Page 20 of Fool Me Twice

Evie tapped on the bedroom door and waited, giving Peter enough time to make himself decent.

“Good morning,” she said, as she entered the room carrying a tray containing a couple of slices of toast, some scrambled eggs, and a cup of tea. “I’ve made you some breakfast...” But the bed was empty. “Peter?” she called, scanning the room in case he’d fallen out of bed and was lying on the floor out of sight. Then she noticed the steam and sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

“In here,” he called. “I’ve had a bit of an . . . accident.”

Evie raced across to the bathroom door and yanked it open to find Peter slumped on the floor of the shower, propped on one elbow in the corner as the jets pummelled him. “What the hell?” Tiptoeing across the wet floor so as not to slip, she reached inside the shower and turned off the water.

“My knee.” He flinched when he tried to move. “It gave out.”

“I meant, what the hell did you think you were doing taking a shower on your own?”

“I don’t know,” he said irritably. “I was fed up with having to ask Matt every time I needed to wash my balls. Argh!” he cried out as he twisted himself around.

“And how did that work out for you? Huh?” She tried to get underneath his left arm to lift him up.

“Not so good,” he murmured quietly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Not so good,” he repeated, louder.

Evie tried to hoist him up, but he was a lot heavier than she’d realised. His skin felt cold and clammy, and she had no idea how long he’d been there. She knew what she needed to do, and it was going to hurt like hell. She needed a distraction. “So, is that what you two do in the shower, then?”

Peter frowned.

“You and Matt.” She reached for the towel Peter had placed nearby and dropped it onto the floor of the shower. She slid it beneath her feet, trying to get some traction on the wet floor. “In the shower.” With his left arm looped around her neck, she silently counted to three. “He soaps your balls for you?”

“What?” His head spun around to look at her as she heaved him up to standing. “Argh, Christ, Evie.”

“Okay, that was the hard part,” she reassured him as they caught their breath.

Peter grinned. “Cheap trick.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” As hard as she tried, she couldn’t stop her eyes following the water droplets as they strayed south. Every breath was shallow, her heart hammering against her chest. She didn’t know if it was the exertion or her body’s betrayal.

They held each other’s gaze. “Evie,” Peter began, his face only inches from hers.

But she couldn’t go there, not again. “Let’s get you dry and back into bed.”

His voice was low, his gaze burning into her soul. “Is that an offer?”

Keep it together, Evie. “Been there, done that,” she said flippantly, slipping her free hand around his back while holding his other hand with hers. “And I can assure you, I won’t be doing that again.” Memories flashed through her mind, recollections of all the long, lonely nights she’d sobbed into her pillow. Flashbacks of the wasted days spent waiting for a phone call or letter that never came.

Pain gave way to humiliation as the weeks passed and the realisation dawned that she’d been just another anonymous distraction, one in a long line of disposable diversions he’d amused himself with while away from home.

Even after finding out he’d gone back to his wife, she still harboured a secret hope that maybe he’d get in touch, that he’d at least want to be involved with their child even if he didn’t want her. But still no call or letter came.

The pain and humiliation of her abandonment eventually subsided, only to be replaced by anger. A seething, boiling anger that consumed her.

Anger with herself for being so gullible, for believing all the lies he’d told and promises he’d made, for falling in love with him, for... everything.

Anger at Peter, for making her fall in love with him, for making her believe he loved her too.

“No?” he rasped, close to her ear.

“No.” But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true; she’d come close a few seconds ago. But she couldn’t give in. She’d worked hard to build a good life for her and Jaxon, and a successful business. She hadn’t needed a man back then, and she certainly didn’t need one now.

With his weight resting on her shoulders, they slowly made it across the room. “You’re shivering,” she said, lowering him onto the bed, before going to the wardrobe and grabbing a white towelling robe and a dry shirt for herself. Draping the robe around his shoulders, she hurried back to the bathroom for a dry towel and to quickly changed out of her wet top.

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