birthday party at Players. Lisbeth left the party around one. Irina stayed.”
“Anybody of interest at the party?”
“A lot of wealthy men with shaky morals,” I said. “Jim Brody, who owns Star Polo. A couple of hotshot polo players. Paul Kenner, Mr. Baseball—”
“Spitball,” he corrected me, scowling. Kenner had once hit on me, in front of him. Men.
“—A couple of Palm Beach rich boys. Bennett Walker.”
Somehow I expected Landry to have a big reaction when I said that name, as if he would instantly know all about my history with Walker. Stupid. Landry hadn’t even been living in South Florida at the time. And I certainly hadn’t spilled my heart out to him about it. Our pillow talk had consisted of more current events.
“Bennett Walker,” he said. “He races boats, doesn’t he?”
“I don’t know,” I said, even though I did. Bennett and my father had the sport in common. They could have talked boats for hours. For all I knew, they still did. “He’s into the polo scene.”
“Rich.”
“Filthy. You’ll want to talk to him,” I said, dreading the thought.
He nodded. “I’ll want to talk to anyone who was at Players that night, down to busboys and valets.”
I should have told him about Bennett and the rape/assault charges back when. I should have told him I had testified at the trial.
I should have told him that I had loved Bennett Walker once. That I had loved him enough to say yes when he asked me to marry him. But I told Landry none of those things. He would find out soon enough.
Tearing all those memories out of the emotional and psychological scar tissue was going to be a terrible experience. I wanted to stall the inevitable as long as I could. I felt like Harrison Ford in the opening scene of
Raiders of the Lost Ark
when the gigantic stone is rolling after him as he tries to escape the secret temple. The huge ball that was my past and my pain was rolling toward me, and there was nothing I could do to escape it.
Landry reached over and stroked his hand over the back of my head tenderly. “Elena,” he said softly. “I’m sorry about this morning. About Irina. About the way I treated you when we first got to the scene. I’m not the most tactful guy when I’m angry.”
“You were cruel,” I said, looking straight at him. He looked away.
“I know. I wish I hadn’t said what I did about you quitting. I didn’t mean it.”
“Then why did you say it?”
He thought about his answer for a moment, weighing the truth versus something less.
“Because I wanted you to hurt…the way I hurt.”
I shouldn’t have wanted him to touch me, but I did. If I could have gone back in time to Sunday night, knowing what was going to happen that Monday, I probably wouldn’t have broken up with him. I probably would have put it off, just to give myself the luxury of turning to him. He probably expected that I still would turn to him.
I could have leaned forward and kissed him. He had moved that close. And then he would have wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. And we would have gone into my guest cottage, and we would have ended up in bed—because we always ended up in bed. And we would exhaust each other, and maybe I would be able to sleep and not dream.
Headlights turned in at the gate just then. Sean, back from his day at the beach.
“That’s Sean?” Landry asked. “You want me to tell him?”
I shook my head as I stood up. “I’ll do it.”
“I’ll need to talk to him.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?” I asked.
He looked at his watch. “It can wait until later. I need to grab something to eat. I’ll go and come back.”
“Thank you.”
He wanted to say something more but thought better of it. I walked away before he could change his mind.
The best thing to do in a weak moment: walk away.
I didn’t look back.
chapter 10
LANDRY WATCHED her walk away. He followed at a distance, until he was standing in the open doorway of the
“Anybody of interest at the party?”
“A lot of wealthy men with shaky morals,” I said. “Jim Brody, who owns Star Polo. A couple of hotshot polo players. Paul Kenner, Mr. Baseball—”
“Spitball,” he corrected me, scowling. Kenner had once hit on me, in front of him. Men.
“—A couple of Palm Beach rich boys. Bennett Walker.”
Somehow I expected Landry to have a big reaction when I said that name, as if he would instantly know all about my history with Walker. Stupid. Landry hadn’t even been living in South Florida at the time. And I certainly hadn’t spilled my heart out to him about it. Our pillow talk had consisted of more current events.
“Bennett Walker,” he said. “He races boats, doesn’t he?”
“I don’t know,” I said, even though I did. Bennett and my father had the sport in common. They could have talked boats for hours. For all I knew, they still did. “He’s into the polo scene.”
“Rich.”
“Filthy. You’ll want to talk to him,” I said, dreading the thought.
He nodded. “I’ll want to talk to anyone who was at Players that night, down to busboys and valets.”
I should have told him about Bennett and the rape/assault charges back when. I should have told him I had testified at the trial.
I should have told him that I had loved Bennett Walker once. That I had loved him enough to say yes when he asked me to marry him. But I told Landry none of those things. He would find out soon enough.
Tearing all those memories out of the emotional and psychological scar tissue was going to be a terrible experience. I wanted to stall the inevitable as long as I could. I felt like Harrison Ford in the opening scene of
Raiders of the Lost Ark
when the gigantic stone is rolling after him as he tries to escape the secret temple. The huge ball that was my past and my pain was rolling toward me, and there was nothing I could do to escape it.
Landry reached over and stroked his hand over the back of my head tenderly. “Elena,” he said softly. “I’m sorry about this morning. About Irina. About the way I treated you when we first got to the scene. I’m not the most tactful guy when I’m angry.”
“You were cruel,” I said, looking straight at him. He looked away.
“I know. I wish I hadn’t said what I did about you quitting. I didn’t mean it.”
“Then why did you say it?”
He thought about his answer for a moment, weighing the truth versus something less.
“Because I wanted you to hurt…the way I hurt.”
I shouldn’t have wanted him to touch me, but I did. If I could have gone back in time to Sunday night, knowing what was going to happen that Monday, I probably wouldn’t have broken up with him. I probably would have put it off, just to give myself the luxury of turning to him. He probably expected that I still would turn to him.
I could have leaned forward and kissed him. He had moved that close. And then he would have wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. And we would have gone into my guest cottage, and we would have ended up in bed—because we always ended up in bed. And we would exhaust each other, and maybe I would be able to sleep and not dream.
Headlights turned in at the gate just then. Sean, back from his day at the beach.
“That’s Sean?” Landry asked. “You want me to tell him?”
I shook my head as I stood up. “I’ll do it.”
“I’ll need to talk to him.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?” I asked.
He looked at his watch. “It can wait until later. I need to grab something to eat. I’ll go and come back.”
“Thank you.”
He wanted to say something more but thought better of it. I walked away before he could change his mind.
The best thing to do in a weak moment: walk away.
I didn’t look back.
chapter 10
LANDRY WATCHED her walk away. He followed at a distance, until he was standing in the open doorway of the
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