When You Least Expect It

by Helen Lacey

  “Like what? Like I want you here, in my house, in my bed, where you belong?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Stop being stupidly macho and turn around so I can get dressed.”

  He propped his hands on his hips. “You think there’s some part of you I haven’t seen, touched or tasted?”

  Her jaw clenched and she dropped the sheet defiantly, quickly snatching up her clothes and getting into them in record speed. When she was done, she rummaged through her bag for a moment and then turned to face him. “Have you seen my car keys?”

  “Downstairs on the coffee table in the living room,” he replied. “Where you left them.”

  She was by the door, her fingers on the handle. “I know what you want, Mitch, and I know that it seem like the obvious next step.”

  “I want you here,” he said, hands on hips, irritation churning in his chest. “Is that so impossible to comprehend?”

  “You want your son,” she corrected. “I simply come with the package.”

  “Don’t be foolish,” he said sharply. “Of course I want you. Didn’t I prove that last night?”

  “Sex is still just sex,” she said quietly. “Even great sex. We fell out of love a long time ago and—”

  “So, we try to fall back.” He moved closer, aching inside at the knowledge she could dismiss their past so easily.

  “And what if we don’t?” she queried, her cheeks spotted with color. “What if this—” she waved an arm toward the rumpled bed “—what if this is all we ever are? I know you want our son to be raised here, and part of me wants that, too, but the other part,” she said, and tapped her chest with her palm, “the other part knows you’ll dish out some kind of ultimatum when things don’t go your own way. And I don’t want to live like that, always wondering if you’ll say something, or I’ll say something, or we’ll disagree and say things to hurt each other. That’s what we do...and I don’t want to be that person, Mitch. And I don’t think you do, either.”

  Anger and resentment curdled through his blood, because she was obtuse and unreasonable and didn’t have the courage to at least meet him halfway. So, he went for it, trying to articulate exactly what was in his heart, without quite saying the words.

  “I still care about you.”

  She gasped, stepping back, shaking her head. “No, you don’t. You’ll just say whatever you have to in order to get what you want. That’s not love, Mitch. That’s control. That’s your insatiable need to make everything right in this perfect little world you’ve set up for yourself. Well, I’m not perfect. I never was. And that’s what eats at you...knowing you couldn’t turn me into the perfect picture of the wife you wanted, who would do and say all the right things. We were broken, and nothing could fix it. And years might go by and we can have a great time between the sheets, but the truth is, we’re still broken. Now more than ever, because I’m not prepared to settle for less than a complete partnership. And you and I...we don’t have that kind of dynamic. We never did.”

  She took a breath, long and hard and clearly filled with the same level of anguish he was feeling through to his soul. He watched as she left the room, dragging air into his lungs for a moment before he followed her down the stairs. He heard noise coming from the kitchen and checked his watch. Eight thirty. Joss had arrived with his kids, and the girls would be waiting for their weekly horse-riding lesson. Mitch enjoyed the time he spent with them, but today wasn’t the day for family bonding. Today was the day he had to try to salvage what was left of his relationship with his ex-wife. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, saw her head for the living room and then heard his brother’s voice.

  “Tess’s car still outside?”

  He turned. Joss was ten feet away, grinning broadly. “Yes.”

  His brother laughed. “See, I told you. Back to basics always works. I won the bet, so you owe me a hundred bucks.”

  He was about to make some impatient retort when he realized Tess was now standing on the other side of him, her tote clutched tightly to her side. She was scowling, clearly interpreting the conversation.

  “A bet?” she demanded.

  He shook his head. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”

  Her jaw clenched. She clearly didn’t believe him and he couldn’t blame her. It did sound bad. “You made a wager about us?”

  “No,” he said quickly, flashing his brother an impatient, go-away look.

  “To see how long it would take you to get me into bed, I suppose.” She clicked her fingers. “A week,” she said, and laughed humorlessly. “You had better odds in Sioux Falls.”

  He scowled. “Can we talk about this privately?”

  “You can talk all you want,” she shot back. “I’m leaving.”

  “What you do best,” he snapped, and then wanted to snatch back the words because he knew they were mean-spirited and hurtful. But, damn, he was hurting, too.

  “See, there’s that controlling arrogance in action. It’s always your greatest motivator. And what you do best.”

  He made an impatient sound. “Tess, let’s talk about this and try to—”

  “I’ll take your house,” she said to Joss, cutting Mitch off and ignoring his plea. “But I’ll pay my own rent and the moment you start taking money from him—” she hooked a thumb in Mitch’s direction “—I’m out, understand?”

  He saw his brother nod vaguely, as though Joss was as startled as he was by the strength and disdain in her voice.

  Then she turned toward Mitch. “As shocking as this might be to you, Mitch, you don’t get to call the shots in my life. You can have your fifty-fifty custody if that gives you enough control. Tell your fancy lawyer to draw up an agreement and I’ll sign it. But you and I are done,” she said, glaring at him. “And last night will never happen again. Why don’t you lay a wager on that!”

  Then she left.

  Chapter Eight

  Tess had to admit, the house on Mustang Street was exactly what she’d hoped for. Small enough that she wasn’t roaming large rooms looking for company, and big enough that she wasn’t tripping over her own feet. She’d picked a room for the nursery and Joss had offered to paint the walls for her. He was a good landlord, too. Not intrusive and yet willing to make any repairs or modifications she needed to be comfortable.

  And his big brother stayed away. Just as she wanted.

  True, Mitch texted her every couple of days to enquire after her health, but there was nothing remotely personal in his communication and it was always about the baby. Halloween came and went, and Tess was happy to be a part of the trick-or-treating festivities. Joss’s daughters usually came by to see her each afternoon, and they sat and ate cookies she’d baked. Joss didn’t say much when he collected the girls and Tess was grateful for his silence. She didn’t need any interfering Culhanes making her feel even more foolish than she did already. She was consumed with regret over her stupidity and rash behavior. She tried to rationalize it, and Annie told her to let herself off the hook and accept she’d made a mistake. Falling back into Mitch’s bed had been a culmination of factors. First, their growing closeness during the previous week and how much the baby hormones were wreaking havoc throughout her system. Add in the fact she was back in a town where so much had happened to her on an emotional level, and of course there was the whole Culhane thing. Being at the ranch, hanging out with his family, being treated by his siblings and friends as though she had never left. It was easy to get swept up in nostalgia and familiarity and memories of what she had once had. Additionally, there was the whole online-shopping thing, forging closeness, creating intimacy, making her fall for him again little by little, hour by hour.

  I’m an idiot...

  So what if he’d carried her upstairs and acted all chivalrous and left out her clothes? She should have had more sense than to get swept up in some romantic notion based on lingering feelings and a love that had bec
ome lost. And she should have realized that Mitch was too smart to not have an agenda. And a wager, as it turned out. Joss had tried to apologize for his interference and she’d waved off his words, not wanting to get into anything with any of Mitch’s siblings. The less they knew about her complicated relationship with him, the better.

  On a bright note, she’d rekindled her old friendship with her neighbor, Lucy Monero, and Tess was pleased she had such lovely people around her. Annie, of course, texted daily and dropped by every couple of days, so she wasn’t short on company. Except at night.

  She’d been in the house for a couple of weeks and found the evenings the hardest to endure alone. It didn’t make much sense, she knew, since she’d been alone for years in Sioux Falls, with a small circle of friends and work colleagues. Eventually, she figured she’d have that again, particularly after the baby came and she had the opportunity to join playgroups and other activities where she would meet people. Until then, she was content to hang out with her sister and keep a low profile.

  She had settled into a rhythm, buying a little furniture, going for walks in the morning, arranging the nursery, tending to her garden in the afternoons. Making a life. Post Mitch. Even though they’d never really be done because they had a baby coming and their son would tie them together forever. She had to get some kind of routine going, even if it was merely a facsimile of a life. Pretending was okay. Pretending would get her through the hard days.

  He drove her to her prenatal appointment in Rapid City and they talked about the baby, the weather, the new foals that were arriving soon—they talked about everything except their relationship. Her examination went fine and the baby was growing perfectly. He didn’t touch her, didn’t offer to wipe the gel from her belly, didn’t do anything other than open the car door.

  Three long weeks after her sleepover at the ranch, while she was pulling a few weeds from the flower bed at the front of the house one afternoon, an unfamiliar silver SUV pulled up outside her house. She stretched out her back and planted her hands on her hips just as Mitch got out of the vehicle and walked up to her gate.

  “Nice rig,” she said. “New?”

  “And practical,” he replied, and nodded. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.”

  “Joss said he talked to you about the misunderstanding,” he said.

  “You mean the wager you had to see how quickly you could get me into bed?”

  He tugged at his collar. “It wasn’t like that, I assure you. Just Joss making some tactless, off-the-cuff comment. I wouldn’t disrespect you in that way.”

  Emotion clogged her throat. Of course, she knew that. “You look terrible.”

  He ran a weary hand through his hair. “Lack of sleep can do that to a person.”

  “What’s giving you sleepless nights?” she enquired, trying to look disinterested in his movements.

  “You.”

  A surge of sympathy rushed through her blood and she relaxed her tight jaw. “I don’t mean to.”

  “I know,” he said. “Goes with the territory, I guess.”

  She wanted to ask what territory, but then wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. But she did want to know why he’d turned up. It broke the status quo. It put her on edge. For a moment she considered inviting him inside, but suspected he’d start insisting she needed more furniture and then want to go shopping. True, she did need more than the couch and coffee table and small sideboard that had arrived the day before, but she wasn’t about to endure nesting advice from her ex-husband. And she didn’t want him in her house, picking fault, looking at her in his lordly way, making it clear he wanted her back at the ranch, where he believed she belonged. “Is there something you wanted?”

  “To make sure you were okay,” he replied. “I sent two text messages this afternoon and you didn’t respond. I was worried.”

  “My phone battery died. It’s been charging all afternoon. But I’m fine, as you can see.”

  His gaze dropped downward. “Your belly has popped out this week.”

  “I know,” she said, and touched her stomach. “I’m twenty-nine weeks now. And he’s been kicking up a storm in here. I think he’s a soccer player in the making.”

  There was a tense and awkward silence, and she noticed how he was fidgeting and his hands were tightly clenched. He looked as though he needed a haircut, too.

  “I was wondering,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a little on the late afternoon breeze, “if you’d like to go out tonight?”

  Was he back to the wanting-to-date-her idea? Surely he knew that was impossible.

  “I can’t.”

  He stilled. “You mean, you won’t?”

  “Same thing,” she replied. “With the same outcome. We don’t need to date to be successful co-parents. And I told you we were over. I don’t want to be on the Mitch and Tess merry-go-round anymore. Did you contact your lawyer?”

  “Not yet,” he replied. “But I will if that’s what you want.”

  “I think it’s probably best that we have a formal contract in place, don’t you?”

  “Is that what we’ve come to?” he asked rigidly.

  “I’m thinking of the future.” She crossed her arms, dropping her voice a little as an elderly man and his dog walked past the house and waved. “What if I get married again? What if you get married again and have more children? Do you think your new wife would be happy without a formal agreement in place?”

  He gripped the gate. “I’m not getting married again. And I won’t be having children with anyone else,” he said. “I told you that the day you left me.”

  The reminder of that awful afternoon cut deep. They had spoken so many hurtful words. Too many. And things, it seemed, hadn’t changed. There was still anger and hurt between them, and she suspected there always would be. Sex and attraction didn’t erase heartbreak and grief. All they’d done by making love was amplify the divide that had torn them apart.

  “You can’t possible predict that,” she said, raising her chin defiantly.

  “I can,” he said, and touched his chest with one hand. “There’s only so much room in here.”

  Tess’s insides contracted. He looked unhappy. He looked exhausted. She knew he was as conflicted and confused as she was, but obviously for different reasons. He wanted what he wanted—control over his life and those around him. That was Mitch’s way, and the way he’d been programmed to behave since he was young.

  “I have to go,” she said, and sighed as she turned to walk back to the house.

  “Tess?”

  She turned back and met his gaze. “What?”

  “I never meant to hurt you back then,” he said quietly. “I only wanted to protect you and our relationship.”

  “By threatening to have a vasectomy? How is that protecting me, Mitch? It was an ultimatum, your way of making me do what you wanted.”

  “I thought it would take away—”

  “My hope,” she said, aching inside. “My dreams. You shattered them, Mitch. You broke me into a thousand pieces and I can’t forgive you.”

  “I loved you,” he said. “I still do.”

  Tess’s heart hurt. She couldn’t bear hearing him say the words. Couldn’t bear thinking he still loved her—even though part of her longed for it like she longed for air in her lungs. Because they’d tried loving each other once, and it hadn’t worked. It didn’t matter that she loved him, too. He wouldn’t change. He would always think it was okay to keep a part of himself locked up.

  She took a long breath. “It doesn’t matter anymore, because that’s not really love, Mitch. Love is support and kindness and consideration. It’s saying it’s okay to be scared and feel lost and to be broken inside because the thing you want most in the world might never happen. Love is sharing that grief and opening up and being vulnerable. That’s what I needed,” she i
mplored. “That’s all I needed, Mitch...for you to be vulnerable. But you couldn’t do that. You’re incapable of vulnerability, because you think it’s a weakness.”

  His gaze sharpened. She’d hit a nerve and they both knew it. Mitch didn’t do weak. He was a mountain of strength. The glue in his family. Impenetrable. Unmovable. Rock-solid. A man of steel. And Tess needed someone who could bend with the tide. Someone who could embrace pain and grief and not be afraid to share that with her. That would never be Mitch. He would never falter, never yield, never be anything other than the stoic, unbending man who was in charge of everything, including his feelings.

  “You wanted the impossible,” he said flatly.

  She shook her head. “No, I didn’t. I wanted your raw truth. I wanted your hurt and angst and your pain. But you couldn’t show me that part of you. Back then, all you could do was tell me how to feel because you didn’t see me... All you saw was my grief. And you tried to control it by taking away the most important thing you could give me and I can’t forgive you. I’ve tried,” she admitted, and shuddered. “I’ve gone over it countless times, and I always end up feeling the same way—disappointed and hurt. And when you love someone, you should never disappoint them. And you should never steal their hope.”

  He stepped back, his green eyes glittering brilliantly. “I guess we are done.”

  She nodded. “We were done a long time ago. Sioux Falls was merely a blip.”

  “And three weeks ago?” he asked. “What was that?”

  “It was goodbye,” she said.

  She waited for a moment, expecting him to say something. But he didn’t. He turned on his heels and strode back to his vehicle. He disappeared from view quickly, and it took several moments for Tess to realize she had tears on her cheeks.

  And to acknowledge that she’d never felt more alone in her life.

  * * *

  Late Friday afternoon the following week, Mitch took a call from Hank saying that a child had gone missing at the base of Kegg’s Mountain and they needed help finding him. Shanook, clearly sensing something was wrong, was by Mitch’s side the moment he grabbed his backpack and hiking boots, and within ten minutes they were on the road. He arrived at the camp in the recreational park at the bottom of the mountain around four o’clock, and Hank met him by the base that had been set up near several emergency services vehicles.