Understanding Me, Understanding You

Chapter 7. The Nightmare

~ Thirteen Years Before ~

It was late when Stevie had gotten back from the after party of a Fleetwood Mac concert, expecting Lindsey right behind her but he hadn't returned yet.

It was typical that they left in separate cars only because she did have her entourage of people such as her sister in-law, Lori---best friend, Sharon and then of course she and her husband had different responsibilities in the band that forced them to be separated at times. Above everything, she was a wife and mom, so naturally the evening that her husband hadn't returned to their room when she thought he would, she became worried since she had saw him leave the party and he was alone, getting into his car.

When the door opened and he stumbled in, he was surprised to see that she was still up when he expected her to be in bed.

"Oh, honey, I was so worried... Where were you?" she walked over to his side, hands falling on his chest.

"I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to worry you," he slurred sincerely.

"Ay, you reek," she pulled back, the scent of whiskey on his breath and possibly on his clothes. "Honey, take those clothes off. You have to get in the shower and sober up. We have another show tomorrow and you have to get up in time to work with maintenance," she helped him remove his jacket when she suddenly got a strong whiff of it, the smell causing her brows to crease.

"Stupid Mick dropped his whiskey-coke on me," he grumbled as he walked forward, just to stumble some more. Unbuttoning his shirt, he struggled to get it off.

"I'll go turn the water on, hurry up," she assured him, setting the jacket he was wearing on the armchair.

Once Lindsey was undressed and in the cool shower, he took his time washing up.

Meantime, Stevie arched her brow at the jacket she had thrown on the chair and she picked it up, sniffing it once more. She then looked down at his white button down and she picked it up as well, again bringing it to her nose to smell and the scent was stronger. Walking over, she grabbed ahold of her perfume bottle and she brought it to smell before smelling the shirt again, wondering if that was the scent his PH level measured with her perfume, but it was different.

Soon enough, Lindsey walked out of the bathroom, only a pair of sweatpants on, still rather buzzed.

"Feel better?" she wondered.

"Starting to," he agreed and then plopped down on the bed.

"Good... Where did you go after the party? I saw you get in the car alone... I also saw some woman all over you all night but I kept my mouth shut..."

"Yeah, that's Lauren. A friend of one of the producers there... She was a mess and so I put her in a car and then I left."

"Right and you left before me... Yet I beat you here," she assured.

"Okay?" he shrugged.

She threw his shirt to him. "What perfume is that?" she wondered. "Because it's not Nina Ricci, nineteen-seventy-three nor my Black Gardenia."

He brought it to his face and he sighed, knowing full and well that the scent on his shirt was Chanel, a scent his wife actually wasn't very fond of.

The guilt ate at him almost immediately.

~ Present Day ~

It was late, close to morning once again and she sighed deeply.