About That Fling

by Tawna Fenske

  She shook her head. “No. I was still figuring out what to do, whether to say anything about the hookup with the other guy, or just—”

  “Cover it up.”

  He heard the hollowness in his own voice. The unspoken accusation. The sight of tears welling in her eyes told him she’d heard it, too.

  “We started planning our wedding,” she said. “He wanted to do it quickly, even went ahead and ordered these stupid invitations without telling me. I was only seven or eight weeks pregnant at that point, and I’d only known for about ten days. But I made up my mind I was going to tell him over dinner.”

  “Let me guess,” Adam said, nodding at the gaudy neon sign behind them. “Rigatelli’s?”

  She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “It was our special place. We had our first date here, had our first anniversary celebration. I thought—” she stopped, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. Adam wished he had a tissue to offer, but had nothing. Not even a napkin. “I thought I could just ease into the story, you know? Gauge his response to being a father and go from there.”

  “How did that work out?”

  She shook her head. “The whole thing didn’t go like I expected.” She closed her eyes as though forcing herself to revisit that night. “As soon as we ordered, he said there was something he needed to tell me. That he felt guilty about hiding the truth for so long, but that he felt like I needed to know. He started talking about adoption, about the US foster-care system and babies overseas, and at first I couldn’t figure out what he was saying.”

  “He was sterile.”

  Jenna nodded and opened her eyes. “The baby couldn’t have been his.”

  “Jesus.”

  “So I broke up with him.”

  Adam blinked, wondering if he’d heard her wrong. “What?”

  She closed her eyes again, the guilt etched plainly in her face. “I broke up with him. I said I didn’t want to get married and that we needed to call off the engagement. I said it wasn’t about having kids or not having kids or anything to do with that. I just knew I didn’t want to marry him. I knew it before I said yes, and I knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt right then.”

  “I see.”

  “The thing is, it was true. I didn’t want to marry him. He wasn’t the one.” She closed her eyes, her face so creased in pain that Adam felt his own throat tightening. “That evening, I went home and started having cramps. I wasn’t sure at first—it was so early in the pregnancy, and it can be hard to tell.”

  “You had a miscarriage that same night?”

  She nodded and opened her eyes to look at him. “Part of me wondered if I made it happen. The lying, the cheating, the deceit.”

  “It couldn’t have been your fault,” he said, feeling dumb offering such an empty platitude.

  She shook her head. “I never told Sean about the pregnancy or the miscarriage. He never knew. Hell, he probably still doesn’t. He barely looked up from his phone when Mia said what she did just now.”

  Adam stared at her, trying to wrap his brain around the magnitude of it all. “Who knows about this?”

  “Only your ex-wife,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Christ, what a tangled mess. Mia knew about the miscarriage, but Sean didn’t. And Mia didn’t know Sean didn’t know, because what kind of woman would hide that from her fiancé?” She choked out a sob, her voice rising higher. “Sean knew I was sneaking off to meet you a few weeks ago, but Mia didn’t. Gert knew, too—that you and I were seeing each other. Gert’s agent knew I was trying to keep her story suppressed, but Gert didn’t. Gert knew I went to Seattle with you, but Mia didn’t.” She was sobbing in earnest now—big, heaving gasps that made her shoulders shake. “I’ve spun such a ridiculous web of half-truths and lies and cover-ups that even I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

  Adam swallowed, his chest tight with emotion. “And the whole thing blew up in your face tonight.”

  She nodded, watching his face for a response. Adam didn’t have one. He didn’t know what to think, what to feel. Tears were streaming down her face, and part of him wanted to put his arms around her and comfort her. Part of him wanted to walk away.

  He stood rooted in place, torn in two once again.

  Jenna wiped her eyes.

  “You should go, Adam.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t,” she said, sniffling. “I just—I can’t. I’m so done.”

  “Done,” he repeated, not sure he understood what she meant. “Done with what?”

  “With everything. With this whole tangled-up mess of secrets and betrayals. I’m just done.”

  Her words sounded brittle, her voice like someone else completely. He nodded numbly, the echo of the word in his brain.

  Done.

  With him?

  The finality in her eyes, the stiffness in her posture, told him the answer.

  Maybe it was best. She looked up at him then, tears shimmering in her eyes. Waiting for him to stop her? Or waiting for him to say his goodbyes.

  “Adam! Jenna!”

  He turned to see Gert bustling out of the restaurant, her hair wild and her coat flying. She spotted them on the street corner and hurried toward them, running damn fast for a seventy-eight-year-old woman. Adam moved toward her, bracing himself to catch her if she tripped.

  But she didn’t trip, and she waved him away as he approached.

  “We have to go to the hospital now!” she shouted.

  Jenna gasped, drawing a hand to her mouth. “The baby. Mia’s having the baby?”

  “No,” Gert panted, halting on the sidewalk. “No, not the baby.”

  Jenna moved toward her, reaching out as she drew closer to her aunt. “What is it?”

  “It’s Mark.” Gertie drew a hand to her throat, her eyes wild and fearful. “He’s been shot.”

  Adam blinked, fighting to process the words. “Shot?”

  “Shot,” Gert repeated, nodding. “By his ex-wife.”

  Jenna drove in a trance to the hospital with Mia beside her looking pale and stunned. She held her phone in her lap, but she wasn’t looking at it. She stared out the window, wordless and stiff, with her red hair falling over her face like a curtain.

  “How did it happen?” Jenna asked, braking at a red light she wished she could run right through.

  “They don’t know. The police are still at the house trying to sort through the details.” She fell silent, and for a moment, Jenna thought that’s all she intended to offer. Jenna nodded, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

  Mia cleared her throat. “Apparently she had a handgun in her purse. She was arguing with him about something and dropped it on the floor, and somehow—”

  She broke off sobbing, her face crumpling into a mess of tears and terror. Jenna reached over and touched her arm. “Mia, I’m so sorry. For everything. I don’t even know where to begin—”

  “Don’t,” Mia whispered. “Not now. I just want to get to the hospital and see Mark. That’s what matters right now.”

  Jenna nodded, withdrawing her hand. She took a sharp right turn onto the road leading to Belmont, thankful at least that the ambulance had brought Mark to this hospital. She knew the exact location of the ER, the spot in back where she was sure to find parking. “Do you want me to drop you in front or come in with you?”

  Mia seemed to hesitate. “Come in with me.”

  Jenna nodded, not sure whether to take it as a positive sign or a practical one. Did it matter at this point? Mark had been shot. Her best friend’s husband—for better or worse, even if they did happen to be experiencing the latter right now. Jesus, what was Mia feeling?

  She turned into the parking lot, trying not to picture the look on Mia’s face the moment she’d realized Jenna’s betrayal. The moment Jenna had stood and fled, leaving her behind without answers or explanations.


  She looked at Mia now and her gut twisted. The only thing worse than seeing this much pain on her best friend’s face was knowing she was responsible for some of it.

  “Here,” Jenna said, pulling into a spot tucked off to the side near the ER entrance. Mia had the car door open before Jenna had even pulled her keys out of the ignition, and she was halfway to the hospital door by the time Jenna caught up with her. “Careful, Mia,” Jenna cautioned, reaching for her elbow. “The ground gets slick here.”

  “I know, I’m okay,” Mia said, and hurried ahead, one hand on her belly.

  The automatic doors whooshed open, and they found themselves blinking in the brightly lit lobby of the ER. A nurse rushed over with a wheelchair. “Ma’am? Let’s get you to the birthing center right away.”

  “No,” Mia said, throwing her arm out as though stopping the nurse from forcibly taking her. “I’m not in labor. I’m here to see my husband. Mark Dawson? He’s been shot. I’m Mia—Amelia Dawson. Please, someone tell me what’s happening.”

  The nurse’s expression changed from all business to sympathy, and Jenna tried not to think the worst.

  “Come with me,” the nurse said, shoving the wheelchair aside. She looked at Jenna. “Are you a relative?”

  “No, I—”

  “Family only, you wait here.” She pointed to a hard plastic chair in the waiting area, and Jenna sat automatically, too terrified to argue. She watched as the nurse led Mia away, watched the slump of her friend’s shoulders and the slow, awkward gait of her movement.

  The doors leading outside whooshed open again, and Gertie rushed in with Adam on her heels. Gert looked around, her white hair frizzy and wild as she scanned the waiting area. Spotting Jenna, she hustled over with her handbag banging against her hip.

  “What did they say?” Gertie demanded. “How’s Mark?”

  “I don’t know. They whisked Mia away before I could ask anything. I’m not even sure if he’s alive or—”

  “Don’t say that,” Gertie said, dropping into a chair beside her. “Do we know where the bullet hit?”

  Jenna shook her head as Adam dropped silently into the chair to her left. “I don’t know anything. Just that the gun was in Ellen’s purse when it went off. They think it was an accident, but no one knows at this point.”

  “Thank God Katie wasn’t there,” Gertie said. “That’s the first thing Mia said when the police called. I guess the roof repair was taking longer than expected, so Ellen let Katie have one last sleepover at a friend’s house before school starts. She didn’t see her daddy get shot.”

  Jenna nodded, grateful at least for that. She looked at Adam. He still hadn’t said a word, and his face was stony and pale. She started to reach out and touch his hand, then stopped herself. She kept her hands in her lap, fingers clenched in a sweaty knot.

  “Adam? You okay?”

  “Yeah.” He raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand up on end. “I just can’t imagine what she’s feeling right now.”

  He stopped, and Jenna nodded. “I know. I keep seeing the look on her face.”

  All three of them fell silent, waiting. In the background, machinery beeped and medical staff called out to each other about detox and defibrillators and dinner breaks. The smell of disinfectant floated around them like an angry cloud, mixing with the scent of spilled coffee near a grimy-looking coffee pot on a table beside Adam. In the corner, a woman sat with red-rimmed eyes, knitting something that looked like a scarf.

  Gertie reached out and touched Jenna’s knee. “It isn’t your fault.”

  “What?”

  “I know you. And I know you’re sitting there thinking about how you could have done something different to change this. Maybe if you’d called Mark and told him how upset Mia was about the class, or maybe if you’d taken a right turn instead of a left one on the way to the restaurant. There’s nothing you could have done differently, Jenna.”

  She felt her eyes filling with tears, and she blinked them back. “I could have done a lot of things differently. I could have avoided lying to my best friend. Betraying her. Hurting her on what’s obviously turning out to be one of the worst days of her life.”

  Gertie shook her head. “We all make mistakes, sweetie. You, me, Mark, Mia, Adam. We’re all just bumping around together on this planet, trying to do the best we can for ourselves and each other. But there’s only so much we can control.”

  She felt Adam stir beside her, and turned to look at him. His face was creased in shadows, and he looked ten years older than he had on their car ride to Seattle. Jesus, had it only been three days?

  Adam looked up, seeming to feel her eyes on him. He stared at her for a moment, then reached over and took her hand. She thought about pulling back. About telling him this was the last thing in the world they should be doing right now.

  But his palm was warm and solid, and she felt her lungs expand, then contract and expand again. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a deep breath, so she kept her hand in his, savoring the connection and the oxygen. What was it about him that made her breathe easier, feel safe and secure and calm even while everything around them was spinning?

  A nurse stepped through a set of double doors from the ER and looked around. Her eyes landed on Jenna, and she walked toward them with purpose, her expression unreadable.

  “Ms. McArthur?”

  “Yes,” Jenna said, letting go of Adam’s hand as she stood up.

  “Mia Dawson asked me to come find you.”

  “How’s Mark? Can I see him? Can I see Mia or—”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. McArthur. You’re not allowed back there. Family only.”

  “But what’s Mark’s condition?”

  “As you know, HIPAA allows us to give a one-word condition report.”

  Jenna froze, recognizing the stilted language she’d used so many times with nosy journalists and visitors. “I—yes, I understand.”

  “Mr. Dawson is in fair condition.”

  Jenna nodded, her brain running through the different terms. “Fair” was better than “serious” or “critical,” but it wasn’t “good.” It wasn’t “treated and released.”

  And it wasn’t the information Jenna would get if Mia had given her permission to share more. Mia knew hospital rules. All she had to do was sign the form, give the okay to release more detail and let them know what was happening.

  Jenna sat down, feeling numb. Adam reached for her hand again. “She probably just didn’t have time.”

  Jenna turned to look at him, barely recognizing his features. “What?”

  “To sign the HIPAA forms. That’s what you’re thinking, right? She’s deliberately shutting you out?”

  “I don’t—”

  “We’ll wait here,” Gertie said, reaching out to take Jenna’s other hand. “Until there’s more news, we’ll be right here.”

  The nurse nodded. “Okay then. If I’m able to tell you more, I will.”

  “Thank you,” Jenna said.

  The nurse vanished the same way she’d come, the double doors making an impersonal swoosh as she passed. For a moment, none of them spoke. They sat connected by palms and fingers and breath and bone.

  “So we wait,” Adam said, the first to break the silence.

  “I guess so,” Jenna said, and squeezed his hand so tightly it hurt.

  Adam wasn’t sure who fell asleep first. He woke sometime around seven in the morning, his back stiff and his legs asleep. Jenna’s hand was limp in his, and her head lay heavy on his shoulder.

  He watched her for a moment, studying the rise and fall of her chest and the way her hair fell over his arm. She was beautiful, even now with tear tracks smudging her cheeks and her hair matted to the side of her face.

  She’d taken Gertie home sometime after midnight, insisting someone who’d broken a hip in the las
t year needed a good night’s sleep in a bed instead of a hard plastic chair. Gertie had tried to argue, but Adam had seen the relief in her eyes, the way she winced as she stretched out her sore leg.

  Aside from that short run home, Jenna hadn’t left her seat all night. Neither had Adam, and his body ached from it.

  His heart ached for other reasons.

  Trying not to disturb Jenna, he pulled his phone from his pocket.

  No messages.

  What had he expected, really? A text from Mia saying, Just wanted you to know the guy I left you for is in good condition.

  Still, it would have been nice to hear something. He’d stirred briefly around 3:00 a.m. when there’d been a shift change in the nursing staff, but no one had come to talk to them. Did Mia know they were all out here waiting? Was Mark still in the ER, or had he been moved to surgery?

  Adam lingered on that thought for a moment. In the three years since the divorce, he’d had plenty of unkind thoughts about Mark. What kind of man takes another man’s wife? What kind of man swoops in when a relationship is in trouble, weaseling his way into the cracks of a broken marriage?

  A man with faults. An imperfect man. A man who makes mistakes.

  A man not unlike himself.

  Part of him would always hate Mark. But right then, he said a small prayer the guy would pull through.

  He felt Jenna stir and shoved his phone back in his pocket. She sat up, blinking in the harsh light of the fluorescent bulbs above. She turned to look at him, her eyes still blurry with sleep. “What time is it?”

  “A little after seven.”

  “No word?”

  “Nothing. Check your phone though, maybe she messaged you.”

  Jenna nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears as she bent down to rummage through her purse. She pulled out her phone and sat up, frowning at the screen. He watched her, trying to gauge her expression.

  “Anything from Mia?”

  “No.” Jenna slid a finger across the screen, her frown deepening. “But there’s an e-mail from Kendall Freemont in Human Resources.”

  “This early? What does it say?”