Trouble Won't Wait (11 page)

I laugh heartily. He deserves to be embarrassed. “Yep. How’d you find out about my writing?”

“I Googled you.”

I never imagined he’d Google me. “You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes.”

“You like it?”
Yeah, I think I like everything about you, especially the aforementioned birthmark.

“Mmm. You must’ve been to Wal-mart to get my book.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ma’am is
definitely
a Texas word.

“Feeling better, are we?”

“Now that I heard your voice, I am. Two weeks left, Sloane.”

It takes a minute for me to get it. Sloane was Ferris’s girlfriend. My heart just rode the Zipper at the carnival, and it doesn’t know which way is up.

Who is Laura? It’s blaring in my head, but I can’t bring myself to ask. It will ruin everything, and I like hearing what he’s saying. Maybe there’s a reasonable explanation. I can still remember his heartfelt words,
I love you, you know that? I’ve been wanting to tell you ever since…
Since what? Since they split up? I can only hope. The little voice that always ruins things tells me,
But he still loves her, stupid. What are you doing?

“You still there?” he asks in a smaller voice. “You don’t like the Sloane thing?”

“I like it. A lot.” I can’t question him, not now. Maybe later.

“Hey, thanks for taking care of me.”

“No problem.” Truth is, I enjoyed it, when he wasn’t in danger of cooking his brain.

“Why do my sheets smell so good? Is it that Bounce stuff? I think they’re softer, too.”

“You’ll read a romance novel, but not the box of dryer sheets? That’s what they’re
for
. To make your stuff softer, and make it smell good. And not static-y. But don’t use it on your towels and socks. It’ll make cotton stiffer.”

A laborious sigh. “Laundry has so many rules! Do women just know these things?”

“Yeah, it comes attached to the X chromosome, like males knowing how to tickle comes with the Y. Are you coming out today when I walk by? Cause I think I forgot what you look like.”

“I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Just drag your ass out there, or I’m coming in.” I hang up, feeling supremely bossy and liking it.

When I see him, his face is thinner and pale, but his eyes sparkle and his dimples are out. I’d love to go inside and hug him good, but it’s better if I keep my distance, lest I never come out of there. As I leave, I look back at him from the street, and he blows me a kiss.

With all the emails and now the calls, I’m starting to know how he thinks, and I really love his sense of humor. It doesn’t hurt that he tells me little uplifting things all the time, like I’m cute or stacked, or whatever nutty thing strikes him. I may be falling for him, which is crazy and scary and hard, because Mike reminds me, every time he can, of some special moment we shared and how much he still loves me.

Mike hasn’t slowed down one bit with his quest to re-woo me. There are stacks of presents under the tree from him to me, and I have yet to buy him one thing. I thought viciously of giving him condoms, but he’s too late to protect himself from Lana, and I wouldn’t want to give him the idea I’d let him near
me
with one on. He texts me all the time, and emails me with WAV files of love songs from when we first married. I’m flattered and touched by it all, no matter how hard I try not to be.

* * * *

I saw Brad one day at the grocery store with Lana, and he shrugged his shoulders at me, palms up, asking me what? Why was I mad at Lana? I didn’t go near them, only forced a smile. I don’t think he cares about Lana that much, she’s mainly a regular piece of ass. It’s going to be more about the betrayal than about losing her, when he finds it all out.

I still feel guilty about not telling Brad. A part of me feels like keeping it quiet will keep it from being real.

Maybe somewhere inside, I’m hoping I’ll get over this and it can all go away. God knows, seeing Mike hurting at the same time I am makes me think it would be best for me to forgive and forget. It’s a constant struggle to remain conscious of what he did to cause all this pain.

* * * *

Tonight is Mike’s company Christmas party and I couldn’t get out of going. I’m dressed up in new clothes, since none of my stuff from last year fits anymore. Clingy black velvet pants and a sexy silver camisole show off a figure I’ve never had until now.

“Wow, babe. You look hot,” Mike says when I come out of the bedroom.

With my back to him, I roll my eyes in disgust. Ben sees me. Poor kid looks confused, but I smile reassuringly at him, mentally kicking myself for being so careless. He’ll have questions for me this weekend.

This party is really a dinner at a ritzy steak restaurant that has country music and dancing on weekends. The place is usually packed, but even more so this time of year.

Mike’s employees whistle cat-calls at us when we enter. Most of them haven’t seen me since Fourth of July, when Mike took them all to Lake Powell for a week on a houseboat. I blush, and Mike appears truly surprised by the whistling.

For a second I wonder if he put them all up to it, but he’s looking like he can’t believe they noticed I’m female. I don’t think he’d do that if he’d planned this. A couple of the guys take me for a spin on the dance floor while we’re waiting for dinner. When we’re done eating, Mike holds out his hand to me and I really can’t bring myself to refuse in front of all his guys.

Tonight is the first time Mike has danced with me since my brother’s wedding and, I predict, the last. Maybe one day when the kids have weddings, I’ll spare some goodwill and dance with him again.

The song is slow, George Strait’s
You Look So Good in Love
, and Mike holds me tight, moving his hands all over the soft pants covering my bottom. He knows that always makes me hot, and he starts kissing my ear, doubling the temptation. I’ve been drinking anything that was offered, knowing this is my last party with the company, and conscious of the impending end of my marriage. It’s a big deal to me, ending this lifelong commitment, and I’m really feeling it tonight.

“I love you so much, baby,” Mike whispers in my ear.

It’s just too much. I can’t help trembling against him as I cry.

He tips my face up. His thumbs brush away my tears, and his familiar mouth comes down on mine.

I’m sinking into this kiss, unable to fight it anymore. Unwilling to. He’s a good, loving man who made an error in judgment. And he loves me so much. He just told me so. I melt against him and kiss him back. It’s been ages since the last time we made love, and I’m missing it bad.

Mike has his wits about him enough to notice his guys are staring. Because he’s the designated driver tonight, he isn’t drinking. He leads me outside and around the corner. It’s freezing out, but he draws me into his suit jacket and we make out some more.

God, I want him so bad. I love him so much. I realize too late that I’m saying these things aloud, and he’s saying he knows, he knows I love him, want him. Of course he can tell I want him, he always can. He knows everything about me. Like that I forgive him for everything.

How long until he cheats again, like Aunt Clara predicted? What would Aunt Clara think of me now? But it sure feels good here. Maybe I could give in, just this once. He’d have to use a condom. I don’t want to catch anything. And then there’s Adam. How would he feel? Would I be cheating on Adam if I had sex with my husband?

Ohh, it’s all suddenly too much for my spinning head.

“Mi-ike!” I cry. “Move, I’m gonna–”

He steps out of my way just in time. Obviously I’ve had too much to drink. Time for Mandy to call it a night. While I’m in the ladies’ room getting myself together, Mike finds one of his guys who is on the wagon and leaving soon. My ride is all arranged.

As he helps me into the car I’m going home in, Mike whispers, “Be in our bed upstairs, baby, and we’ll finish. I’ll be home as soon as I can. I’m so happy everything’s okay now.”

My head may be spinning, but did I say
that
?

Chapter 7

It’s morning and I’m in my downstairs bedroom. I feel awful, like I snacked on the lint from the dryer after drinking a toxic chemical from under the sink. I guess alcohol
is
a toxic chemical, huh?

Mike must’ve felt bad for me when he found me down here. He didn’t try anything, only kissed my forehead and left. Now there’s a fresh rose and a bottle of ibuprofen on the table next to the bed. And a note.

Gone huntin again. Thanks for last night.

:) M

Ugh. Almost makes me wonder if he got me drunk on purpose so he could worm his way back into my heart. Well, today I feel miserable and not at all forgiving. I can still remember how good it felt being with him again, how hot we are together after all these years.

Am I willing to give that up? Pretty sure, yeah.

Upstairs–takes me awhile to make it there–I find more flowers and a dozen doughnuts. He must have been up and around very early to get this stuff and still be able to join his friends hunting.

I almost jump out of my skin when the phone rings. It’s Aunt Clara. “Hello,” I sing, using a tone that would fool anyone but her into thinking I’ve been up for hours.

“Amanda, did I get you up?”

“No, I’m, um, up.” No use sugarcoating it. “It was Mike’s company party last night.”

“Still keepin’ up appearances, are we?”

“Yeah.”

“Still gonna give ’im the boot after Christmas?”

“Yeah.”

“Drink tomata juice. It’s the best thing for a hangover. Bye, honey.”

Like a child, I obey her command and rummage until I find a V-8 in the back of the pantry. Room temp is fine. If it was cold it would make me sick. Wise old bat’s advice makes me feel better in a few minutes. How could I have been through college and not have tried V-8? Why don’t they market this stuff for hangovers?

After I’m dressed, I call my brother to find out when he’s bringing the kids home. He’s planned lunch at McDonald’s, so I have a couple hours. Propelled by resolve to make something of the day, I call my friend with the kittens. They’re ready to go, she says.

I leave Wal-mart with litter-box, litter, kitten food, tiny food and water bowls, and an ensemble of cat toys. I fib successfully to my friend, telling her I’m picking up the kitten for “an old guy” who lives alone. Old is subjective, is it not?

I choose a little orange-yellow male, because he’s feisty. He plays with everyone and everything he comes in contact with, climbing all over his siblings in the process.

He scrambles up my sweater and rides on my shoulder to Adam’s house.

Adam looks much healthier when he opens his door; apparently he was down in the dungeon working out. He’s sporting a muscle shirt and shorts, toweling off his sweat. At last, the tables are turned and
he
is the one all sweaty, but he’s not less attractive this way. Just the opposite, in fact.

“What’s this?” he asks, surprised.

It’s a new car, what’s it look like? “I was out driving and I saw this pile of junk on the side of the road with a sign that said
Free
. I figured you should have a cat to go with it all, so I called a friend…” I giggle and bite my lip. I hope he isn’t mad.

Adam takes the kitty from me, holding him close to his face and looking in his spunky little green eyes. “Hey, little one,” he says in that high voice we all use for babies.

“He’s a little rascal, the most playful one in the bunch. And look at those feet! I think he’s gonna be big.”

“Rascal. That’s a good name.” Now Adam smiles at me, but not so much with his dimples. There’s a lot of a emotion in his expression I’ll leave unnamed. I step past him with the other stuff I’m juggling, and he starts apologizing for not helping me with it.

“No, being an invalid still, you probably can’t carry this much,” I tease. “I’m okay.”

He sets Rascal down on the living room carpet. The kitten hunches his back fiercely at the room at large.

Now Adam looks closer, scrutinizing me. Can he tell I’m hungover?

“You look pale. I hope you’re not getting sick?”

I brush him off and tear open the toys I got for Rascal, tossing a ball his way.

“What’s wrong?” Adam comes very close to me, messing up my breathing.

What can I say? I can’t exactly tell him I nearly slept with Mike last night. Maybe if I look back in his eyes, he’ll get excited and forget about what I’m covering up today. I know I will. If Adam kisses me, will I think of Mike like I did of Adam when Mike was kissing me? Wow, the thinking in circles is making me dizzy again.

“I’m hungover,” I finally admit. “It was the company Christmas party, and all the guys kept buying rounds. I might’ve been drinking mine and Mike’s.”

“So you were drunk and Mike wasn’t?”

I can tell where this is going.

“I rode home with one of his employees, and Mike drove home everybody who was drinking. Much later, I think.” I know I sound defensive, despite trying not to.

“Mandy, it’s not that I don’t trust
you
. I just know how guys’ minds work.
I’m
a guy, remember? If he’s trying to get you back, it’s easier to talk you into something when your defenses are down. That’s what I was thinking.”