“Give me your motherfucking phone.”
“Stop!” she all but screams, tears swimming in her eyes. “You’re scaring me. You’ll scare Conner if he wakes up. Devin, please!”
“Do you bring him here with my son?” I snarl, leaning toward her over the island. “Do you fuck him in my bed with my son down the hall?”
“I would never do that to Conner!” she blurts out and then her hand flies to her mouth. I feel like someone just stuck a serrated knife through my heart. It’s a weird pain, though. It’s not heartbreak so much as betrayal slicing through me. I was forcing myself to make things work and she was fucking someone else. Tears roll down her pale cheeks. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“You didn’t mean for what to happen? Destroy our fucking marriage? Rip our family apart?” I want to throw things. I want to ram my fist through the wall. I want to throw myself into traffic. “Who is he?”
She shudders and sobs. “It doesn’t matter.”
I grab my keys off the counter and storm around the island to stand in front of her. She actually cowers, like she really thinks I would physically hurt her. Like she thinks I’m the monster here. I roughly grab her phone and wrench it from her hand. I spin and hurl it as fast and hard as I can. It sails across the kitchen, into the family room, and slams into the wall beside the flat screen. The force knocks one of our framed family photos off the wall and it lands on the floor on top of the destroyed iPhone, glass shattering.
“You’re a fucking whore,” I growl and stalk out of the house.
She chases after me yelling something, but my head is screaming and I hear nothing. Luc’s rental car is pulling up as I’m marching down the street. I don’t even stop. I just continue straight ahead down the idyllic street that just became my living nightmare.
Chapter 6
Callie
I was so exhausted I slept like the dead. When my alarm goes off at six a.m., I head straight into the shower and go through my morning routine like a zombie. Twenty minutes later, my hair is damp and hanging loose around my shoulders and I’m dressed in a comfortable pair of old jeans and a baby doll blouse I got at a vintage shop in East L.A. It’s got small orange and yellow flowers all over and kind of looks like wallpaper an eighty-year-old would pick, but I dig it.
I grab my Uggs, and after glancing in Conner’s room to admire my work from last night, I bounce down the stairs. The first thing that strikes me as odd is the smell of coffee.
Devin shouldn’t be awake right now, let alone drinking or making coffee. I make my way from the stairs, through the small front hall and into the kitchen. Luc and Rosie are sitting quietly at the kitchen table with mugs in their hands.
“What the fuck,” I say, shocked.
Rose stands and I walk into her outstretched arms, hugging her tight.
“We told Devin,” Luc tells me.
“And it didn’t go well?” I squeak, feeling guilty because they wouldn’t have anything to tell him if I hadn’t told them.
“Well, he stormed over to Ashleigh’s and confronted her and then took off,” Luc says, running a hand through his disheveled, shaggy hair. “So, yeah, it went fantastic.”
“We’ve been driving around looking for him all night,” Rose tells me with an exhausted but worried expression. “And we called all the guys he’s close to on the team. No one has seen or heard from him. We even went to see Mitch Lupo at, like, three a.m. Devin had given him a spare key to this place, which he gave us.”
“Fuck.” I curse and cover my face with my hands. “This is all my fault.”
“It’s Ashleigh’s fault,” Luc tells me flatly. “It’s not yours.”
“Did she…did she tell him she was cheating?” I ask as Rose walks over and pours me a cup of coffee.
“Pretty much.” Luc shakes his head in disgust. “She tried to rationalize it to us after he stormed out.”
“‘He is there for me when Devin can’t be. He doesn’t travel half the year without me. He loves me,’” Rose mimics Ashleigh in a wickedly whiny, high-pitched voice.
“He loves her? Her husband fucking loves her! Screw this other guy!” I snap furiously.
“His name is Andrew and he’s their accountant. Oh, Rosie told her that and a hell of a lot more,” Luc says in a proud voice as he flashes my sister a little smile. “She ripped Ashleigh a new asshole. Told her she was a selfish bitch, that Devin was the best thing that would ever happen to her and Conner is proof of that. That she was ruining Con’s life, not just Devin’s.”
“He had to make me go wait in the car while he finished talking to her,” Rose admits and she doesn’t look the least bit shameful about it. “I made her hysterical.”
“Oh, you make her hysterical.” I roll my eyes. “How the fuck does she think she made Devin feel, destroying his trust and their wedding vows?”
Before anyone can say anything else, the front door slams—hard. We all jump. My heart starts to beat frantically. Luc is the first to make it into the front hall. I follow behind and Rose is right on my tail.
Devin looks like shit. His dirty-blond hair is askew, his suit is wrinkled and his eyes are puffy and red. I realize he may have been crying and it breaks my fucking heart. He doesn’t make eye contact with any of us.
“What are you still doing here, Luc? Go back to your team,” he says gruffly and starts for the stairs.
“Devin…”
“Go, Luc!” he yells so fiercely it makes me jump.
Devin stomps up the stairs. Luc moves to follow him but I grab his arm. “I’ll handle it. You guys should just go.”
“Are you sure?” Rose looks concerned but I nod and give her a brave smile. She hugs me and then I hug Luc and watch as they head out the door.
I climb the stairs two at a time and hurry down the hall. His bedroom door is open and I step tentatively into the room. He’s standing with his back to me. His suit jacket is lying in a heap at the end of the bed and he’s stepped out of his shoes.
“Devin, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he barks. His shirt falls from his shoulders and he drops it on the ground.
“I’m sorry about Ashleigh,” I manage to tell him, despite my wildly hammering heart. He’s so angry I can feel it in the air around me and it’s freaking me out.
“You’re not sorry you betrayed my trust and told Luc?” he growls and turns, bare-chested, his dark eyes narrowing angrily on me.
“No. I’m not sorry for that,” I tell him calmly. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You could have minded your own fucking business!” he screams so loud and hard the veins in his neck pop out and his face goes instantly red. “You could have fucking respected me when I said I didn’t want anyone to know!”
“Your family loves you and you need that around you right now,” I reply quietly and clasp my hands together to keep them from trembling.
“My wife fucks other guys? You think Luc is going to make me feel better about that?” He’s still yelling, eyes bright with anger. “You know nothing about what I need. Fuck off!”
I stare up at him, trying to remain calm, and as his gaze sweeps my face, the fire and darkness in his eyes soften and he heaves out a breath. “Callie, I’m sorry; I just—”
“Don’t be. I did betray you. But I felt I had to,” I tell him and fight like hell to keep the quiver of fear out of my voice. “I’ll go.”
I turn and leave him in his room by himself. I head straight to my room and send up a prayer of gratitude that I didn’t unpack very much. I shove everything haphazardly back into my suitcases, zip them up, grab the handle on the biggest one and start down the hall toward the stairs.
I’m moving as quickly and quietly as possible. I’ve never seen Devin—or anyone—so filled with rage in my entire life and I just want to get the hell away from it. As I pass Conner’s open door, Devin steps out into my path.
I literally jump and let out a squeak, then slam a hand over my open mouth. He looks trul
y shocked by my overreaction, like he has no idea why in the world I would be on edge. His half-naked body is still rigid and his eyes are still red and puffy, but they don’t look as angry.
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
“For good?”
“You asked me to go.”
He stares at me and then turns his head to glance into his son’s room. He’s obviously taking in the toys and accessories I bought last night. “You did all this?”
I can’t tell from his facial expression if it makes him want to strangle me or hug me. I nod proudly, because no matter what he thinks, doing this was the right thing for Conner.
“He needs to feel like this is his room. He needs to want to be here,” I explain.
Devin glances back into the room, his eyes sliding over the red stripes across the wall behind the dresser. “Don’t go.”
I don’t say anything. Devin takes a deep breath, holds it a minute and then exhales loudly. “Conner needs you here.”
“Okay,” I say simply and wheel my suitcase back into the guest room. When I come back into the hall, he’s leaning against the railing by the stairs.
He looks up at me, his face completely devoid of emotion, which is definitely better than the rage that was all over it before. But it’s also scary in a different way. “It’s my night with Conner tonight. I don’t want to see her. Can you pick him up for me later?”
“Of course,” I agree and nod. If he doesn’t want to see her, he shouldn’t have to. I don’t want to see her either, but I’ll do it for Devin. “I have to go to work. I’m late.”
“Okay.”
“Devin…” I open my mouth to say something but I don’t know what.
“See you later,” he says and walks back into his room.
Chapter 7
Devin
I call the coach and tell him I’m sick and won’t be at practice. He wants to send the team doctor over to check me out, but I refuse. Maybe he can tell from my voice that something is up because he doesn’t argue like he usually does. Or maybe Loops told him what’s going on. I don’t know and I honestly don’t care anymore.
I lie in bed but I don’t really sleep. I’m exhausted, both emotionally and physically, after spending the night walking around aimlessly with nothing but my dark, angry thoughts. But despite the fatigue, my brain still won’t shut off.
I go through every single moment of my marriage to Ashleigh. All of it—from the wedding day to Conner’s birth, to the day she told me she needed space. How much of that was this other guy involved in? How many of those memories were tainted and I didn’t even know it? If Conner didn’t look exactly like me, I would ask for a DNA test. I contemplated doing it anyway just to hurt her.
She looked hurt last night. She looked devastated and that made me angry. I hadn’t done a fucking thing to hurt her. I had done everything I could to keep her from getting hurt. She had cheated and she then had the nerve to look destroyed about it? I wonder when she became that kind of woman. Was she always like that and I was just too stupid to see it?
And when I can pry my mind off of Ashleigh for a millisecond, all I can think about is my family. I have to tell them about this now because I am not going to be trying to make things work. I am not going to stay married to this woman. I also feel sick at the idea that my parents will be disappointed and that I will look like I fucked up. My ego isn’t willing to tell everyone the whole truth—that my wife decided I wasn’t enough and fucked someone else. I am just not ready for the world and my family to know that. So eventually, I will muster up enough strength to tell them we are separated, but not the reason why. Not anytime soon, anyway.
And then my thoughts turn to that sexy, loudmouthed brunette who betrayed my trust in less than twenty-four hours. I know Callie meant well. I know she wanted to help me, but telling them—having Luc and Rose look at me with those sad, sympathetic stares—made me furious. That “Poor Devin, he isn’t perfect after all” face they both gave me was worse than keeping any of the secrets I’d been keeping.
Half of me wanted to let Callie get the hell out of my house this morning. Half of me didn’t care if I ever saw her again, but then I looked in Conner’s room. She’d taken the time and the care to make it into something special. That’s when I begrudgingly realized she needed to be here. In my current state, I am in no shape to take care of my child on my own. Having Callie around—with her loudness and happy-go-lucky attitude—will, hopefully, keep Conner from noticing his father is a fucking mess on the inside, my emotions surging back and forth between complete rage and utter relief. The relief comes from knowing that because Ashleigh did something completely unforgivable, I can stop the exhausting mental exercise of trying to find ways to redeem her and our unhappy life together. And then there is the added bonus that having Callie around means she can save me from having to face my poor excuse for a wife. I had no plan of ever seeing Ashleigh again.
I call our home phone number and when Ashleigh answers, sounding strained, I blurt out that Callie will be picking up Conner for me that afternoon and abruptly hang up. Then I turn my cell off. Luckily, I don’t have a landline here so she can’t get a hold of me that way.
If I could get away with it, I would never have an actual conversation with her ever again. I have nothing to say. And there is nothing she could say to make this better. By noon, when it is clear that my mind won’t shut off on its own, I go downstairs in search of something to make it shut off. I find a bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the bar cart in the dining room, open it and start to drink.
Chapter 8
Callie
After work I pick up Conner at Ashleigh’s. She looks distraught and tries to talk to me about it, but I simply ignore her and walk away with Conner. When I get to Devin’s, he’s nowhere to be found. I take Conner upstairs and show him his newly decked-out room, figuring Devin might be there, but he’s not. As Conner squeals with delight and starts exploring his new toys and admiring his posters and decorations, I dart down the hall to Devin’s room. The door is cracked open, but it’s dark inside.
I peek my head inside, and when my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can make out his form in the bed. I sneak in, intending to wake him up, and as I get closer I realize he’s naked. He’s facedown, his dirty-blond hair completely askew. The sheets on his California king bed are covering one leg and half an ass cheek but nothing else.
I don’t even pretend not to admire his well-muscled back or his perfectly round, tight ass or the hard, thick muscles in his exposed thigh. I realize that even though we sort of had sex, I’ve never seen Devin naked. It’s impressive. I lean in to wake him and am completely assaulted by the stench of liquor.
I sniff. Whiskey, if I’m not mistaken. Barf. I touch his bare shoulder and give it a shake. His skin is warm and sweaty. “Devin! Wake the hell up! Conner is here.”
He grumbles into his pillow. I shake him harder.
“Get! Up!” I bark.
He moans and rolls over. The covers do not cover anything now. The girly girl in me—the one I like to keep locked up in a dark corner of my mind—wants my hand to fly up and cover my eyes. But luckily, too much of me is an anti–girly girl, badass horndog and I resist the urge. So I stand there and stare down at him as his eyes flutter open.
“Conner’s here,” I repeat in a low but firm voice. “And you smell like a distillery.”
“Sorry…” His voice is thick and gravelly. He puts his hands to his eyes and rubs them.
“And you’re totally naked right now.”
His hands fly from his eyes and he looks down his body and grabs at the sheet, pulling it up over his legs to his waist as quickly as humanly possible. His eyes find mine again and he looks embarrassed.
“Well, don’t just stand there staring!” he demands as his face goes red.
“I didn’t. I took pictures with my cell phone,” I quip, and turn and head back to Conner’s room.
We’re on the floor in Con
ner’s room playing Legos when, half an hour later, Devin wanders in. He’s showered, his hair still damp, and he’s wearing a plain white T-shirt and a pair of Brooklyn Barons sweats with bare feet.
Conner’s whole face lights up when he sees him, and Devin kneels and captures his son in a big hug. His caramel-colored eyes land on me and they’re even more bloodshot than this morning. The liquor is to blame this time.
“Daddy, my room is special!” the little blond bundle of adorableness says to Devin.
“It is!” Devin agrees enthusiastically and he glances around it again. He sees it—above the bed—and he gives me an amused look with an eyebrow cocked.
“Really, Callie?” he questions. “In my house?”
I look up at the poster of Avery Westwood, captain of the Seattle Winterhawks and one of my conquests, and smile. “He loves Avery and besides, he can stare at you and his uncles anytime he wants.”
Devin almost laughs at that. Almost, but it’s still a victory.
Later that night I’m in the kitchen cleaning up the remnants of the spaghetti dinner I had whipped up, as Devin comes into the room after tucking Conner into bed.
“He’s out like a light,” Devin says with some relief. “Not one tear.”
“Good.” I smile softly.
He leans against the counter looking drained. “What did she say when you picked him up?”
“Do you really want to know?” I reply quietly as I load the dishwasher.
“Yeah. Why the hell not?” he smiles mirthlessly.
I take a deep breath and catch his eye. “Ashleigh says she is trying to stay away from him. She wants time to think.”
He doesn’t appear to react to that—at least not on the outside. He tips his head back, closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. I act on instinct, on the need to get his shoulders to stop trying to attach themselves to his ears and his thick, dirty-blond eyebrows to stop pinching together. I step closer, reach out and wrap my hands around each of his shoulders, where they curve into his neck, and I begin to knead.
The Final Move Page 5
