Husband Stay (Husband #2)

by Louise Cusack

  It made perfect sense.

  Except, an hour later as I sat in the café across from Doug, I knew it wouldn’t work.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “…and they’re always late paying their bills,” Doug said. “So that’s a real downside. But if you’ve got a buffer of money, you can ride it out.”

  I smiled—a fake smile to cover the fact that I was actually bored, which was the last thing I would have expected, despite the fact that Jill insisted on calling him Doug the Dud since they split up. I’d always imagined he was more interesting, although usually it was Jill who’d done most of the talking whenever I’d caught up with the two of them.

  I’d certainly expected he’d try harder on a first date. But he’d turned up in board shorts and a tee shirt, as if he’d just walked off the beach. Worse, he had stubble. And I hated facial hair. He appeared to be in holiday mode, and maybe that’s what his trip to Sydney was about. But then, why be all coy with me over the phone?

  “So,” I said, over-brightly. “There’s a lot involved in the building industry.” I had to say something, but the last thing I wanted was more detail.

  Luckily, he chose that moment to pick up his menu, as if the conversation was over. He actually looked relieved to be given a break, and I suddenly realized that to him, our conversation might feel like a Spanish Inquisition. But I’d only been trying to fill the empty silences by asking questions. He hadn’t asked me a single thing.

  “Lobster rolls.” He looked up and frowned. “Is that like a salad roll, with lobster?”

  I shook my head. “You might need to ask. I’ve never been here before.”

  “Oh, I don’t like seafood. I was just wondering what you’d eat.”

  I stared at him from across the tiny white table, trying to ignore the sound of chatty patrons and trendy waiters in their ocean blue uniforms bustling around us, because I had a dilemma going on inside.

  The Angela of a year ago would have been thrilled that he’d remembered my solitary mention of liking lobster, and I would have easily said Anything with lobster is fine by me, but the Angela I was right in this minute didn’t actually feel like lobster. It was too rich and I didn’t want to feel sluggish when I had a busy afternoon in the studio planned. I’d rather have a light salad or soup.

  Doug waited patiently while I licked my lips, wondering what I’d do. In the end I just said, “I’ll check the menu myself and see what I feel like.”

  “Oh, okay.” He frowned again and looked back at his menu, maybe realizing—as I did—that things were awkward between us.

  I’d been ready for the fact that there might be no chemistry, but the idea that we could have nothing in common apart from our connection to Jill alarmed me. While pushing Jack away, I’d pulled Doug close in my expectations, and it was suddenly blindingly clear that I shouldn’t have.

  I’d always liked Doug, but that liking had been associated with Jill, how he was patient with her, how he’d played the peahen to her showy peacock, and how I’d always expected him to be the father of her children.

  But now, seated across from him, watching him frown at the menu, I could admit to myself that I flat-out wasn’t attracted to him. At all. Especially not with facial hair. But really, even if he shaved that off…no.

  I’d been flattered when Jill had told me he found me attractive. But there had been nothing reciprocal. And there was certainly nothing happening now.

  Watching him gnaw on his lip while he tried to work out what to eat, actually made me feel queasy, and before I could stop myself I’d pushed my chair back and stood. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  I couldn’t even bring myself to smile. I just darted off, and after quick directions from one of the perky waitresses, I’d only just managed to make it to the bathroom before I’d thrown up what was left of my croissant breakfast.

  I flushed the toilet and closed my eyes, trying to regroup, but I was forced to admit that the idea of making love with Doug had just made me vomit. I’d been fine when I arrived at the café. Well, not completely fine. I’d been vaguely queasy for a day or so and had put that down to all the changes in my life. Missing regular meals. Eating odd food. But still, vomiting was unusual for me. Was I anxious? Could that have made me violently ill?

  I went out into the glisteningly clean washroom and rinsed and spat a few times, then washed my hands and pressed them behind my neck, trying to cool myself down. It was summer. A storm was brewing. Maybe the humidity had made me sick.

  Or maybe it was Doug.

  When I got back to the table, I smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that. Must have eaten something bad.”

  “Were you sick?” His face screwed up as though I’d just repulsed him, and combined with his sticking-out ears and seriously annoying facial hair, it was the tipping over point. I suddenly realized I couldn’t do this.

  “I’m so sorry, Doug,” I lied, and stood again. “I’m just not well. Please, you have lunch. I’ll grab a taxi and head home. It’s been good to see you.” Another big fat lie.

  I held out a hand across the table so there could be no misconstruing the level of friendliness I was allowing, and he shook it, but remained seated which offended the old-fashioned manners I’d grown up with. When a lady left the table, the men stood. In his defense, he looked completely taken-aback, and couldn’t even organize a reply.

  I waited a few seconds longer, but he said nothing. Just sat there. So I left, and by the time I reached the taxi rank I was shaking my head. How had I imagined this was a good idea? It had turned out terribly, and I couldn’t work out if the negative emotion pressing against my chest was embarrassment or anger. I’d been so stupid. Doug had been my main option. I had no plan B. How had that happened?

  Was it rushing to ‘move on’ from Jack? Or had Louella’s insistence on dating Doug convinced me that he was a viable option. After all, this date had been her idea. Damn her.

  My phone rang in the same moment as a taxi arrived at the rank, so I ignored it to jump in the back and give directions, but when it was still ringing seconds later, I glanced at the caller and decided to answer it.

  “Jill.”

  “How’s my favorite celebrity?”

  There was no way I could answer that honestly, so I just said, “A bit tired. I’ve been working pretty hard at the studio and the new apartment is lovely, but…you know what it’s like on a new bed?”

  “I know what it’s like for you. You never sleep properly. We house sitters acclimatize quickly. But you’ll get used to it.”

  “Of course I will. And so…the wedding plans?”

  “Blah. Finn hired a wedding planner.”

  “At this late stage?” That distracted me.

  “Yeah. He’s right. I’m mucking around. And I do want to marry him.”

  “Is it Lizzie and the baby?” I knew she’d never bring up the topic for fear that it would upset me, but I was sure the impending birth of the child Finn had donated sperm for would rattle her.

  “You know me so well.” She sighed. “I was happy for her, but now that it’s getting closer, I’m scared Finn will be all distracted by his baby—”

  “Lizzie’s baby,” I corrected. “Don’t start feeling sorry for yourself. You know he’ll just be the child’s uncle. It’s babies with you he’s interested in.”

  Jill said nothing, then, “I know you’re right. But it’s harder than I thought it would be. Ange…can I ask you a favor?”

  “I’ll come with you to the birth.” I knew Jill well enough to understand how hard that hospital scene might be. “And if you look the slightest bit jealous, I’ll slap you upside-the-head.”

  She laughed, clearly embarrassed. “You know that’s what I need.”

  “I do. And Jill…” Some imp of honesty insisted I fess up. It wasn’t fair that she was the only one showing her soft underbelly. “Louella talked me into dating Doug, and—”

  “You can’t bring him to the wedding! Finn would have a fit. Tell
me you’re not—”

  “I’m not,” I said loudly, then when the cab driver glanced at me in the rear-view mirror, I lowered my voice. “I just had lunch with him and it was…embarrassing. I’m not attracted to him. At all.”

  “Okay. So, welcome to the club,” she said softly, as if Finn was nearby. “I didn’t call him Doug the Dud for nothing. What were you thinking?”

  “I want a father for my children.”

  “Oh honey.” I could hear the sympathy in her voice, but something had changed for me lately, and I didn’t need ‘poor baby’ anymore.

  “It’s okay.” I shrugged. “One to cross off the list. Plenty more fish in the sea.”

  “True, and just backtracking a bit. Did you say Louella talked you into dating Doug?”

  There was an edge to Jill’s voice that surprised me. Was she having a spat with Louella? Wouldn’t be the first time. Still, I knew better than to lie. “She and I met for coffee last week and she suggested I date him. I thought…she was just trying to help me find a nice man.”

  “Interesting…”

  In that moment I remembered that Louella was getting a divorce because she’d fallen in love with someone else. I didn’t normally gossip, but, “You don’t think Doug and Louella…” I let the sentence trail, because now that the words were out it seemed completely implausible. Untidy Doug with immaculately groomed Louella?

  “Not for a second,” Jill shot back, confirming my suspicions. But then she added, “Although I’m quite sure she has some agenda going on, pushing him at you.”

  “I’m not sure she pushed him,” I said automatically, until I remembered how insistent she’d been, texting me Doug’s number and then phoning that night to ensure I’d rung him. After I’d relayed this info to Jill, she was silent for a long time.

  “Something’s going on,” she said, but we both knew we’d never find out by asking Louella outright. “Do you know who her date is to the wedding? She hasn’t told me.”

  “Sorry.” I felt like a bad friend then. I’d never thought to ask Louella while we’d been having our high tea. The discussion had been more about her latest bathroom renovations. I swear, she had that house remodeled almost annually. And my cats. “Are you worried about her bringing Doug?”

  “No. And I don’t even know why I’m thinking about this because I’ve got bigger problems. I found out this morning that Brat girl is coming after all. That’s why I rang you.”

  “Oh Jill!” I couldn’t imagine anything worse for Jill than having her terrible little sister Brittany turn up on what should be her happiest day. “Do you want me to ride interference?”

  “No.” She tried to laugh but I could hear the strain in her voice. “I’ll work it out. But we might need to rejig the bridesmaid outfits. She won’t wear silver shoes.”

  “Oh, okay. Whatever is easiest.” Was I going to be off the hook after all? It seemed petty to be thinking about that when Jill had the drama queen of all drama queens turning up to cause trouble. But I did hate upsetting my girls, and it couldn’t look anything other than thoughtless to have lost my bridesmaid shoes.

  Just then the cab pulled into the curb and I registered where we were. “I’m home,” I told her. “Can I call you tonight?”

  “Sure. You can psychoanalyze me then. I’ll need it!”

  She hung up and I paid the driver and headed out of the baking afternoon sunshine into the building’s cool foyer which looked like a set from The Great Gatsby. This time, however, I was in a hurry. I needed to get back into white clothes and eat something, assuming my queasy stomach would allow that.

  “Missy Diva.”

  I almost walked straight into Kamal who was holding a large cardboard box.

  “Hello.” I shook my head, perplexed. Why was he here, unannounced?

  “Your boyfriend dropped this off.” He offered me the box, then must have remembered my cast. “I’ll carry it for you. Let’s go upstairs.”

  I didn’t move. “What boyfriend?”

  Please don’t let it be Jack.

  “Big guy. Came around before, asking for you when you went to that tea house launch.” Jack. “You know,” Kamal raised a dark eyebrow. “The party where you met Noah Steele and I wasn’t invited.”

  I ignored his sarcasm to concentrate on the shocking fact that Jack had turned up at my previous residence, with a box. “Did he say he was my boyfriend?”

  “He said he’d had sex with you, several times.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I could only stare at Kamal in horror. How many other people had Jack blabbed that to?

  “…so I naturally assumed. You don’t seem like the one-night stand type to me.”

  I could hear Fritha saying Super Slut but I blocked that out. “Why would he say that?” I glanced away from Kamal’s knowing look to stare blindly at the bank of letterboxes on the foyer wall, my brain racing into damage control while Kamal babbled on.

  “…I didn’t believe him at first. But when he said you had a mole up under your…” He glanced pointedly at my left breast and I slapped a hand over my midriff. “Kamal!”

  “You were asleep on the lounge one day with your arm up over your head. Your tee shirt rode up. It wasn’t my fault!” He actually sounded aggrieved.

  Men. Honestly. “You’re my cousin!”

  “So.” He hefted the box. “This is awkward.”

  I wanted to walk off and leave him in the foyer, along with whatever Jack had sent me in the box. But Kamal had brought it across town, and maybe I should be grateful. He clearly thought he was doing me a favor, so I begrudgingly said, “Thank you. But I’m in a hurry to get back to work.” I set off for the elevators. “So I can’t stay and chat.”

  “Pretend I’m a delivery driver,” he grumbled from behind me, and I blushed. My newfound forthrightness was tipping over into bad manners and that wasn’t fair.

  I was nicer on the trip upstairs, and when he’d plopped the box onto my small kitchen table and looked around the art deco suite with suspicion, he delivered a lecture on home security. Only after that was I able to shoo him out.

  Then I was alone with whatever Jack had sent me.

  Nerves wound in my stomach but I didn’t let myself build suspense. I pulled a knife out of the drawer and slit the packing tape across the top and pulled it open to reveal what appeared to be a box full of clear plastic packing noodles. I thrust my good hand in and fished around, finally connecting with a box which I retrieved and opened. Inside was a brand new cellphone, the same model as mine.

  Suspiciously, I swiped it open, and saw two things on the home screen. Speed dial to a contact with an image of Jack, and a video. I swallowed nervously, but I wasn’t about to be intimidated, so I clicked on the video. It opened to Jack, talking into the screen. He looked to be seated and had no shirt, so all those delicious muscles I’d caressed and clung to were on show.

  Angel baby, I’ve got a present for you. But don’t freak out. Nobody has this but you and me. It’s private and I’m keeping it that way. I’m sorry I had to involve your cousin, but I’m hoping I can convince him to deliver this to you. I’m not going to follow him. I get that you want privacy, or you wouldn’t have moved out. But I want something too. I want to remind you of how good we are together. Because I want that again.

  There was nothing clever or cunning in his face. He looked honest, and raw, and maybe even aroused. Had he been thinking about us? I barely had time to wonder about that, however, before the intro was over and the next scene was a darkened room with a more distant view of a bed with me lying on it, completely naked.

  I caught my breath in horror, my first thought—naturally—that I didn’t want this ending up on YouTube. But then Jack came into the picture and sat on the bed beside me. He must have taken this on our first night together, and when he ran a finger over my breast, I was stunned at how my sleepy murmur affected him. His lips parted while his fingertip circled my nipple and his erection grew, along with the desire on his
face.

  It was so stark, I could barely breathe. Then he slid his hand down between my breasts to glide over my belly and I wriggled and murmured, still clearly asleep. But that didn’t stop Jack from leaning forward and following his hand with his tongue. It seemed impossibly intimate to be watching this on a phone, but when he opened my legs and whispered, “Come for me again, baby,” I felt as though I was there, and when that tongue slid into the soft folds and I moaned in the video, I felt clutching sensations deep inside me, as if he was in my apartment, touching me.

  I’d never experienced that before, and I had a moment of wondering if that was why men watched pornography, because it was arousing. But this…it was a million times more arousing watching Jack make me moan as his intimate exploration woke me to pleasure. And after the orgasm that sounded so loud in my quiet apartment, I didn’t feel embarrassed by my own ‘performance’. I was awed by how hungry these two people were for each other.

  It seemed crazy that they wouldn’t do that again.

  As if to nail that thought into my mind, the scene faded out, and shirtless Jack flicked back onto the screen. There you have it Angel. The next part is up to you. This will either be something to remember me by, or something that inspires you to call me. I’m in town for two days. That’s a whole lot of orgasms…

  I swallowed tightly, and as the screen went blank, I resisted the urge to immediately hit play again. Watching that superlative sex would be addictive, and I mustn’t start. Tonight I would have time to think about this. Nothing needed to be done now. I could just go to work. But as I put the phone down on the kitchen table beside the box, my stomach swirled sickly.

  Damn all this drama. I went to the fridge and pulled out a container of plain Chapati flatbread I’d made yesterday. When I’d microwaved some, I chewed through them slowly. It was bland, but it settled my stomach enough for me to change back into my white jeans and loose white sweater. Then I hid Jack’s phone in the back of my bedside table.