Danielle Steel - Bungalow 2

“I love you too, Tan. I'm sorry all this happened.” It had totally destroyed Christmas for all of them. No matter how hard they tried to hide it, their children had sensed easily that something was wrong. Both Peter and Tanya refused to discuss it, which only seemed to make things worse, and worried their children more.

“I hope it gets better soon,” Tanya said sadly.

“So do I,” he said honestly. He wanted their marriage to work again. He just wasn't sure how much damage had been done. Clearly, a lot.

“I'll be home on Friday, if I can.” And if she couldn't, she wondered to herself, what would happen then? Who would he sleep with? Where would Alice be? Would he find someone else? Tanya no longer felt safe. For twenty years she had trusted him totally. Now she trusted nothing and no one, and least of all him. It was a terrible feeling, and he could see it in her eyes. Every time she looked at him, he felt the white heat of reproach, and the weight of her aching heart. It was a lot to live with, and they were both relieved to be spending some time apart. The last three weeks had been too much. She hated to leave him and the girls, but she was glad to go back to L.A. For once, he was right. It broke her heart, but all she wanted was to escape.

She got back to her bungalow at eight o'clock that night, and this time even her cheery little rooms at the Beverly Hills Hotel looked depressing to her. She wanted to be home again, and yet she didn't. She wanted to be in Ross with him, the way it had been before. She wondered if it would ever be that way again. And now that she was back in L.A., in the bungalow, she was lonelier than ever, and missed Jason and the girls. She missed everything and everyone, and even herself. She felt as though she had lost herself in the last three weeks. The only thing she hadn't lost were her children, but she even felt out of touch with them. She didn't call Peter that night, and he didn't call her either. The silence was deafening in Bungalow 2. She didn't even bother to put on music. She just curled up in bed, asked for a wake-up call, and cried herself to sleep. In some ways it was a relief. She didn't have to worry about Peter lying next to her, and wonder what he was thinking, or if he had heard from Alice. Tanya felt as though she couldn't stem the tides. She didn't know if his promise to end the affair was sincere, or if he could live up to it. She had no idea what to believe. She had trusted him before, and her peaceful little world had come crashing down like a house of cards in the past three weeks.

She was relieved to get back to the set the next day, despite the early wake-up call. Max was the first one she saw, sharing a bagel with Harry. The dog wagged his tail the minute he saw Tanya, and she patted him with a tired smile.

“Welcome back,” Max said, smiling at her. It took him less than a second to see the shards of her heart in her eyes. She looked awful and had lost about ten pounds. He pretended not to notice. “How were the holidays?”

“Great,” she said in a flat voice. “How was New York?”

“Ice cold and snowy, but it was fun. I think I'm too old for grandchildren. Only young people should have grandchildren. They wore me out.” She smiled, as Douglas appeared with a stack of notes. Their last script changes were being distributed in a new shade of pastel colors. It was hard to keep track of the changes anymore, there had been so many.

“Welcome back to Hollywood,” he said, with a raised eyebrow. “Wonderful time in Marin?” he asked sarcastically. If so, she didn't look it. She was suddenly too thin. “You look like you haven't eaten since you left.” Thank you, Douglas. Never one to mince words, or hide what he thought.

“I had the flu.” She covered her tracks, and she doubted he believed her.

“That's too bad. Welcome back to work,” he said, and moved on. He stayed on the set all morning to see how things were going. They had some tough scenes to shoot, but for once Jean Amber remembered her lines. She looked blissful, and word had gotten out that she had spent the holidays in St. Bart's with Ned Bright. They both looked very happy, and the energy between them was electric in every scene.

“Ahhh, young love,” Max said with a grin as he walked off the set at lunchtime, having yelled “Cut! And print,” which meant he liked the last shot. He glanced over at Tanya, and realized that she looked even worse than he had first thought. He had never seen a human so pale. “Are you okay? If you're still sick, you don't have to come to work. We can call you at the hotel.”

“No, I'm fine. Just tired.”

“You lost a hell of a lot of weight.” He looked worried about her, and she was touched.

“Yeah, I guess,” she said vaguely, and pretended to concentrate on the script, as tears swam in her eyes. She didn't intend him to, but he saw them, and they spilled down her cheeks, as he quietly handed her a tissue.

“Looks like you had a fabulous time,” he said softly, as Harry watched the exchange with a puzzled look. Even he knew something was wrong.

“Yeah, really terrific.” She blew her nose and laughed through her tears, and then wiped her eyes. “Some vacations are less fun than others. This one wasn't so great.”

“This one must have been a lulu,” Max said dryly. “What did he do? Lock you in the dungeon and refuse to feed you? You know, there are 800 numbers you can call for that. I think the last one I called was 1â€800-D-I-V-O-R-C-E. It worked really well. They sent out a rescue truck and took the bitch away. Keep the number in mind in case he tries it again. Take your cell phone into the dungeon with you.” As he said it, she cried harder, and he handed her more tissues.

“It wasn't quite as bad as that.” And then she thought about it for a minute and was honest with herself. “Actually, it was worse. The whole damn vacation sucked, to tell the truth.” It felt good to say it to him.

“Sometimes holidays are like that. Mine usually are. It was nice this year spending it with my kids. Usually I volunteer in a soup kitchen or something. It makes me feel better to see people less fortunate than I, I realize I'm not so bad off. Maybe you should do something like that.” She nodded. “I'm sorry, Tanya,” he said in a soft, sympathetic voice, which only made her cry more. “Should I call a plumber? I think you have a busted pipe. You've sprung a hell of a leak there.” She was crying rivers, and he made her laugh again.

“I'm sorry. I'm a mess. I've been worse since I got back to L.A. Everything was so tense, and I had to put on a good front for the kids. Here, all I've done is cry since I got back last night.”

“As long as it helps. Big problems? Or small ones?”

“Big,” she said, looking him in the eye. Her eyes looked like bottomless pools of green pain. He hated to see it.

“Anything I can do to help?” She shook her head. “I figured. Maybe time will work it out.”

“Maybe.” If Peter was telling the truth, and Alice stayed away for long enough. And if she could get home on weekends. If not, God only knew what would happen, particularly once Alice got back. She didn't trust either of them anymore, and suspected she never would again, which was no way to be married. She looked at Max miserably and decided to confide in him. She hadn't told a soul since her discovery of Peter's affair. Her only confidants before that had been Peter and Alice. And she couldn't tell her kids. “I found out the day I got back to Marin, he had an affair with my best friend.” Her agony was in her eyes, as Max winced.

“Shit. That's nasty stuff. Did you walk in on them? I hope not.”

“No. I saw it in his eyes. I suspected it on Thanksgiving, but I don't think it had happened yet. Maybe I felt it coming.”