Behind His Eyes: Truth

  He turned to her with surprise. “You said no.”

  “I don’t mean sex. I mean actions, like tricking me tonight, and setting me up for your attempted murder.”

  He exhaled. The past wouldn’t go away.

  Claire continued, “Tell me why.”

  “I told you. It was a loophole.”

  Her head shook against his shoulder. “I don’t understand your puzzles.”

  “You, too, are very intelligent. I don’t believe you’ve spent the past year and a half without suspicions.”

  “I truly didn’t understand,” Claire replied. “Until I received that box of information.”

  “And what did you conclude from that?”

  As she contemplated her answer, her fingers mindlessly played with the small buttons down the center of his silk shirt. The familiarity filled him with a new sense of hope. Finally, she spoke, “Well, it’s hard to answer. You see, I thought you’d sent it, so I thought you were adding insult to injury, you know, rubbing salt in my wounds.”

  Damn Catherine! That was the exact opposite of what she’d said. Tony pushed aside his anger and concentrated on Claire. Seeing the delivery from her perspective caused his chest to ache. “You thought I’d do that?”

  “What else could I think? You set me up and left me.”

  The hope that moments earlier filled the penthouse evaporated; nevertheless, he tried again to help her understand. “There are few people in this world whom I’ve cared about. Few people whose opinion of me I value.” He cupped her chin and looked into her glistening emerald eyes. “I know you have reason to doubt me—hell, reasons—but, Claire, you are one of those people.” She closed her eyes, and he continued speaking, “I need you to understand that I made promises, and I keep my word.”

  “You made me a promise, on December eighteenth—”

  He interrupted, each word coming slower than the one before, “Two thousand and ten, in our estate, to love you forever—I kept my word.”

  His lips found hers. She responded with the same unspoken need, primal and raw. It wasn’t his imagination or a dream; they had the same desires. Then, it ended too soon. Without warning, Claire stood and swayed. Tony reached out to steady her. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  Claire picked up her shoes and smoothed her dress. “I’m fine. I want to go now.”

  He didn’t argue. In another minute they’d have been where they were in her condominium. Tony didn’t want Claire to associate tonight’s manipulation with sex. The next time they made love—and there would be a next time—she needed to admit her desires. There would be no more dreaming.

  His eyes never left her as he called Eric. She looked beautiful, even with her smeared makeup and tousled hair; however, that wasn’t why he couldn’t look away. From her earlier paleness to the bouts with dizziness, Tony was worried. Perhaps he’d pushed her too far. Whatever the issue, he didn’t want her to fall. Once his call was done, he said, “Eric will have the car ready in the private garage in a few minutes.” Seeing the question in her eyes, he added, “If we enter the car in the garage, then we can avoid paparazzi.”

  “Oh, good idea, I need to use the restroom, and I’ll be ready to leave.” Claire turned to walk away and then turned back. “We? Tony, I don’t need you to ride with me,” she paused. “I’d prefer you didn’t.”

  “Then I’ll escort you to the car, if that’s acceptable?”

  Claire nodded and walked toward the bathroom. With her shoes dangling from her fingertips, her dress swept the floor. No one else needed to see her in this condition, though he could. To him, it was a gift, a very private view that he didn’t want to share. Soon enough the media would intrude upon their world. According to the text messages he’d received, he and Claire were the talk of the town—hell, the country.

  When the elevator opened to the private parking area, Eric immediately opened the door to the backseat. As Claire nodded and entered the car, Tony spoke to Eric, “Ms. Claire would prefer to ride back to Palo Alto alone. Please call me when she’s safely to her door.”

  “Yes, Mr. Rawlings,” Eric said as he began to shut Claire’s door.

  “I can get this,” Tony said, as he leaned into the backseat and handed Claire her phone.

  “Thank you, Tony. Good-bye.”

  “Don’t forget the news release.”

  “How could I?”

  “We’ll need to discuss it further.”

  “I’m discussed out.”

  “I can tell you’re tired,” he admitted. “Go get some sleep. We can continue our discussion tomorrow, before I leave for Iowa.”

  “I have plans tomorrow. Call me after you’re back in Iowa.”

  He wasn’t in the mood to debate. “This would be better discussed in person.”

  She relented. “Let me meet you somewhere.”

  “Ten tomorrow morning. Text me the location; Palo Alto is fine.”

  “Tomorrow,” she agreed with a nod.

  “Tomorrow, Claire.” He closed the door, tapped the top of the car, and Eric drove away. Tony watched the taillights of the Mercedes C-Class grow smaller as it left the underground garage. Wearily, he made his way back to the empty penthouse.

  As the bourbon burned his throat, his mind cleared. The evening had gone well. Despite Claire’s fire, she could still follow his rules. Tomorrow they would talk again and iron out the specifics of their reunion.

  What you perceive, your observations, feelings, interpretations, are all your truth. Your truth is important. Yet it is not THE TRUTH.

  —Linda Ellinor

  Common sense would say that Tony’s best friends had too much going on with their son’s wedding less than a week away to take time for a visit from him; nevertheless, common sense had never been Tony’s calling card—especially when it came to his personal life. Fortunately, Brent and Courtney had been his friends for long enough that they were used to his ways. That was what Tony reminded himself as he neared their home on Sunday morning following the gala. They were his first stop. After them, his day would include a visit with Tim and Sue, as well as Tom and Bev.

  During their discussions the day before, Tony and Claire agreed that in two weeks they’d meet in Chicago for a weekend of business activities, and reinforce the reunification perception to the world. He hated that she wanted her own accommodations. Yes, he’d offered that, but he’d hoped she wouldn’t think it was necessary. After all, they had been married, and his apartment held more than one bedroom. Shaking his head, he recalled how adamant she’d been about other issues as well. Claire refused his credit card for clothes, saying that if he didn’t like the way she dressed, he could find another companion. She also refused private planes and insisted on flying commercial. On more than one issue, Tony debated his response. He wanted to demand, command, and insist. He was Anthony Rawlings; his gut instinct and intuition had created a billion-dollar industry—he knew best. However, there was something about her perceived strength, the way she demanded and insisted, yet never commanded. It intrigued him. As he listened he found himself laughing. Not because her desires were funny, no. It was the way she did it. She listened and then politely refused many of his proposals. Had there ever been anyone who had so blatantly and repeatedly told him no? Definitely no one who knew him as well as Claire.

  Of course, there were other issues where Tony refused to budge, specifically his undebatable demand regarding public outings. Neither of them would be seen with anyone in a situation that could be misconstrued as a date. It was selfish and Tony would admit that, at least to himself, but when it came to Claire, he was a selfish bastard—not heartless as she’d said, but selfish.

  There was little he could do at this time about Claire’s living arrangements. As long as she was living with Amber, and Baldwin lived down the hall, Tony knew that Claire and Baldwin would run into one another. His new undebatable rule would at least minimize public outings. If there was something Tony was tired of seeing—both in his email attachm
ents and on his newsfeed—were pictures of her with him.

  Tony pulled up to Brent and Courtney’s, and parked on their brick drive. He’d told them he needed to speak to them about the press release. After spending the past sixteen months refusing to say Claire’s name, Tony realized his change of heart might be a tough bill to sell, but he was a master businessman, and talking a good game was his specialty. The thing was, he had an ulterior motive—his visit wasn’t only about the press release. Tony wanted to bring Claire to Caleb Simmons’ wedding. It was a revelation that occurred to him while he and Claire were sitting at the park in Redwood Shores. He didn’t care that he already had a date; he’d cancel. But before he asked Claire, Tony wanted to run the idea past his friends. They needed to know his stance and understand that he no longer believed Claire tried to kill him. Of course, he never believed it, but he couldn’t tell them that.

  As Tony scaled the front steps, Brent opened the front door. “Good morning, Tony,” Brent greeted. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks,” he said, as he looked around. “Is Courtney here?”

  “She is. She’s kind of going a little crazy right now.”

  “I know you two must be busy. This won’t take long.”

  Brent led Tony through the house toward the kitchen. “Cort, Tony’s here.”

  Although she greeted him with her customary hug, volumes of unspoken questions filled the room with tension. Tony didn’t like it. He had very few people in his life that he considered true friends, and Brent and Courtney were on his short list.

  “So,” Tony began. “I thought you deserved to question me yourself—about the press release. I’m sure it came as a shock. I would’ve been here sooner, but I didn’t get back from California until late last night.”

  The Simmonses looked at one another. Finally, Courtney spoke, “I really don’t know what to say. I mean, seriously, what the hell?”

  Tony pressed his lips together. It was more direct than he’d anticipated.

  “I don’t understand,” Courtney continued. Her voice cracking as her volume increased. “I wanted to help her and you forbade it!”

  Brent squared his shoulders. “Sorry, Tony, Courtney has a lot happening right now. This caught us both off guard.”

  “No,” Tony hastily replied. “Don’t apologize for her.” Turning to Courtney, he added, “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I was wrong and I deserve everything you just said.”

  His friends sat silently as a bit of the tension eased. After a few moments, Courtney wiped a tear from her cheek and offered, “Wow, I never expected to hear that from you.”

  Tony shook his head. “I never expected to say it. I think it was seeing her, talking to her—”

  Courtney interrupted, “Wait, would you like some coffee? I think we need more than a brief answer.”

  Tony agreed.

  Courtney started the coffee and excused herself for a moment. When she returned her tears had dried, and the three friends moved to the sunporch. The fresh, gentle breeze from the open windows helped to facilitate a calmer atmosphere. As Tony spoke, he explained how he never wanted to believe that Claire would want to kill him, but the evidence seemed so strong. He lashed out—at her and everyone else. He added, “I’m sorry.”

  Though Brent didn’t respond, Courtney walked to where Tony was seated and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Tony exhaled. It was a more welcoming hug than the one he’d received upon his arrival. After she moved back to her seat, Brent asked, “How did you secure her pardon?” His frigid tone returned the chill to the spring air.

  Tony glared in his direction and the wheels turned. Honesty? Fabrication?

  Before he could reply, Brent continued, “I mean, I accompanied you to Ms. Allyson’s office. I know you pretty damn well—or so I thought.”

  “No, you do know me,” Tony conceded. “I didn’t know who was responsible for her pardon that day—and I still don’t. Maybe this will pull the coward from hiding. I don’t care anymore. Taking responsibility was Shelly’s idea and I agreed to it. She thought it made the story more convincing.”

  “I bet she was excited about this declaration of reunification,” sarcasm dripped from Brent’s statement.

  “She wasn’t.” Tony’s neck stiffened. “However, I’d hoped that maybe you’d understand.”

  “I do!” Courtney chimed in.

  Tony turned his dark glare from Brent and saw Courtney’s shining blue eyes. Sighing, he said, “I’m glad, because I’m not exactly sure where this is all going. Claire and I’ve had the opportunity to hash a few things out, and I’m hopeful that in time we can be back together, as a couple.”

  “One press release won’t change people’s perception.” Brent stood and paced. “Hell, Tony, we’re your friends and I don’t know what to think. What about outsiders, employees, and investors?”

  “I don’t give a damn,” his resolve reverberated through the porch and beyond.

  “You don’t? I’ve known you for a long time, and that has always been your main concern.”

  “Listen, I don’t have all the answers. What if I’m getting played? What if none of this is real, just some charade?” Tony used Claire’s word. “Right now, I want it to be real. And,” he paused. “I’d like to have her accompany me to Caleb’s wedding.”

  Courtney gasped. Brent’s eyes grew wide, masking the usually present lines.

  “I haven’t asked her,” Tony added quickly. “I’m talking to you first.”

  Courtney’s words came slowly. “Are you asking our permission?”

  The obvious emphasis on the word asking made Tony bristle. Was he asking? Did he ask? “Yes, I guess I am.”

  Courtney stood and walked to the window. With her back to them, they could only watch as her head shook slowly from side to side. Finally, she turned on her heels; a new look of determination prevailed. “Here’s the deal. It’s not up to you, or me, or even Claire. First and foremost, it’s up to Julia.”

  Tony nodded. He hadn’t thought of that.

  “It’s her wedding. I mean we’ve seen thousands of pictures of that gala in California. I don’t want my son’s wedding turned into some media circus because suddenly you’ve had a change of heart.”

  “If it’s the security you’re concerned about, I’ll gladly help pay—”

  Courtney lifted her hand. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. First, let me call Julia.”

  Tony acquiesced—did he have another choice?

  Courtney stepped from the porch to make the call, leaving Tony and Brent alone in a cloud of uncomfortable silence. This whole conversation was different than Tony had imagined. In his mind he would come over to their house, explain the press release, and tell them he would bring Claire to the wedding—end of story. Of course, he still needed to convince Claire, but needing to convince his friends never entered his mind.

  When he looked up, Brent’s tired eyes were bearing down on him. “What?” Tony asked. “I get the feeling there’s more you want to say.”

  “No. I’m just processing. I’m trying to figure out why the hell I went to Mitchellville and threatened Ms. Nichols with a civil suit. What has she said or done that has made you do a one-eighty?”

  Customarily, a rebuke such as that would send Tony through the roof; instead, he sagged against the soft cushion and exhaled. “I don’t know. You know that I was angry when she refused my offer of the mental institution.”

  Brent harrumphed.

  “I sent you there… because…” Tony stood and paced. “…I wanted her to know that I was angry.”

  Brent continued to glare.

  “I know, I know. I wish I could explain. Honestly, I don’t even know where to start. It’s just that when I’m with—”

  “She said yes!” Courtney interrupted, filling the room with a ring of happiness like Tony hadn’t heard since he arrived.

  “She did?” Brent asked. “Does Julia have any idea what this will be like?” Turning to Tony, he aske
d, “Do you plan on bringing Ms. Nichols to the rehearsal reception?”

  “You may,” Courtney quickly added.

  Tony ran his hand through his hair. “Claire, her name’s Claire, and I don’t know. I haven’t even talked to her about it. Shit.”

  “What?” Courtney prodded.

  “This has been much more difficult than I anticipated. What about everyone else?”

  “I thought you said you didn’t care?” Brent quipped.

  “I don’t, but I’m thinking of Claire.” Tony thought out loud. “I wish there was some way to reintroduce her to our inner circle, without all the wedding guests or even the wedding party.”

  “Have you spoken to anyone else about this?” Courtney asked.

  Tony explained that he’d been waiting to speak to them. Then, he planned to visit Tim and Sue and Tom and Bev. He would call Eli and Mary Ann.

  “You do that and then call Claire. Let me see what I can do.” Courtney’s enthusiasm was contagious.

  Tony shook his head. “No, you have too much happening.”

  “Nonsense.” She put her hand on Tony’s arm. “Just tell everyone what you’ve told us. None of us wanted to believe that she was guilty. If Claire’s willing to face all of us, the least we can do is make it easier for her.”

  Tony peered into Courtney’s sincere blue eyes. “Thank you.”

  Once back inside of his car, Tony dialed Claire’s number; she didn’t answer. Next, he tried Tim Bronson. “Hey, Tim, this is Tony. Are you and Sue home?” “Good, I was wondering…”

  By the time Tony made it back to his estate, he was exhausted. He’d stated his case with all of his closest friends; he’d even been able to reach Eli and Mary Ann in California. They all agreed to support his decision, although somewhat apprehensively at first. It was during his drive home that he received the call from Sue. She’d spoken to Courtney and asked if the reunion of the inner circle could take place at their house on Thursday night. Momentarily speechless, Tony accepted her invitation. Sue had been the least receptive regarding Claire’s return. She rightfully questioned the presence of someone with even the possibility of having attempted murder being around her family. Of course, she meant their son, Sean. Tony assured her that since Sean wouldn’t be at the wedding or rehearsal, there would be no need to worry. Since her tone, during the call, still held the slightest bit of trepidation, Tony suspected that Courtney had played more than a leading role in the plans. He wanted to ask if Sue planned on sending Sean out of state; instead, he said thank you.