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She crossed his arms, glared at him, and said without hesitation. “No, I don’t,”
“Hmm.” P.J. couldn’t help but let out a small grin because his woman had balls. “How about yesterday, did you love me then?”
“Stop it. You’re making a mockery out of this. You hurt me, P.J. You lied to me.” She frowned deeply.
“We just covered that, and I am not gonna spend the rest of my life apologizing for it. Answer the question, Juliet, do you love me?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Let’s pretend that it is.”
“Yes.” She sighed as if it caused her great misery to admit it. “I think I might.”
P.J. wrapped his arms around Juliet; with reluctance she let him. When he drew her in closer, she rested her head against his chest. Now that the dust had begun to settle, and Juliet had the chance to think more rationally, she realized that she probably was not the only one in this situation who had been lied to. She was pretty sure that when P.J had first made his move; he didn’t think he was hitting on the ex-wife of a serial killer.
“I know we need to talk about this.” She said softly. “I owe you an explanation, P.J. I know I do. But I’m afraid to tell you. I’m afraid that if I do, you will never look at me the same way again.”
“Baby, you don’t owe me a damn thing.” He smoothed the top of her hair. “But if you want to tell me, I’ll listen. I think it will help you to get it all out. Then we can bury the past together and move on with our lives. But that’s up to you. You do whatever the hell you want, but I want you to know this… nothing you can ever say or do will change the way I look at you.”
In answer, Juliet pulled away from him and sat down at the small table in the center of the room.
Then Juliet let go of the death grip that she still had on the wallet. With shaking hands, Juliet pulled out the license and placed it between them onto the table. P.J. glanced at the name on the license, Lucy Brewster.
“So, you know her?” P.J. asked.
“I am her.” Juliet answered.
P.J.’s added his cigarette stub to the pile already in the ashtray. Thank god, Juliet didn’t seem to mind the ring of smoke that had settled over the room like a heavy fog. Because P.J. honestly didn’t think he could have gotten through the last couple of hours without the bracing support of nicotine.
Once she had started talking, Juliet had seemed determined to leave no stone unturned. She told P.J. everything about her past in honest, painstaking detail. She talked about her life at the college, her marriage to Kenny, the horrific murders, and the night she had found out that her husband was a serial killer. She talked about the investigation and the hours and hours of questioning that she had had to endure while the investigators pored over the most intimate parts of her life.
Juliet’s voice broke when she talked about the trial and the way the faces of the families had contorted in sorrow as they had left the courthouse each day. The flashes of the cameras blinding them, while the reporters, displaying a blatant disregard for human decency, pushed microphones into their faces and followed them to their cars. Juliet’s tone was angry when she talked about her own experience of being relentlessly hounded by the press. And it was tear-filled when she talked about the night that she had decided to end her life.
And then there was more…until finally, finally she was done.
“It’s a lot to take in.” Juliet sat at the table ringing her hands.
P.J. had tried hard and thankfully succeeded in keeping the shock out of his eyes as he listened to Juliet’s almost unbelievable story. In truth, he really had no idea what to say. He wanted to console Juliet, he wanted to make it all seem…inconsequential… to the life they would plan together. But the truth is that it was, and would always be, of consequence. No one could have gone through that kind of experience and not have trust issues.
“P.J…I need to know what you’re thinking.” Juliet’s voice was hoarse and raw with emotion. “Like I said, I know it’s a lot, I guess what I need to know is, is it too much?”
“For who?”
“Jesus, P.J.” Juliet looked at him in exasperation, then she moved to get up from the table.
P.J. grabbed Juliet by the hand. In order to comfort and relax her, and honestly, give himself a few more moments to think this through, P.J. settled her down on the couch. Then he pulled Juliet’s legs into his lap and began to gently massage the tension in her calves.
“It is a lot.” P.J. agreed with careful thought. “What you just described to me is a real shitshow. And I have to admit, I never saw this one coming. I thought that I was gonna be dealing with a cowardly bastard who beat his wife. But this? I have to rethink how I’m gonna handle this.”
“Handle what?” Juliet was stunned. “P.J. did you hear anything I just said?”
“Every word.”
Now it was Juliet’s turn to be surprised. Once she had decided to tell P.J. her strange and sad story, she had prepared herself for just about every outcome. In considering what his reaction might be, Juliet had envisioned everything from the best possible reaction to the worst. Best would be an impulsive and absurd marriage proposal born totally and completely out of pity, (which Juliet thought she might definitely consider taking P.J. up on) and the worst would be him walking out on her. But Juliet never thought there might be something in between. She hadn’t expected in a million years, never considered in her wildest of dreams, that after spilling her heart to him in graphic detail, that P.J. just wouldn’t get it.
“P.J., it’s all been settled. The courts have sentenced him. There is nothing left to handle!”
“Look, the club has guys on the inside in every major prison in the country, Juliet.” P.J.’s voice was firm. “From what you just told me, there’s no death penalty option in the states that Brewster was sentenced in. Being a relatively healthy young guy, that psycho can easily spend the rest of his natural life in prison. And I don’t want you to spend the rest of yours in a world where that motherfucker still exists.”
