Pam snorted a laugh at her formal tone. Torie shushed her, trying to listen.
“Torie, I don’t know how I can ever apologize enough. I’d…I’d like it if you continued to stay here. I want to know you’re safe. I’d be, well, devastated if something happened to you.”
“Devastated? That’s interesting. Wow.” She put a note of derision in her answer. “Somehow I don’t feel welcome anymore, Paul. I’ll pick up my things. Pam’s booked me a room at the Marriott.”
“Which one?”
She told him and could hear him fumble for a pencil to jot it down. “I left a pen on the counter by the fridge.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“Do you know the room number yet?”
“No.”
He sighed, and sounded sad, tired. “I’ll be here, Torie. Waiting for you. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
When she hung up, she didn’t know what to say.
“That was long and involved.” Pam’s neutral comment puzzled her more. After all these years, she was far more used to Pam dishing dirt on Paul, and heaping coals on the fire of Torie’s peevishness with him. Instead, she was silent.
“Yeah. He’s full of apologies.” It puzzled her.
“You gonna forgive him?”
Torie couldn’t believe her ears. “What? After what he said? Jeez, Pam, he practically called me a whore.”
“But he didn’t, did he?”
“No.”
“Never mind,” Pam said in one of her lightning changes of subject. “Let’s go shopping.”
“I’m not getting a dress.”
“Yes, you are. If nothing else, you’ll need it for the Spring Fling for the Chamber, and you literally have nothing you can wear. So shut up and let’s shop.”
By the time they got to Paul’s house, a little after eight, they’d found four dresses. Pam had insisted she buy all four, take them back to the hotel, and think about them.
“All right, all right. I’ll do it,” she said, finally giving in.
“Good. That black dress will be perfect with the shoes we bought.” She grinned at Torie. “I like being your personal shopper.”
“Yeah. Well, you gotta help me the way you’re helping Carlos. Hopefully, I’ll be able to go back to work on Monday, which means I’ll have less time to get both houses up and running.”
“I should start charging for this,” Pam said, joking. “Help people manage all this kind of stuff.”
“Yeah, you should,” Torie said, totally serious. “You’d be perfect at it.”
They rang the bell and Paul answered immediately, hurrying them inside.
“You don’t want to be standing out on the porch when someone’s trying to shoot you.”
“Oh. No. I guess not.” Now that she was with him again, in his house, she didn’t know what to do with herself. “I’ll get my things.”
“Let me help you,” Paul offered.
“That’s okay.”
He followed her anyway, after telling Pam to make herself at home.
“I know you need to do this, Torie. I don’t blame you.”
“Blame me? I should hope not.” Torie struggled to find the anger and hurt she’d felt the night before. Instead, she found nothing. She smoothed the covers on the bed, thinking briefly about their incredible lovemaking.
“Torie?”
“I need to get out of here,” she mumbled.
“You didn’t really get a chance to unpack.”
She busied herself tossing the few things she’d set out into the suitcases, stacking the cases together to roll them out.
“Please,” he said, blocking her path.
When she looked up at him, his eyes were dark, unfathomable. “Please,” he repeated. “Don’t do this because I was stupid. I know sorry doesn’t cut it, as you said. I blew it. But don’t put yourself in the line of fire, Torie. Please.”
Damn the man. Why did he have to sound so sincere? So worried about her. Not about his reputation, not about the police, but about her.
If you’d have asked her a month ago who would stand by her, Tristan or Paul, she would have said Tristan.
