Chapter Ten
Not even thinking, Olivia snatched the phone up, desperate to protect Elliot even though she was angry with him. She wasn't so angry that she wanted to cause him trouble with his wife, which she retroactively realized she'd done anyway. Reading the unfamiliar number on the caller ID, she sighed. Kathy could have answered it; it wasn't Elliot. "Benson." It occurred to her as she spoke that she didn't need to answer her phone like that anymore since she wasn't a cop and no one calling her would expect her to identify herself, but she cut herself some slack since it would likely take a day or two to change a habit of so many years.
"Hey, beautiful."
She couldn't hide the groan at the voice of the one person she wanted to hear from less than she wanted to hear from Elliot at that moment. "Porter."
"I was wondering if you were free tonight."
She shook her head, forgetting until it was too late that her balance was significantly impaired. She clawed at one armrest and tried to figure out which way was down before she could answer. "No, I'm not free. This is a really bad time." He was saying something as she hung up, but she didn't care to know what it was. She dropped the phone into her lap with a victorious smile. "Wasn't Elliot."
Kathy looked annoyed. Any other woman would have been happy to be wrong. "You need to tell him to come home. He has a responsibility to me and this child."
Olivia wanted to ask why it was Elliot's responsibility and not her own. She doubted Elliot was solely to blame for the situation. And judging from the way Elliot had reacted when she'd suggested an abortion, it seemed that Elliot had already made up his mind to go back to her. Deciding to tempt fate and her tolerance, Olivia took another sip from her mug and had to fight to get it down her throat. When she'd talked to Elliot at the courthouse, he'd acted like he hadn't thought there was even a choice to be made; he obviously thought going back was the only option. And there was his wife, demanding that Olivia try to guilt him into what Kathy wanted when he was already suckered into doing it.
Olivia took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the stomach she'd thoroughly pissed off with that last sip. "If you want him to move home, take it up with him."
"I need your help." Kathy rubbed her stomach, switching to the friendly approach suddenly. "We need your help."
The motherly act didn't help to settle Olivia's stomach at all. Standing up, she pointed at the door as her forgotten phone tumbled onto the floor. "I'm not involved in this and I'm not getting involved."
Kathy stood up too, narrowing her eyes and putting her hands on her hips. "Then he's seeing someone else? Is that what you don't want to tell me?"
"What?" The words didn't process. Even though she had a specific case that proved otherwise, thoughts of Elliot and cheating still didn't go together in her mind.
"He must be seeing someone. I assumed it was you after he said your name this morning."
Olivia's eyes widened the slightest bit. The conversation was moving too quickly and she couldn't keep up. "Go home, Kathy." The problem with conversations that moved too quickly was that Olivia tended to accidentally say incriminating things.
"He reeked of perfume this morning too. In fact," Kathy picked up Olivia's jacket which had been thrown over the back of the couch and held it to her nose. "He must be seeing someone who wears your perfume."
Olivia's cheeks burned, more in pain than anger. She didn't want to be reminded. She didn't want to think about it. It was the only way to keep the pain from getting in. She shook her head, not so much trying to protect Elliot anymore as she was trying to protect herself. "No. We were in the car all night. It must have rubbed off on him."
Kathy dropped the coat and met Olivia's eyes once again. "If he's not seeing someone, then why won't he come home?"
Olivia shrugged. Elliot hadn't seemed like he didn't want to go home when they'd spoken about it briefly. He'd only said they hadn't picked a date yet. "If you tell him when you want him to move, I'm sure he'll comply." Because really, the man had abandoned a woman who would have been perfectly interested in continuing where they'd left off in order to drive his wife to the doctor. The thought alone upset Olivia's stomach even more.
"We've had the whole thing planned for two weeks. He was coming home tomorrow. He told me he'd gotten rid of his furniture and had people coming by to see his apartment."
Olivia's stomach flipped violently and she put her hand to her mouth for fear she would be sick right then. She shook her head, unable to stop the tears that came out of nowhere. "No. That's not true."
Fury reflected in Kathy's eyes again. "I had to bribe Kathleen to rearrange her plans to help him move. I think I would remember what day she was supposed to be helping him."
Her stomach refused to be silent anymore. Hurrying to the bathroom drunk was not an easy task. She tripped several times, bruising various parts of her body along the way. She barely made it in time to empty her stomach. Thankfully, the activity kept her mind from processing Kathy's words. As she gulped handfuls of water from the tap in the sink, the words rolled through her head. He'd lied to her. Lied. To her face. She never would have slept with him, regardless of her feelings, if she'd known the son of a bitch had solid plans in place to move back in with his wife. And some part of her wondered if he'd known that when he told her otherwise.
Not telling her was one thing; she was used to that. She would even admit that they had a terrible history of mutually leaving important details out. But not telling wasn't the same as lying. She'd never believe that omission was equal to deliberately saying something inaccurate. He'd looked her in the eyes and lied. Olivia sat back, resting against the side of the bathtub. She didn't have the energy to sob, but that didn't stop the tears from flowing.
"Olivia?" Kathy's timid voice came from the doorway of the bathroom, where she stood holding a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol. "I found these in the kitchen. They might help." She stepped forward cautiously, squatting down to set the glass and the bottle on the blue carpet beside Olivia. "Do you need help getting up?"
Olivia looked at her rival, realizing for the first time that Kathy wasn't to blame. Kathy had turned to her in desperation, looking for comfort and reassurance. It wasn't her fault that Olivia was in love with her husband. It wasn't her fault that her husband had cheated on her.
Olivia shook her head, her eyes welling up with tears for the other woman as well. "I think I better stay here for a while."
Kathy nodded and stood, returning to the doorway. "I shouldn't have accused you of-" She paused, looking down at her hands. "I'm sorry." And then she walked away.
As soon as she heard the front door close, Olivia started to wonder if she should have told Kathy the truth.
It took a long time for her to even formulate an idea of what to do next. Her initial plan of avoiding Elliot at all costs was proving to be easy enough; however, it didn't provide much detail regarding what she should do with herself while she was avoiding him. By the time she'd decided on a course of action, the nausea had fortunately passed.
Painful as it would be to admit it, Olivia knew she could deal with it if Elliot had simply used her for sex. She wouldn't like it and she certainly wouldn't ever forgive him, but she could accept it. It didn't seem like something he would do, but she'd witnessed him apparently doing so, which made it a bit more feasible. Besides that possibility, there was something else Olivia had to work through. Elliot had obviously lied. Either to her or to Kathy, but he'd told different stories to them and clearly one of them could not be true.
Using her body for his pleasure was bad enough. If he'd lied to her in order to do so, that was simply unforgivable. Beyond even the homicidal rage she expected she'd eventually feel about it, the idea that such a thing was even possible stunned and sickened her. She couldn't believe it quite yet, so the anger and pain and real emotion couldn't set in.
One thing was clear, even in her inebriated state: she had to know if he'd lied to her. And there was only one way to find out, since she couldn't reasonably expect a liar to admit to having lied if that were the case. Loathe as she was to find out, she knew she had to.
It took all the strength she could muster to scrape herself off the floor. She almost changed her mind when she had to face the idea of getting dressed in something a little more appropriate. Unable to put much effort into it, she settled on the jeans and sweater she'd been wearing the previous night, since they were still lying in a messy heap on the floor by her bed. Rationalizing that it was easier than opening drawers, she tried to block out the memories of Elliot's hands pulling the hem of the sweater of her head, his fingers deftly working the button of her jeans. The feelings that accompanied the memories overwhelmed her while she contemplated her bra. She couldn't stop the image of Elliot sliding the straps down her arms while chasing them with his lips, nor could she ignore the vivid memory of his hands working the clasp, sliding the lacy fabric off of her completely while his hands and eyes and lips explored the newly revealed territory.
With a choked cry, bitten back by sheer pride, she threw the offending garment across the room. She couldn't imagine ever putting it back on, let alone just then. She decided to forego a bra altogether and pulled her clothes on as quickly as her impaired coordination would allow her. Her eyes held tight to the hallway, refusing to see anything else, ignoring the bed that would bring back more memories she wasn't emotionally equipped at the moment to deal with.
With a determination that strong-armed the hurt out of the way, she pulled on her jacket and the darkest sunglasses she owned to head outside. Her emotional collapse could wait; she resolved to find out the truth before she went back to her breakdown. She ignored the dread that built in her stomach with every step she took toward his apartment. The buzz of the alcohol was gone, leaving only a dehydrated fog in her mind. She stopped at a vendor to get some water, but she was only able to sip at it. Although empty, her stomach threatened retaliation at the attempt to put anything in it.
Her speed slowed incrementally; she was barely lifting her feet off the ground by the time she reached his block. Her eyes fell on the steps into Elliot's building, bringing to mind the night they'd sat on those steps and made peace. It had only been a few months earlier when they'd been starting over; now, they were just over.
She allowed herself a moment to feel the pain of it. Then she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and entered the building without another thought. Climbing the steps to the second floor resolutely, she talked herself into possibly giving him another chance. If he hadn't lied, if maybe he'd only made a colossal mistake that morning, if he felt bad for hurting her and wanted to apologize, she might be able to forgive him. Maybe. But first, she needed to know if he'd lied.
She knocked on his door, bracing herself for the unlikely possibility that he'd called off sick and was sitting inside. She prayed that wasn't the case since she didn't have any plans for that contingency, short of running for the stairs. Her knock echoed loudly, but he didn't answer. She raised her hand and knocked again, a bit harder to negate any chance that he was inside and hadn't heard.
She heard a door open and close downstairs and then a voice from the bottom of the staircase.
"You here to look at it?"
Her heart dropped as she peeked down at the gray-haired man below. "Yeah."
"I'll be right up."
"Thanks." She tried to smile, but it wouldn't come out. Still, she tried to keep herself calm. Just because he'd listed the place didn't mean he'd lied. Even if the plan to move home was only vague, he would need to get rid of his place eventually.
The super came up the stairs slowly, giving Olivia more time to study him than she needed. He was a short man, with a head full of curly gray hair. He favored his right leg as he limped along. Something about him, probably his easy smile and twinkling eyes, gave her the impression that he was younger than his haggard appearance initially led her to believe. Olivia guessed that he was only in his mid-fifties, despite his grandfatherly looks. Rather than being creepy, she found it cute when he winked at her. She wished she was really there to look for an apartment. There was something about him that made her comfortable. She'd have like to have him looking out for her in some way. She wanted someone like him in her life, someone she could run to in her current situation, someone who would give her a hug and offer her some stupid platitude about everything working out for the best.
"The guy who lives here is pretty quiet, not home much. The place is in great shape." He swung the door open and motioned for Olivia to go ahead.
She made another attempt at a smile, but it died quickly as she glanced around. The couch sat against the living room wall. Elliot's duffle bag sat on top of it, a few clothes spilling out of the unzipped top. His sneakers were sitting on the floor in front of the couch. But that was it. The rest of the room was empty.