by Noelle Adams
She straightened up, his words slicing through her chest like a blade. “Is it?”
“Is what?”
“Is it going to end with our marriage?”
They stared at each other for a long time, tension palpable—shuddering in the air between them. Then Lincoln finally shook his head. “I don’t know, Summer. I don’t know any more than you do.”
She nodded, relieved that they’d at least gotten the unspoken questions out in the open. They didn’t have to have all the answers right now. At least they seemed to be on the same page. “Okay. Then let’s not tell him yet. Not until we know this is... something.”
He nodded.
To change the subject, Summer said, “Carter said you’d been talking to him some about the business.”
“He probably didn’t say it so politely. Did he say I was interfering? Getting on his nerves?”
“Something like that.”
He sighed as he pulled on his shoes. “I know I’m no expert, but it makes more sense to move slowly. He’s going to blow all your money in no time and end up in the red again.”
“Maybe. But isn’t it possible he knows what he’s doing? He’s been doing this for a long time now.”
Lincoln’s expression changed. Hardened slightly. “And I haven’t? So I don’t know what I’m talking about? Now you sound like him.”
“I’m not criticizing. I’m just trying to see both sides.”
“But you’re not really. You’re seeing his side.” He stood up, sounding and looking bitter in a way she hadn’t seen in a really long time. “Honestly, I’m not sure why I expected anything else.”
“Lincoln!” The word came out as almost a sob. “It’s not like—”
“It’s exactly like that, and I’m an idiot for hoping for anything different.” His mouth set in something resembling a sneer. “Story of my life.”
“Stop it.” She stood up and hurried toward him, reaching out to take his arm. “Stop being like that. If you’d just talk about—”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I understand perfectly. And I’ve got to go to work.” He pulled out of her grip and started to leave the room.
“Lincoln, wait!”
He didn’t wait. He kept striding away from her until he was out of sight.
She stood and stared at his retreating back for a minute until she couldn’t stand it anymore. This wasn’t like the Lincoln she’d come to know. This was like the old Lincoln—the one she’d thought was gone for good.
She ran after him, down the hall and then the stairs. She made it to the landing just as he was opening the door that led to the large garage. “Lincoln, wait! Don’t just leave!”
He did leave. He ignored her. And he was out the door before she could stop him.
She stared at the closed door for a long time until she realized there was someone else in the hall.
Carter. Watching her quietly.
She didn’t understand his expression at all.
He reached out a hand toward her in invitation.
She went over to take it, letting him lead her back to the media room to spend the evening with him.
SUMMER ENDED UP HAVING a decent evening, although she couldn’t completely rid her mind of the argument with Lincoln. When she went to bed, she was upset about it all over again, and she couldn’t go to sleep.
He was working. He wouldn’t be back until late. She needed to go to sleep and deal with it in the morning.
But she couldn’t sleep. The distraction that Carter had provided was completely gone now, and all she could do was toss and turn and brood about Lincoln.
It was almost two when she heard his bedroom door open and saw light from the hallway. The connecting door was wide open.
She lay stiffly in bed and waited to see if he’d come see her. He usually did even if it was just to give her a sleepy kiss.
Tonight he didn’t come. She heard him walk to the bathroom. Heard the door click. Heard the faint sound of the toilet. Then the shower. He wasn’t in there long. Just taking a quick shower to wash off hours spent in the bar. A few more minutes passed, during which she imagined he was brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed.
It was only then, after that, she saw his figure silhouetted in the doorway. He was standing there, looking in on her. She waited. Didn’t move.
He didn’t say anything.
After a few minutes, he turned around and went to his own bed.
And that was the last straw. She rolled out of bed and stomped across the room and into his.
“Summer?” he asked softly. He’d climbed under the covers and raised his upper body halfway when he realized she was there. “What are you doing?”
“Asshole,” she gritted out, crawling into his bed beside him.
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I wasn’t asleep. And if you’d bothered to come closer, you would have known it. The least you could do after acting like a jerk is apologize.”
Incongruously, it sounded like he was smiling in the dark. “I am sorry. I’m really sorry. I was an asshole. I never should have put you in the position of choosing between me and your best friend.”
“No. You shouldn’t. But that wasn’t the big deal. The big deal was walking out before we even talked about it. In what world is that appropriate behavior?”
“In no world. It’s appropriate behavior in no world. But I’m a dick, remember? That’s the kind of thing I’ve always done.” He’d turned on his side to face her, but he wasn’t touching her. “So there’s no reason for you to forgive me.”
“Well, I do,” she grumbled.
“What?”
“I do. Forgive you. If you’re really sorry and you promise to work on not doing it again. I forgive you.”
“Baby?” The question was faint, hoarse.
“I forgive you.”
“Why?”
“Because I get it. It’s a really hard situation. For you as much as me. I get it. Just don’t walk out in the middle of a fight again.”
He made a throaty sound and pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her. “Okay. I won’t. I’m sorry.”
She burrowed against his warm body, smelling soap and a faint trace of whiskey and Lincoln. “Good.”
He brushed a few kisses into her hair. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought that was it for us.”
“That’s because you’re stupid. Haven’t you ever been in a relationship before?”
“A real one? No. I haven’t.”
“Oh. I guess that explains the stupidity.” She was smiling too now. Rather foolishly. She didn’t care. She hugged him to her. “Now, I’m tired, and I have to go to work tomorrow, so I’m going to go to sleep.”
He kissed her again. Her neck this time. His arms loosened just enough for her to get comfortable. “Sounds good to me.”
Eight
ON THURSDAY OF THAT week, Summer went out with her friends. She hadn’t spent much time with them for the past month since she’d been busy with work, Carter, and Lincoln, so she was excited to get together with them and have some girl time.
She’d had a lot of man time recently, and frankly she needed the break.
They got together after work and had dinner at their favorite pasta place. No one was ready to go home afterward, so they decided to go to Milhouse for an after-dinner drink.
Milhouse was the bar where Lincoln worked.
Summer made a feeble attempt to suggest a different place, but Milhouse was the best bar in Green Valley. Not only were the drinks the best, but it was more comfortable and not as loud as the one trendy club in town.
So they ended up at Milhouse, even though Lincoln was working behind the bar tonight.
Summer wasn’t sure why she was so nervous about going, but she was.
Only Nona, her best female friend, knew the real reason for her marriage to Lincoln. To everyone else she’d used the same cover story they were sharing with the rest of the town. Summer was realis
tic about the way gossip worked. If she told too many people the truth, it would eventually get around—embarrassing all of them and possibly threatening the legitimacy of her investment in Wilson Hotels.
She wasn’t going to risk it, no matter how bad she felt about lying to some of her friends.
It wouldn’t last for long.
Soon the acquisition would have gone through officially, and she and Lincoln could get a divorce.
She tried to feel relieved by that eventuality, but mostly it made her feel sick.
The first thing she saw when she came into the bar with her friends was Lincoln, looking sleek and modern and ridiculously attractive as he chatted with a couple of women as he shook up a drink.
The women were flirting. That much was obvious in the time it took them to snag a small round table in a corner before another group grabbed it. The women Lincoln was talking to were definitely liking him.
And why wouldn’t they? Who wouldn’t? He was gorgeous and sexy and charming and could make anyone laugh.
This was his job, and Summer wasn’t going to be silly about it.
He could talk to anyone he wanted—just like her.
Nona collected the drink orders and then dragged Summer up to the bar with her, whispering, “It will look very suspicious if you don’t even say hi to your husband.”
“He’s busy.”
“He’s not too busy to say hi to his wife.”
Summer grumbled some more—merely out of principle—but she knew her friend was right. If people were going to believe they had a regular marriage, it wouldn’t make sense for her not to greet him.
And the truth was she wanted to greet him. She just felt awkward and self-conscious about it since it felt like all her friends would be watching.
Lincoln had spotted her before she started walking up to the bar. He said something to the two women as he finished pouring their drinks, and then he made a beeline for the other side of the bar where Summer and Nona were approaching.
He was grinning as he reached them, and he leaned all the way over the bar so he could give her a quick kiss on the lips. “Hey. I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
“That’s because I didn’t know myself.” Summer was blushing, which was silly. But it felt like she and Lincoln were the center of attention. Like everyone was checking them out. Watching how they acted and speculating about their relationship.
She didn’t like to be the center of attention. She never had.
But the truth was she wanted everyone to know that she and Lincoln were together for real. It was a silly, almost immature instinct, but it felt like she was suddenly sexy and desirable in a way she’d never felt before, and she wanted the rest of the world to realize it too.
“What can I get you all?” He glanced back at the table where their friends were waiting. “You want that daiquiri you like?”
She nodded. “The others want cosmos except for Nona.”
Lincoln twitched his eyebrows at Nona. “Whiskey sour?”
“Yep.” Nona slanted Summer a smile. “He’s good.”
“He’s good at a lot of things.” The most ridiculous thing was the words just came out. She didn’t even say it for her pose as a newlywed.
Lincoln’s eyes warmed. He made a summoning gesture with his hand, and Summer stood on tiptoes and leaned over to meet him halfway across the bar to kiss him again. This one wasn’t quite so quick.
She was flushed hot when she pulled away. She turned toward Nona as Lincoln went to work on the drinks.
Nona was giving her a significant, knowing stare.
“What?” Summer demanded.
“You know what.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“Oh my goodness. Yes, you do. There’s no way that’s all an act. You were never a very good actor.”
Summer leaned over to murmur, “You know what this marriage is about.”
“I know what it’s supposed to be about, but it looks like a lot more than that to me. Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not going to lie to you. Something is going on. But neither one of us knows what it is yet, so don’t push.”
“Okay.” Nona didn’t look worried or wary. In fact, she looked thrilled. “But as soon as you know, you have to tell me everything.”
“I will. I always do.”
When their drinks were done, Summer and Nona carried them back over to where their friends were waiting. They drank and chatted and had a really good time.
After about an hour, Summer was surprised when someone came up beside her and edged her over on her chair. She jerked in surprise before she realized it was Lincoln.
“What are you doing?” she asked, giggling as he made room for himself on the seat by the simple expedience of moving her onto his lap.
“I’m on my break, and it looks like y’all are having fun over here.”
“We were. But it was girl fun.” She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “No one said you were invited.”
The others objected vehemently when Lincoln teased about leaving since he wasn’t wanted. Then he entertained them with a couple of stories about wild customers he’d served that week.
Summer laughed with the others. And she loved the feel of his arm around her waist.
It felt like they were really together, and she wanted it that way.
Maybe they could be. Maybe this wasn’t just about sex and convenience and availability.
Maybe there was something deep here.
Something that could last.
At the moment, she couldn’t think of a good reason why it wasn’t a possibility.
BECAUSE SHE WAS OUT for so long, she got to bed much later than usual.
She should have been tired, but she felt wired instead. Like something really good was going to happen soon, and she could hardly wait for it.
Maybe there was no good reason for it, but after the way they’d talked after their argument and then the way Lincoln had acted with her at the bar, she thought that there might be reason for hope.
She wasn’t normally a clueless person. And there were enough clues now for her to put together a reasoned conclusion.
Maybe Lincoln really did have feelings for her.
The same kind of feelings she had for him.
She wanted to know. She didn’t want to go through her days on emotional pins and needles. She wanted to be able to let go of her heart. To make plans for the future.
She wanted to know if Lincoln might be part of her future.
It was still early. She wasn’t going to expect too much too soon. She didn’t need any guarantees right now. She just needed to know it was a real beginning and not just great sex to pass the time.
So she got into her own bed—even though she really wanted to sleep in Lincoln’s—and she tried to sleep for hours. One came and went. Then two. Then three. Lincoln should be home by now, but he wasn’t.
He wasn’t—she knew for sure—out with another woman. But she didn’t know where he was. She eventually fell into a restless sleep and woke to her alarm at the normal time of six thirty. Her head was fuzzy and eyes heavy, but it was Friday, so she just needed to make it through to the weekend.
She stumbled into the shower and she was halfway through lathering up her hair when she remembered Lincoln hadn’t come home before she’d fallen asleep last night. She rushed through the rest of her shower and threw on a bathrobe to go check out his room.
She wasn’t going to wake him up. She just needed to see him sleeping, and then she’d quiz him about his unusual hours later.
Her stomach dropped when she realized he wasn’t there. His bed hadn’t been slept in. He’d never come home.
Maybe she was hopelessly naive, but she still didn’t believe he’d spent the night with another woman. It never even occurred to her as a possibility.
The first and only conclusion her mind leaped to was that something bad had happened.
Something had happened to Lincoln.
<
br /> She ran back to her bedroom to grab her phone and hit his number with trembling fingers. She held her breath as it rang.
She almost choked on her relief when his voice finally answered. “Hey. Good morning.” He sounded tired but generally healthy.
“Good morning! You’re telling me good morning! Where the hell are you?”
“I’m walking through the front door right now.” He spoke slowly, sounding a little confused. “What’s the matter?”
“What’s the matter? You didn’t come home last night. I woke up, and you weren’t here. I thought something had happened. I was...” She sat on her bed in her wet hair and bathrobe, realizing she might have overreacted a little bit.
“You were what?” He was slightly breathless now, like he was running.
He’d definitely been running because he was suddenly in the doorway of her room, still dressed in the clothes he’d worn to work last night and looking tense and questioning.
She kept the phone at her ear—because she was that befuddled—and she stared back at him.
“You were what?” he asked again, coming into the room and closing the door behind him.
“I was scared,” she admitted in a silly stage whisper.
His face was washed with a series of transparent emotions. Surprise. Hope. Joy. Something like awe. “You were scared?”
She disconnected the call and set her phone on the bed beside her. “Of course I was scared. Why wouldn’t I be scared? You were supposed to be home, and you weren’t. Where were you?”
He sat beside her, reaching over to take her hand from her lap. “Shit, your hands are cold and still shaking. You were scared.”
“I told you I was. What happened?”
“We had a crisis at the bar. A pipe burst and the kitchen flooded. It was a mess. I had to stay and help clean up and then wait for the plumber. I’m sorry you were scared.” He’d reached for her other hand too, and he was rubbing them with his big, warm ones.
His gentle tone and touch relaxed the tension in her body and chest. “Was there a lot of damage?”
“Some, but nothing too expensive, I hope. It was mostly just cleaning up the water.” He dropped one of her hands so he could wrap an arm around her back. “It never occurred to me that anyone would worry about me.”