by C. M. Albert
“Hey, man,” he said. “Want a cup?”
“Sure.” I was on my way to the store to pick up the punching bag I’d ordered. I needed to get it set up in the garage and get some of this energy out. Especially after last night. “You guys have a successful day yesterday?”
“Yeah. You should see that thing. It’s massive. Olivia knocked it out of the park. You should come by later and check it out.”
“I’d love to. She’s something else, isn’t she?”
Brighton looked at me funny, and I couldn’t blame the poor guy. I knew I was baiting him, but I couldn’t help myself. “You two have any more plans today?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee as I looked over the mug at him.
He grabbed the sprouted nine-grain bread he and Livy favored and popped it in the toaster. We’d invited him to eat at our place, too, because I’d gotten a peek inside the fridge at his uncle’s house and it looked worse than a college frat house.
“Yeah, she’s taking me over to the warehouse so we can finalize the staging. She has a few pieces she wants to show me in person.”
“You’re ready for staging?” I asked, surprised.
The outside had been painted a stately dark gray, the front door an elegant, rich plum—much like the tall, bronze planters full of tulips that sat on his front porch. Yesterday a landscaping crew came out and worked their magic, cleaning up the overgrown backyard. Nothing was cut down, just shaped into submission with bright pops of color added. The front flowerbeds were larger and lusher, looking like something out of a design magazine.
“Yep,” he said, looking proud. “We have a few more things on the punch list, but the end is getting closer in sight.”
For some reason, it didn’t make me as happy as I thought it would to hear he was almost done over there. In just a few short months, we’d grown close. And not just because of what we’d shared with Olivia. I considered him a real friend now.
“The summer’s flown by,” I said, shaking my head. Maybe I just needed to shoot straight with him about my concerns from the night before. “Hey, I need to ask you something.”
“Sure, what’s up?” Kerrington buttered his bread with the ghee Olivia used too. They were both health nuts.
“I saw you and Olivia in the guestroom last night when I got home. What were you doing in there?”
Brighton stopped buttering, his knife paused midair. “Maybe you should ask Olivia.”
“I’m asking you.”
“I just gave her a little gift, okay? That’s all. Have her to show it to you later. I know she was planning to today. I’ve got to get over to the house.”
“Was the kiss just a little gift, too?” I asked. I couldn’t help myself.
He set the knife down, then shoved his breakfast in the trash can. “Look—”
I stood, squaring off with him. “No, you look. You promised me, Kerrington.”
“You think I fucked her? In your house?” He looked incredulous and disappointed all at once, and I knew immediately I’d guessed wrong. Maybe it really was just a simple kiss.
I raised both hands. “You can’t blame me for asking. I saw you kiss her before you left the room.”
“It was a simple peck. We’d had an emotional talk yesterday about Sam and Laelynn. It was nothing more than a friend would do.”
“Yeah, but she hasn’t fucked any of her other friends,” I pointed out.
“God, dude, listen to yourself. This is your wife you’re talking about. In case you forgot, you were the one who instigated this whole thing. The only time I’ve been inside your wife was when you gave me permission, asshole.”
Ouch.
“Stop kissing her behind my back then, capisce?”
“I hear you loud and clear, friend.” With that, Brighton dropped his coffee into the sink and turned to leave.
I didn’t know what was wrong with me. He wasn’t wrong. Still, the sting of jealousy was just too much to bear—a casualty I never really considered since Liv and I were so damn tight. But the longer Kerrington was in the picture, the harder it was for us to move on. I loved the guy. I truly did.
But my days of sharing were over.
Chapter 41
Olivia
I HEARD THE tail end of Ryan’s conversation with Brighton, and my stomach knotted with anxiety. I didn’t want to walk in the kitchen and face him, knowing he’d seen us kiss the night before. God! I’d been so careless.
“Liv?” he called out.
Damn squeaky stairs.
I rounded the corner, staging a smile on my face that I just didn’t feel this morning. “Morning, babe,” I said, leaning in for a quick kiss. “You smell nice. You going somewhere?”
“Just running to Outdoor Joe’s to grab a punching bag for the garage. Want to come?”
“I’d love to, but Brighton and I are headed to the warehouse today to go through some of my inventory for the staging.”
“You can’t do that alone?” he asked casually, though the edge in his tone told me something different. “Ever bring other clients with you to the warehouse for personal opinions, Liv?”
I bit my lip, not sure whether to laugh or cry at the way Ryan was acting. I poured my coffee into a to-go mug. “Are you upset about something, hon?”
“What did Brighton give you last night? Other than that kiss?”
I gasped. “Were you spying on me or something?”
“No. Should I be?”
“No. You don’t have any reason to, Ryan. So why were you?”
He sighed, looking tired. He ran a hand over his beard, his jaw tensing. “I didn’t have to spy. The blinds were raised, and I could see you kissing him clear as day when I pulled into the driveway last night. Which means anyone walking by could’ve too.”
“It was just a quick peck goodnight, Ryan. It wasn’t like we were making out or anything.”
“Just a quick peck. Sounds like you two got your stories down pat.”
“Fuck you,” I spat. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Yeah, he kissed me. So what? You let him fuck me, Ryan. This was a simple, sympathetic kiss for the shitty day I had yesterday. Have you asked me how my day went? No. You didn’t. So, before you judge, how about you stop being a jerk, okay?”
I shoved off the kitchen island and stalked toward the mudroom to grab my keys. Ryan blocked the door before I could leave. We were both angry and not in the best place. Emotions had escalated quickly, and I wasn’t sure why he was acting like this now. We’d just made love for hours last night. He never once said anything about me kissing Brighton.
“I have plans today, and I need to get my day started,” I said tersely.
“Show me what he gave you first, Olivia. Show me what you were doing in the guestroom together when I wasn’t home.”
I turned to face him, anger drawing my brows down in frustration and impatience. “You really want to see what he gave me? Fine. But just know that you’re making a huge ass of yourself right now, Ryan.”
I spun on my heel and marched toward the guestroom. I could feel Ryan’s looming presence as he trailed right behind me. I would leave from the sunroom when we were done and put some distance between us today. I needed it after the wonderful start to my day.
I pointed to the beautiful memory chest now sitting at the end of the guest bed. I wasn’t lying when I told Ryan that kiss had only been a peck. Though I did feel guilty about not disclosing the kiss earlier in the evening; but now certainly wasn’t the time for that.
“He wanted to give us a gift, so we had somewhere special to store Laelynn’s things. Because he knows how much I’ve been hurting this summer, and the seven months before that. When he lost Sam, he liked having all his son’s things stored in one place, along with all the letters he wrote to him over the years. He thought it might be helpful if I did the same.”
Instead of Ryan cooling off, he looked more upset.
“He made you a fucking memory box? Is the guy in love with your or something?”
; I gaped at him. “Are you even hearing yourself? I just said, he made this for us.”
Ryan went over to the box, looking down at the serene flower bouquet hand-painted on top. “The guy sure has a thing for tulips, doesn’t he?”
He glared at me, as if willing me to admit something I wasn’t ready to talk about and didn’t know how in the hell to define anyway. I didn’t know how I was feeling about everything. Ever since Ryan opened the floodgates with this whole unusual situation, the more confused I became. One minute he wanted Brighton in our bed, encouraging me to freely give myself and do the unimaginable things I’d done. Telling me how turned on he was by everything. How he loved watching me be with Brighton right in front of him.
The next, he was an anger ball, his jealousy erupting over the top of his carefully erected walls.
“Don’t be a jerk,” I seethed. “He has a thing for us. That’s what he has. It’s called a friendship. And in case you missed the memo, it’s with us. You were the only one who pushed for it to be more. Then you were the one who got to say when it was over. So blame yourself, Ryan. You’re orchestrating the whole damn show.”
Ryan shoved his hands through his hair. “Fuck!” he yelled, turning from me. “The guy doesn’t just get to give you gifts whenever the hell he wants, Liv. You’re still my wife.”
“You’re right, I am. But I’m his friend. And I’m not sitting here while you make more of this than it is. You still haven’t asked me why yesterday was so hard. So you know what? Screw you, Ryan Wells. Screw you.”
I turned on my heels and slammed out into the sunroom, ready to lose myself in work.
“Liv, we’re not done. We need to talk about this.”
“No, Ryan. We don’t. I didn’t do anything wrong. I let him comfort me with a peck goodnight. That’s it. It’s not like we fucked or anything.”
Right before I slammed out of the house, I heard him say quietly, “Truth, Liv?”
“I’m not really in the mood right now,” I said, pausing.
“Truth?” It came out as a sad-sounding plea.
I didn’t want to hear what his deepest fear was, though I sensed what was coming. And I was right.
“Do you love him?”
I turned to my husband, a lone tear now running down my cheek.
“Ryan, don’t. Let’s talk when we’ve both cooled down. This is only going to hurt us if you push like this when we’re both mad.”
“Mad? I’m not mad, Liv. I’m fucking devastated. Gutted. Because I can see it on your face.”
He walked over to me, backing me up against the French doors leading outside. I could see Brighton’s house from the windows, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Ryan’s jaw tensed again, anger and pain blurring behind his glassy, tear-filled eyes. “Tell me the truth, Livy. Do you love him? Have you fallen for Brighton?”
I turned my head, another tear falling down my cheek. We didn’t lie. But I didn’t want to admit to the complicated feelings that were racing under the surface of my skin, ready to erupt.
He hit the glass next to my head with his palm, making me jump. “Answer me!”
I closed my eyes, my heart bracing for the worst—knowing my world was about to unravel. But after everything we’d been through, I knew I owed him the god’s honest truth. “Yes.”
Ryan slammed his hand against the door again. Only this time, his palm shattered the small glass windowpane next to my head.
“Jesus Christ, Ryan!”
He glowered at me for the longest moment, then shoved past me and out the door without saying another word. I watched as he got into his SUV and peeled out of the driveway, his tires leaving the smell of burning rubber against the asphalt of our quiet street.
It felt eerily like an omen as I clutched my stomach and sank to the floor of the sunroom, our marriage slowly spiraling into a crash and burn around us.
Chapter 42
Brighton
THE SOUND OF tires squealing in front of the house had me glancing out the window toward the street. When I saw it was Ryan’s SUV and not some stupid kid, worry flooded over me. I reached for my phone and called Olivia. When she didn’t answer, I got even more worried, so I texted her, asking if she was okay.
I got no response. I decided to wait two more minutes, then I’d text her one last time. If I still didn’t hear from her, I was storming back over there to check on her in person. Just when things were getting better with her healing progress, too. What a selfish prick Ryan was being.
Brighton: I need to know you’re okay. Text me back or I’m coming over.
Olivia: . . .
The three dots came and left several times. I slid my sneakers on. Something was wrong.
Olivia: Ryan and I got in a fight. I’m okay, just shaken. Be right there.
Brighton: We don’t have to go today. You can take some time if you need.
Olivia: No. I’m not going back to that. To the Liv who hides.
Brighton: I’ll be waiting for you then.
When Olivia finally showed up, her eyes were red and puffy. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the fight had been bad.
“Want to talk about it?”
Her jaw tensed, and I watched as she bit her lower lip. Then she started crying. Aw, shit.
I scooped her hand into mine and led her upstairs to the library, which was the only room where we could have any privacy since we had a full house. The punch-list crew was busy today. What was worse—my time here was now limited. There was such little left to do, even with the last-minute garage add. The truth was, I had an efficient crew, and my reasons for stalling the flip were running thin. Even Rob was asking why we’d had so much scope creep and last-minute changes. It was because I couldn’t bear to leave Olivia. And I didn’t have a clue what to do with that. There was nothing worse than falling in love with an unattainable married woman. Unless that woman also happened to be your best friend’s wife.
But the connection with Olivia was unspoken and powerful. Every time we were together, it was as if our bodies were being pulled together. And not just in a sexual way. I needed to be close to her. To be in her presence. To bask in the light that was Olivia when her soul was happy. And it had been lately.
I held her in my lap now on the large, oversized sofa. It was leather, but dozens of throw pillows kept it from feeling cold. My back was to the arm of the couch, so I stretched my legs out straight, letting her curl against my chest as she cried.
“I’m not sure he’s ever been so mad before,” she said quietly.
“Is it because of me?” If I was a betting man . . .
She nodded. “He loves you, you know. As a friend. I’ve not seen him get close to a guy in a long time. I was afraid this was going to happen eventually. The jealousy.”
“He has nothing to be jealous of. You’re his. And we all stopped.”
“That’s not what he’s jealous about.”
“What is he jealous of then?”
Liv looked up at me with her wet, blue eyes, pleading with me to understand. “That I still think about making love to you,” she admitted, her voice soft and low. “That I’ve thought about being alone, just the two of us.”
“But it’s not like you’ve acted on it.”
“No, but it doesn’t mean the longing isn’t there. That he can’t feel that betrayal.”
“Liv—”
Her eyes were glued to mine, full of pain and need. I knew if I bridged the gap between us, it would be over. There would be nothing that could stop me from taking her—selfish, hot, fast, completely.
“You’ve gotta stop looking at me that way.”
“I can’t,” she said. “I love him so much. But I love—tulips, too. I don’t know what to do with that. But I know I can’t be happy without you.”
I gripped her hips, pulling her closer against my body. “We shouldn’t do this alone, though, Liv. We can’t take it back once we do.”
“Just hold me then.”
I
nodded into her hair, inhaling the fresh scent of summer and sunshine. She nodded off for about thirty minutes, so I held her in my arms and comforted her as she slept. Her face was much softer and more serene than when she’d first come over. She didn’t look as haunted when she slept. She looked peaceful, even though I knew the war that was being waged in her heart when she was awake.
A loud noise from somewhere below startled her and she sat straight up, laughing when she slid off my lap and onto the floor. She rubbed her backside. “Wow. That was graceful.”
I lifted her to a stand. “Well, you were sleeping peacefully until that happened.”
“How long was I out?”
“About thirty minutes or so.”
“I’m so sorry, Brighton. I know you don’t need to get in the middle of our issues.”
“There’s no helping that, Liv. I’m exactly in the middle of your issues. In fact, I am your issues.”
“Not all of them. Ryan internalizes things. He always has. Ever since we started trying to have kids, I’m realizing he’s stuffed down even more in a misguided attempt to keep me happy. To help me heal. All this time, he was hurting just as badly. He was simply better at hiding it.”
“Grief does funny things to us.”
“I’ll say,” she said, waving her hand back and forth in the space between us.
“We didn’t do this out of grief, though. We did this to heal. To bring back your light. There’s a big difference.”
“Well, you brought it back all right,” she teased. “Maybe a little too well.”
She bit her lower lip again and looked up at me. I know it wasn’t a come on, but hell if it didn’t stir things in me even more. I quickly changed the subject, looping it back to Ryan.
“Hey, so I found this book I think Ryan might like. I noticed he picked up a first-edition book at Babalu’s, so it got me thinking, since this library is full of them. I found one I think he might appreciate.”
