The Affair

by J. L. Berg

  Even Reed?

  And how did I fit in this crazy puzzle? I’d been around for years, and I’d never picked up on it.

  Was I just as bad as the rest?

  In the short time I’d gotten to know Sawyer a little better, I’d discovered there were two basic moods—or flavors, if you will—to his personality.

  He was either chill or bubbly, and I was starting to recognize both.

  Chill was the guy I remembered from last night. Well, most of last night anyway.

  Chill Sawyer was the guy who had made me dinner and talked about dictation software. He was laid-back and didn’t come with a lot of bumps in the road. He set your mind at ease and was pleasant company.

  But then there was bubbly Sawyer, and he was a whole different beast.

  The second we’d finished dinner and we’d headed out back to look over the furniture he’d brought in to set up in his rental space, that calm demeanor had melted away. It was like this energy had taken over his whole body, and you couldn’t help but be swept in by the excitement he was exuding.

  It was infectious.

  Today however, I came to the realization that there were, in fact, three flavors, as I liked to say, to Sawyer.

  Walking into the shop that morning, I discovered besides being chill and bubbly, Sawyer could also be slightly manic and incredibly anxious. Just like his bubbly state, I could see the energy almost radiating off him like a living being—only this time, a nervous jitter was sliding off him in waves. His face was tight, his eyes too big, and he looked slightly green.

  “Hey, you okay?” I asked the second I walked in, setting down my travel mug of coffee, ready to check his forehead. It was something my mom always did in a moment like this, so I figured it might be worth a try.

  His head snapped in my direction like he’d just noticed my arrival. “What? Yeah. I’m fine. Do you think I need to move that one table back—the walnut top with the white legs—to the other side? And shift the end tables to the front?”

  He was wringing his hands, his gaze already drifting to his booth.

  “I think the way you arranged it is perfect, Sawyer.”

  “Really? Are you sure?”

  “Did you sleep at all last night?” I asked, motioning him to the wingback chair that still sat in the entryway. I was beginning to think it needed to stay there for moments exactly like this. Who knew when you might need a chair to rest in? Lately, this place had been becoming more and more like a therapy office than an antique store.

  He didn’t fight me and just fell back in the chair. “Um, a bit. Not really,” he finally admitted.

  “Do you want some coffee?”

  “Sure,” he said, still looking toward the booth.

  This was obviously going to require some stronger methods. Snapping my fingers in his face, I got his attention.

  “Hey!” I said. “Cut it out.”

  “What am I doing?”

  “You’re panicking.”

  “Am not,” he argued, before amending his statement. “Okay, fine. I am. But I’m just terrified nothing will sell.”

  “Well, it probably won’t.”

  He looked up at me in horror.

  “Not the first day at least. Probably not even the second. Hell, you might not make a dime the entire first week or even month.”

  He looked at me, completely dumbfounded. Clearly, this wasn’t the motivational speech he had expected, but it was the one he needed.

  “You’ve got to give it time. Isn’t that what you told me yesterday?”

  He let out a sigh. “I knew that would come back and bite me in the ass one day.”

  My eyebrow rose ever so slightly, making him laugh. “Go make us coffee.”

  “I thought you were doing that?”

  I shook my head. “You need something to keep your mind off that booth. Plus, I own the place.”

  “Fine, fine.”

  He played the part of disgruntled employee well—minus the smile plastered on his face. As he walked away, I tried not to watch. I tried not to notice the way his jeans clung to his ass.

  I really did.

  Humming to myself, I took my morning stroll around the store, checking each aisle to make sure things weren’t out of place from the day before. Everything appeared to be in order, so I decided to unlock the door a little early. What I hadn’t expected to find was someone there, waiting for me.

  “What do you want, Reed?”

  Not bothering to wait for an invitation, he stepped through the door the second I opened it, his eyes roaming the store like a wild animal.

  “I want to know why my brother is working here.”

  I let out a frustrated sigh, my arms wound tightly across my chest. “Why do you care?”

  “Because the whole damn town can’t stop talking about it.”

  I laughed. Well, it was more of a chuckle. “Really? The whole town? I thought there would be more chatter over your new girlfriend… or did you think I wouldn’t find out about that one?”

  He seemed to stumble over that for a moment, his gaze hitting the floor before finding its way back to mine. “I was going to tell you.”

  I just shook my head. “It’s none of my business,” I said. “Well, I mean, it was when you screwed her in the bar. But now that we’re divorced, I don’t care what you do with her.”

  “Elle,” he breathed out, my words clearly striking a nerve.

  I held my hands up, waving a white flag of cease-fire. “We’re done here.”

  “I don’t want Sawyer working here,” he said with a finality that made my blood boil.

  “And you think you can order me around because?”

  Ignoring my words entirely, he went on with his rant. “It gives people the wrong impression.”

  “And what impression does screwing some girl in the restroom bar give?”

  “Dammit Elle, when are you going to let that go?”

  My eyes widened, and my chest constricted. “Let that go?” I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper.

  “Reed, I think you should go,” a deep voice said behind me.

  I hadn’t even heard Sawyer approach, but now that he was here, I could feel his presence behind me.

  That normally sweet-spirited, easygoing guy was now radiating rage.

  And it was all pointed toward Reed.

  I watched as Reed assessed us. His eyes darted between me and his brother. “So, it’s like that then, is it? Is this how you’re going to get your revenge, Elle? By fucking my brother? Did he tell you about—”

  I felt Sawyer move, grabbing his brother by the shirt collar. “Get out. Now.”

  A slow smile crept up Reed’s lips, and it was then that I saw my ex-husband in a new light. I used to think we had a perfect love.

  That he was my soul mate.

  But, now, all I saw was a bully and a cheat.

  How had I been so blind to the truth?

  I thought if Sawyer hadn’t had him by the throat, Reed would have continued his rant all the way out the door, but instead, he left with what little dignity he had left.

  “Are you okay?” Sawyer asked, turning toward my direction the second Reed crossed the street.

  Nodding, I tried to will the tears away, but they came anyway. “How do you think he found out?”

  Another shrug, so Sawyer-like that it was comforting. “Does it matter? I didn’t know it was a secret that I worked here.”

  “It’s not,” I answered softly. “I just didn’t think about how people would see it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That they would think we’re together,” I answered, watching as he took a seat in the wingback.

  This time, there was nothing casual about his posture. He sat rigid with his body bent forward over his knees as if he was taking in every word I said with serious contemplation.

  “What was he talking about? Something you were going to tell me?”

  “Nothing,” he answered. “He was just trying to
rile me up. Does this bother you?” he asked rather pointedly. “The idea of us being thought of as a couple?”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  It should, I thought. But does it?

  “I think people believe we’re having some sort of torrid love affair in here.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” he said, his eyes finally making contact with mine. So blue. So vulnerable.

  So …

  I opened my mouth to answer, but the door swung open instead, and the bell chimed.

  Our first customer of the day had arrived.

  Saved by the bell …

  The second it became a socially acceptable time for lunch, I called out from the back of the store that I was taking my break and got the hell out of there. It was rare that I actually left the store during the day—aside from running errands—but today, I needed some space.

  From Sawyer, from the store, from the whole damn town.

  Well, everyone except for one person.

  Driving away from Main, I realized I’d never actually been to Candace’s house before. The only reason I knew where it was, was because I knew where mostly everyone’s house was.

  Even Sawyer’s.

  It was the perk of living in such a small place.

  Or possibly a curse, depending on how you looked at it.

  For years, I’d known that Sawyer lived less than a mile away from my childhood home on a little acreage he’d bought himself in his mid-twenties.

  For years, I’d driven past it on my way to my parents’ home every week for Sunday supper.

  And for the last year, I’d done my best to avoid it, thinking Sawyer was somehow a link to Reed and my former life.

  How little I’d known then.

  How little I still knew …

  The house had been a wreck when he bought it, but slowly, he’d managed to fix it up, and now, it was quite the place—or so it appeared to be from the road. I’d watched as he’d changed the paint from a dated beige to a vibrant blue. I’d appreciated the care he’d taken every step of the way.

  But Candace’s house, however, was a little closer to town and a bit shorter on charm. The term fixer-upper came to mind when I drove up, and I wondered if her and her husband had known what they were taking on when they bought it as young newlyweds a few years earlier.

  Parking on the gravel driveway, I realized I had no idea what Candace’s schedule was. Would I be walking in on the middle of feeding time? Nap time? Playtime?

  Did six-month-old babies have designated playtime?

  I had no idea.

  But before I could change my mind and talk myself out of this, I saw Candace waving from the dilapidated porch, baby in hand.

  “Hey, stranger! What a happy surprise! What are you doing, lurking in your car like that? Come on inside!”

  Doing as I had been told, I pulled my key from the ignition and grabbed my purse. Stepping out of the car, I headed toward the front door, feeling her megawatt smile on me like sunbeams from the heavens.

  “Eight hundred and fifty-four,” she said as I met her on the porch.

  “What?”

  “Eight hundred and fifty-four. That’s how many times it took me telling you to come by and visit and for you to finally listen.”

  I gave her a little shake of my head. “Oh, stop. You did not ask me that many times.”

  She put her free hand on her bare hip, her tiny daughter looking up while happily sitting on the other side. “Did so,” she argued. “But anyway, it doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Come on in and have a glass of iced tea. Or maybe coffee. It is a bit chilly.”

  “Now you’re talking.” I could never say no to coffee.

  I took a minute to look around as we headed inside. Everything was in a state of half-done, which was interesting, considering their baby, Penny, was right around the crawling age.

  Or did babies not do that at six months? Maybe it was more like nine?

  See, I told you, I knew nothing about kids.

  “Are you remodeling?” I asked, noticing a paint can in the hallway and a two-by-four up against the door that led to the powder room.

  She let out a sigh as we walked into the kitchen, and she closed a shiny metal baby gate behind us. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?”

  I watched as she began to move about the kitchen one-handed, pulling things out with ease, as if household tasks were always meant to be done with a child attached to your body. It was quite the sight to behold.

  She was Wonder Woman.

  “My husband is quite amazing at most things. Actually, until we bought this house, I thought he was perfect, and it was getting pretty damn annoying.” She laughed as she measured out the coffee, placing a little kiss on Penny’s forehead. “Then he started this to-do list. It was an ambitious list, but that’s always been Dan—never one to back down from a challenge—so I figured he’d tackle it like everything else: with gusto and that pesky perfection of his.”

  She turned, the coffee brewing, to join me at the table. “But it didn’t take much time to realize that he’s actually terrible at handiwork. And it’s not just the hard stuff, like remodeling. The man can’t even paint.”

  She couldn’t say it with a straight face. Admitting it made her grin like a lunatic.

  “And this makes me you happy? That your husband is bad at something?”

  Candace’s head bobbed up and down as moved Penny from her hip and placed her on her lap, facing me. “I’m not thrilled that there are paint buckets and tools all over my house, but does it help my own insecurities to know that he’s human, just like the rest of us? Oh, heck yes.”

  “And do you think your marriage is better off—because you see each other’s flaws?”

  “Oh sweetie, that’s what marriage is. Heck, that’s what love is. Seeing another for who they really are—the good and the bad—and loving it all.”

  I thought back to my own failed marriage. “I think I put Reed on a pedestal.”

  Her face tilted slightly. “Are you saying he’s not blameless for what he did?”

  I shook my head. “Oh no, definitely not. But I think I overlooked his flaws because I was convinced our love was perfect—that he was perfect—and because of that, I never really knew the real Reed. Instead, I created this fantastical version of him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I leaned back in my chair and tried to articulate my words. “Looking back, there was so much I missed. It was like I was in some sort of haze—a Reed haze. Today, I saw him; he came by the store to rant about Sawyer working for me.”

  Her eyes widened. “He did?”

  “Yeah, it was crazy. But it wasn’t so much what he said that was crazy; it was a validation that this was just how Reed behaves. It was like a veil was lifted, and I saw him in a new light.”

  “And what did you see?”

  “A jerk.”

  It was an admittance I hated to make. But the more and more the veil disintegrated from my eyes, I saw the truth.

  “I’m not wrong, am I? About Reed?”

  I could tell Candace was trying her best to be as politically correct as possible. “He’s not a bad guy,” she said, her eyes shifting down to baby Penny. “But he’s not about to win any Citizen of the Year awards either.”

  I let out a frustrated huff, and she immediately added, “I could always tell in high school that he tried. Like the community service he did during senior year.”

  “That was detention.”

  “Oh, really? Wow, what did he do?”

  “Senior prank gone wrong. I think a teacher’s car was vandalized. He got off easy,” I replied with a slight roll of my eyes. “Well, his dad persuaded the school to let him off easy.”

  “Okay, well, what about this one? Dan works the toy drive every year with the rest of the firehouse, and he said that for the last decade or so, someone anonymously donates a bunch of bikes.”

  “So?” I said, a little surprised. “That could be anyone
.”

  “It could be, but it could also be Reed. You know his family sponsors it. And we all know who in this town is synonymous with bikes.”

  “Well, if he is, I wouldn’t count on the donation this year. After the fight we had today, I doubt he ever wants to see a bike again. Plus, he’s got someone new in his life.”

  “He does?”

  I nodded. “The girl from the bar.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, Elle.”

  Holding up my hand in an effort to stop the emotions, I pressed on. “It’s fine. I’m over it. Over all of it.”

  “Is that why you finally took me up on my offer to visit—because you needed somewhere to cool off?”

  I nodded. “That, and I needed someone to talk to.”

  She smiled. “Well, I’m glad you chose me.”

  Penny chose that moment to laugh, clapping her hands together, making my face light up with joy.

  “Do you want to hold her while I fix our coffee? It sounds like it’s nearly done.”

  “Oh, um, I don’t know. I’ve never—”

  Candace looked amused. “Surely, you’ve held a baby before!” Obviously, the perplexed expression written all over my face was enough to answer her question. “Really? Never?”

  “My brother is very weird about his kids. They have a strict schedule and a packed routine, and no one is allowed to touch them without first completely disinfecting their entire body and donning a hazmat suit. It’s intimidating. So, after a while, I think I developed a fear of his little people, and now, we maintain a healthy distance from each other.”

  “Well, that’s just sad,” she said, plopping Penny on my lap with little to no fuss. “Kids are meant to be loved on and cuddled, not feared.”

  She stood there for a moment, gauging how I’d react to the tiny human on my lap. At first, I sort of sat there, frozen, unsure of what to do. Should I put my hands around her round middle or under her chubby arms? Should I flip her around, so she could see me? What was the proper protocol here?

  But Penny seemed to have a plan of her own. Turning her head around, she thoroughly investigated me with her eyes. She was a friendly girl, not upset in the least that her mother had thrust her into my arms. Pleased with herself, Candace went to the counter to pour our coffee while her daughter continued to look me over.