by Calia Read
The words came out before I could think them over, but now that they had settled, I realized it might be fun. And if not fun, at least interesting. “Yeah,” I said as I walked around the register. “I’ll do it. No problem.”
“I’ll go with her.”
My eyes widened in shock. I whipped my head around and stared at Sinclair. He shrugged as though it were nothing, and never once met my gaze.
“You’re going to deliver flowers,” Renee stated skeptically.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“You’re going to deliver flowers.”
“Yeah.”
“For me.”
“Yes!”
“Not once in all our entire childhood, teenage, or adult years have you ever wanted to help me out.”
“Well, I’m helping you out now.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Renee said dubiously. They said nothing but gave each other that “sibling stare” of silent communication.
A moment went by and I cleared my throat. Renee pulled out her keys and tossed them to Sinclair. “Now, don’t go too fast. And the brakes are sensitive.”
“Renee, relax. Believe it or not, I have driven a car before.”
Renee snorted dismissively at her brother. She glanced at me, thousands of questions in her eyes. Sinclair was going to deliver the flowers. There was no need for me to go. Yet I found myself creeping closer and closer to the door.
“I’ll see you later,” I called over my shoulder as I rushed toward the door. Within seconds he had caught up with me and held the door open. When we were both outside, I stared straight ahead. “I think I’ll drive there in my own car.”
“Are you sure?”
When I glanced up at Sinclair I saw that all the intensity brewing in the shop had followed us outside. The two of us going anywhere together was a really bad idea.
—
Delivering flowers isn’t as cut and dried as you’d think. The fact that we arrived five minutes before the party should have worked in our favor, but people were already sitting at the tables. Kids ran zigzagging between tables, trying to beat their brothers, sisters, or cousins with balloons plucked from the tables. The birthday woman—who we found out pretty quickly was called Barbara—was picky. She had Sinclair move the flower arrangements from one table to the next. Once that was settled, she’d have him turn it to the right, no, to the left. Can you move it forward a bit? Yes, right there is perfect.
I leaned against the wall, watching more and more people filter in. The tables were covered in red, disposable tablecloths, with black foldout chairs tucked beneath them. Every time someone moved a chair around, the legs would scrape against the floor, creating a noise that had me cringing.
This looked less like a birthday party and more like a homecoming dance.
But it was nice to watch the members of this woman’s family come in. They were are all hushed words and talk about the weather, yet when they saw Barbara, they smiled and laughed as if no time had passed since they’d last seen one another. I tried to remember the last time that Wes and I had visited extended family. Probably during our wedding.
Unease trailed down my spine as I realized that other than my mother, I had made no effort to keep in contact with anyone on my side of the family. I hardly saw my brother or his family. A few cousins were scattered around the country.
Was that my fault or Wes’s? I didn’t want to dig any further into our relationship’s past. My gut told me that if I did, I’d see things clearly. I’d see things for what they were.
Sinclair walked over to me and I shoved away all dark thoughts of Wes. “That took longer than I thought.”
He dusted off his hands and leaned against the wall. His body was mere inches away from me. He looked so at ease, as if we always stood this close. As if we didn’t have my husband, my humiliations and fears and shame between us.
“I have a newfound respect for my sister now,” he said.
“As do I.” I pushed away from the wall. “All set?”
Sinclair nodded and pulled out his keys.
I grabbed my purse and we walked toward the front doors, Sinclair behind me. “No, no, no. Where are you two going?”
Sinclair and I turned around at the same time. Barbara had a margarita in one hand, holding it above her head as she moved in and out of the crowd. The dictator was gone, replaced with a brand-new, happier person. “You two should stay!” When we said nothing she grabbed my hand and swung it back and forth. “Stay and have fun.”
Sinclair and I exchanged glances.
“You want to?” I asked.
Sinclair looked at me with shock. True, spending a Saturday night at a party for a virtual stranger wasn’t at the top of the list but it beat going home to a cold monstrosity, which instead of being filled with good memories was holding all the harsh words Wes and I threw at each other.
Maybe my thoughts showed, because Sinclair gave me a small nod and smiled at Barbara. “We’d love to.”
“Excellent, excellent!” And then she was gone, shouting at someone clear across the room.
Sinclair dipped his head and whispered in my ear. “Do you really want to stay here or were you just being nice?”
I swallowed hard and kept my eyes glued on the crowd. “It doesn’t seem so bad.” I looked at him from the corner of my eye and found him staring at me. “Unless you already have plans tonight.”
He held my gaze and tried to fight the pull between us. “I have no plans. Did you?”
Wes had said he was having another night at the office. Lately, that was more of his home than the one he shared with me. I looked away.
“Nope. No plans.”
There was no time to be bored or think about the problems swirling around in my life. As it turned out, Barbara’s family was outgoing. More friends of the family showed up and from our table in the corner we watched everyone. Drinks and laughter were all around. It was impossible to be in an environment like that and not have it rub off on you.
I drained my fourth cup of fruit punch, wishing that it was some form of alcohol instead. “Is it possible to get drunk off fruit punch?” I mused.
“If by drunk you mean sugar high, then yes, it’s possible.”
I glanced at Sinclair and smiled. “This night isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
Sinclair scanned the people around us. “It’d probably be better if we stopped hiding in the corner.”
“That’s the difference between you and me: I’m okay sitting in the corner, whereas you love to talk to everyone.” I nudged him in the arm. “It’s killing you sitting here next to me, isn’t it?”
All humor vanished from Sinclair’s eyes. His stare was so acute, I had to fight the urge to look away. “It’s not killing me at all,” he said gruffly. “I like being with you.”
Greedily, my heart scooped up his words when it had no right to. But Sinclair did that. He made me want things that I had no business reaching for.
I cleared my throat and looked back at all the laughing people together.
Sinclair stood, his chair screeching loudly. He loomed above me and held out his hand. “You wanna?” He nudged his head toward the people dancing.
I like to have fun in different ways but dancing in front of people was not one of them. I shook my head. “I’m good right here.”
“Something tells me you’ll be good wherever you are, but come on, it’ll be fun.”
Sinclair said it with a small smile. He didn’t know how his words struck me straight in the heart.
“Come on,” he urged. “Just let go, a little.”
I nodded and released my tension and grabbed his hand.
The song was something from the eighties, one I vaguely remembered my mother listening to when I was little. The people around us, they didn’t care. They were locked in their own time, reliving happy days. Their energy was infectious, making it impossible for me not to smile.
Yet I still hesitated, and moved awkwardly from side to side.
> Sinclair tilted his head. “You didn’t strike me as someone too shy to dance.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to dance. It’s the fact that we’re surrounded by strangers.”
At that he lifted a brow.
“And you know…” I flung a hand in the air. “It’s awkward.”
“Not really. The fact that these people are strangers should be the one incentive to dance.”
I smiled; he had a point.
“You look like an idiot? Doesn’t matter. You’ll probably never see these people again.”
“Except for you,” I pointed out.
“Except for me,” he agreed, a devilish look in his eyes. Sinclair reached out and grabbed my hands, swallowing them whole with his own. “And you better believe I’ll tease you mercilessly.”
Our hands were the only parts of our body touching, yet there was this electric charge between us. He kept them in the air and wildly moved them left and right until I had no choice but to follow his lead.
Then he spun me around. My skirt twirled and I smiled so wide. I couldn’t remember the last time I had had so much fun.
Two, then three songs went by. My feet started to ache. Yet we continued dancing, having fun in our own little world.
When we finished, my cheeks were red.
“Was that so bad?” Sinclair asked, his eyes gleaming with energy as we walked back to the table.
“It was fun,” I replied, but the truth was more than that: Dancing with Sinclair was the most alive I’d felt in months. Maybe years.
My smile faded as I realized that I needed to find things bad about Sinclair, to keep my distance. Not more and more redeemable qualities that imperceptibly pulled me closer to him.
But maybe it was always going to be this way.
Maybe this attraction would always be inexorable.
“You really can dance. I knew you were holding out on me.”
Moments later an older woman asked Sinclair to dance. I let her take my place and sat down at the empty table, just watching everything around me. Such happy, joyful people—and all I could think about was whether Wes and I would ever be like them.
I pulled out my phone. It was 10:43. My eyes widened, though not because of the time. It was the fifty missed calls that had me on edge. Every single one was from Wes.
“You okay over there?”
I gave my phone one last look and dropped it back into my purse. The smile I gave Sinclair was one of my weakest. “I’m great.”
He crossed his arms and I knew he could see right through my words.
Abruptly I stood. “You ready to go? It’s getting late.”
“Sure. Let’s go.”
Side by side we walked out of the building. My mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to think of what I would say when I got home to Wes. Most times I could never predict when he would snap, but I felt it this time. I’d been careless. I had let go of my worries and now I had to deal with him.
“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” Sinclair said.
“I actually had fun too.”
“I know; it was the most I’ve ever seen you smile.”
“I smile all the time.”
“No, I mean really smile. A true smile.”
My grip on the strap of my purse tightened. If I looked at Sinclair right then, I knew I’d never want to look away, so I stared straight ahead. I could feel his gaze on me.
“Where are you parked?” I asked him.
Sinclair gave me a frustrated look and pointed toward the opposite side of the parking lot, toward the back entrance. “Over there.”
I nudged my head to the opposite side. “I’m over here. So I’ll see you later. This was fun.” My words were rushed and disjointed. I turned around before I made a bigger fool of myself.
“Victoria, wait,” Sinclair said, and grabbed my arm.
I turned around willingly and stared into his eyes. “What are you running away from?” he asked.
You, I wanted to say. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. The truth was the last thing that needed to be said. I took a step back. “I’m running away from nothing,” I said as I started to rifle through my purse for my keys. “It’s late and I have to get home.”
“You’re lying.”
I frantically moved my wallet out of the way. Where in the hell were my keys? I was a disaster. My brain was on the fritz, jumping from one thought to the next. And it was all Sinclair’s fault.
“Victoria, come on. Talk to me.” Sinclair took a step closer. I looked over my shoulder, scanning the area for anyone who might be watching us. When I turned back around I bumped straight into Sinclair’s chest. The very tips of my breasts brushed against him. I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Victoria,” he said gruffly. My name rolled off his tongue perfectly, sending chills up and down my spine.
A surge of longing ran through me. For a brief second I let my forehead rest against the solid wall of his chest. His body enveloped mine and if anyone had walked by, they could never have seen me. So I tilted my head back and met his gaze. His face was inches from mine. He was closer than he’d ever been and yet I wanted him even closer.
It all happened so slowly. There was plenty of time for me to pull away. Yet I stood there, motionless as his lips touched mine.
There are hundreds of ways to be kissed, but this?
This transcended them all.
From his soft lips, to the angle of his head as he held my face between both hands—it was perfection.
Anyone could come outside and catch us, but that didn’t matter to me. Sinclair Montgomery’s lips were on mine.
His tongue slipped into my mouth and a small gasp escaped me. I leaned into him until there was no more space between us. His strong arms wrapped around me.
I had to get home. My husband was waiting. But that didn’t matter to me; Sinclair Montgomery was touching me.
Stop right now, my mind screamed. You have to stop.
But I really couldn’t; this kiss was bigger than me. This kiss was the kind that had the power to intricately weave my and Sinclair’s lives together.
My hands reached out and curled around the hem of his shirt. I wanted this to keep going, to never end. To never stop feeling this way. My tongue moved against his and his hands dropped away from my face and firmly gripped my hips. A groan rose from the back of his throat.
My palms were splayed against his stomach, my fingers stretched apart to feel every cut of muscle hidden beneath his shirt.
It could’ve gone further. In fact, a few minutes later and I think it would have, but laughter sounded in the distance. It wasn’t loud, but it was just enough to jerk the two of us back to reality. We broke apart at the same time.
My lips tingled. I had to stop myself from brushing my fingertips across them. I wanted that kiss back. I wanted to hold on to it and never let it go. Sinclair took a step back, as if he could read my thoughts. I held up a hand. He stopped in his tracks. His hands hung heavily at his sides. My heart whispered that it was all wrong and those hands should be wrapped around me once again.
“Don’t say sorry. Don’t say that can never happen again,” Sinclair said, his voice a ragged whisper.
He ate up the distance between us until it was mere inches.
“I don’t have a choice,” I replied. “I’m married.”
“You’re married…but does that mean you’re in love?”
Once upon a time, I could’ve answered that question within seconds. Love seemed to be the only thing keeping Wes and me together. Love used to be what we lived for. But now? Now it was gone and I didn’t know how to get it back.
I didn’t answer Sinclair. He looked into my eyes for a long moment and then stepped away. He gave me a brief nod. “Good night, Victoria.” The look in his eyes showed that this conversation was far from over.
“Good night, Sinclair.”
I watched him get into his car and drive away. I watched the taillights until they completely
disappeared.
When I turned around, I walked directly into Wes.
I gasped and placed my hand over my heart and took a deep breath. He had that dead look in his eyes and it sent fear rushing down my spine. “What were you doing?” His voice was calm and so deceptively soft that I knew he saw the kiss.
“Wes—”
“What were you doing?” He advanced slowly.
I took a step back and quickly looked around. The parking lot was filled with cars but everyone was inside. If I screamed loud enough, though, they might hear me. Might.
“I tried calling you tonight and you never fucking answered me.”
My throat constricted. Suddenly it was getting harder to breathe. “I was busy.”
“Busy with Sinclair? Busy fucking around behind my back?”
My mouth opened but Wes beat me to the chase. “I need to know where you are!” he shouted. “At all times!” He took a step back from me, laced his fingers behind his head, and laughed up at the black sky. “I called and called and you didn’t answer.”
He wasn’t making sense and because of that, I was too afraid to speak. Rationally, I knew I wasn’t dealing with a sane person. Whether I comforted him or angered him didn’t matter; he would snap regardless. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
“Okay, okay,” I said soothingly, as if I were talking to a child. I needed to calm him down. To try to defuse the situation and then make a run for it. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls, Wes.”
“Don’t say sorry, Victoria! You’re my wife. Mine! I shouldn’t have to question what my wife is doing each fucking night!” he screamed.
“Wes—”
“Stop talking!”
Suddenly he was in my face, the anger pouring off him in sheets. I could see that the alpha quality I had found so alluring at the beginning, the one that used to pull me in, had two sides, and now the ugly side was rearing its head. There was nothing attractive about it. It was scary and dangerous and I couldn’t get away fast enough. I took a step forward but Wes blocked me.
“First you talk about divorce. Second you mention going back to work. And now you’re going behind my back, turning into a fucking whore. What else are you doing, Victoria?”
His fist slammed into my stomach so fast I had no time to protect myself. I wheezed, my hands instinctively moving to my stomach. Wes shoved me back until I hit the car and his fist connected with my ribs this time.
