Public Secrets

in the cheval mirror she knew she looked like a bride. Closing her eyes, she felt like a bride. Her wedding night. The most beautiful night of her life. Now she would know what it was like. Drew would come in. He would look at her, those tawny eyes going dark. He would be gentle, sweet, patient. She could almost feel his long, clever fingers skimming over her skin. He would tell her how much he loved her, how much he wanted her. Then he would carry her into the bedroom, and show her.
Patiently. Tenderly. Passionately.
By ten o’clock she was anxious. By eleven, uneasy. By midnight, she was frantic. Her calls to the studio only told her that he had left hours before.

She imagined a terrible accident. He would have been in a hurry to get back to her, as anxious as she to begin their life together in the big soft bed. He might have been careless, and his car … They wouldn’t know where to reach her—the doctors, the police. Even now Drew could be lying in some hospital bed, bleeding, calling for her.
She was working her way down the lists of hospitals when she heard the key in the lock. Before he could open the door, she was there, swinging it open and falling into his arms.
“Oh, Drew, I was terrified.”
“Easy, easy does it.” He gave her buttocks a quick squeeze. “Anxious, are we?”
Drunk. Part of her mind tried to deny it, but it was there in the slurred words, the sway of his body, the smell. She stepped back to stare at him. “You’ve been drinking.”
“Just a little celebration with the lads. Not every day a man gets married, is it?”
“But you … You said you’d be here by ten.”
“Christ, Emma, you’re not going to start nagging me already?”
“No, but—I was worried, Drew.”
“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?” He struggled out of his jacket and let it fall to the floor. It wasn’t often he got drunk, but tonight it had been so easy to let one drink fellow another. Tonight, he’d climbed one more rung to the top. “And look at you. The perfect picture of the blushing bride. Beautiful, beautiful Emma, all in white.”
She did blush. There was desire in his eyes now. The kind she’d seen before, the kind she’d imagined seeing in them tonight. “I wanted to look beautiful for you.” She went easily into his arms, lifted her mouth to his in innocent trust.
He hurt her. His mouth was fierce and hot. He nipped hard at her bottom lip as he pushed himself against her. “Drew.” She tried to struggle back, alarmed by the memory flash of Blackpool in her darkroom. “Drew, please.”
“Don’t play that game with me tonight.” He caught her hair in his hand and dragged her head back. “You’ve made me wait long enough, Emma. No excuses tonight.”
“I’m not. I just—Drew, can’t we—”
“You’re my wife now. We do it my way.”
He pulled her to the floor, ignoring her pleas and struggles. His hands were rough, tearing the filmy lace as he bared her breasts to suckle and squeeze. The speed and urgency frightened her. It wasn’t right, she thought frantically. It wasn’t right lying on the floor, the lights glaring, her gown in tatters.

His fingers dug into her hips as his mouth clamped down on hers. Choking on the smell of whiskey, she tried to say his name. When she began to fight in earnest, he locked her hands in one of his, and took her virginity in one hard swift thrust.
She cried out both in shock and pain. Then he was plunging and pumping into her, panting, groaning. She was weeping when he collapsed, when he rolled aside and fell instantly to sleep.

H E WAS FULL of contrition and shame and tenderness in the morning. With shadowed eyes and trembling voice he cursed himself and begged her forgiveness. He’d been drunk, a poor excuse, but his only reason for behaving like a monster. When he held her, gently stroking her hair and murmuring promises, she believed him. It was as though another man had come to her on her wedding night to show her how cruel and heartless sex could be. Her husband showed her only sweetness. When her first day as a new bride ended, she lay in his arms, content, dreaming only rosy dreams of the future.

M ICHAEL STAGGERED INTO the kitchen. He’d meant to get to the dishes. In fact, his intentions had been so firm, he was shocked to find the sink full and the counter cluttered. He gave them a bleary, accusing stare. He’d been working double shifts all week and wondered why things like dishes couldn’t just take care of