Lust in Translation (Harbour Point SEAL Series Book 1)

by Rachel Robinson

  “I’ll answer honestly if you do,” he says.

  The brake lights relented a few minutes ago, and now we’re moving at the speed limit, the white flurrying snow cascading onto our window so it looks as if we’re traveling into a vortex. “You know why I’m still here,” I say. Adam is a good man. He has all the qualities any woman wants in a man. He’s strong willed, hardworking, soft when he needs to be, and loyal to a damn fault. Adam would make a perfect family man. That’s what I’d be discarding. He’s a known entity. And he is mostly good.

  “Why are you still here? You only married me because of the pregnancy. You finally admitted that. Why are you still here?”

  He clears his throat, leaning in to get a better view of the road. Our turn off is coming up and visibility is poor. My heart pounds and my knuckles are clenched white in my lap. “You know everything between us is complicated. It’s not just cut and dry. I made a commitment to you. That commitment has morphed over time, sure, but it’s still there. People discard marriages for far less, I admit. Even sham marriages deserve some effort, don’t they? Things are strained between us. More difficult than I ever imagined when I vowed for better or for worse, but damn it, I’m going to do right by you. I owe it to myself, at the very least, to know I’ve done everything I can do before we throw in the towel. That’s just me. Me.” He releases the steering wheel to place one hand on his chest. “Let me do that!”

  I panic. “Don’t let go of the steering wheel, Adam. I know you’re upset, but you need to focus on the road. Please. Please.” I tug on my seat belt and clutch the handle on the door as he makes the turn on our road. A truck approaching in the opposite lane swerves into ours as we turn and it’s a near miss.

  Adam pulls on the shoulder of our desolate road, covered in white, and puts the car in park. “We should have waited until we got home to talk about it.”

  I’d say anything to calm him down right now. “I understand. I understand. It is complicated. I feel the same way. If by calling our marriage a sham, and separating, we’re somehow making Noel less real. The family. The whole thing. We’d be throwing it all away just because we don’t feel the way we’re supposed to about each other.” I pause, anxiety creeping in with the truth.

  Adam stays silent, his head against his hands, against the wheel. “How much longer, Kendall? How much longer do we try?” Admission. He didn’t deny my last statement. He doesn’t feel the way a husband is supposed to feel about his wife.

  “I don’t know. This whole time I’ve been confused about how long it’s supposed to take to get back to normal. Maybe this is it. This is the new normal and now we have to decide if it’s enough to keep.”

  “It’s killing me slowly. I’m not sure how much more I can take,” Adam replies in a hoarse voice.

  “Are you saying you don’t want to try anymore? Call it now?” I ask, voice shaking. The snow is coming down so rapidly, you can hear it roar inside the car.

  Adam looks over, his eyes haunted in the dim light. “I’m not saying that unless you are.”

  Always, in moments such as this, she creeps in. Noel. Noel. Noel. The life I wanted. The life that will never be. Not exactly that way. Adam and Noel and me. Why I can’t just say it right now. Why I refuse to break that memory in an irreparable way. I swallow hard. “Let’s sleep on it,” I say. “Do you want me to drive the rest of the way home?” Adam puts the car in drive. “I got it. I’m beat, though.”

  “It’s been a rough day. Mother nature is giving us a kick in the ass.” Adam drives slowly and pulls into our driveway. He replaced the bulb this morning, so now our whole driveway is lit. Is that a sign? That’s where I’m at these days—grasping at anything that resembles guidance.

  “I’ll shovel,” I say. “I want to look for Coal.” Adam never would let me shovel the driveway. Not ever. Not even once.

  Today he nods. “Might want to grab the snow blower out of the shed. It’s going to take a while, otherwise.” He parks in the garage and closes the door. We only park in here when we have bad weather.

  Grimacing, I agree and follow him into the house to grab my rubber snow boots. Adam goes directly into his office after he grabs a bottle of whiskey and slams the door. I walk out the back door to the shed thinking of my association of Adam and how drastically different he is now. His laugh. The big smile. Contagious happiness. Things I’ve stolen. My breaths come quicker as I drag my feet toward the shed and push the snow blower out and over the same path I cut on the way out. I determine the quickest way to our front drive, and I’m sweating under all my layers as I exert myself.

  I keep my eyes peeled for Coal as I walk, but I know turning on this loud machine will scare him from coming out of whatever hiding place he’s found. I switch it on and blow the goddamn snow out on to the road that the city will plow shortly. I have to use the snow shovel to get our walkway and in front of our garage. The whole process takes me double the time it would take Adam. Sometime during the shoveling process, I see Adam’s office light click off.

  The house is dark and quiet when I start taking off all of my snow-covered clothes and boots. Coal’s rubber container with the heating pad and food sits untouched by the garage. I made sure a little trail from the side of my house to the box was clear if he made his way out tonight. The snow had already covered the driveway again by the time I finished, but it distracted me enough from my disastrous thoughts and the black place looming. The marriage. My friendship. The cat.

  There’s a dim light in the kitchen that tells me Adam turned it on before he went to bed. Showering off the day takes longer tonight. I throw on a t-shirt and my slippers and open Adam’s office door. I see his nearly empty whiskey bottle and a stack of papers sitting next to it.

  So, that’s what these look like. I drink directly from the bottle as I familiarize myself with my next reprieve-harboring nightmare.

  CHAPTER TEN

  KENDALL

  DRUNK, INFORMED, AND SADDER than I’ve been in a long time, I crawl into bed next to Adam. The digital clock on the nightstand reads three. Between my snow-heaving workout and the remnants of Adam’s booze I thought I’d fall asleep quickly, but absolution doesn’t come. Adam’s breaths are steady and low and I try to focus on his inhales and exhales to calm myself. His hand, on autopilot, reaches over and pulls me against his body. I go, tucking my hand under my head and letting his warmth heat me through. This is when I realize the game we’ve been playing is dangerous. Far more destructive than our reasons for staying together. Our habits, good and bad, will only serve to deliver swift pain. They’ll dot every memory we have of each other during this time.

  I press my hand over Adam’s and try to match his breaths. I’m almost asleep when a fierce pounding on our front door forces us both out of bed at a jump. “What time is it?” Adam asks, flying to open our bedroom door. “What’s going on?”

  My heart is thrashing against my chest. “It’s four,” I rasp, my voice hoarse as my gaze flies around the room trying to make sense of the noise. More angry pounding on the front door. “Where’s my robe?” I rub at my eyes and tug on the hem of my shirt. The cool air stings my bare legs.

  Adam grabs his robe from the hook behind the door. My hook, next to his, is empty. He heads to the front door at a brisk clip. “Someone might be in trouble,” Adam calls. “This weather. I bet it’s a traveler stuck.” He presses his face against the door to peer through the peephole and opens the door. Curiosity overtakes my body temperature and I creep toward the front door.

  Who else would it be? It’s Leo Callaway, covered in snow from head to foot. Even his eyelashes are frozen together. “I found the cat,” Leo barks, shooting a glance at me, my legs, and then my face. “Kendall,” Leo says, “Go fill the kitchen sink with warm water. Not hot,” he says. “Adam, you have a heating blanket? Start the fireplace.”

  “Coal?” I cry out.

  Leo pushes into the entrance and I see a duffle bag slung crossways over his body, and he has a head lamp still sw
itched on beaming from his forehead. “Kendall, he isn’t good. The sink. Now,” Leo barks. Adam is already busying himself with the fireplace, taking orders. I still don’t move. I’m too busy understanding what time it is and how long Leo must have been outside looking for my cat.

  He shoulders past me and into the kitchen, snow falling onto the hardwood and turning to puddles. He cranks on the faucet and then removes his gloves using his teeth. Then he unzips the duffle bag and pulls Coal out. Unmoving. A lifeless ragdoll, ice clinging to his fur like it’s always been there.

  “We need to warm him up,” Leo says, mostly to himself because I’m in shock and I can’t see anything except another death on my hands. Adam comes up behind me and puts his robe around my shoulders. I pull my arms through it, tie the waist, and thank him. Or, at least I think I do. Leo is rubbing Coal as the warm water trickles over his midsection. “I found him four houses down under the steps. The new snow had boxed him in.

  “How long have you been out there?” I ask, not recognizing my own voice through my tears. “Searching for him?”

  Leo clears his throat. “It doesn’t matter.” He directs Adam to plug in the heating blanket on the counter next to him. The fire is now crackling to life. “I didn’t find him soon enough. I’m so sorry, Kid.” Leo lays the limp, dark body on the blanket and presses his ear against Coal’s chest, before covering his midsection with the warming blanket. I slide down the counter and sit on the wood floor, watching Leo give chest compressions to the tiny animal I failed. He stops to blow gently in his mouth, and then continues using a single thumb to press against the tiny chest. He blows in his mouth again, giving CPR to Coal.

  “Anything?” Adam asks, voice low. I tuck my head in between my knees. Why wasn’t I the one looking at the neighbors’ houses? Why didn’t I look under their stairs? I could have found him in time.

  Leo makes some noncommittal noise. Adam lays a hand on my shoulder. “Come sit by the fire. You must be cold.” I’m wearing his robe and he thinks I’m cold. I keep my gaze averted from Coal as I pass them on my walk to the living room and sink into the sofa.

  “He’s breathing,” Leo says. Standing, I turn to look, and even from this distance I see his little chest moving up and down. “I can’t believe it worked,” Leo exclaims, unzipping and without taking his gaze from the kitten, tosses his jacket over a barstool. Adam unplugs the heating blanket and Leo walks with a bundled Coal over to sit in front of the fire. “I can’t believe it worked,” Leo says again, watching the kitten breathe. “It was so cold out. I didn’t think he had a chance.”

  I kneel next to Leo and press my hand on Coal’s back. “You’re warming up now,” I whisper. “You’re going to be okay, little guy. You’re okay.” Tears prick my eyes as relief washes over me.

  Adam paces next to us, hands perched on his hips. Leo meets my gaze and grins. “I mean, I knew I was good, but I need to add bringing living things back from the dead to my resume. Think I’d get a raise?”

  I roll my eyes, but I’m so grateful we’re able to joke in this moment, that I let a burse of laughter ring free. I hit his arm. “You’re so vain.”

  Adam clears his throat. We both look to him. I’d forgotten he was there. “Typical,” Adam says, looking between us. “I buy the cat and you save it.”

  I furrow my brow, trying to decipher the meaning, and Leo looks back to the kitten. “What is that supposed to mean, Adam?” I stand to meet him square on. “Neither of us were out there looking for Coal. He was, damn it! You should be thanking him, not doing whatever it is you’re doing right now.”

  Adam doesn’t dignify me with a response, he glances down at Leo. “Thanks, Leo. For saving Coal. I appreciate it.” He turns back to me. “I’m going back to bed now. I’m glad your cat is okay.”

  Adam leaves and I’m left feeling extremely awkward. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten in to him. We had an argument earlier and we haven’t quite sorted it, you know? Don’t take it personal, Leo.” I sit down again, my leg brushing Leo’s as I do. “Thank you so much for finding Coal.”

  He breathes a long sigh. “Even though you told me you didn’t need help, huh?”

  “Yeah. I was a jerk. I’m sorry. I hope everything is okay with Avery.” That’s what a friend would say. A caring, freaking friend.

  “Kid, I’m not with Avery.” Leo shakes his head. “Not anymore. Not for a long time. I had to help her out. That’s it.” He reads between the lines easily.

  “You don’t owe me an explanation,” I say, preserving my pride.

  He chuckles, stroking Coal. The cat lifts his head and looks at me. He meows loud and angry. I pick him up and clutch him to my chest. “I don’t owe you an explanation, but you wanted one earlier when we were by your car. That was clear. How was your therapy?” Leo turns to look over his shoulder.

  I shrug, kissing the top of Coal’s head. “Don’t worry. Adam is already snoring.” I sigh. “The same as it always is. I said what I was supposed to say. On the way home Adam and I talked about ending it. I’m not sure what he’s waiting for.”

  “What we’re all waiting for. A sign.”

  Closing my eyes, I reply, “What kind of sign are you waiting for?”

  “A little of this and a little of that. You’ll know when you see it type of thing.” Leo stands. “You should go back to bed.” I’m not ready for him to leave yet. “Make sure Coal stays warm. Offer a bit of food before you go to bed. Keep that heating blanket on for him.”

  “I haven’t gotten a notice yet about work tomorrow,” I say, carrying Coal to the kitchen island where my cell phone has been charging since after work. I click my email icon and scroll for Margaret’s name. Nothing. Nothing from the command either. “I think we’ll be going in. Why don’t you sleep in the guest room for a few hours? We’ll go in together.”

  He looks like he’s about to refuse, but he closes his mouth. “I guess that’s a good plan. Your husband won’t mind a man in his guest room?” There’s been a man in his guest room since the day Leo Callaway walked back into my life. That’s not for public consumption, though.

  I shake my head. “There’s an attached bath if you want to shower. All Juliet’s products are still in there, so use whatever. You must be cold down to the bone after spending all that time in the snow.”

  “Don’t worry about my bones, Simmons.” Leo grins. It’s predatory. “Go to bed.”

  “You’re filthy,” I remark, shaking my head.

  “You love it.” I do. Unfortunately, I do. Leo passes me on his way to the guest room. Laying a hand on the door where Adam is sleeping, I pause and meet Leo’s searing gaze. “Admit it.” Leo leans against the door frame.

  “Thank you for not listening to me. For finding Coal.”

  Leo bites his bottom lip. “It’s the least I could do.”

  The urge arises again. To take Leo into my arms and love him the way my whole being wants to, but I go into the kitchen to feed the cat instead. I listen to the shower turn on in the guest bath and imagine what Leo might look like naked. I bet the water is cutting down the hard ridges of his muscles, warming his body. My response to the thought makes my skin crawl.

  Coal eats a whole can of food while wrapped in a blanket. I put him in the corner of my bedroom with everything he might need. He curls up into the electric blanket and begins purring. I go back out to lock the front door and notice the guest room door is cracked, and the shower is off. Is it an invitation? The damn sign everyone is talking about?

  Tiptoeing to the door, I peek in the crack. Leo’s chest is exposed and a small light from the window falls across his face. When the world is encased in snow everything seems like daylight, even the night. Go in. Go in. Go in. He left the door open. He wants you to go in.

  Morality, as shoestring thin as it may be, wins out. I go to bed with my husband instead. Wishing I was strong enough to reach out and take what I want, and weak enough to admit defeat.

  _______________

  Leo’
s scrambling eggs when I wake up a few hours later feeling as if I never slept a day in my life. I threw on a pair of black Ponte pants, a button-up velvet blouse, and pinned my hair back into a bun. “I made breakfast!” Leo exclaims, waving the spatula like it’s a magic wand. “Adam ate and took off.”

  “He went in to work?” I ask, wrinkling my brow. “But why? When he can work from home if he wants to?”

  Leo shrugs and slides me a plate. “How did you sleep?”

  “Not enough,” I deadpan. “Coal is doing so good today,” I say. I tell him how he ate all the food I gave him last night and seems to be acting like nothing happened. Leo seems happy. My phone buzzes with a text. It’s my mom. I reply back that the snowcopalypse didn’t take me down, and that Coal is back home. Because she’s my mom, she immediately calls after I send the text. You can never give a mother too many details.

  I answer before the first ring finishes. “Hi, Mom, I’m getting ready to leave for work. I don’t have a lot of time.”

  “They are making you work in this? How will you get there? Your SUV can’t handle all that snow, can it? Did Adam shovel the driveway yet?”

  I clear my throat. “Leo is taking me to work, actually. He has a big truck with snow tires. Yeah, Adam shoveled and used the snow blower Aidan sent us last Christmas. You’ll have to let him know it worked really well. Much easier with all of this snow.” I lie to avoid conflict. Leo grins at me as he takes a long draw from his coffee cup. My mouth waters. Equal parts from desiring caffeine and his mouth. He passes me his mug and I make sure to put my lips on the rim where his just were.

  I take a long swallow of the black bitterness, and then another as I listen to my mother lecture me on being careful in the weather and how Aidan wants me to come for a visit.

  “Mom, you mean you want me to come home for a long visit. You’re essentially telling me you want me to be a snow bird. Like an old woman. Spend the winters down there with you and I can come home to Cape Cod for the summers. Job security doesn’t pay well with that plan. It only works if you’re retired. I’ll get down there eventually.”