Intimate Strangers (The Lisa Millar Series Book 1)

by Lasairiona McMaster

  She’d invested seven months in this guy. If she had wanted a roll in the hay she could have just “swiped right”. If she’d wanted a threesome with a married couple she could have turned to Fetlife. But she’d taken the time to get to know this guy online. They’d talked about everything. Or so she thought. She wanted to make sure that it wasn’t going to end up being a one-night stand, hump him and dump him kinda thing. As it turned out, he wanted to make sure she was ok with the him-having-a-wife-thing before taking it any further.

  Would he ever have told me if I’d never come here?

  Why the hell did no one tell me before now?

  I must have looked so damn stupid this whole time!

  Pulling out her phone, she hesitated for a second, but within minutes, she’d finished her call to the airline and was booked on the next flight to Dublin.

  Chapter 11

  Lisa only had to wait an hour. That’s ok, she reassured herself, you can wait an hour. AJ and the others would never think you’d just up and leave Alabama.

  It’s only an hour.

  But as the minutes ticked by, she started to wonder if she was being melodramatic buying an expensive, last minute flight home. He’s married, she reminded herself. The words reverberated angrily in her mind. He was married. To Britt. Of course he’s MARRIED to her. It finally all made sense. The hesitation, the secrecy, her Spidey sense tingling when they’d met.

  The underwear on the radiator.

  I bet she DOES prance around the house naked, and looks absolutely friggin’ fabulous as she does!

  Lisa couldn’t stop the tears; she didn’t even try. She knew it was futile. People stared. She tried to ignore them. She got more embarrassed and cried even more. She boarded the plane, took her seat and watched forlornly out the window as the plane took off, leaving Alabama, and its cracked-open closet of skeletons, behind. She wondered why Ana hadn’t told her, or even Jeremy. Someone. Anyone. Someone should have told her. Or hinted to her – so she could prod AJ for answers. Something.

  You knew something was up though, you should have asked. You played dumb.

  I did NOT! I wasn’t sure.

  Did Ana even know? She’s his sister! Of COURSE she knew. What a bitch to have facilitated a trip knowing that he was married!

  Oh my GOD, did CHELSEA know?

  SOMEONE SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME!

  Someone DID tell you, Lis.

  Yeah, the WRONG person. In the wrong freakin’ way!

  She wanted someone who cared enough about her to have had the decency to tell her the truth. But, in the end, it was Marc, practically a stranger, who told her. Marc, who didn't give two hoots about her, had told her the truth. Accidentally, at that.

  Eventually, she resigned herself to the fact that they were his people. As friendly as they were to her, she was new in their lives, and their loyalties lay with AJ. They had his back and probably wanted to stay the hell out of the middle of whatever this was. She couldn’t really blame them, but it was proving hard not to.

  Two hours into the flight, she finally managed to stop crying. As the tears abated, she realized no one knew where she was, so she picked up the in-flight phone, cringing at the thought of how much it would cost to make this call. She knew Chelsea would be going out of her mind, and no one was expecting her back at home. First, she punched in her good friend Aoife’s number, with no consideration for the time difference. It was the middle of the night back home, but she answered on the third ring.

  “Hello?” Aoife sounded dazed and confused, and obviously she didn’t recognize the strange number on her caller ID.

  “Eef?” Lisa barely recognized her own voice. It was shaky and uneven.

  “Lis?” The sound of her voice jolted her awake a bit. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I…I’m coming home, Eef,” she started, fighting the tears as the panic rose again in her chest.

  “What? Why?” Aoife was confused.

  I don’t blame her, I’m confused too, Lisa thought.

  “I’m sorry to wake you. I just … it’s just … He’s … He’s …He’s MARRIED, Aoife!” she managed, before she lost it and the sobs returned.

  “What?” Aoife’s voice was filled with a mixture of shock, horror and fury. She was certainly wide awake now. “Oh pet, don’t cry, it’s ok…” she started.

  Good ole glass-half-full Aoife, even when the glass is leaking out its arse, she thought, smiling through the tears despite herself.

  “No, Eef, it’s not. He’s married. MARRIED!” she choked.

  “Ok. Rewind. What? To who?”

  “Yeah, that’s about where I was until about thirty minutes ago. Right now, I just wanna kill the lyin’ bastard,” she vented. “He lied to me. He said he was single. He led me on!” Lisa couldn’t stop the words spilling out.

  “Wait,” her friend stopped her, “you’re coming home? You’re on a plane?”

  “Yeah,” she sniffed

  “Do they know where you are?”

  Silence.

  Aoife had met Chelsea when she’d visited Ireland. The two girls were similar in many ways, and Aoife was likely pretty sure Chelsea was not going to be happy that Lisa had disappeared across the Atlantic without a word.

  “Lis…?” she started, “does anyone know where you are? AJ? Chelsea?” she repeated.

  “Not…exactly.” Her reply was muffled as she blew her nose.

  “LIS! You didn’t tell them you were leaving? Any of them? Chelsea knows though, right? Ohmigosh! Lis! She’s probably going out of her mind! She’s going to be so pissed! Where are you flying into and when do you arrive?”

  She’s not wrong.

  “Five hours, Dublin.”

  “I’ll meet you there. I may be a little late, but I’ll be there. Go call Chelsea.” The line went dead.

  Shit, she thought. I really should have thought this through. I have to phone her; she’s going to be pissed.

  She was just about to dial Chelsea’s number when the air hostess stopped by. “You ok, hun?”

  Why yes, I always cry hysterically when I fly.

  “Yes ma’am, thank you.” Liar, liar pants on fire.

  “He’s not worth your tears, sweetie.”

  Call me one more pet-name and I’ll – hey wait, how’d she know it was boy trouble?

  She glanced up and met a sympathetic gaze. “I overheard you telling your friend. He’s not worth your tears.” She repeated holding out a couple miniatures and some tissues, giving Lisa’s shoulder a reassuring pat with her free hand.

  “Thank you,” Lisa replied, choking back tears.

  “Welcome. You let me know if you need anything, kay? I think I’ve got some ice cream knockin’ ‘round somewhere.”

  Lisa managed a small smile at her kindness. “No, thank you,”

  “Wine?”

  “No. Thank you though, I appreciate it.”

  “You just let me know, sugar.”

  Attempting to smile again in thanks, Lisa clenched her jaw and nodded, turning her attention back to the phone in the hopes she wouldn’t get called another south-of-the-Mason-Dixon-line cutsie nickname.

  Reluctantly, she punched in Chelsea’s number. This was a conversation she did not want to have.

  It didn’t even ring once, before she picked up.

  “Lisa? Is that you? Where are you?”

  Silence.

  How did she even know it was me?

  She was crying again. Damnit. Pull yourself together, woman! She scolded herself. Catch a grip!

  “Did you know?” Lisa managed to choke.

  “Know what? Where the hell are you calling me from with this number?” She was confused and clearly worried about her friend. “What the hell is going on? Where are you and why are you crying?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Know what, Lisa?” she asked exasperated.

  “He’s married,” she spat bitterly. “He’s fucking married, Chels. He’s nothing but a lying prick of a hockey play
er and he’s bloody married!” Lisa was sobbing uncontrollably now, her shoulders shaking. People in the rows around her were looking at her with pity and sympathy in their eyes. She felt drained.

  “Jeremy lied. And I’m sure Ana has to know! How could she not know her brother was married? She was probably a fucking bridesmaid.”

  “Holy shit,” Chelsea began. “I’m so sorry Lis. I didn’t know. I promise. I wouldn’t have encouraged any of this if I’d known. Though that explains why Jeremy came in like a bull in a china shop and demanded to know exactly what Marc told you. He took one look at him and said, ‘Does she know?’, Marc nodded. Jeremy said something like, ‘Shit. This is bad. Age is on his way. This is really bad, Marc,’ and left. No one would tell me what the hell they were talking about. Marc had put his foot in it once already tonight by telling you, so he wasn’t telling me anything, and I couldn’t get hold of you.”

  Chelsea paused for breath.

  “Dumb question: How are you?”

  “I’m…uh. He’s married, and half of the people on this plane are staring at me,” was all Lisa could manage.

  “It’s ok, tell me where you are and I’ll come get you,” she asked expectantly, clearly not registering that Lisa had just said she was on an airplane...

  “Wait, Lis? Where are you?” The penny dropped.

  “Somewhere over the Atlantic,” she stated as nonchalantly as she could muster.

  3…2…1

  “You WHAT?”

  …aaaand, there it was.

  “Don’t shit your pants, Chels. I’m safe, I promise. I just couldn’t be around him.”

  Then she heard him in the background.

  “Chelsea? Where is she?”

  “Chels? Why is he there? Where are you? Chelsea please don’t tell him, PLEASE don’t tell him,” she pleaded. “I don’t want him to know, or follow me. Assuming he even has a rational explanation and wants to give it to me.” She paused and added, “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “She’s gone home, hasn’t she?” he asked Chelsea somberly.

  Damn you, knowing me so well, AJ.

  “Chels, please?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  “It’s too late,” her friend answered. “He’s just left, Lis. I know I don’t know him all that well, but I’d say it’s a safe bet that he’s going to follow you.”

  “No! Chels! You have to stop him! Make Jeremy stop him. They can tie him to some goalposts or something. I don’t want to see him. I can’t see him, Chels. He…I can’t…Hold on, I…I’ll be back…” A wave of hysteria hit and she cried so hard nausea wasn’t too far behind. She dropped the phone on her seat and grabbed the barf-bag from the seat pocket.

  This isn’t going to be enough, she realized as she bolted from her chair, paper bag at the ready. Mercifully, the lavatory was empty and she barely had the door closed before she was sick.

  After emptying her stomach, she returned to her seat and picked up the phone again. She felt awful. She’d caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror, her face was tear-streaked, her eyes bloodshot, and she’d just thrown-up, so she had that nasty vomit-taste in her mouth.

  “You still there?” she asked.

  “Damn straight. Where’d you go?”

  “I was praying to the porcelain gods.”

  “You were talking to wh- oh, I got ya. Yuck. Feel better?”

  “Not so much.”

  “Didn’t think so, poor girl.”

  “Chelsea, what am I supposed to do?” Lisa was almost pleading, begging for answers from her friend. She knew, though, that Chelsea had nothing to offer her.

  “I dunno girl, but if your crazy, impulsive ass had waited half a fucking second before jumping a flight home, I’d have told you that running away wouldn’t help. You need to talk to him.”

  “Chels? Now’s not the time for a lecture, and I don’t want to talk to him.” She groaned. “That’s not what I want to hear!” Her chest hurt from crying.

  “How long have we been friends, Lis? When do I ever tell you what you want to hear?”

  Lisa picked up her bag to get a Kleenex. Inside, she found an envelope that she hadn’t previously noticed. She opened it and unfolded the page inside, forgetting Chelsea was still sitting on the line and how expensive the call would end up being.

  Hey babe,

  You’re in the shower, Jeremy’s flicking through TV channels and I felt a strange urge to write you a note. I guess with you being here, and using the phone more recently, we haven’t written to each other in a little while. It feels weird when I’ve gotten so used to writing you multiple times a day. I guess I’ll just leave it in your bag for you to find later, probably during the game tonight.

  I don’t even know why I’m writing. I’ll see you in fifteen minutes, twenty-five if you wash your hair. Yup. Your boyfriend is a dork. Yup. I just wrote boyfriend. I think it’s time we both started owning it, because I am. Your boyfriend, I mean. Unless you’d rather I wasn’t. And I know for damn sure that I want you to be my girlfriend. I know, I should probably say this out loud to you, and I will. I’m also aware I’m now talking to myself in a note. Your boyfriend really is a dork.

  I guess I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for coming to see me. I’m having a really great time and I just wish you could stay longer because I know, when the time comes, I don’t think I’ll be able to watch you leave.

  You’re everything I expected you to be when we met, and so much more. Anyway. Jeremy’s now trying to read over my shoulder, and I need to go start breakfast – I don’t know why I said I’d make breakfast. I can’t even cook!

  Love, your AJ.

  P.S. – Have you smiled yet today?

  She couldn’t stop the tears. Not even to tell Chelsea that she’d found a random, rambling letter from her now very ex-boyfriend. She just said goodbye, told her she’d call when she landed, and struggled with waves of tears.

  The air hostess popped by to check in with her occasionally – she’d added “darlin’” and “dumplin’” to the ever-growing list of folksy names. The woman in front of her turned around a couple times to make sure she was ok, too. Lisa was so embarrassed; she just wanted the ground to swallow her up.

  Except there’s no ground under me to swallow me up. she thought glumly, Though I’d happily go hide in the luggage hold if it were pressurized. She spent the remainder of the flight, and her connection, trying her best to keep her emotional outbursts to a minimum. She’d already caused way more of a scene than she was comfortable with.

  Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together.

  Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

  Damnit, Lisa. Calm down.

  More tears.

  This is NOT breathing!

  When they landed, she had no luggage to collect. Aoife was running late, so Lisa waited in the arrivals lounge and got herself a drink. She was cried out and exhausted, but she knew this was far from over. AJ was a fighter. And he loved her – she knew that he really and truly did love her. But he was married. Hell, I’ve even met his fucking wife, she thought bitterly as she sipped her water. We talked about her lace panties over the radiator like I had asked him what the weather was doing outside. She was convinced that no amount of drinking water today could rehydrate her after all that crying, but she knew she would feel better than if she stuck to her usual liquid diet of two liters of Diet Coke a day. Flying and crying was a bitch of a combo for dehydration.

  I can’t believe he’s slept with her. I mean, they’re married, they probably sleep together all the time. If I was his wife, I’d sleep with him all the time. I’d never leave the house ‘cause I’d be too busy having sex all the freakin’ time.

  And HER! What kind of person? What kind of WOMAN would condone her still-in-the-honeymoon-phase-husband having a bit on the side? Even if it was only online. Not only that, but a long-term bit on the side? She’d even met the girlfriend. Me! She met me! We talked, we laughed, she even joked about my bedding her husba
nd. Is THIS a cultural thing?

  Wait. What?

  No. Now you’re just being stupid.

  It’s a fucked-up thing. That’s what it is. It’s an utterly fucked-up thing.

  She sighed. She hated not understanding.

  Don’t you dare try to rationalize this, Lisa.

  He was probably catching a flight right now and all she could do was wait. She hated waiting. She’d finished her water, bitten her nails to the quick and sussed out that no matter which way she sat, the CCTV cameras could see her crying and talking to herself like a crazy woman. She was certainly giving the guys in the security room something to talk about on their break.

  I really hate waiting.

  But she had no choice. She knew she’d have to face him; they’d have to have it out. It wasn’t going to be pretty.

  Chapter 12

  The next few hours passed in a tired-blur. Aoife drove Lisa home to her parent’s house in Newry, and Lisa had to force her to go to work and not call in “my bestie needs me” sick.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted. “I really need some time alone, to think,” she pressed.

  Reluctantly, her friend acquiesced.

  Lisa had been stewing the whole ride home. Things just didn’t make sense.

  You don’t just go off and marry the love of your life while stringing along some long-distance, online-girl for no reason, right?

  They didn’t seem more than brother-sister, good friends - at most. But there was something going on, she’d felt it. He came across as so genuine with Lisa, so loving, and at no point did he ever mention a wife, a fiancée, a girlfriend, a friend with benefits - nothing.

  It didn’t make sense.

  You don’t talk about the possibility of marrying someone and then go and marry someone else. Ok, yes, he said that while he was incredibly drunk one night, and he didn’t mean right away cause that’s seven shades of crazy, but he did mean it, right?

  It was why she was so convinced he was going to come after her. It didn’t fit. While part of her burned with a deep rage, another part kept trying to pull her back to the facts. He was a good guy, kind and genuine. Or so I thought.