Page 34 of The Atonement (Arrangement #3)

When he looked back at me, his eyes glistened with tears. “Another baby?”

I chewed my lip, nodding.

“D-do the kids know?”

“No one knows but me. And now you.”

He bent over, picking up the knife, both hands held up in surrender. “I don’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. But…what choice do I have?”

“I’m offering you a choice right now.”

“I’m listening.” He crossed his arms.

“I’ll come home. I’ll bring the kids home.

We…we can try again. Start over and fix this.

It’s…it’s not going to be easy.” I kept my eyes trained on the knife in his hands as he shifted.

“It’s not going to be easy, okay? But when have we ever had things easy?

We can do this, right? Because you were right…

I do love you. And you love me. It’s why you haven’t killed me, isn’t it?

You could’ve done it before I was able to fight back, but you didn’t.

You waited.” I paused. “You waited because, as much as we may hate each other sometimes, we love each other more.”

He cocked his head to the side, his eyes darting back and forth between mine as if trying to decide whether or not to trust me. “I want proof that you’re pregnant.”

“Done. But I want something in return.”

“What?”

“I need to know where the bodies are, Peter.”

“Why? So you can turn me in again?”

“No, so I can protect myself. If you have them hidden, you could just as easily frame me.”

The corner of his mouth twitched and my suspected plan was confirmed. “We can’t make this work unless you tell me where they are.”

He seemed to contemplate it. “Maybe I could tell you where one is, but not yet.”

“When?”

“Patience,” he said. “I need to make sure you’re all in. Let’s handle the test first. Then we’ll get the kids home, and then maybe I’ll tell you. If you prove your loyalty.”

“No. That’s not fair. The only way this works is if we both lay all our cards on the table. I need to know you’re not going to double-cross me.”

“And what protects me, then?”

“The kids,” I said firmly. “I’ll call and have the kids come home.”

“Today?”

“Today.”

He looked unconvinced, but finally took a step back, still gripping the knife. “Let’s get you cleaned up first. They shouldn’t see you like that. And, Ainsley, if you try anything, I will kill you. I won’t hesitate. Please don’t make me do that.”

He pressed in the two bricks that opened the door from the inside and stepped out of the room, the fresh air as soothing as ice water on a hot day. I sucked it into my lungs as if it might keep me safe for just a moment longer.

He led me through the garage door and into the house.

Near the bedroom, I breathed in the scent of the smoke.

It was less potent than it had been, but still enough to give me a headache.

It was a wonder Peter had been able to stay there.

Although sometimes, when he was so in his head, it was a wonder he noticed anything at all.

“Get in the shower.” He pointed toward the hallway. “I don’t want them to see you this way.”

I did as I was told, making my way down the hall with him following closely behind. I refused to let him see me cry or let him see me afraid. I had to keep it together no matter what.

“Can I have some privacy?” I asked, standing in front of the bathroom door.

“Privacy from your husband? I don’t think so.” He reached around me and shoved the door open. “Come on.”

Once inside, I removed my clothes with shaking hands, turning away from him in an attempt to shield myself. He made no move to look away, nor any apologies that it had to be this way. In fact, I was pretty sure he was enjoying every moment of it.

In the shower, I washed myself slowly, the water painful against my many wounds. With my clothes off, I could see the bruises and scrapes on my knees, some older and some newer. Had I tried to escape before? Could I not remember it?

Or maybe the bruises were from the fall I’d taken at the hotel. I couldn’t be sure. I scrubbed my hair with cautious movements, every twist or turn of my wrists felt as if it was tearing the wounds open again. I touched my face gingerly under the water, trying to assess the extent of the damage.

“Almost done?” Peter asked, when I’d apparently been taking too long. The shape of him was blurry through the shower door, but still, I could see the knife in his hands.

I actively fought to stop the thoughts that told me I caused this. That this was my fault, and if I’d walked away all those years ago, I wouldn’t be here.

I’d chosen my fate. Chosen to accept what my husband was and believe he could never be a monster to me. I chose to believe I was the exception, but we’re never really the exception, are we? None of us.

I’d stayed with him for the children, believing it was in their best interest that we stay together. Now, it was as if the curtain had been lifted and I could see every mistake I’d made along the way. Every wrong turn.

I could see my future—a future with Peter. A future of fear.

It wasn’t what I wanted. There was no doubt in my mind anymore. I had to end this, I had to protect the kids, but I wasn’t sure I could do it. The fixer in me was giving up. Shutting down. She was tired, angry, burned out.

He handed me a towel when I shut off the water, and I patted my body dry, wrapping it around myself. “I can’t believe you did that to your hair.”

I ignored him. “Did you bring my clothes home?”

“I had to empty your suitcase in the hotel room to get you here.”

I ignored the fact that my husband had just told me he stuffed my unconscious body into a suitcase in order to lock me in a murder room and shuffled past him. “Did all of my stuff get burned in the fire?”

“No. Most of it’s fine. I threw out what was ruined and fixed the bed. I shampooed the carpet and I might have to repaint the ceiling, but other than that, you’d never know.”

I pushed open the bedroom door, the smoke smell overwhelming me, and began coughing.

He crossed the room, opening a window. “It’s been closed up for a few days…

I’ve been sleeping on the couch, waiting for…

for you to come home.” He opened the closet and pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. “Here, will these work?”

I opened my drawer and grabbed a bra and underwear, hardly paying attention to the clothes he’d handed me as I slid them on. “Now what?”

“Brush your hair. Where are the kids? We’ll go pick them up.”

I dug in the drawer of my vanity, pulling out a comb and running it through my hair quickly. “Don’t you want me to take the test first? I thought you’d want to go get it.”

“We can do that on the way.”

I paused, thinking. There went that plan for escape.

“Well? Where are they?” he demanded, growing impatient.

“They’re with Glennon,” I admitted, my voice low.

“Glennon? What, in Canada?”

“No, they’re home for a while.”

“Oh. So, they’re at Glennon’s house? I was just there looking for you.”

“They haven’t been there long. Glennon and Seth just came home yesterday,” I said. “To watch the kids. I should call and tell her we’re on the way. Do you have my phone?”

He dug in his pocket and pulled it out, handing it to me and moving to stand closer. “Don’t…don’t try anything stupid, okay?”

His tone had changed. He almost did sound regretful now.

I turned the phone on, ignoring the voicemails I had from work and Glennon, and opened my texts. “I’ll just send her a message.”

He nodded, watching me closely.

I opened my contacts and tapped G , typing out a quick message: I’m with Peter. We’re coming to pick up the kids today. Want to meet us at the park by my house?

“Why the park?” Peter asked apprehensively, after I’d already pressed send.

“They were supposed to go there today. I don’t want to ruin their plans.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but nodded in the direction of my screen. “She’s typing.”

My heart pounded in my chest, praying she’d understand.

See you in an hour.

I closed out of the message and slid my phone in my pocket, but Peter held out his hand. “Give it back to me.”

“Don’t you think the kids will think it’s odd that you’re holding my phone hostage?”

“We’ll talk more once I’ve seen them.” He shut the phone off and shoved it in his pocket. “Let’s go.” He jutted his chin forward and we made our way down the hall, stopping only briefly for me to pull shoes on.

On the way to the park, I stared out the window, going over everything in my head.

“This really will be for the best,” he said, sounding as if he were trying to convince himself as well as me.

“For the kids.” He reached his hand across the car, touching my stomach gently.

“All of them.” I tensed under his touch, refusing to move, and when he pulled his hand back, he added, “And for us, too.”

I didn’t respond.

“We’re good together, Ains. I know you’re having a hard time seeing it right now, but tensions are just high.

It’s a bad time. Couples go through bad times.

Maybe we could try counseling again, when you’re feeling up to it.

Or…or maybe we could take some time off and travel.

Maybe we’ll do date nights again. We owe it to them to try, don’t we?

It’s like you said…we own each other’s sins.

We know the deepest, darkest parts of each other.

No one else will ever know you like I do.

And no one will ever know me like you. We’re meant to be together.

You have to believe that.” He was almost manic, his tone insistent and erratic.

He needed me to believe him. He needed everything to be okay again so he could go back to his life of ruining ours.

I nodded. “You’re right, Peter. You know everything about me, but it’s not exactly fair because you’re still holding this giant secret looming over my head.

I’ve done my end of the bargain, but you still haven’t told me where the bodies are.

Shouldn’t I be helping you hide them? Shouldn’t I be making sure you’ve covered your tracks? ”