body, sliding her hands under his t-shirt and caressing his bare skin.
"We're going to be late," he protested as he rolled away from her touch and out of the bed.
"You're the boss," she stated with a laugh. "Whatcha you gonna do? Dock your own pay?"
"No, I'm going to go take a shower." He moved toward the bathroom. "Like you said, I am the boss. I need to set a good example."
"Ugh, you party pooper," she said, sticking out her tongue at him. Walter chuckled as he shut the door.
Deciding she may as well get up too, Paige rummaged around for her robe. As she was tying the sash, Walter's phone rang.
"Can you get that?" he called out. "It might be Cabe."
"Sure thing, babe." She picked up his cell and glanced at the number. Not one she recognized, so not the Homeland agent. Thinking it could be a potential client, she answered it. "Hello?"
"Hi, this is Julie from Credit Card Services," stated an overly chirpy recorded voice. "I'm calling to let you know about a special offer. . ."
"Is it Cabe?" Walter's question carried through the door.
"No, just a stupid telemarketer," she said as she disconnected the call. She heard him grunt in reply before water started running in the other room.
Paige sighed. It probably was just all in her head, but. . . Walter had seemed withdrawn the past week. As if something. . .or someone. . .else occupied his mind.
He'd quit talking about Gloria Svenson (at least in her hearing), but did that also mean he'd also stopped talking to her? Miss Sweden spoke his language, was nearly as smart as he was. Something Paige knew she could never be. Maybe that was the reason for his detachment lately? He'd found someone more intellectually stimulating and he was growing bored with her?
And as if mentally distancing himself wasn't alarming enough, he'd been less affectionate as well. Maybe she'd turned him off when she tried to introduce him to bondage. It had been disappointing he wasn't into it. . . Well, not the tying her up part anyway. He'd certainly enjoyed being the one tied to the bedposts.
But that wasn't what she wanted. She was a strong independent woman but when it came to sex, she liked her partner to take charge. So far in this relationship, she'd been the main initiator of any intimacy. Not that she had any complaints, he was a fast learner, but. . . He still lacked confidence. At least that's what she hoped, and not that he'd grown bored with her in bed as well.
Staring down at the phone in her hand, Paige struggled with her conscience for a moment or two; wanting to respect his privacy, yet also wanting to satisfy her curiosity. The latter finally won out, and she was soon scrolling through his texts.
There were several exchanges between him and the Swedish scientist, but they were all in computerese, which she barely understood, despite having a son and boyfriend who were both fluent. She was about to concede she was just being paranoid when she opened another thread.
Thanks for recommend of Nightwish. Paige and I really enjoyed concert.
She bit her lip. He'd surprised her with tickets to a concert by the Finnish band a couple of weeks earlier. She'd loved their version of Phantom of the Opera. And as a bonus, the keyboardist kind of looked like Johnny Depp. That Miss Sweden had suggested it. . . She knew it was petty, but it totally tarnished the evening for her.
She then read Gloria's reply. ur welcom didnt no page was ur gf.
Paige stifled a giggle at the other woman's barely literate text. With a smile, she moved down to Walter's response. Her smug grin disappeared in an instant.
I don't think of her as a girlfriend.
There was more, but her eyes suddenly grew too blurry to read further. Fumbling to close out the app, she finally shut it down before placing the cell back on the dresser.
Oh, God. Walter didn't think of her as his girlfriend? She plopped down on the mattress, her legs unable to hold her up. If she wasn't his girlfriend, what the hell was she to him then? Was she just someone he was comfortable having sex with? Was he just using her to be a father to Ralph?
Paige didn't want to believe either possibility, but. . . But they were both easier to swallow than the idea he was attracted to Miss Sweden for more than her expertise with computers and wanted the other woman to think he was available. Nausea rippled through her. All the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. Oh, God. . .
She realized the water was no longer running in the other room as something wet dripped onto the back of her hand. Taking a deep breath, she quickly dried her tears.
Walter could never know she'd snooped into his phone. Besides the blatant invasion of privacy, it showed a major lack of trust on her part. No, this was a dirty little secret she had to keep to herself. No matter how much it hurt.
ooooo
Paige pushed her cart down the cereal aisle, stopping to search for a box of Fruity Moons. The red circle and three underlines made her certain Sylvester would be one unhappy camper if she returned to the garage without them.
Although she was in no hurry to go back. Going shopping today had been an excuse, a valid one, but still a reason to get away for an hour or so. Something definitely was off with Walter. She'd caught him, more than once in the last few days, staring at her with a frown on his face, along a sadness in his eyes which nearly broke her heart.
Spotting Sly's cereal on the bottom shelf, she bent down to grab a box. She was almost knocked off her feet when her basket was shoved backward, hitting her in the hip.
Once she had regained her balance, she stood up to confront the clumsy idiot who'd rammed into her. "What the. . .?"
"Oh, dang, I'm sorry. . . Paige!" Tim's beaming face stared back at her.
"Tim," she replied sourly. "What are you doing here?"
"Shopping." Paige glanced at his cart. Filet mignon, a bottle of wine. . .and the ingredients to make blueberry crumble. She closed her eyes, remembering the first time he'd made the dessert for her. It had also been the first time they'd slept together. She couldn't help but wonder who he was making it for now.
Tim's voice regained her attention. "Hey, I'm really glad I ran into you. Well, not literally. . . Are you okay?" He looked concerned.
She rubbed her hip. "I'll live," she said. "Tim. . ."
"Paige, I want to apologize for my behavior the last time we met." He walked around the side of his cart. "I was an ass."
"Yes, you were," she agreed.
"Let me make it up to you," he suggested. "We could go somewhere, maybe grab a cup of coffee, talk. . ."
"There's nothing left to talk about, Tim." Paige gripped the handle of her basket. "I need to go."
"Please," he said, glancing down at the floor then back up to her face. There were tears gathering in his eyes. He appeared genuinely contrite. "I thought we were friends?"
Oh, God, she didn't want to feel sorry for him but she didn't want to be a bitch either. He was right, they'd always been good friends. Besides, if it was okay for Walter to text Gloria about stuff other than computers, she should be able to go out to coffee with an old friend without it being a big deal.
"Okay," she said, not quite successfully squashing her guilty feelings. "One coffee. Then I really need to get back."
"Thank you." Tim looked down at his basket, a mischievous grin on his face. "So should we just leave these here or. . .?"
"We shouldn't," she began, grabbing her purse, "but. . ."
With a burst of laughter, they started walking away from their abandoned grocery carts and headed out of the store.
ooooo
Well, she wasn't laughing anymore.
Paige rested her forehead against the steering wheel of her car as it sat outside the garage. She needed to go inside, put away the containers of yogurt and milk before they spoiled along with the other groceries she'd hastily purchased. Instead she was trying not to be sick again as she relived all the mistakes she'd made that afternoon, starting with. . .
Mistake #1 - Not demanding Tim take her back to the store the moment he pulled up in front of an apartment complex.
Paige had stared out the window of Tim's car. "This isn't a coffee shop," she'd stated unnecessarily.
"I know," he said. "I share a place here with a couple of co-workers. They're both on duty now. I hope you don't mind."
"Tim. . ."
He cut in before she could object. "I thought we should talk in private."
"This is private," she had pointed out as they were alone in his car. "Just tell me what you need to say then. . ."
"Don't you trust me?"
"I do, but. . ." But the look on his face, so sad and pathetic. . . . Well, it had played on her sympathy, and she gave in, which became. . .
Mistake #2 - Allowing him to convince her his roommate's espresso machine made the best coffee he'd ever tasted and she really needed to try it for herself.
"He roasts his own beans, too," Tim had said as he'd opened the door to his apartment. "It's a thousand times better than Starbucks. I can hardly stand to drink anything else."
"Fine," she sighed.
"It's gonna take a few minutes," he'd said, heading toward the kitchen, "why don't make yourself at home?"
"Okay." She'd taken off her coat, laying it over the back of a chair in the living room before following him. Standing in the archway between the two rooms, she watched as he prepared the coffee. That led to. . .
Mistake #3 - Asking him what he wanted to talk about so urgently.
"I still love you," Tim said quietly as they had waited for the coffee to brew.
Paige had crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm with Walter now," she'd replied a bit harshly.
"Who are you reminding? Me. . .or yourself?" He pushed away from the counter, taking a step toward her.
"You." His arrogance sparked her anger even further. "I'm in love with Walter, not you. I was never in love with. . . Umph. . ."
He roughly pulled her into his arms and kissed her; a long, hard, possessive kiss. She'd struggled at first, tried to push his tongue out of her mouth, but. . . He knew exactly what buttons to push, stripping away her defenses as easily as her clothing. And then she'd made. . .
The biggest mistake of her life.
Paige's stomach churned violently as she unsuccessfully tried to block the images. . .the sounds. . .the sensations. . . Being pressed onto the lumpy couch. . . The way he'd pinned her wrists above her head as he'd spread her legs. . . How he'd brought her to an embarrassingly swift orgasm, followed a few seconds by his own. . .
It had all happened so fast and. . .and she'd let it all happen without a word of protest. Oh, God, what had she been thinking. . . Well, obviously she hadn't been thinking at all. When it was all over, she'd pushed him off of her, fleeing into the bathroom where she'd thrown up.
And Tim. . . He'd been all apologies and reassurances, saying he never meant for it to happen and begging her to not let it ruin their friendship. Much to her relief, he'd condomed up, but that had also aroused her suspicions he may have planned the whole thing and she'd fallen willingly into his hands.
But did it really matter why it happened? It didn't change the outcome. She'd had sex with another man. And not just any man. The one man guaranteed to break Walter's heart all over again. Oh, God. . .
How could she face Walter after what she'd done? He'd be devastated. . .and rightly so. He could never find out. Never. Which meant she'd better come up with a good reason why she'd been gone for. . . She glanced at her watch. . . Oh, crap, over three hours.
Long lines at the store. That took three hours? She needed something else. An accident. Yes. . . One which happened right in front of her and she couldn't get away. That would work.
Because the whole damn thing had been one colossal accident.
Pulling herself together, she got out of the car and gathered up the groceries. Taking a deep breath, she went inside.
ooooo
"You're sure you're going to be okay?" Walter asked as he pulled up in front of Paige's apartment complex.
She'd been so grateful of his offer to take her home, and his agreement to pick up Ralph for a "boys' night out." But she'd seen the disappointment in his eyes when she'd requested he drop off her son instead of staying the night.
But she just couldn't be with him right now. Not only because her guilt was eating her up inside, but because Tim had left behind a couple of love bites, one on each breast. She'd forgotten how he liked to leave big hickeys on her neck and chest, as if he was claiming her as his property. Walter would know right away something was wrong since he'd never marked her once in the time they'd been together. She'd have to wait until they faded before she could let him see her naked again.
Taking a breath, she tried to plaster a convincing smile on her face. "I just need to take a nap," she replied. "You and Ralph have fun, okay?"
He stared disconcertingly at her. "Okay," he said. Reaching across the console, he wrapped his arms around her as best he could inside the confines of the car and kissed her softly. "I hope you feel better," he said as he let her go. "Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything."
"I will," she said, the lie sticking in her throat. "I just need a nap."
"I love you," he declared hoarsely.
"Love you, too." Her eyes grew blurry as she snatched up her purse and exited the car. Looking over her shoulder as she entered the building, she saw he was still watching her, a frown once again marring his handsome face. Shame filled her as she hurried inside, barely making it her bathroom before she threw up again.
When she was done, Paige headed to the kitchen, snagging a bottle of wine from the refrigerator. Going back into the bathroom, she stripped off her clothes as the bathtub filled. After dumping a healthy dose of bubble bath into the water, she slipped into it, bring the wine with her.
She scrubbed herself furiously, even though she knew it was a futile gesture. No amount of scouring would wash away what she'd done. And as she took a long swig of the wine, she knew no amount of alcohol would obliterate it either. But she was still going to try.
