by Kacey Shea
Walking up the path to my old apartment—the one I shared with Jon until I moved in with Tate, and the one we still work from—I brace myself for whatever hormone-induced drama lies beyond the front door.
Before I can even slide my key into the lock, the door is thrown open. My gaze darts behind Jon’s alarmed face, but my brain can hardly process what I find. Empty cartons of Ben & Jerry’s are strewn across the surface of the coffee table, and both Kate and my older sister Melissa pace, their protruding bellies forcing a waddle-like stride as they negotiate a cautious pattern over the worn carpet.
“What the hell?” I whisper.
“I don’t know. But they’ve been like this since I got home ten minutes ago. I’m scared. Help.” Jon’s eyes widen as Kate’s expletives increase in volume and my sister begins to cry. Her wails fill the air.
“Is this the hormones? Because I’m gonna say, I’ll never want babies if these two keep this up.” I’m frightened to cross the threshold. Maybe if I turn and run now they won’t notice.
Their preggo sixth sense kicks in and both faces snap to the open doorway.
“Evie!” Melissa cries. Her face crumples and her shoulders drop, and I immediately rush to wrap her in a hug. I don’t know what has her so distraught but, whatever it is, I want to make it better. It’s alarming to see my normally cool and together sibling so unraveled.
“Thank God! Finally! I’ve been texting you all afternoon!” Kate says.
Jon steps—albeit in a timid fashion—into the circle of crazy that is now their living room and sits on the edge of the couch.
“I came as soon as I could.” I glance around. “Where’s Claire?”
“I dropped her off at Mom’s. I didn’t know what else to do.” Melissa’s chin quivers and tears stream down her face. I push strands of her wayward auburn curls back from where they cling to her damp face. I’m glad my niece isn’t here to witness her mom so distraught. At almost eighteen months, I’m sure she’d only be upset.
“What’s going on, Mel?”
She winces and exhales sharply, her hand going to her almost eight months along growing belly.
“She needs to sit.” Kate grabs her by the arm and pushes her into the oversized recliner. “You need to relax. Stay calm. For the baby.” Kate rubs my sister’s belly and Melissa eases back into the chair. I’m always amazed at how nurturing my friend can be. She’ll be a great mom. Even though she and my sister have due dates weeks apart, Kate’s take charge attitude can’t help but gain control.
I squat next to my sister and take her hand in my own. “Mel, what’s wrong? Is it the baby?”
“No, baby’s fine. It’s—” she glances around the room, meeting each of our gazes while she inhales and exhales a deep breath. “It’s Drew. I think—No, I know—” Another breath. “He’s cheating on me.”
“That fucking piece of shit!” Kate shouts and I glare to silence the rant she’s sure to begin.
“Why do you think that?” I ask in a calm and steady tone. Melissa and Drew have been together since college. He loves her and Claire with everything he is. They have the perfect marriage. He would never screw that up.
I take the seat next to Mel and glance over her shoulder to meet Jon’s gaze. He studies my sister with calculating suspicion. Good. We’ll need his help getting to the bottom of whatever this is.
“Every Tuesday night for the past six weeks he’s had to work late.”
“Okay . . .” Her answer puts my heart at rest.
“But last week I called the office receptionist. You know, because he wasn’t picking up his cell.” Tears—big, fat ones—trail down her face. Kate grabs a box of tissues to hand her. “She said he left at five. Like always. Made it like I was stupid for even calling.”
“Hey, hey. Now, that’s not so bad. Maybe he had a dinner meeting? Or got called away unexpectedly?”
Melissa glares at me through glassy eyes. “I’m not an idiot, Evie. I’ve been married to the man for almost six years. I know his freaking schedule. He’s reliable and predictable.”
“And loyal and committed. Maybe he was only meeting up with friends?”
“Then why not tell me?” She shakes her head and wipes away the fresh set of tears, her eyeliner streaking beneath her eyes and across her cheek. “It’s not like I wouldn’t understand if he needs a night out sometimes. I’m a rational p-p-person!”
Jon’s eyes widen with her wails that follow, clenching his jaw as if he wants to laugh. I shoot him a warning glare and scoot closer to Melissa to rub her back. If Kate turns around and sees his face, he’ll be in the doghouse for a week.
“Of course you are. I’m sure we’ll all have a big laugh when we find out what he’s been up to on Tuesday nights,” I croon. She stops crying enough to look up at both me and Kate.
“You think there could be another explanation?”
“Sure. Maybe he developed a gambling addiction? Or he’s always wanted to explore the BDSM world and is taking lessons to perfect his kinky fuckery? Or hell, maybe he’s a closet quilter? I’ve seen that man with Claire. He colors way too well for a man. Guys don’t always want to admit their love of crafting old T-shirts into a comfy, warm keepsake blankie.”
What? I can’t help but gawk at Kate.
Melissa’s eyes widen as she wipes at her tears. “Do you really think he’s learning to quilt? Maybe I should check his T-shirt drawer.”
“Oh, my God!” I throw up my hands. “Really, Kate? Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“I have a vivid imagination. Don’t I, Jon?”
He blinks twice before nodding.
Melissa’s shoulders begin to shake again and I hug her tighter, laying my cheek against her shoulder. I know without checking that she’s crying again.
“Stop jumping to conclusions. Drew is a good guy. You guys have been together for years and you have a beautiful daughter and a baby due next month. He’s not stupid enough to fuck that up.” I glance at Jon and continue to rub my sister’s back in slow circles. Her sobs slow to a few intermittent hiccups.
“You really think that? Maybe I’m blowing this out of proportion?”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“I can’t. I just . . . The night I called his receptionist, I stayed awake because I couldn’t sleep. When he came home it was after eleven and I could tell he was surprised I was still up. I asked how his meeting went, and he said it went great.”
“That doesn’t mean he was cheating on you.”
“My money’s on closet crafter,” Kate interrupts with all the seriousness in the world, and it’s enough to bring a smile to my sister’s lips. But it falters a second later when she opens them to speak again.
“Last week I followed him.”
“What?”
“I followed him to these condos near the downtown ASU campus. I would have gone inside too, but I had Claire in the backseat. It was dinnertime and she started crying. I just couldn’t . . . I couldn’t face him with our daughter in my arms.” She sniffles.
“Aw, Mel.” Kate grabs my sister’s hand. “Don’t cry, okay. I’m sure he’s just hiding his love for patterned fabrics. Whatever happens, we’ve got your back.”
I nod. “Jon and I will get to the bottom of this so don’t you worry. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation.”
And if there’s not and he is cheating on my sister? Well, he’s going to regret the day he was born. I’ll kill him with my bare hands . . . if someone else doesn’t get to him first.
CHAPTER THREE
Tate
Finishing with my last client of the day, I make a few notes so I won’t forget what we accomplished during our session and head through the locker rooms to check my schedule for tomorrow.
The upscale fitness club gives our members state-of-the art equipment, group classes, and personal training options. I started working at Lift Me Up after I moved to Arizona to be close to my sister and her boys. At the time they needed my help, and t
his club was the best paying in the area. I love my career, helping people to better their health, and for the most part it’s a blessing to do what I love for a living. My schedule is unconventional though, lots of nights and weekends, and I consider myself lucky for finding a woman who not only understands, but is supportive. It doesn’t hurt that her PI work with Jon requires the same kind of off hours.
I smile at our receptionist and tap one of the open tablets to find my booked sessions. When I see someone booked me for another private training session tonight, I check the time and walk over to Carrie. “I don’t recognize my last appointment. Did you add someone to my schedule?”
Normally I’d appreciate the extra income, but I’m busy as it is until the wedding. Adding anyone else to my already hectic schedule isn’t good. I’m taking two weeks off for our honeymoon, so it’s a bad time to start someone in a routine only to hand them off to another trainer.
“Wait? You don’t know her?” Carrie furrows her brow and pinches her lips together. “She seemed adamant that you two know each other. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have scheduled her. Nick said no new clients for you until next month. I thought this would be an exception.”
Strange. I study the name again. Lindsay Jones. Lindsay. Not striking any memories. I shrug and smile at Carrie. “Oh, well. No harm. Maybe I’ll remember her once I see her.”
Carrie laughs. “Such a guy thing to say. Evie’s already banished all other women from your mind, hasn’t she?”
“Since the moment I met her,” I admit. Another glance at my wristwatch confirms my mystery client is running ten minutes late. I’ll bet money she never comes. “I’m heading over to the free weights. If Lindsay ever shows up, send her my way. And let her know I can’t stand it when a client’s late.”
“Sure thing.” Carrie goes back to scrolling through her phone. The club is pretty empty this time of night. Fridays start to clear out after seven and resemble a ghost town after eight. Evie texted earlier that “the shit hit the fan” and she’d be late so, instead of waiting around for a no-show, I begin my own workout.
Earbuds in, I stride to an open bench and load the bar with enough weight to warm up my muscles. Scooting under the bar I push it up and bring it back down along my chest. Set after set, my body groans in protest of the challenge, but I push through anyway. I’m completely in the zone when an upside down blonde head enters my peripheral vision.
“Hey there, hot stuff.” She grins as if we’re friends.
Racking the weight, I pull the buds from my ears and sit up on the bench to meet her stare. “Lindsay . . .” It all clicks. The name, the time, the place. Lindsay Jones. Five, maybe six years ago back in Cali. We dated maybe a dozen times, hooked up a few, and I haven’t seen or thought of her since. “You must be my client.”
“Ready to get my sweat on.” She unzips her hoodie and peels it from her arms. “And before you give me a hard time, I’m sorry for being late. The girl up front tried to warn me, but I already remember that about you. I’m still getting the hang of the mass transit system here. Not as easy to navigate as back home, but I’ll get used to it.”
“I’ll give you a pass. This time only.”
“Always were fair. Thank you. So, what’s first?”
“Let’s get you warmed up.” It doesn’t escape me that her eyes light up with my words and I wish I had a giant sign on my head that flashes, “TAKEN.” Since I don’t, I’ll have to be less discreet. “Treadmill for a few minutes. We can catch up. What’s it been, four, five years?”
“Seven.” She laughs.
“Wow. Really? You haven’t changed a bit.” She hasn’t, either. Looks the same as I remember, and with her form fitting workout clothes there’s little left to the imagination. A flash of guilt hits me in the gut for envisioning how she looks naked. Not that I want her, I don’t, it’s just that I can’t help but remember.
Her smile brightens. “You’ve certainly bulked up. Do you compete?”
Crap. Now she’s admiring my body. “Nah. I love fitness, but I don’t have the time or passion for competitions. Too busy planning my wedding.” I tap the buttons on the treadmill to ramp up the settings.
Her brow rises and her lips pull up to one side with a smirk. “Should’ve guessed that. All the good ones are taken. Congrats.” She has to switch to a jog to keep up with the pace.
“So, what brings you to Arizona?”
“Work.”
“I’m sorry. What do you do again? It’s horrible that I don’t remember.” And I don’t, but I also don’t want my questions to seem anything more than friendly.
“I still work at the bank. I transferred out here for a management position.” And that’s when I remember how we met. Teller girl. I’d moved to California and she helped set up my checking account. She was flirty and attractive, still is. We hooked up on occasion, but I broke things off and signed up for direct deposit when it became clear she wanted more.
“Congrats on the promotion,” I say and increase the incline and speed. I have to hand it to her, because she doesn’t even break a sweat as she keeps up with the challenging pace. “Enough chit chat. I’m being too easy on you.” I up the pace some more.
She only grins and takes longer strides. After a few minutes I stop the machine, and she hops off when the gears slow.
“So, Lindsay, what are your fitness goals? It’s obvious you’re in excellent condition.”
“That’s the thing, Tate. I can’t let myself go. I’m afraid being in a new city, with work taking up most of my waking hours, I’ll let my gym time slide. I’m here for accountability.”
I nod, appreciating her foresight in realizing her needs and limits. “That works. Let’s do a mix of cardio and weight training, unless you have a specific area you’d like to concentrate on.”
“Full body is what I need.” She smiles and tilts her water bottle for a drink.
“In that case . . . why don’t we step into my office,” I tease, gesturing to the squat rack.
Her laughter is light when she steps ahead. “Thank you, kind sir.”
The rest of our time together goes by quickly and I make the rare exception of giving her a full hour of training even though she arrived late. It’s something I don’t do often because it only encourages tardiness, but it’s clear to me Lindsay’s here to work. And I felt a little sorry for her. I know how difficult it can be moving to a new city and finding friends. I can’t help but wonder if her need for PT comes from a place of loneliness as much as fitness goals. She’s a cool woman, just as I remember her. We didn’t work out, but it wasn’t for any negative reason. I hope she meets someone who’s her perfect fit. The way I found Evie. Everyone deserves that kind of happiness.
CHAPTER FOUR
Evelyn
I’ve tailed a lot of vehicles over the past twelve months, and I’ve become quite proficient at it. There’s always an adrenaline kick. A buzz that comes with following someone, unbeknownst to them, in a challenge to find their deep and dirty secrets. But today is different. Today I’m following someone I know. Drew is family. He’s been with my sister since I was a teenager, and up until this last weekend I never doubted my trust in him. The pit of nervous energy in my stomach grows with each mile as he heads toward the address my sister gave us.
“Jon. You there?” I say into my earpiece when we’re less than two miles out.
“Yep. Hanging like a total fucking creeper.”
“Are you inside?” We did a preliminary drive-by yesterday, and learned the condos are connected with a gated common area. A parking lot surrounds the entire complex and won’t afford us much visibility, but Jon’s surprisingly sneaky for a six-foot-two wall of muscle. His years in the Army were the perfect training for a private investigator.
“Yeah, the courtyard was easy to get into. I only had to wait for some hipster kid to hold it open for me. There’s a unit for rent that has a direct view of the street entry. I’ll see everything unless Drew goes inside one on this side.�
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“Did you break into an empty condo?”
“Nah. I called the listing agent and took a tour last night. Left one of the windows unlocked while she was raving about the stainless steel appliances. This entire place has shit security. If I have a daughter she’s never living alone. Ever.”
“I actually feel bad for any child of yours. Boy or girl, they aren’t getting away with anything. Still waiting to find out the baby’s gender?”
“Yeah. We want to be surprised.”
“Good. I’m following three cars behind. Drew’s heading in your direction. He’s two minutes out.” Part of me is relieved Drew’s traveling toward the same destination he has for the last two weeks because it will help us figure out what he’s doing. Another part of me is hoping he goes home to my sister.
“This is stupid.” Jon blows out a breath and it crackles through the line. “Why don’t we just ask him why he’s here?”
“Because he could lie and our cover would be blown.” Jon knows exactly why we can’t, unless . . . “Wait. You think Melissa’s full of crap, don’t you?”
“I know first-hand how emotional and temperamental a pregnant woman can be. I have no doubt she believes he’s cheating. I just don’t buy it.”
“It’s hard for me to picture, too. But how many clients have we worked for whose marriage seems fault-free, yet we find proof of cheating? It happens. No one is immune.”
“That’s so cynical, QT. What happened to your positive outlook?”
“This job. Too many cheaters and liars in the world. I’d love to be proved wrong this time.”
“What does Tate say?”
Drew pulls in the first entrance and I drive past. “Oh. Um . . .”
“You haven’t told him?” Jon’s shock comes through his tone and he lets loose a long whistle.
“You know I can’t discuss clients with him!” I flip my rental car around and turn in the far entrance. I spot Drew’s car immediately and pull into a far corner space. With shades and a hat he shouldn’t recognize me, nor should he need to walk in this direction, but I slink down in my seat just in case.
