So he hoofed it to the Benders’。
Olivia’s Jeep was in the driveway. The sight of it lifted his heart. She was home!
He still had a full set of keys, to the house, to the cars, to the shed, though he wondered if by now, they’d had them changed. The cameras were running again; he could see the small red power light. Going up to the house would be harder. But he didn’t care. He wanted things to end. He wanted to die with Olivia’s arms around him.
He was about to scoot around the hedge to the porch when the garage door started up. He could hear Park Bender talking. Shit. He rolled to the ground by the hedge and froze. He’d been so careful, but had he been seen? Had someone called the police? Was this going to end right now, with Peyton covered in blood and muck, lying on the ground like a wounded squirrel?
No. Bender got into the Jeep, still talking. He sounded frantic, upset. Peyton listened until he heard Bender say, “Olivia, just don’t do anything until I get there. Okay? We’ll talk this through. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She wasn’t home, but Bender was going to her. Okay. Okay.
If Bender had been looking at the house when he backed out, he surely would have seen Peyton still as a fallen log, lying under the hedge. But he didn’t. He spun the wheels and was out of the driveway seconds later.
Peyton smiled.
Change of plan.
46
THE WIFE
Dawn, again.
But this time, not alone.
Olivia has barely slept, but she’s also not had any bad dreams, and for that she is forever grateful to the man still prone next to her. It has been a long time since she woke up with Perry Bender’s arms around her, pulling her into him as snug as a snail to its shell, holding her through the night, keeping her nightmares at bay. He slept, but she lay there with him, reveling in the safety, the gentleness, his breath moving the hair by her ear, his tiny snores before he fell deeply asleep.
Her heart has been shackled for years; this she now knows. It’s remarkable, really, to have been holding herself apart from Park the way she has. Unintentionally. Unknowingly. And yet, the division had been there, and she didn’t realize it until she opened herself to Perry again.
She has a lifetime to examine the mistakes she’s made. But for now, she must pull herself from this blissful nest. She must rise, stretch, walk.
Confront.
Park should be here soon. He got on the road at midnight, though she’d encouraged him to wait until the morning. She doesn’t ask why he didn’t answer his phone. She thinks she probably knows the answer to that. She glances at Perry, still nestled in the bed. She can hardly fault Park for finding comfort elsewhere, as she has done.
Assuming he didn’t stop more than twice, he should be here in an hour. Enough time.
She sets the water to boil, pulls out two cups, gets the tea. Once it’s made, she takes her cup to the deck, drains it, then starts down the boardwalk.
“Wait up!”
Perry jogs out of the house, tying the string on a pair of shorts. Even in the barely dawn light, he is breathtaking. He joins her, matching her steps. Their rhythm is easy, the sand a gentle caress against their feet. It is chillier today than yesterday, and she pulls on the long-sleeved shirt she has tied around her waist.
They walk for several minutes before she speaks.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You didn’t. I realized when you weren’t in the bed you were probably walking. But in case Park got here early…”
“You came to save me?”
“I came… Gosh, it really is pretty here.”
The sun’s glow has turned the sea turquoise. “You should see the storms. They’re breathtaking.”
“So are you.”
“Flatterer.”
They find the turn, and are almost back when Perry says, “I do have to go back to work. Maybe you’d consider coming with me?”
“To where?”
“I’m based out of London. I have a flat in Kensington Gardens. You’d like it. Lots of color.”
“And if I don’t want to go to London? You aren’t there often. Would I need to follow you all over the world on your shoots?”
“Maybe? Maybe I’d change things up.”
“Would you stay here?”
“Well, I haven’t done a lot of work on US soil, and there’s plenty around to capture my attention.” He stops, pulling her to him. “I want to be where you are, Olivia.”
They stand together for a moment, but Olivia hears the slam of a car door and pulls away.
“Park’s here.”
Perry shades his eyes as he looks toward the drive, which they can see from this spot on the beach, through the outdoor living room by the pool to the street.
“So he is.”
Park looks good for a man who’s driven all night. He’s wearing jeans and a polo she doesn’t recognize; his beard is growing in after several weeks without a razor. She doesn’t care for beards; she almost smiles to see this new independence flouted in her face. He doesn’t seem surprised to see Perry in shorts and no shirt, Olivia in workout gear, looking like they’ve just taken a walk together, intimately, as they have.
“Is there coffee?” he says, in lieu of physical contact.
It really is over, she thinks, heading for the cabinet. Perry excuses himself for a shower, promising to be back in a moment, leaving them alone.
“So, my brother, huh?”
She plugs in the coffee maker. “We were just taking a walk.”
Park gives her a wolfish smile and points to her neck. Frowning, she goes to the guest bath. A love bite, clear as day, just under her ear. At least he isn’t foaming at the mouth. Maybe they will be able to do this well. Separation. Moving on with others. There must be scar tissue building in her heart.
Park has finished making the coffee and poured himself a cup. He’s leaning against the counter.
“We should probably talk,” he says, and she nods.
“Probably.”
“Is that what you’ve brought me down here for? To tell me you’re with Perry now?”
“Not at all. It’s about Annie Cottrell and Melanie Rich.”
She can swear he flinches at the names.
“I just need to hear you say it.”
“I didn’t kill them,” he replies automatically.
“That’s what I told Perry. But he’s pretty upset by some new information he’s found out.”
Park pours another cup, cool as can be.
“Like what?”
“Like you went to St. Louis a few weeks back?”
To her utter shock, he doesn’t deny it. “Yeah.”
“What else have you lied about, Park?”
“Are we doing this now? Here?” He gestures to the kitchen, as if this isn’t the perfect place for them to talk. Their lives were torn in the kitchen of their home. It seems only fitting the final rips should come in another.
“There’s a spot off the living room I’m making into an outdoor eat-in. We can sit there.”
The morning is already warming up, but the roof hasn’t been removed here yet. She’s complementing the outdoor living room with a full dining area feeding off the kitchen to the deck, a massive loggia. Open the glass doors, let the outside in. The new chairs are still covered in industrial-grade plastic, but Park lounges on one, feet up, as if he hasn’t a care in the world. Perry joins them, taking the other. Olivia perches on the thick wooden railing.