Chapter Eleven

Michelle

Oliver called the next day and I finally answered.

“Michelle, are you okay?”

“Yes, no. No, Oliver, I’m not okay.”

“Can I come over?”

“What purpose would that serve?”

“We need to talk.”

“About what? You won’t tell me anything.”

“Look, there are things.”

“What things? If you can’t be up front with me, I don’t think we should see each other any more. I can’t deal with being involved with you if I can’t trust you. Right now I have no trust in you.”

“Please, Michelle. Don’t do this.”

“Oliver, you have it backward. You’re the one that’s doing it. Not me. Be honest with me and things will be fine. But until you can open up to me, I can’t find it in my heart to stay in this relationship. Goodbye, Oliver.”

I pushed the end button and sat staring at my phone. A text came in from him immediately.

Please don’t do this.

I didn’t respond.

A couple of weeks passed since that night and my decision was made. More than anything I needed to find out where the hell Oliver spent his time. If he loved me—and I truly thought he did and I loved him too—I wanted to know what in the world was going on. That was what pushed me to purchase the GPS device to go on his car. I could not believe I was being this snoopy. If any boyfriend of mine had ever done anything like this, I would’ve dumped him in a skinny minute. I guess it didn’t matter because Oliver and I weren’t really seeing each other anymore. Still, out of curiosity, I wanted to know where he went.

Another week passed by before I got up the nerve to actually put the damn thing on his car. One night, after midnight, I drove by his house. All the lights were out and his car was parked out front. I went down the street a ways, got out, and ran to the vehicle. Then I placed the small device under the front left fender near his tire, exactly like the instructions described. As soon as it was securely in place, I scooted the hell out of there. When I was home, I opened up the app on my phone and sure enough, it was activated and beeping in the exact location of his home address. I hadn’t told anyone I was going to spy on my ex-boyfriend. I felt like some creepy peeping tom, but whatever. I had to know. And that was that.

For five solid days I checked the app like some kind of possessed woman. It got to the point where I was acting stupid over it. So I decided to not pay attention to it anymore.

That lasted an entire week until Oliver called out of the blue and we had a nice chat. His voice brought all the feels back and then I felt guilty about having that device stuck on his car. I almost told him about it so he could hate me forever and take the damn thing off. But instead I began tracking him again.

It was early February and unseasonably warm. I was itching for spring and sick of winter. My life was a sad mess. I was lonely without Oliver. He started calling again occasionally, yet never answered the pointed questions I asked. He stuttered and then changed the topic every time. My heart broke after each conversation so I chose to avoid them all together. Friends at work were tired of my moping and suggested I date someone else. Even Sheridan was getting a little tired of it. But the thought of being with someone else didn’t go over well. Every time someone would point a guy out, my response was always the same. He wasn’t as sexy as Oliver. Or he wasn’t as smart as Oliver. Or he wasn’t as tall as Oliver. Or I didn’t like the way he dressed. Oliver was more hip. Or he didn’t wear sexy glasses like Oliver. I was hopelessly, madly in love with a man who was as mysterious as the true identity of Jack the Ripper. That’s how I got back on board with the tracker device.

The rest of the week passed with nothing unusual. He went to work every day, then back home. He made a few side trips here and there to the grocery store, his favorite sports bar, and a couple other places such as friends’ houses and the gym. Then on Sunday, he made a trip to the outskirts of a small town about an hour northeast of Atlanta. This must’ve been where his parents live. He stayed there for several hours, and then came home. It didn’t raise any red flags for me until he did it two more times—only those times he did it at eleven at night. Why would he go visit his parents so late at night, unless something serious had happened?

I decided I would give him a call the next day just to check in to make sure everything was all right. Since he didn’t know I had my fingers on where he went every day, I had to make him believe I was in the dark.

“Michelle. This is an unexpected surprise,” he said. He was the one who usually called me.

“A good one or a bad one?”

“Oh, a great one. I was sure you wouldn’t call me again.” He sounded genuinely happy to hear from me.

“Yeah, I know. I don’t want to give you any false illusions though, Oliver.”

“I wish you would give us another try.”

“I can’t until you open up to me. I know there’s more and can’t understand why you won’t tell me.” He was quiet for so long, I broke the silence. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Fine, other than missing you.”

He didn’t sound fine, but he said nothing about his parents. That raised an alarm. So then why did he go out there? And not only once but twice. I let it drop and didn’t bring it up.

“Work okay?”

A soft sigh escaped him and my skin instantly pebbled with goosebumps. His voice, his breath, everything about Oliver was sexy. God I missed him and those dark-framed glasses. Why wouldn’t he open up to me?

“Work is work. How about you? The last time we were together, you were swamped with the summer ads. Everything settled down now?”

“Pretty much.” He was always so attentive to every part of my life. Except for the questions he wouldn’t answer. “We’re in the calm before the next storm.”

“Which is?”

“Christmas,” I said with a laugh.

“Jesus, it’s not even spring.”

“Right? But that’s how far in a advance we have to plan and bid for the jobs.”

“Michelle, I miss the hell out of you. Not a day goes by when I don’t think of you.”

My gut twisted with his words. We were so happy when those shadows didn’t pop out to get in the way. “I miss you too. I’d better be going.”

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“You too.”

Melancholy nailed me as I thought about how I could be in his bed, under him, kissing him right now, if only … if only what? I knew what and it wasn’t happening. That’s why I was secretly stalking him. It scared me to think I had stooped to that level. And what would it accomplish? I knew he was going out late at night but I didn’t ask him about it. So what was my next move?

That answer came the following Sunday. I was sitting at home in the evening, staring at the stupid app, when Oliver’s car began to move. I had nothing better to do, so I decided to follow him. It was about seven o’clock at night. I was far behind him so he had no idea I would be following him.

Nearly an hour later, I pulled off the interstate and traveled down a winding road until the GPS indicated I needed to turn down a gravel road. He was really off the beaten path. When he said his family lived out in the sticks, he meant it. A few miles later, I slowed to a crawl to eliminate the dust I was stirring up and switched my headlights to parking lights, even though it wasn’t the smartest thing, but I didn’t want him to find me out here, tailing him. As I rounded a curve, up ahead I saw a house sitting off the road. It was hard to miss, as it was the only one around. Oliver’s car sat in the driveway, along with another one. I stopped and put my car in reverse, pulling it off to the side. Thank God my cell phone had that flashlight app on it or I would’ve been stumbling around in the dark.

I carefully picked my way around bushes and God knows what—I didn’t even want to think what could’ve been slithering around my feet. When I got to the house, I crept around the windows, but couldn’t get a good look inside--until I found a painter’s bucket next to the front porch. Turning it upside down, I stepped up on it and peered through the blinds. My heart sank to my toes as I saw Oliver in the room talking animatedly with a woman. There was no family there. It was just the two of them. I was crushed. I could hear muffled words, but couldn’t make anything out. She was gesturing with her hands, and he was paying close attention. I was even more upset by how beautiful she was. She wore a baseball cap pulled low over her eyes, but she had a long blond ponytail and wore exercise clothing. Her long legs were endless which made me even more depressed. I wanted to cry. He spun her around, her back toward me, and started fiddling with her shirt. Was he undressing her? Were they going to have sex? As I stared at them it hit me. I knew her. It was Tara. They worked together. Oh my God! He’d been cheating on me with one of his coworkers.

The thought shocked me so much I lost my balance on the paint bucket and that’s when the catastrophe hit. In my struggle to save myself, I grabbed the window ledge, which forced my head into the glass causing a big thumping sound. Then I fell off the bucket, face first into the giant shrub that was there, getting tangled up in the thing. It wasn’t exactly my most graceful move I have to say. The motion set off the floodlights and, of course, Oliver and Tara came running outside.

When he discovered it was me lying head first in the bushes, he said, “Michelle, what the hell are you doing here?” He pulled me out of the stupid hedge.

“I might ask the same of you.” Leaves and twigs were everywhere, but my face stung like fire. I wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or if I had scratched the hell out of it. It felt like a little of both. My accusing glare ping ponged between my ex-boyfriend and his lover, and he actually had the decency to squirm.

“Michelle, this isn’t … I mean we weren’t …” he blew out a huff.

The other woman said, “You might as well tell her.”

“Tell her?” he asked, his voice rising.

“Tell me what? That you’ve been screwing around on me? That’s obvious,” I said.

“That’s not what we’re doing here,” he said. “Tara and I work together.” His hands flew in the air and he held something in one of them that had a long wire attached to it. The wire flew around, nearly hitting him in the head.

“Indeed. We’ve met. Remember? I’m sure you get a lot of work accomplished. At least now I know where you go on all your family outings.” Family my ass.

Then he informed me my face had blood on it. How more perfect could this be? I dabbed my fingers to it and held them up to the light. Sure enough, blood was present. “Great. Exactly what I need.” I was done with him and this conversation. I started to walk away when he grabbed my arm.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.” I pulled my arm away.

“No, you honestly don’t understand. Tara and I … were working.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“No! I mean yes.”

Shaking my head at him, I said, “You two need to get a better story than that. I’m out of here.” I moved past him, but he grabbed my arm again.

“Michelle, I have to explain. Come inside. I can help you clean up your face. Besides, you don’t understand. None of it. Tara and I work together but not in the way you think.”

I aimed my finger at him. “See. I knew it. You two are together. Look, you’ve done enough damage already, Oliver. I thought I was important to you … meant something to you. But things never added up. Now I know why. The lies, the secrets. It all makes sense now. You and Tara. Well, I’m through with you. Now let me go.”

This time when I tried to leave, he didn’t stop me. But as I turned he said, “I love you, Michelle and it really isn’t what you think.”

“Yeah, tell that to your other girlfriend,” I mumbled. I started to jog back to my car when my toe caught on something and I went sprawling. What the fuck else was going to happen to me? I scrambled to my feet as a thought hit me. “You know, if I’d caught you creeping around my house like this, I would’ve freaked. But you really haven’t. That only confirms your guilt to me. And you didn’t ask me a single question about how I found you. Now why is that, Oliver?”

He stared at me with his beautiful mouth slightly parted. Even after all this, all I wanted to do was kiss him. God, I hated myself right then. I limped away and by the time I got to the car, tears clouded my vision. Why did I have to fall for a guy who couldn’t be faithful? Why couldn’t I fall for someone who only wanted me? And why the hell did I stand on a stupid paint bucket of all things?