He didn’t ask any questions, though I knew he wanted to. There were a few times when he stopped, standing in the middle of our bedroom as we both got ready for the day, and stared at me. His mouth would hang open as if he was trying to coax the question from his depths.
Each time though, without a word, he’d end up walking away. He didn’t ask what I did or how it went…he didn’t ask anything, but it was there in his face. The questions. The burning desire to know everything. It made it more exciting in a way. Peter and I had been together for so many years, sometimes it felt as if we no longer had secrets. Until that moment.
Finally, we both knew we had secrets again, and we’d only be creating more. I smiled to myself as I slid the maroon lipstick over my lips. He was watching me again, but I pretended not to notice. The truth was much less exciting than whatever he’d cooked up in his head. Maybe that was why the process would work—if it did, when it did. Because all he’d be able to think about for the next several days, weeks maybe, was me with someone else. Someone else doing his job, someone else loving me like he should have. Perhaps the jealousy would give him motivation to improve.
“I’ve got an early morning,” he said, breaking the silence. It was the first sentence either of us had spoken since our alarms had gone off at five that morning. “Can you get the kids to school?”
“Mhm,” I said, not nodding as I continued to glide the lipstick across my lips, making sure the lines were razor sharp.
He took a step toward me, and I lowered the tube, placing the lid back on it and meeting his eye in the mirror. To my surprise, he placed a hand on the side of my head, leaning down and pressing his lips to my temple. “Have a good day,” he whispered before standing back up.
“You too,” I said, turning around to look at him. “I’ll see you tonight.”
He nodded but didn't look back as he crossed the room and opened the door. Within seconds, he had disappeared and I was left alone with my thoughts, which I’d been trying to quiet.
The truth was, my date with Stefan went fine. He was nice, polite. He paid for my meal and drinks, asked about my career, told me about his. We talked about dating after a long-term relationship, and he only mentioned his late wife once. He held my hand as he walked me to my car. Everything was there. Everything was perfect.
But I didn’t go home with him. He didn’t ask me to, but I knew he would’ve taken me up on it if I’d mentioned it. I’d watched his gaze trail down the length of my dress or the stretch of my exposed cleavage when he thought I wasn’t looking. He wasn’t a pig about it, don’t get me wrong. But he was a man who hadn’t been with a woman in a very long time, and that was clear.
So why didn’t I go home with him? He was attractive, sweet, interested… But the truth was, I couldn’t turn off the guilt I felt. Not about Peter. We’d agreed to this. He wasn’t going to feel guilty about it when it was his turn. Instead, my guilt manifested about Stefan. I knew my night with him would be just the one. I didn’t plan to see him ever again. Our date hadn’t meant anything to me. It was purely to meet a need.
Perhaps I read him wrong and that was all he wanted too, but from the questions he asked about my life, the things he shared about himself, I got the impression that he was truly trying to get to know me. He mentioned more than once that I was the first woman he’d taken on a date in a long time, only one of those times specifying since his wife had passed away. It felt huge. It felt like I was stringing him along. I didn’t want to be the first woman he slept with after his wife died and then break his heart by never contacting him again. It felt wrong. And as much as this process was supposed to be about healing Peter and me, I felt awful that Stefan had gotten caught in the crossfire.
Once my makeup was finished, I spritzed my face with setting spray, ran my flat iron over my hair a few strokes more, and pulled on my black slacks and blouse with a pearl necklace to top off the outfit. I stepped into my favorite nude heels and headed for the door. The kids were bustling around the house, and Dylan crossed in front of me, dressed in only his boxers.
“Have you seen my green hoodie?”
“Good morning, Mom. How are you?” I asked sarcastically.
“This is serious!” he said. I was starting to think irritation was the only tone he knew. “I can’t find it anywhere. Riley’s been taking my stuff!”
“I have not!” The faint argument came from beyond the closed door in the bedroom to our left. Riley swung open his bedroom door, completely dressed, with half of a Pop-Tart in his hand. “Mom, I didn’t touch his stuff!”
“When did you have it last?” I asked Dylan.
“Friday at school, but I brought it home to be washed, and I never got it back.”
“Did you check the laundry room? Maybe it’s in the dryer.”
“It’s not, I checked!” he grumbled, casting an angry look at his brother. “Riley keeps coming into my room and taking my stuff. That hoodie is my favorite. I have to find it.”
“I haven’t touched your—”
“Okay, boys,” I cut off the impending argument. “We don’t have time for this. I’m sorry, Dylan, but you’ll have to wear a different hoodie today. I’ll find it this afternoon, okay? We have to get going, or we’re all going to be late.”
“Ugh, Mom, I can’t go to school without it!”
“Well, that’s a problem because you’re going to have to,” I said, walking away from the argument before anything else could be said. “Come on. We have ten minutes.”
The boys groaned but separated back toward their rooms as Maisy appeared in the hallway, dressed and ready to go. She had two library books and three school books in her arms. “Morning.”
“Morning, sweetheart. How did last night go? Did you finish your project?”
She nodded. “Yep, all done. How was your work thing?”
“It was fine,” I told her simply. “Have you had breakfast?”
“Oatmeal. Where’s Dad?”
“Oh, he had to get to work early.” She twisted her mouth in deep thought, and it occurred to me then: did the children know something was up? Did they suspect that Peter and I were avoiding each other? Had we done a terrible job acting like things were still normal? Tonight would be a good time to prove them wrong, all of us together as a family. “Did you need something from him?”
“Huh? Oh, no. Nothing. I hadn’t seen him this morning.”
“He wanted to say goodbye, but I think we’re all running a bit behind.” I was always making excuses for him, I realized. Like it was ingrained in me. Not that Peter was an absentee father. He was far from it, in fact. He came home on time, rarely worked overtime, and was with us during the weekend. He was as involved as I was, and yet I felt the need to overcompensate and explain away the few failings he had. Why was that? What had he done to warrant my intense worry that the kids would see him as less than perfect? Did he do the same for me? I doubted it.
“Okay, well, I’m going to make my tea before I head to the car. Do you want anything?”
She shook her head. “I’ll meet you in the garage.”
As I made my way into the kitchen and put the kettle on for my morning tea, I heard the boys coming out of their rooms. I turned around, surprised to see Dylan wearing the green hoodie he’d been looking for.
“You found it, then?”
“It was hanging up by the door,” he mumbled, opening the cabinet and pulling out a small bag of Doritos. I’d argue it wasn’t a good breakfast, but I didn’t have the energy. Instead, I watched him shove it in the front pocket of his hoodie as he stalked out of the room. Within a few minutes, my tea kettle began to squeal, and I placed an English Breakfast Tea bag into my travel mug and poured the hot water into it, sealing the lid and grabbing a protein bar from the cabinet above the refrigerator. As I did it, I remembered the note. It was on my mind when I came home last night, but I didn’t dare check it in front of Peter. I didn’t want him to know I’d been expecting him to open it. I pulled the white en
velope down, not surprised but definitely disappointed to realize I was right. The envelope had been torn open; he’d made no effort to seal it back or hide the evidence.
I ripped it in half and tossed it into the trash can, wondering how he must’ve felt when he saw what I’d written.
I sipped the tea, hardly aware of it scalding my mouth as I rushed out of the house. Though I wanted to unpack why my husband hadn’t trusted me, why he’d broken the rules so early into our arrangement, I had to get the kids to school and myself to work before we were all late.
Life wasn’t going to slow down because of our crisis.
I just had to learn to keep up.
Chapter Six
PETER
It felt like getting family portraits, that moment when the photographer tells you to stand still and smile, and all you can think of is: where do I put my hands? Why am I so aware of my breathing? Does this smile look forced?
That was the only way I could think of to explain the way I felt. The way I’d felt from the moment Ainsley made it home from her date. Sleep didn’t make it any better. I tossed and turned all night, waking for the final time two hours before my alarm was set to go off and deciding to get up anyway.
I didn’t know what to say around her, how to act, what to do. Multiple times, I caught myself staring at her in a strange, trance-like state with no idea what I was thinking. It was as if I couldn’t look away. As if she were a celebrity or a car crash, pulling my eyes to her with every move that she made.
There was such mystery to her now. What had she done? What had she said? What had she told him about our lives? Had she liked him? Had she kissed him? Had she done much, much more? So many questions haunted me, begging to be answered. I couldn’t bring myself to move on, but I was not allowed to ask anything.
Was this how she would feel when it was my turn? I didn’t want to think about it. I was embarrassed by all of it. Since I’d matched with Gina, we hadn’t spoken to each other, passing in the halls without a word. Perhaps she was doing it as a test. Perhaps she matched with me as an accident and my matching back with her made it awkward and confusing, as neither of us seemed to know how to approach the subject. I should’ve never done anything so stupid. I felt weak and angry with myself for my lack of control. Why couldn’t I stop myself from acting so impulsively?
I sat at my desk that afternoon, staring at the screen filled with numbers and words that my eyes continued to glaze over. I read emails and memos over and over, unable to form clear, coherent thoughts. I couldn’t seem to focus on anything else. I picked up the paper cup of coffee, sipping it as I wondered how we’d gotten so off course. Why had I ever agreed to this? Why hadn’t I told her no when she suggested it?
The door to my office opened, and I looked up, hating the hope and worry that filled my chest all at once when I saw her.
“Gina, hey,” I said, standing from my desk like the idiot I was.
She smiled, but it seemed forced. Stiff. “Hey, Peter… Sorry, I was wondering if you’d finalized your portion of the report for the Gregory project yet. They’re starting to get impatient.”
“Shoot.” I put my fingers to my forehead and sank into my chair. “I thought I’d sent it back to you already.” I scrolled through my email, cursing under my breath. “Dammit,” I said when my eyes landed on the draft in my outbox, sitting unsent for almost a week. “Here it is.” I pressed send and groaned. “I’m so sorry. I thought I’d sent it Monday afternoon. I’ve been distracted, I guess…”
She nodded but didn't say anything right away. She waited to see if I’d say more before going on. “I need to tell you something,” she said hesitantly. I watched as her eyes rolled, my throat dry. Was she going to tell me it was all a prank or a joke and she was feeling awkward about it? Was she going to tell me she was quitting because I’d made things too weird between us?
I turned my chair toward her, resting my hands in my lap. “Okay. What’s up?”
“I think someone may be using your pictures to catfish people.”
I sucked in a breath. Whatever I’d been expecting her to say, that wasn’t it. She may as well have been speaking a foreign language. “Catfish someone? What are you talking about? What pictures?”
She rolled her eyes again and sat down in one of the chairs in front of my desk, her cheeks flushed pink. “Okay, well, it’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but I do a fair bit of online dating.” She paused, as if she thought I might say something or laugh, but I remained quiet and waited. She went on. “And, well, the other day, I saw someone using your pictures under the name Pete Patterson.” She pulled out her phone and scrolled through it while I sat, contemplating my next move. I could’ve gone along with it, pretended that the person wasn’t me, or I could’ve told the truth. I had no idea which one was the best course of action. She held out her phone to me, where I could look over Pete’s profile. “We matched because I was planning on calling him out for using the pictures, but then I wondered, well…it’s stupid. You’re happily married. Of course you aren’t on a dating site. I’m planning to report him.” Her last few sentences came out at lightning speed as her face grew a deeper shade of scarlet. “I wanted to tell you, so you didn’t think… I don’t know. I guess I’d want to know if it were me.” She sucked her teeth, looking away. “Anyway…” She slapped her legs, moving to stand. “You sent that over to me, you said, right? Yes.”
“Gina, wait,” I called as she moved toward the door, something deep in my stomach lurching as she grew farther away. “Wait.”
She looked over her shoulder then spun further around, one brow raised with an unspoken question.
I had no idea what I was going to say until the words were leaving my mouth. “I’m embarrassed. I don’t know what to say. Ainsley and I are…spending some time apart. We agreed on seeing other people. When I saw you on the app, I knew it was stupid to match with you, but…I acted on a whim. I’m sorry if it’s made things awkward for you.”
Her eyes lit up, her lips separating slightly as she stared at me. “Wait, so you’re saying… You are Pete Patterson? It really is you?”
I laughed, nodding my head. “It’s embarrassing. The fake names were Ainsley’s idea, to keep some privacy in the situation and protect our kids. We don’t want them finding out what’s going on until things are official…one way or another. ”
She was slow to nod, studying me as she moved a half-step forward. There was a glint of fascination in her eyes. “No, no, I understand. Of course. I’m sorry I brought it up. Maybe you’d rather I hadn’t?”
“No, not at all. It’s not your fault. I’m glad you did. I guess we never thought about seeing someone we knew from real life on the app. The plan was to keep it so anyone we dated couldn’t find us. When I saw you there, it took me by surprise.”
Her lips widened as she appeared to think, giving way to the perfect, white teeth behind them. “But you matched with me on purpose?”
“Stupidly, maybe, but yes. I’m still new to all of this…” I trailed off, feeling the heat rushing to my face. “And I know it makes things awkward because we work together, so if you think we should pretend it never happened, we can totally do that.”
“Is that what you want?” I gulped, embarrassed by the sudden noise, but she didn't flinch. “Because I’m okay with that if you are. I don’t want to get in the middle of anything…” She waved her hand in a circular direction, as if she were a witch stirring a cauldron.
“No, you wouldn’t. I mean, I don’t want or need anything complicated right now. I’m trying out the online dating thing to…”
“To have a little fun?” she asked, her tongue pressed to her teeth as she cocked her head to the side.
“Mhm,” I said, barely making an audible noise in the deafening silence. She waited. I cleared my throat and pressed my hands together in front of my chest. “That probably sounds lame.”
She laughed. “Now that sounded lame.” She said lame as if it were an uncool word, a
nd I realized then the stark age gap between us. “Tell you what, you think about what you want for sure, and when you know… Have Pete Patterson send me a message. Otherwise, I’ll see you, Peter, later. Thanks for the report.” I nodded, but she didn't see it. Her hand was already on the door handle as she prepared to leave.
“Gina?” I called, half standing from my chair.
She looked over her shoulder, her brows raised. “Yeah?”
“It probably goes without saying, but I wanted to ask for your discretion with all of this. I try to keep my personal life separate from the office as much as possible, and I’d appreciate it if you kept what I’ve told you between us.”
“Of course, Peter. You don’t even have to ask. It’ll be our little secret.” She winked at me and pulled the door open, sauntering out of my office without another word.
My body tingled with the possibilities and adrenaline from the conversation. What the hell just happened?
My phone lay facedown on the desk, taunting me, but I couldn’t act yet. I had to think rationally, and the overwhelming excitement I was feeling wasn’t rational at all.
Chapter Seven
AINSLEY
Stefan had sent me two messages since the night before. One after I got home to say how much fun he had with me and another that morning to say though he knew he should’ve waited to ask, he’d like to see me again if I’d be open to it.
I hadn’t responded to either message.
How could I?
I hadn’t come to grips with my feelings over everything. Originally, my goal was to fix my marriage, to make my husband realize what he was risking losing. But I didn’t want to have to hurt anyone in the process, especially a decent, caring man like Stefan. It wasn’t his fault we’d connected. It wasn’t his fault my only goal was to reconnect with the husband I was losing.
The Arrangement Page 4
