The Affair

by J. L. Berg

  I raised a suspicious eyebrow. Was Sawyer Gallagher stalking me?

  He shrugged. “It’s a small town, and for as long as I can remember, it was always your mom and dad running that place—well, except for the summers when they’d bring in you and your brother to help out. I figured, with your mom gone, that you’d need the help but wouldn’t necessarily be able to afford it.”

  I leaned back against the sofa cushion, my arms folded against my chest. “Oh, you did, did you?”

  “Yeah, I mean, the store isn’t exactly busy all the time, so you’ve got to figure, you aren’t exactly rolling in the cash. The income you’re getting from those few rental spots have to help, but—”

  He finally noticed the way I was looking at him.

  It was a murderous sort of stare, and he quickly cleared his thought and moved on, “So, anyway, when I noticed your Help Wanted sign had disappeared after you outright refused me, I came up with a way to help us both.”

  “Go on.”

  “What if I helped out—free of charge, of course—and in exchange, you gave me a spot in your shop to try out my furniture?”

  “I already told you—”

  “I know; I know. You already told me that you only sell antiques, and I get that. I know you are a stickler for tradition and doing things the way your parents did them, but at the end of the day, you’ve got to realize you are the owner now, Elle. You. Not anyone else. And it’s you who’s got to keep the doors open.”

  “And you think I’m going to do that by selling your furniture? And how are you supposed to support yourself with no income?”

  That sly grin returned. “Well, it couldn’t hurt to try. Change isn’t always bad, and I have cash saved up; don’t worry.”

  “And if it doesn’t? Work, that is—this change.”

  “Well, you see, that’s where we negotiate. Let’s give it a time frame to test it out. Maybe six months?”

  “Make it three,” I said, just to see how desperate he was.

  “Fine,” he agreed. “Three months, and I promise you, this is going to change your life.”

  I didn’t know why, but just at that moment, a chill ran up my spine, and I wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or a seriously bad one.

  Had I just made a deal with the devil?

  Chapter Four

  Along with the insatiable need to control everything around me, I had this undeniable hatred for anything even remotely spontaneous. Even as a child, I had been a hard-core planner. So, when I woke up the morning after agreeing to Sawyer’s crazy-ass plan to throw chaos into my perfectly adequate antique store, I immediately regretted it.

  “What was I thinking?” I asked myself.

  Unfortunately, the steamy reflection staring back at me in the bathroom mirror had no answers. With my towel wrapped tightly around me, I hurried out of there and made myself ready to face another day.

  By the time I got downstairs, with just enough time to grab a fast breakfast, I luckily had the whole Sawyer debacle all figured out.

  “I’ll just tell him it’s not going to work out,” I explained to my toaster.

  Talking to myself out loud had become a normal thing since my mom moved out. It was either that or I found myself turning on the TV late at night just to hear the sound of another human being.

  I wasn’t kidding about that saddest human being on the planet thing.

  Maybe I should look into getting a cat.

  Something to think about later. Right now, I needed to grab my bagel and get in the car, so that on my way to work, I could conjure up the perfect way to let down Sawyer. I knew he meant well. The store did, in fact, need a boost in income, but I would find a different way to do it.

  Without compromising the integrity of its tradition and including my ex-brother-in-law.

  Feeling better about my decision as I drove to work, I almost didn’t notice him as I pulled up to the store.

  But there he was … waiting for me.

  “Son of a bitch,” I breathed out, having barely finished eating my bagel. Looking down, I still had the crumbs on my shirt, and of course, wouldn’t you know it, he was coming right over. Brushing them off, I looked in the rearview mirror to make sure I didn’t have anything in my teeth or on my face, and then I grabbed my purse and stepped out.

  “Good morning, boss,” he greeted, handing me a cup of piping hot coffee.

  “Um, good morning,” I replied, taking the coffee because, well, it was coffee, and who could say no to that?

  Definitely not me.

  “Why are you here?” I asked suspiciously before taking a sip and nearly groaning from the taste. It was the perfect combination of cream and sugar. How did he do that?

  “I’m ready to start. You didn’t tell me when you needed me, so I took it upon myself to show up bright and early. It’s a good show of initiative, wouldn’t you say?”

  I had no words.

  None.

  “So, let’s get started!” he announced with a wink, walking on ahead of me, giving me no chance to tell him that insanely good speech I’d come up with in the car.

  Instead, I just followed him like a little puppy, my mouth slightly ajar but still completely speechless. What was I supposed to do now? He was so excited!

  And he’d brought me coffee. I could get used to—

  No! Don’t go getting soft over a good cup of coffee, I scolded myself.

  Jogging to catch up to him, I pulled out my keys and tried to juggle my coffee in one hand while unlocking the door with the other. The least I could do was fire him inside rather than on the street. Am I actually firing him though since he hasn’t even started and isn’t being paid?

  “Here, let me hold that for you,” he offered, taking my coffee and purse.

  “Thanks,” I said, trying not to let his kindness sway me.

  Unlocking the door, I flipped the lights on and took a giant inhale. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything.

  It was something I’d done since I was a kid. Every time I entered this place, I’d always briefly close my eyes and breathe it in. There was something about it—the smell of old books, once-cherished photographs, and family mementos—that spoke to me.

  Lives frozen in time.

  “Wow, this is a pretty fancy cash register system you’ve got here. It’s similar to the one we use at the construction company. And here I thought you were against new things.”

  I gave him a sideways glance. “Not all things,” I replied. “And that was my mom’s upgrade. She put it in when she decided to start renting out spaces to locals.”

  He nodded his head knowingly. “Yeah, it would work well for that,” he answered before adding, “Well, at least that’s one thing I don’t need to be trained on!”

  I opened my mouth to finally tell him the news that he wouldn’t actually be using that piece of equipment—or anything else in the shop—but once again, he cut me off, “How’s your coffee? I got it from the café down the street, the one right by—”

  I held up my hand to stop him. “I know where it is.”

  “Sorry,” he said. A long pause fell between us, and as if he could read my mind, he followed it up with, “So, you know then?”

  I simply nodded as his sympathetic glance met mine.

  He let out a sigh as his back settled against the counter. “Not that it’ll make you feel any better, but it didn’t start up right away. As far as I know, he didn’t see her again for months after that night—”

  “Again?” My eyes narrowed as I tried to make sense of what he was saying, and then it hit me.

  Blonde hair and young … just like the girl from—

  “He’s seeing the girl from the bar? The one he cheated on me with?”

  His expression changed to one closely resembling horror. “I thought you knew! You just said—”

  I just shook my head, suddenly feeling too nauseous to respond.

  “I’m sorry, Elle. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you. I thought you—�
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  But I couldn’t. Not now. Racing toward the back, I sought solace in my mom’s old office, which I guessed was now mine.

  Just like everything else.

  I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting in my office. Holed up in here like a moronic coward, too embarrassed to go back out there and face Sawyer and the barrage of questions I had for him.

  How long have they been dating?

  Does he love her?

  Was that time in the bar really the first …

  With all these thoughts swirling around in my head, I’d managed to keep myself busy by counting the number of paper clips that sat in the jar on my desk.

  Twice.

  I’d also organized all the papers in my Incoming and Outgoing boxes by alphabetical order, checked the ink in my printer, and made myself another cup of coffee—since I’d stormed away from the last one.

  Letting out a huff of frustrated air from my lungs, I leaned back in the creaky, old chair that had been in this office for more years than I could remember and tried to think about anything but Reed and that stupid girl from the bar.

  I had known he’d move on eventually. I wasn’t naive.

  I had known that, one day, I’d run into him at the market or in one of the million pizza joints in town and see him on a date or holding hands with the girlfriend I’d heard about. We’d smile politely to each other even though every part of me wanted to scream, and then I’d wish them a good evening and go home and allow myself one good cry.

  And that would be it. I’d move on, just as he had.

  It was what I’d prepared myself for.

  But I’d never expected this.

  I’d never expected her.

  A knock came just then, pulling me from my thoughts, and I immediately tried to push them away. “Come in,” I said, mustering as much professionalism as I could.

  Sawyer poked his head in, and when he saw I was sitting at my desk and not in the corner, crying myself to hysteria, he took the liberty of inviting himself in. “Hey, there’s a couple outside, asking about handcrafted furniture?” His hands went up, and he shrugged his shoulders.

  I opened my mouth, clueless as to how to answer, but his sly smile beat me to it.

  “Kidding. But don’t worry; there will be soon.”

  Rolling my eyes, I asked him, “Is that all you wanted?”

  “No, I actually did want to talk to you. Is now okay?”

  Checking the time on my watch, I noticed we had a few minutes until nine, so I nodded. His joke would have been marginally funnier if I’d realized that a moment sooner.

  He took the seat across from me, one I’d occupied for many years when I was in the role of part-time assistant to my mom and dad.

  It felt weird to be on the other side now.

  Even weirder when I realized it was a permanent position.

  “I feel as though I might have bullied you into this—my presence in the store,” he said after settling into the green chair.

  Raising an eyebrow, I gave him an amused expression. “Oh, really? And why would you think that? By the way, have you had any coffee today, Sawyer? Can I offer you some?”

  He grinned. “I’m being serious. I don’t want you to feel pressured to have me here, especially—”

  “Especially what?”

  “Especially if I’m going to remind you of Reed.”

  A deafening silence settled in the small room as I processed what he was saying.

  He must not have believed he was getting his point across because, after a moment, he continued, “It’s just … I realized, you and I, we don’t have much history beyond you and Reed. I’ve always just been Reed’s older brother, and if I cause you pain by being here—”

  “You don’t,” I tried to assure him.

  “Are you sure? Because a moment ago, I put my foot in my mouth after about five minutes on the job. I don’t want to hurt you, Elle.”

  Looking at him, the way his head tilted slightly and the complete sincerity in his gaze, I could tell he meant every word. He would leave if I asked.

  Without hesitation. Without a fight.

  This was my chance.

  “And it’s not like I can change my last name or the way I look,” he added.

  “I mean, you could.” I gave him a once-over. He had the whole hot guy next door thing going on. Jeans and a well-worn flannel had never looked so good. “Maybe blond highlights? Some contacts? What about a wardrobe adjustment? I heard preppy is in.”

  He laughed, and I wondered just how many times he’d been compared to his brother in his lifetime. Or vice versa. The Gallagher family was a legend in this town, and Reed had always been top dog.

  “I meant to ask you,” I said, moving on, “how in the world are you even able to work here? I thought the point of a family business was that everyone pitched in? That’s the way it worked here at least.”

  Until everyone bails on you …

  He casually shrugged. “I told you, I’m doing my own thing. Besides, the company is doing well. They don’t need me.”

  I could tell he was being purposely vague, but I didn’t prod.

  I also didn’t fire him even though I had ample opportunity.

  But there was always tomorrow.

  Or at least, that was what I told myself for now.

  If you were to look at my calendar for this evening, you would see that I’d blocked out a significant amount of time for cleaning and organizing. It’d been my prime area of focus, outside of work, since my mom moved out and the place had been left in a bit of shambles.

  If you were to take a peek into my window tonight, however, and observe what I was actually doing, it would not match the carefully-thought-out plans in my calendar.

  Instead, I was sitting—more like lounging—on my couch, already halfway into a bottle of red wine I’d dug out from the top of the pantry, while watching a random series I’d found on Netflix and simultaneously scrolling through the local animal shelter’s website for a cat to rescue.

  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this was the glamorous life I now led.

  I’d narrowed my search down to two feline friends—a nice orange tabby named Louisa or a gorgeous calico gent who went by the name Patches. Personally, I hated the name Louisa for a cat. Who named a cat Louisa? An unimaginative animal shelter employee—that was who. She deserved something better. Maybe Ginger? Or Clementine?

  Something to ponder …

  Giving the fiery minx another long, hard stare, I took a sip from my wineglass and tried to imagine what it’d be like to have a cat. My mom hated pets, claiming we didn’t have the time to devote to them, and Reed was allergic.

  Reed …

  I’d tried not to think of him since that morning, but it was hard. The memory of the tall blonde standing on the porch of our old house just kept coming back—the way she’d waved at the neighbor and locked the door with such ease and familiarity.

  Do they know she’s a home-wrecker?

  Do they know she slept with my husband in a filthy restroom stall while I sat at home, processing my father’s cancer diagnosis?

  I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter. Reed could move on with whomever he wanted. It was his life, and mine had nothing to do with his anymore. After all, we were divorced for a reason.

  But why did it have to be her?

  Trying to focus on my cat shopping, I took another sip of wine, only to be interrupted by the doorbell.

  I’d been back at my parents’ house for over a year now, and the doorbell hadn’t seen this much action since my drunken shopping spree a few months ago. Had I done it again?

  Nope, definitely not.

  There was no package waiting for me on other side.

  Just him.

  “Sawyer, why do you keep showing up on my doorstep? At night?” I asked, not even bothering to block his entry. I knew he was just going to invite himself in anyway. Why else would he be here?

  “I’m kind of a spur-of-the-moment type of
guy,” he explained, taking me up on my invite right away.

  I watched as he stepped through the threshold with ease, like he owned the place.

  “When I get something in my head, I just need to do it. So, when I came up with the plans for my booth and wanted to show them to you …”

  “You just figured, Hey, why the hell not? Eloise Woods has no life to speak of, so she’ll obviously be home, doing absolutely nothing. Might as well just stop by.”

  He held up a brown paper bag. “I brought burgers.”

  My head tilted slightly as a grin spread. “You should have led with that.”

  “I’ll remember that for next time.”

  Next time?

  I didn’t even bother asking, instead, I just headed into the living room, too buzzed on wine to even care about the mess that had taken up residence in the space. It didn’t seem to bother him either because he began to make himself right at home almost immediately, clearing space off the coffee table as he settled himself into the cozy green chair he’d occupied just days earlier.

  “Comfy?” I asked as he began to unbag the food.

  “Yes, thanks.”

  Taking the spot on the couch I’d left just moments before, I slid my laptop to the opposite side and began to feel awkward right away.

  Sawyer and I weren’t exactly buddies or even friends.

  In the twenty years or so that I’d known him, the majority of our conversations had probably taken place in the last few days. Sure, we exchanged niceties at holidays and waved at one another in the grocery store, but this? This was different. This was more.

  I didn’t really know much about the guy either—except for what Reed had told me, which wasn’t much. The Gallagher family wasn’t exactly the warm and friendly sort of bunch.

  “Are you a picky eater?”

  “What?” I asked, suddenly aware I was staring at him rather intently.

  “I got them fully loaded—tomatoes, onions, the works—so if there’s anything you don’t like, you probably want to grab a plate or something.”

  I shook my head. “Nope, not picky.”

  That seemed to please him.