FRIDAY AFTERNOON, HUNTER DROPPED me off at ten a.m., pecking my lips and telling me he’d see me later. There was a cloud over his eyes that I didn’t understand, but I soon would.
Everything would be clear to me in the hours leading up to three forty-five.
At that time, as I sat at my desk chewing on my nails and wondering why I wasn’t on a flight to New York with Hunter right now, I heard the familiar sound of a key in the lock, and then the comforting beep beep beep of the key code to our security system.
Our. And just like that I fell back into being a couple.
“Welcome home.” I turned the corner to find the man I’d pledged my love and loyalty to just four short years ago, my nerves instantly churning wondering what mood he would be in. Frustration and anger often dominated lately, but I still held hope that the laidback guy I married would make an appearance.
“Hey,” Brant grunted, his eyes bloodshot and averted, before he dropped his suitcase at the front door and headed up the stairs for his bedroom. The one across from the master.
Because that was the other shameful secret I’d carried. When my mother was over, I made up the guest room as if it hadn’t seen a guest in years, but in reality it had had a bed companion every night in the form of Brant. I’d kicked him out of our bed over a year ago when, upon unpacking clothes from a recent trip he’d made, I’d found lipstick stains on his shirt and a heady floral scent that did not belong to me. It was only another nail in the coffin of our marriage.
“How long are you home?” I padded up the stairs behind him, holding the lukewarm cup of tea in my hands, both curious about what he’d been up to, and scared to turn my back on him.
“Few days only, then back to London.” He peeled off his clothes, tossing his crisp white shirt on the floor after stepping into the bedroom, turning to remove his slacks.
I averted my eyes out of modesty. I’d seen it all before of course, and Brant was a very attractive man, though not as tall as Hunter, he was just as imposing with dark eyes that cut across the room and seemed to expose the heart of every lie you ever told. Always thinking the worst, that’s how Brant was.
“Do you want me to get you anything?” I asked, thinking a drink may help to calm his nerves.
“Look, Erin, it’s been a long fucking flight. I’m only here for a business meeting in the morning. Believe me, if I could have avoided the trip I would have.” He shut me down before stepping in the en-suite, and I heard the spray of the shower.
“Okay,” I replied as I clutched at my cup, the pain of our failed marriage, his anger and negativity always boiling just beneath the surface, left me numb. Our life had been built on a stack of stolen cards. This house, the trips, the cars, how could I have been so stupid to think he’d risen so quickly at a company to make that kind of money? He’d always explained away the extravagant things with talks of bonuses and substantial commissions, but looking back, how couldn’t I have known?
I frowned and stepped into the rapidly fogging bathroom, watching his lean body through the transparent door as he soaped up his hair, rivulets of white lather running down the hard muscles of his physique. I was fascinated by his betrayal. Like marinating in the pain it caused, I was drawn to the secrets hidden behind his dark eyes.
“Something on your mind, Erin?” Brant called, startling me from my thoughts. I stayed silent, letting the air hang thick with the question. Brant swiped the soap out of his eyes and his bright blues flashed open to land on mine. They narrowed, then glazed with some sort of understanding, then seemed to harden and flick away again.
Yes, I believed one hundred percent Brant had it in him to have less than legal connections with a crime boss. What surprised me more than that realization was the anger boiling through my system directed solely at myself. I refused to be played a fool again, not with Brant, Hunter, or anyone else. My mother had taught me many things in her own special brand of parenting, but at least she’d shown me by example how to be independent. Be strong. Be clever. Survive.
“Want to order out from Gino’s?” I sang out, affecting the normal melodic tone my voice carried. It was my turn to play the cards I’d been dealt. And the game was survival.
