Accidental Tryst Page 17

  “You look happy. Is it because the fifth floor offices are finished and you’re getting the best one?”

  She flashed a smile to Katy as she dried her hands. “Hey, Katy. Yeah, something like that.”

  “Well, it looks good on you.”

  “Thanks. Listen, I’ve been meaning to ask you. You and Bri remodeled your house last year. Did you like the company you hired?”

  She tipped her head slightly. “We did. Are y’all thinking about remodeling your house?”

  “Yes. Well, that or moving into something bigger.”

  “Good for you. If you want, I’ll dig out his name and email it you. I do know a realtor, too. He’s been in the area for years. Really knows his way around.”

  “Yeah? That would great. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Angie strode back to her office. What a serendipitous trip, she thought. Things were definitely flowing these days. What a sharp contrast from a few weeks ago.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mac read from his tablet at the kitchen table and glanced at the time—a little over an hour before the boys would be dropped off from their practices.

  The doorbell rang, and Angie went to answer it. That would be the real estate agent Angie had learned about from a woman in her office. What was his name? Bradley something.

  He rather liked the contractor, Earl, they’d met two nights ago. They’d shared their ideas about the house. Earl had agreed, then added a few ideas of his own. They’d discussed bumping out a wall in the master bedroom, leaving room to expand the bathroom. In addition, they could take out a wall between the breakfast nook and family room, opening the whole area. The house needed more remodeling, but some things would have to wait. They would take the projects one at a time.

  Angie had agreed with him to pay Earl the few hundred bucks needed to generate a computer design so they could see the full scope of the new layout—he was anxious to see what it would look like.

  Mac had to admit, it felt good. Maybe because this was what Angie really wanted. Maybe because it represented a fresh start for both of them. Mac didn’t care about the reason. Knowing he and Angie were moving forward and trying to fix their broken marriage meant everything to him. He felt it deep in his bones—they had something worth salvaging.

  He heard some chattering at the front door, as Angie showed the agent into the house. The voice sounded rather feminine. Mac closed his tablet cover and stood as Angie and the agent entered the kitchen.

  The floor dropped out from underneath him.

  There, in front of him, stood Victoria. The woman he had almost fucked a few months before. The breath left his lungs, and his chest seized up like a rhino sat on him. Her eyes went wide, but Victoria recovered quickly.

  “Victoria, this is my husband, Mac. Mac, this is Victoria Hemming.”

  Wearing a skirt suit, her hair pulled back, Mac wasn’t fooled by the eyeglasses she wore. She held out her hand for a shake. Mac swallowed hard, and looking down, he took it. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Hemming.” He forced a smile.

  What the fuck was she doing in his house?

  He turned toward Angie, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “I thought you had Bradley coming to see us.”

  Angie tipped her head ever-so-slightly. “Victoria is from Bradley’s office. He was on an appointment so Victoria’s here instead.” Angie faced the realtor and said, “Please, have a seat.”

  Victoria glided to the table as though she hadn’t a care in the world, like a tornado that could wreck a town and move on to the next. From her high-gloss hair to her excessive makeup, she wasn’t real. Her emotions weren’t real.

  She’d paid big bucks to have the kind of polish Angie had naturally. How in the hell did he ever think she was attractive? Sure, he’d been drunk, but still. Angie was real, with a heart of gold that anyone would envy. Victoria had nothing on Angie.

  “Mr. and Mrs. MacKey, I can assure you, I am very experienced, and although I would be your listing agent, you get the power of the whole office working to sell your house.”

  Mac jumped on that. “Oh, of course, and I meant no offence. Angie and I are actually considering a few different options. Selling the house is one of them. So why don’t you tell us about your services.” Do I need to tell you that I’m only asking about your professional services?

  The low bubble of anger in his gut sped to a full-on boil. This woman, sitting across from him in his house, had made a play for him. And now, she had the gall to come into his home, and try and convince him to let her sell it for them. She had to know the owner’s names before she accepted the appointment.

  Victoria started with her spiel about knowing the area and having buyers ready to view whenever they were ready to put it on the market. She laid out her marketing plan and how the house would be priced. Mac was certain she’d given that speech thousands of times before.

  But he would not give her the satisfaction of riling him up. He made sure he appeared calm and relaxed. He smiled occasionally, mostly to his wife. He had a second chance with Angie, and he would not let Victoria come in and fuck it up.

  Angie rose and Victoria followed. “Let me show you around.”

  She needs to go. He blotted his brow. If she even thought of saying something to Angie, she would regret it for as long as he lived.

  Angie took her on a brief tour, and they returned to the foyer. Mac stood waiting. The sooner Victoria got out, the better.

  “Well, thank you so much. It was great meeting you both,” the realtor said.

  “You too,” Angie replied.

  “I’ll touch base with you in a few days.” She held out a hand.

  “Sounds good. That will give me and Mac some time to think it over.”

  Mac opened the door for her. “Have a nice night, Ms. Hemming.”

  They said their goodbyes and Mac closed the door, maybe too harshly. There was no way in hell she was selling their home, if he and Angie decided to sell.

  “What did you think?” he asked Angie as they strolled back into the kitchen.

  “I like her. What do you think?”

  Mac tipped his head. “Uh, I think we can do better. Her speech felt a little canned. Maybe we should get some other realtors to interview, if we decide to go that route.”

  * * *

  Angie felt that something was off. There was nothing wrong with Victoria, but Angie sensed Mac didn’t like the realtor the moment she’d walked in. He’d acted cool and terse toward her. That was not Mac’s style. Even if he didn’t like someone, he could hide it well enough.

  Sirens went off in Angie’s head, and loudly. She sent a silent prayer to the heavens that she was wrong.

  “I sorta liked her.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “But I definitely got the impression you didn’t like her from the get-go.”

  “What?” He stacked the papers on the kitchen table and then filled his glass from the water pitcher.

  “Have you met her before?”

  Mac maintained eye contact, but blinked a few times. “I am merely making judgments on the job I think Victoria would do for us,” he said, not addressing her question. “I just think it would be wise to interview other realtors as well.”

  “That’s the first time you called her Victoria.”

  Mac licked his lips. “What is it, Angie?”

  She lifted her nose in the air. No sense dancing around her issue. “Mac, my gut is screaming at me right now, that you know this woman. If that’s the case, why aren’t owning up to it? Because that tells me you have something to hide. Please, tell me I’m wrong.”

  Mac looked down and ran a hand over his brow and through his hair. He raised his gaze back to her. He didn’t say a word. And the longer the silence, the deeper her horror spread. She felt the tiny pricks at the back of her eyes.

  What is he not saying?

  He reached for her hand, and she let him. “Angie, it was while we were separated. I realized what a mistake I
was about to make and ended it immediately. It meant nothing.”

  God no! She yanked her hand back and crossed her arms in front of her. “So, you not only know her…you almost had sex with that woman?” she said as she pointed toward the front door.

  Blood roared in her ears. Her heart pounded in her chest so hard, she feared it might explode.

  Again, he didn’t say a word. Then he nodded. “Almost. I don’t want her—”

  “Shut up!” She stepped back.

  This can’t be happening, she thought.

  Oh, God. “How could you do this?”

  Mac’s eyes showed dull and sorrowful. “It was a mistake. I was drunk and not thinking clearly. It’s never happened before, and—”

  “Stop it! Don’t say it.” The tears that threatened to spill, let loose, and streamed down her cheeks. “I can’t trust anything that comes out of your mouth.” She shook her head. She needed space.

  She felt like they were in a movie, like this wasn’t real. Another hour, the story would have a happen ending and the credits would roll. “How could this happen?” she said to no one. “I never cheated on you when we were separated.” She pointed her finger at him, her face hot.

  “Angie, please. Let me explain.”

  “No!” She sobbed. She braced one hand on the counter and covered her face with the other. She wanted to crawl out of her skin. Then she lowered her voice and said, “You need to leave.” She looked him dead in the eyes. She was so hurt and angry, she could hardly see straight. To think she was allowing him back in. What a fool!

  His gaze turned glassy. “Please, Angie. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I want to work this out.”

  “I don’t see how we can. I need space. Go.” With those parting words, she turned, walked into the bedroom and closed the door.

  She stood against the door and waited. Finally, she heard the garage door close, and she let herself sink to the ground.

  She sobbed so loud, she didn’t recognize her own voice. A kick in the stomach would’ve been less painful, a severed limb . . . the man had just ripped out her heart and laid it out on their tile floor for her to watch it shrivel and die. She covered her face with her hands. How could this happen? They were on the right track. They were getting back together. How could he? She’d trusted him. Goddammit!

  He’d made a fool of her. She should have never let him move back in.

  Not to mention, the boys were expected back soon, and she had no idea what to tell them. Damn him! Damn him!

  * * *

  Mac drove out of town with no clue as to where he was headed. Cold sweat trickled down his neck.

  How had this happened? He’d won Angie back. He got his wife back.

  He’d been listening to her, really listening. He complimented her more. He’d held her hand the few times they’d gone out. He paid attention to her, and he could see the difference. She was letting him back in. They were reconnecting, and bam! Happiness disappeared in an instant.

  His greatest fear realized.

  He’d fucked up being with Victoria, and fucked up again not thinking he would ever run into her. He thought he’d hidden his reaction well enough when he saw the woman walk into his house. How in the world had Angie picked up on it?

  His car pulled into an empty parking spot in front of a liquor store. He stepped out of the car and went inside in search of a liter of his favorite whiskey. His plan—drink himself into oblivion.

  After some more driving, he found a hotel on the outskirts of Dallas—quiet and away from anyone he might fucking know.

  He looked in the backseat and noticed his trusty gym bag. Clean clothes, shoes, and a few toiletries. He had to believe all he needed was one night’s worth of clothes. He would call Angie the next day and hope like hell she wouldn’t hang up on him. He could repair this. She just needed time. Time to absorb the blow, then realize it was before they had reconciled, and she was sure to forgive him when she calmed down.

  How did this happen?

  Sipping from the glass, he scanned the room. He’d stayed at a thousand hotels like this over the years. They all looked and felt the same—neutrals colors, nothing too offensive, and no Angie. He didn’t want to be in some crappy hotel room. He wanted to be home. Home was Angie.

  He glanced at his phone after his second drink, eager for a text or voicemail from Angie. Even yelling at him, at least she’d be talking to him. Nothing.

  He rubbed his eyes. He’d lost the woman he loved, all in a moment of weakness. Of course, he had only himself to blame.

  Hell, you brought this on yourself.

  She didn’t care how much you made or how hard you worked. Angie just wanted you. Your time and attention. How hard was that to give?

  He loved this woman. Had since the moment he’d laid eyes on her.

  He took another sip and replayed the day over and over, like witnessing a wreck in slow-motion. His stomach roiled. He felt like shit. He flipped the channels some more, hoping to numb himself along with his fifth glass of whiskey. He hadn’t cried in . . . years. This could be the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Monday morning Angie dragged her body into the office. Two days since she’d learned about Mac’s cheating and threw him out. Unfortunately, makeup did little to hide the dark circles or add color to her pale skin.

  “Good morn— Oh, hell. What happened to you?” Nicole’s eyes rounded.

  Angie looked down while she turned on her computer. She shook her head, but couldn’t speak. She already felt tears gathering at the thought of explaining what had happened.

  “C’mon. Bring your purse,” Nicci said as she took Angie’s hand and led her to the ladies’ lounge.

  They sat, Nicci still holding her hand. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Angie had to tell Nicci what had happened. She trusted her friend to the ends of the earth, and she needed to unload this heavy burden. She’d been half-tempted to call Nicci that weekend to confide in her.

  She took in a deep breath and began. “We had a real estate agent come by the house Saturday to talk to us about selling it. Katy gave me the name. Well, the agent she recommended couldn’t come, so he sent someone else from his office. A woman,” her voice croaked unexpectedly. “Mac, knew her. I could feel it, so I asked him about it and he did.”

  She blinked and several tears let loose before she could continue.

  Nicci squeezed her hands.

  “I had a sense that something was off, Nicci. I asked him if he’d slept with her. He said he had, once.”

  Nicci furrowed her brow. “What did you do?”

  “I told him to leave. I haven’t seen or talked to him since Saturday. Oh God, Nicci. What do I do?”

  “Oh, sweetie. I don’t know. Do you believe it was only the once?”

  Angie thought about it. That question had crossed her mind endless times this past weekend. “My gut tells me yes, it’s only been the one time.”

  “Was it while you two were separated?”

  Angie nodded. “But that doesn’t matter. He said he wanted—always wanted—to get back together with me. No one does that if they’re trying to get back with their wife.” She wiped her cheek briskly.

  Her blood pressure climbed as anger covered the pain and despair. “What the hell?”

  “I know. Don’t make any rash decisions. You’ve been so happy these last few weeks—excited about remodeling or even selling.” Nicci smoothed her thumbs over the backs of Angie’s hands. “Excited that you two were reconciling and about Mac moving back in.” She inhaled. “All I’m suggesting is that you give it some time, sweetie.”

  Angie’s head dropped forward and tears fell on her skirt.

  Nicole leaned forward and wiped Angie’s cheeks with a tissue. “Can you give it a little time?”

  Could she? Angie hadn’t been able to sleep at all since Mac left. The boys were sullen and quiet again when she’d told them that she and their father had more work to do if they were to reconcile. She
cried because she was sad, depressed, and embarrassed.

  She nodded to Nicci, who wrapped her in a hug. “Of course you can. Give it a few days, then you two can sit down and talk.”

  “I suppose,” she responded because really what was a few days or weeks? She certainly had no plans. No Fabio waiting in the wings to whisk her off to a tropical island. She sighed heavily.

  After another minute, Angie fixed her makeup and walked back to her office, aware of being on the clock.

  Jarmon buzzed her line a few hours later. He sounded panicked. Some designers were having trouble keeping up with demand. He asked her to meet with him, the buyers, and distribution.

  In many respects, this was a good problem to have—the market loved what l’Amour was selling. Their clientele was excited about the new men’s line and were buying it up. Production couldn’t keep pace with demand.

  Angie reassured Jarmon she would send out a press release with the proper spin on it. In the meantime, the buyers needed to make sure production would be equipped to handle the full company-wide rollout next year. It was one thing to have issues during a test market, but that wouldn’t be allowed once there was a full rollout.

  Angie was just grateful for the distraction. Anytime she thought about Mac, her heart ached. She replayed Saturday over and over, and each time her stomach knotted. He’d called several times and sent a few text messages. She couldn’t bring herself to listen to the messages. She couldn’t understand how he could cheat on her when they were on the road to recovery.

  * * *

  At five-fifteen, Nicci strolled into Angie’s office.

  “How did you do today?”

  She looked up from her screen, not wanting to think about the day ending. That meant going home to upset boys, and she positively hated that they were going through all this shit.

  “I survived.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “No, that’s okay.” Then she remembered Stuart’s playoff game. “Wait. There is something. Care to come with me to Stuart’s football game Friday? I don’t know if I could handle the possibility of facing Mac alone.”