Backstage Pass
Page 50

She shook her head. “No, not while we were married. Strange as it sounds, I sometimes wish he had. It would have made it easier to leave. He mostly yel ed. Made me doubt myself. Sometimes I can stil hear his voice, screaming at me, cal ing me a whore. If our problems had stayed between us, I might have been able to deal with it, but Jeremy confronted several of my male coworkers and accused them of seducing me. He even got several of their wives involved. I had to leave my first faculty position because of it.”
“Why did you stay with him?”
“I was stupid; I kept forgiving him. He’d say, ‘I love you, Myrna. I love you. I love you. That’s al that matters. I love you.’ I believed it for so long. I don’t know how many second chances he earned by bastardizing those three words. Hundreds. I can’t even stand to hear them now. Those words repulse me. Remind me of my weakness. My stupidity. I think the worst part was, as a psychologist, I knew what he was doing to me—I knew—and hated myself for taking him back over and over again, but I couldn’t break the cycle. I wanted it to work. But…”
Having already said too much, she bit her lip and fel silent.
His hand brushed over her hair and he kissed her temple. “But you left him, right? So you’re not weak. You broke away.”
“Yeah, I final y left him, but it didn’t matter. If anything, it got worse. He stalked me. I thought he was going to kil me. I got a restraining order. He ignored it. They’d arrest him and he’d be out of jail almost immediately. He was a wel -respected man in the community. Wealthy. Old money. Highly educated. Charming. Most people had no idea what he was real y like. And those who did were too afraid of his family’s affluence to do anything. After I left him, he fol owed me everywhere for months; his footsteps always echoed mine. I’d often find him standing outside my house. Watching. Leaving little love notes in places he knew I’d find them.” She shuddered. “But because he never hurt me physical y, they wouldn’t do anything. Verbal and emotional harassment don’t carry the same weight as physical abuse. I understand why, but it didn’t make it easier to live through it.”
Brian stroked her back and her preferred numbness returned. Why was she tel ing Brian al these things? She’d never told anyone the ful extent of her terror.
“The divorce,” she whispered. “The divorce was horrible. He refused to sign the divorce papers, so we had to go to court and I relived the entire ordeal in front of a judge. The accusations. The things he said to me. How he humiliated me in front of people I wanted to respect me. Thank God the judge believed me and pushed the divorce through, even though Jeremy contested it. The day I was legal y free of him, the day our marriage official y ended, was the best day of my life. I never want to be trapped like that again—
by the word love or the institution of marriage.”
“So after the divorce he final y left you alone?”
She shook her head. “He refused to accept it. He kept stalking me. Continued to refer to me as his wife. When I started dating again, he snapped. In his mind, I was cheating on him. I’m sure Jeremy slashed my date’s tires while we were having dinner. Then one night he broke into my apartment and waited for me to come home. I don’t remember much of it, just waking up in the hospital two days later.” She took his hand in hers and lifted it to the uneven ridge on the back of her head. “This scar. He gave it to me. Hit me with the fireplace poker, knocked me out cold, beat me within an inch of my life, and then the idiot cal ed an ambulance.”
“Jesus Christ.” Brian pressed his lips to her temple.
“He confessed to the whole thing and went to jail. I changed my last name, moved, and covered my tracks, so he’d never find me again.” That’s why she’d been so scared when Brian had found her so easily. She reminded herself that Brian had known to look in Kansas City. Jeremy would not. He couldn’t find her. He couldn’t. He didn’t even know her name. But the flowers… Jeremy knew gladiolas were her favorites.
“Thank you for tel ing me,” he said. “I understand a few things about you that were bugging me.”
She bugged him? “What kind of things?”
He hesitated. “I… Wel , I notice you tend to freeze up for a few seconds when we try something a little kinky.”
She flushed. “You noticed that, huh?”
“It’s like you, the real you, is this uninhibited, open, sexual being, but something makes you feel it’s wrong. It’s not wrong, Myrna. It’s wonderful.”
“Somewhere in my head I know that, Brian, but I’m damaged.”
He squeezed her. “No. You’re perfect.” He kissed her temple again. “Perfect.”
Her breath came out in a gasp and she tried to pul away, but he tugged her closer. “Please don’t make it impossible for me to live up to your expectations, Brian. This is too much. Too soon. I can’t handle it. I feel… trapped. Don’t…”
Brian tilted her head back and gazed into her eyes. He kissed a stray tear from her cheek. “I’m not that guy, Myrna. I accept you for who you are.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“I would like to kil that guy, though. Do you have his address?”
She shook her head. “I have no contact with him. I haven’t seen him in four years.”
He held her quietly for several moments and she reveled in the feel of his strong arms around her. So safe. But stil scary.
He tugged her back by her shoulders and stared down at her. “So I guess what you need most from me is emotional space.”
“Yes.”
“And time.”
“And patience,” she added.
He nodded. “I’l try to give you what you need, but it won’t be easy. I’m pretty into you, Myrna.”
She smiled, staring into his warm brown eyes. “I’m very much into you, Brian.”
“I guess you wouldn’t like me to use the l-word then.”
“Not unless it’s lips.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily.
“Lips is a very good l-word,” he murmured.
“Yeah, so is lust.” She pul ed his shirt off over his head and flicked her tongue over his nipple. “And lick.”
“I’m particularly fond of let’s go.” He took her hand and tugged her toward the bedroom. She laughed, fol owing him. “That’s two words.”