The Affair

by J. L. Berg

  I still had wet hair, and Sawyer was overly dressed up in his clothes from the night before, but so far, we were on time.

  Well sated from lovemaking but perhaps a little starving from skipping breakfast, but still, we were on time.

  It was a small victory.

  “Ground rules?” he asked as we hopped into his car.

  “For the shop,” I specified. “To keep things professional.”

  He started the engine, and soon, we were pulling out of the driveway. “Completely professional?” he echoed.

  “Exactly.”

  When he looked over at me, I could see his mind working; that devious little devil that lived inside was just plotting away. “So, if I were to, say”—he let his words dangle for a moment, keeping me in suspense—“take you in the back and bend you over that desk of yours, that would be considered highly unprofessional?”

  Clearing my throat, I tried to find an answer. “Um, well, I guess it’d depend on the time of day.”

  “Let’s go with ten in the morning.”

  Trying not to meet his gaze for fear I’d crumble under the weight of it, I looked straight ahead, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t feel it, and it made me imagine his words coming to life.

  Him and me alone in that office.

  “What if we got caught?”

  I caught a glimpse of his grin as he answered. “So, maybe not completely professional then?”

  Finally turning to face him, I opened my mouth to answer, but his phone began buzzing, and since we were pulling up to the store, he picked it up. I watched his demeanor quickly change. The happy, laid-back version of Sawyer I was used to was replaced.

  Suddenly, there was a version I’d only seen once—when Reed had shown up. His smile vanished, replaced by something hinging on anger.

  “Go on ahead. I’ll catch up,” he instructed.

  “Okay,” I answered, knowing this could mean only one thing.

  I’d only seen Sawyer get bent out of shape with one recurring topic, and it always happened to be his family. I hoped, someday, he’d open up to me about it, but for now, I hopped out of the truck and headed for the store, allowing him the privacy he needed.

  But soon, I knew I’d eventually need answers because a house couldn’t be built with straw, and I was afraid that was what was happening here.

  He’d said he trusted me, but did he?

  Did he really?

  Chapter Ten

  Forget what I had said earlier about giving him space.

  That had been a horrible idea.

  As I paced the worn floor of my family’s antique store, I couldn’t help but wonder what he could possibly be talking about for nearly thirty minutes.

  Checking the clock on my phone, I let out a frustrated huff.

  Make that thirty-five minutes and counting.

  I could barely make out his silhouette in the driver’s seat of his truck, but from the look of it, he wasn’t happy.

  Well, that made two of us.

  Leave it to the Gallaghers to ruin a perfect morning. The high of shower sex had now been replaced with agitation, nervousness, and boob sweat.

  I tried to make myself busy, but in a store where little merchandise was moving, it seemed like there was less and less to do. One could only mop, dust, and rearrange things so many times.

  Hopefully, all that would be changing shortly.

  Looking out the window once more, I told myself I wasn’t checking on him. I was merely glancing outside for potential customers.

  But as my eyes finally met his, my phone buzzed.

  Sawyer: I’m going to run home and change. Be back soon.

  No explanation. No elaboration on the forty-minute conversation he’d just had outside my store or why it was necessary to have it in private.

  Nothing.

  Sending him a quick text back was pointless as I watched his truck pull away.

  Maybe he just needed air.

  I’d been part of that family for years, and if anyone understood the complexity of it, it was me.

  Shaking my head, I chastised myself.

  Even I knew that wasn’t true. I had been a part of the Gallagher family, but if there was anything I’d learned from befriending Sawyer, it was that I knew next to nothing about them.

  But it didn’t mean I couldn’t find out.

  Feeling like I had nothing to lose and everything to gain, I pulled my phone out and dialed the one number I’d thought I’d never call again.

  This has simply gone too far, I told myself.

  And if Sawyer wasn’t going to tell me what was going on, I’d go find someone who would even if it meant facing my past.

  Unfortunately, my past didn’t answer. Reed’s phone just rang and rang until, eventually, his voice mail picked up. Just hearing the familiar sound of his voice had me rethinking this entire plan.

  I’d promised Sawyer that I’d wait—that I’d earn his trust, just as he’d earn mine.

  This went against all of that.

  But as the beep sounded on the other end, I couldn’t stop the words that followed. I needed answers.

  “Reed,” I began, “I need to talk to you. This has gone on long enough. Whatever happened between your family and Sawyer is in the past, and you’re only causing more damage by treating him like an outsider.”

  Feeling somewhat vindicated, like my words were no longer for me, but for Sawyer, I went on, “You need to let go. He is your brother after all.”

  Hanging up, I should have felt better, like I’d defended his honor. But instead, all I felt was dread because somehow, someway, this was going to blow up in my face.

  What had I done?

  Feeling like the ultimate betrayer for calling Reed, I decided honesty was the best policy.

  That, and maybe changing my phone number before he had the chance to return my call—if he ever did, that was.

  As I waited for Sawyer to return that morning, I tried to organize my words so that I could explain exactly why I’d done it in the first place. But so far, all I’d managed to come up with sounded super lame and clingy, which made sense because that was exactly how I’d acted.

  Was it always going to be like this?

  Would I ever reach the part in the relationship where I could trust again, or was this my norm now? A scorned woman who was prone to momentary lapses of judgment, jealousy, and regrettable phone calls?

  It was definitely not who or where I wanted to be.

  And Sawyer deserved better.

  “You’ve got that face again,” Sawyer said, appearing as if from nowhere. His voice pierced through the drab silence in the store, making me jump. “Sorry.” He laughed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Finally meeting his gaze, feeling guiltier by the minute, I tried to shrug it out. “I just didn’t expect you to come in the back.”

  With a casual smile, he seemed to be back to his normal self—nothing like the brooding man sitting outside my store only an hour earlier. “I parked behind the store today. Hope that’s okay?”

  “Sure.” I nodded. “No problem.”

  A quiet fell between us, and I knew it was my chance to say something.

  Tell him, my conscience urged. Before he finds out from Reed.

  “Do you want to go away this weekend?” I blurted out, surprising him as much as myself.

  “What?”

  Not knowing where I was going with this, I stumbled, trying to make sense of why my mouth was saying one thing while my brain was saying another. “Um, there is a flea market a couple hours away that I’ve been thinking about going to. With plans to introduce new merchandise, I thought it might be fun to see what else is out there, beyond the small world of estate antiques.”

  Well, that had definitely been unplanned. While I had, in fact, looked at attending a flea market, I hadn’t actually looked into going to one so soon. It was more of a someday sort of plan.

  Not anymore.

  “Sure,” he answered, not see
ming to notice the bullshit I was throwing his way. And he thought I was a bad liar. “When do you want to leave?”

  “Saturday? After we close?” I suggested before adding, “Unless you need time to work on your furniture piece. I know it came with a tight deadline.”

  He shook his head, and I saw his demeanor change ever so slightly. “No, I don’t need any time. Not anymore.”

  “You finished it?”

  “It fell through.” It was the only explanation he gave before turning toward the break room to make himself some coffee.

  I should be used to this by now—the vague answers, the change of subject. It was all classic Sawyer. But I wasn’t. Every time he pushed me away, I felt more out of control.

  I hated it, which was why I knew when Reed called me back, I wouldn’t let it go to voice mail or politely tell him I’d made a mistake.

  No. If and when he called me back, I’d demand answers even if they were from the one person I knew I shouldn’t trust.

  It had been several days since I left that message for Reed.

  Every time my phone buzzed, my heart would start to pound in my chest.

  Was this the call? Would I answer it or ignore it?

  But each time, I was disappointed.

  Or maybe a bit relieved.

  “Have you ever been to this flea market?” Sawyer asked.

  It was the first time we’d spoken in several minutes since leaving town an hour earlier. We’d packed up everything that morning, so we could leave right after closing. I’d been a jittery mess ever since.

  “No,” I answered, my eyes set on the dark view of the trees out the passenger window. “I’ve never actually been to a flea market.”

  “What? None? How is that possible? Surely your mom took you as a kid.”

  Turning toward him, his eyes set dead ahead, I shook my head. “She never went to any either.”

  “But you’re an antique dealer. Flea markets are kind of your bread and butter. Or at least, they should be.”

  “True,” I agreed. “But it wasn’t a place Mom even considered. She got all of her pieces locally and built up inventory with time. She believed in patience when it came to finding the right treasure.”

  “So, basically, she sat around and waited for people to die.”

  Laughing, I shrugged. “I guess you could say that. I think she believed flea markets were beneath her. She was always proud of the fine antiques we sold—like it was her solemn duty to preserve them for the families who’d given them up.”

  He didn’t seem impressed. “Fine antiques are great and all, but if they don’t sell, they’re basically giant, expensive dust collectors.”

  “The old me would have argued with you over that point.”

  He grinned. “And what does the new you want to do?”

  “I still want to argue just for the sake of it, but I know you’re right. There are pieces in that store that have been there for more years than I can count. If I don’t start moving some of it, I’ll be forced to shut down.”

  “And you think bringing in more inventory from the flea market will help?”

  “I’m not sure,” I confessed. “But it’s worth a try. It might have been beneath my mom, but I am more than willing to sell something she considered worthless to someone who might find it priceless.”

  “That was actually kind of poetic. Are your grandma’s journals rubbing off on you?” he teased.

  “Hardly,” I answered. “More like a healthy dose of desperation.”

  “I don’t think what you’re doing is desperate at all. Your mom’s way of business worked for a long time, but that doesn’t mean it will continue to do so. Any good business owner makes changes along the way.”

  “Yeah, but I still don’t like it.”

  “What, the change?”

  I nodded.

  “No one said change was comfortable.”

  Grinning, I gave him a sideways glance. “Now who’s trying to be poetic?”

  “Just stating a fact.”

  Our conversation shifted after that. We talked about Halloween and how cute the trick-or-treaters had been. He told me about a new table he was working on, and we had a heated debate on which pizza place in town was better.

  It was fun and easy.

  But I couldn’t ignore all of the subjects we were clearly avoiding. All the topics we had to swerve around to avoid talking about his family or the dozen other things we were sidestepping.

  Like that call I’d made to Reed that I never mentioned.

  Part of me could rationalize that I was blowing this whole thing out of proportion. Just like the day I’d seen the woman in his driveway, I’d had a momentary lapse of judgment that day, and if I just told him, we could get through it.

  Together.

  But those nagging what-ifs kept me from saying the words.

  What if he doesn’t understand?

  What if he sees it as a major invasion of his privacy?

  What if he ends it?

  So many what-ifs were bouncing around in my head, but the last one was the loudest of all. I couldn’t bear the idea of him walking away.

  I’d given my heart to another Gallagher brother, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to lose it now.

  When he pulled into a rest stop so we could stretch our legs, I took advantage of the moment before he shut off the ignition and finally spoke up. It was now or never. “I called Reed the other day.”

  It was as if someone had pressed pause on a remote control.

  He froze instantly, his eyes forward as he processed my words. “Why?”

  “I don’t know why I did it,” I said before adding, “Okay, I do, but that doesn’t excuse it. I was upset. I’d just watched you drive away after a forty-minute call that looked incredibly intense, and I was feeling useless.”

  “So you thought calling Reed would help?” The way he said it sounded calm, but there was an intensity in his words that made me know he was anything but.

  “I wanted someone to yell at.”

  “Come again?”

  “I wanted to tell him off—for being a shitty brother, for allowing whatever happened between all of you to go on this long. Family is supposed to love and support each other, no matter what, and he’s failed, Sawyer. They all have.”

  My voice had gone horse and loud. The passion behind my words was evident, and as he turned to look at me, I found something I hadn’t expected.

  Gratitude.

  “You were calling him to defend my honor? I don’t think anyone has ever done that for me.”

  I swallowed hard. “I don’t know if it was exactly that,” I answered honestly. “Maybe. But mostly, I wanted answers. I needed to know what they’d done to cause you so much pain.”

  “How do you know it was them and not me?” he asked, taking my hand.

  “Because I know you,” I answered. “I might not have figured out every facial expression or know every detail of your life, but deep down, I know you Sawyer Gallagher, and whatever pain you are feeling, I want to find the cure.”

  Reaching for me, he pulled me close. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Elle? You are my cure.”

  “But your family—” I began.

  “Isn’t important,” he finished.

  As his lips met mine, I felt relief. My voicemail to Reed had been weighing heavily on me for days, and I’d finally come clean.

  But what about Sawyer?

  He’d said his family didn’t matter, but I knew that wasn’t true.

  They mattered. One way or another, they fit into this complicated puzzle that made up Sawyer’s past.

  The question was, would I ever find all the missing pieces?

  “This place is gorgeous.”

  Grinning, he took my hand and pulled me into the adorable room that was officially ours for the night. “You said that already.”

  “I know,” I answered, taking a moment to soak it all in.

  After I’d blurted out my crazy idea for t
he flea market this weekend and he’d agreed, Sawyer had asked to take the reins when it came to booking a place.

  I’d figured he had something up his sleeve, but this went beyond my greatest expectations.

  “How did you even find a place like this?” I asked, running my hands over the exquisite furnishings that adorned our spacious room.

  “Google,” he answered with a laugh. “I wanted our first time away to be special, and I had a feeling you might be more the bed-and-breakfast type girl than a big, fancy hotel.”

  “It’s perfect,” I said. “When did the owner say it was built?” Taking a look out the window, I couldn’t help but admire the serene view that encompassed it; tall, mature trees and a sparkling river. It was like something out of a Nicholas Sparks movie.

  “I think it dates back to the Civil War. I believe she included a pamphlet in the paperwork she gave us. Do you want me to fish it out?”

  Turning toward him, I shook my head. “No. I don’t feel like reading.”

  A small smile crept up his face. “So, food then?”

  I shook my head again, taking a step in his direction. He copied me, closing the gap between us.

  “No. No food.”

  As his hands curled around my waist, I felt that same flutter of anticipation I got whenever he touched me. It was addictive.

  “Tell me what you want, Elle.”

  Standing on my tiptoes, I leaned upward and gently kissed him. It was a slow, sensual kiss that I felt all the way down to my toes. “You,” I answered. “I just want you.”

  As his hands slid down, cupping my ass, he whispered, “Say it again.”

  “I want you.”

  My words were like fuel for him, driving him wild. One second, we were standing in the middle of the room, and the next, his hands were hoisting me off the ground. Instinctively, my legs wrapped around him as my back hit the wall closest to us. Pinned, I felt his body react to mine.

  It was electric.

  The whole room could have ignited from the way he looked at me. We made quick work of our clothing, tossing it to the floor with reckless abandon. I’d never been a prude when it came to sex, giving myself over completely to the moment. I’d thought I knew everything there was to know about sex, but being with Sawyer? It made me feel like I was learning the art of love for the first time.