The Complete Irreparable Boxed Set: Irreparable #1-2

by Sam Mariano

  Nodding in acceptance, he said, “I suppose not. Can’t believe you let that one get away though, man.”

  Abruptly standing, Ethan slapped Tucker on the shoulder and said, “Great catching up with you.” Then he headed off in the other direction.

  The party was not what he would call comfortable. Amanda’s friends were over, and given all that had happened, their opinions of him had changed drastically. Once a prized “good husband,” now he couldn’t pass a group of women without feeling eyes on him, narrowed in solidarity-inspired disgust.

  Angela Mercado sat in a fold up chair at the end of a table he’d set up earlier, all by herself, drinking a cup of punch and watching the kids tear through the house. She and Tucker had a smarmy, brunette, dimpled-chin little son running around, chasing after Alison with a foam sword. To her credit, Alison spun around with her own toy sword, blocked him, and knocked his right out of his hand.

  Ethan had to smile.

  Since he thought Angela might be one of his only allies, he sat down in the empty seat next to her. “How are you doing over here?”

  Offering a mild smile, she said, “Fine. How are you?”

  He shrugged. “Eh.”

  Her smile widened a smidge, and she averted her eyes to the blue plastic tablecloth beneath her folded hands. “Sorry to hear about the separation.”

  “Thanks.”

  They fell into a companionable silence, which was certainly preferable to wandering around, collecting glares or even phony fake smiles from random guests. He understood he was the bad guy (and they didn’t even know the whole story), but Jesus.

  Considering Angela wasn’t exactly gregarious and their backs were to the wall, Ethan extracted his phone to check his email, his eyes catching on the little green message icon, still blank. Normally he wouldn’t text Willow while he was with his family, but considering how many times per minute the guests reminded him with speaking glances that he was a cheating asshole, he felt rebelliously entitled to talk to her.

  After scrolling through his new emails, he gave up the pretense of caring and opened his text messages. The picture Willow had sent him the night before was still right there—he hadn’t been able to bring himself to delete it—and he felt an unwelcome pang of longing.

  “How’s your Sunday going?” he typed.

  She didn’t make him wait for a response that time, immediately sending back, “Relaxing. How’s yours?”

  “Well, I’m a cheating husband in a room predominantly consisting of women.”

  “Lol, so great?”

  “The greatest. Macaroni salad is a hit though,” he added, unsure of how close he was to toeing the line. Would that amuse her or piss her off?

  “I hope you stirred it before you put it out,” she sent back. “The good stuff tends to gather at the bottom.”

  Amanda had stirred it, but he wasn’t going to say that.

  “Thanks for your help last night,” he sent back instead.

  “I’m sure you would have been completely lost without my assistance,” she joked, adding a wink.

  “Any plans tonight?” he asked.

  “I have to work.”

  “After?”

  Her response to that one took a little longer, but finally came after a couple minutes. “I have to not go to your apartment.”

  Frowning a little, he eased back in his chair. Since she’d caught him by complete surprise, he was a little more forthright than he might’ve been when he asked, “How much have I screwed this up?”

  It registered that she read the message, but she didn’t respond. Not even after a couple minutes passed. Sighing, he closed his messages and turned the phone face down, just in case she decided to answer him at an inopportune moment.

  He caught Angela glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, and when he looked at her, she stiffened. For a split second dread washed over him—great, she’d probably noticed him texting Willow and now she was going to join the mob of women who hated him.

  He was just about to get up and find somewhere else to wander when Angela stilled him with a hand on his arm. “Are you still… um, do you still do private investigations?”

  Well, he hadn’t expected that.

  “Yeah…”

  She nodded, her gaze flitting away uncertainly. Then she looked back. “Tucker has been looking into a job in Chicago; he wants to move back here. If that happens… I think I might need one.”

  “Oh. Okay.” He eased back in his seat, trying to process the meek woman’s request. “Um… well, I can give you my phone number, in case you need it. Is everything all right?” he asked, more on a personal level than a professional one.

  Her cheeks flushed and she avoided looking at him. “I think he’s talking to someone else—someone here. I think that’s why he wants to move back. If he’s going to leave me, I’d like some advance notice.”

  He caught his jaw as it was dropping, but he wasn’t accustomed to frankness from Angela, so she caught him off guard.

  “I tried to check into it on my own, but he’s too smart to get caught—no offense.”

  Wincing slightly, he said, “None taken.”

  She nodded, glancing around the room, then back at him, a little hint of anxiety on her face. “This is confidential, right? Or do I have to pay you for it to be confidential?”

  Ethan shook his head. “I won’t say anything. I don’t even like your husband—no offense.”

  A little smile crept across her face as she echoed back, “None taken.”

  ---

  A few days passed without another word from Willow.

  On Wednesday he texted her to see if she’d respond; she did, but he didn’t ask about her coming over that time.

  On Friday, her graduation present finally arrived, so he texted to ask if she wanted to spend some platonic time together. She asked what he had in mind, and he suggested they go out for Chinese food, then maybe hang out and watch a movie if she was up for it.

  After a minute passed, she told him she could agree to that as long as they did it early, since she said she’d be at Brian’s by 9:30.

  They met for dinner at their Chinese restaurant around five. It was strange being there with her again—the last time he’d been there was so long ago, when he hoped she might show up.

  As soon as she sat down, she fished a small white box out of her purse and placed it on the table between them.

  He blinked at it a few times, since it looked like a jewelry box, then looked up at Willow questioningly. “Are you proposing?” he joked.

  Willow rolled her eyes. “I am. With a necklace. Say yes or my life is over.”

  Ethan rolled his eyes in return, grabbing the box and pulling it across the table. Opening it only confused him more. On a fluffy pillow of white was a necklace with a little green turtle charm attached.

  “I… don’t understand what this is,” he said, his mind racing, searching for some private joke he might’ve forgotten about.

  Smiling slightly, she said, “It’s for your daughter. She said she wanted my turtle necklace.”

  “Oh, God, no,” he said, putting the lid back on the box and pushing it back toward her. “You don’t have to give my daughter your necklace, Willow. That’s very nice of you, but really—”

  “It’s not mine,” she interrupted, shoving the box back to the center. His hand was still covering the box though, so her hand landed on top of his. She left it there for a moment. “I made one for her. I made mine, too. They’re clay charms, it was quick to make. It’s no big deal. You can just say you ordered it for her.”

  She finally moved her hand back, so he tugged the box back over to his side. “Oh. Okay. Well, thank you. I actually got you something too, but I left it at the apartment.”

  Her eyebrows flicked upward in surprise. “You got me something?”

  “A graduation present—not a big deal.”

  “Aw, you didn’t have to get me a graduation present,” she told him, smiling brightly.
“What is it?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Ethan’s name was called, alerting them to the fact that their food was up, so he went up to get the food while Willow waited at the table.

  When he turned around with their tray, intending to go back to their table, he spotted a woman who hadn’t been there when they sat down. Stomach plummeting, he recognized her as one of Amanda’s friends. She sat there with her husband, eyeing Ethan curiously.

  For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do. Their food was on a tray, so he couldn’t walk out like he wanted to and hope Willow would follow him. The woman had also probably already noticed him sitting there… and since Willow was just getting over being mad at him, he imagined it was not a good idea to abandon her at the dinner he asked her to.

  With less conviction than he felt, he walked back to the table, putting the tray down and sliding in across from Willow.

  She frowned at him, concerned. “You okay?”

  “One of Amanda’s friends is here,” he said quietly.

  Her gray eyes widened. “Did they see you?”

  He nodded his head, removing his plate from the tray. “Yep.”

  Willow didn’t take her plate. “Do you want to go?”

  Ethan shook his head. “She already saw me sit down. Nothing can—” He stopped talking as the woman and her husband headed toward the counter to get their food.

  On her way past their table, she paused as if surprised. “Ethan?”

  She had obviously already recognized him, so he didn’t know why she bothered pretending, but he offered up a flat smile. “Hi, Karen.”

  “That is you—I thought I recognized you.” Of course her gaze flitted to Willow, the only reason she stopped at the table. She was facing Ethan from her table, so she wouldn’t have gotten a good look at Willow’s face from that angle. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  Since she actually addressed Willow, she had to look up at her to avoid overt rudeness. Offering a casual smile, Willow said, “You’re right, I don’t think we have.”

  Karen’s fake smile stretched even wider. “I’m Karen, a friend of Amanda’s.”

  Willow tilted her head slightly, but held her smile. “I’m Willow, a friend of Ethan’s.”

  She nodded, then looked back at Ethan. “Well, it was nice seeing you again.”

  “Yeah, it’s been almost a whole week,” Ethan retorted, his smile taut.

  Her husband was coming back with their food, so Karen made her way back to their table and Ethan lost his smile, drumming his fingertips on the table, debating what to do. Try to get ahead of it and tell Amanda himself? Of course, she would figure out that he was only telling her after he’d already been seen.

  Of course, he had already told her he’d been in contact with Willow again.

  He’d also emphasized it had only been once and deliberately played it off so she wouldn’t lose her shit.

  “That was pleasant,” Willow remarked.

  “That’s definitely the word I was searching for.”

  “Now what?” she asked, watching him carefully.

  Ethan shrugged, grabbing his fork and digging into his rice. “Fuck it.”

  “Yeah?” she questioned, a little uncertainly.

  “Yep,” he replied before taking a bite.

  Willow watched him for a moment, then unrolled her utensils and grabbed her own fork, gathering up a fork full of rice. “I think I like that.”

  He wasn’t entirely sure he liked it, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Plus, despite the suffocating feeling of guilt that initially enveloped him, he wasn’t cheating; he and Amanda had been living in separate homes for over six months, and she wouldn’t even let him see the kids without her, so they weren’t exactly on the road to recovery.

  He hated knowing with a certainty that it would be so much worse because it was Willow he’d been spotted with. Any random woman he hadn’t known before would’ve been a different story, but to be seen on what would look like a date with her….

  Amanda was going to be pissed.

  Willow perched on the edge of the couch, both hands covering her eyes, a grin on her face, and her legs bouncing with excitement.

  “Did you wrap it? Should I keep my eyes covered? It’s a pony, isn’t it?”

  Ethan smiled as he put the big brown box the first present had been shipped in on the coffee table. “I did not wrap it. I’m terrible at wrapping presents. It came in a box though.”

  “Ponies don’t come in boxes.”

  “I’ve seen your yard; you have nowhere to put a pony.”

  Nodding, she said, “Yeah, that’s a great point. Did you get me a new yard?”

  “I did—and it fit in a box. Go figure.”

  “That’s pretty impressive. I want to meet the person who packed this box—I feel like I should shake their hand.”

  “You can uncover your eyes now.”

  She didn’t. “Will I see what it is? I feel like not having to unwrap it is too easy. You should make me work for it.”

  “It’s in a box,” he assured her.

  Slowly moving her hands away, her eyes shot straight to the box. Then, without further delay, she leaned forward and dug in.

  “I wasn’t sure what to get you,” he said, in case she didn’t like it. “I had to make a guess based on things you’ve told me and things I’ve observed—if you don’t like it, that’s okay.”

  Shooting him a grin, she said, “I’m going to love it.”

  “You don’t even know what it is yet.”

  “Well, there’s bubble wrap, so this is already a win,” she informed him, peeling away the layer of bubble wrap around the present, which was also encased between pieces of cardboard. “Damn, they wrapped it for you.” Once she made it past the cardboard—which was easier, since he had taken it out to check it earlier, so he had already cut the tape—there was still a layer of foam wrap.

  “I should’ve left that off—I wrapped it back up the way they sent it.”

  She was glancing at him oddly since the package was unwrapped enough that she could feel what it was. His earlier doubts that it was a stupid present started to creep back in and he glanced down at the much smaller box he had placed behind that one—the back-up/forgive-me gift.

  Once she got the foam wrap off, there was still a protective layer of plastic wrap, but the gift itself was clearly visible.

  She held it up, studying the picture with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher. He had ordered a canvas painting of Paris that was painted to emulate the style from Van Gogh’s Starry Night. He didn’t know what her favorite painting was and hadn’t wanted to ask, so he went through photos on her Facebook page—where she had used several romantic, night-time Paris pictures and a photo of the Starry Night as cover photos before—and tried to gauge her taste that way. When he browsed the paintings available online, he’d picked the one that most closely resembled the atmosphere of the photos she had used.

  It clearly was not what she expected, and he started to tell her it was just something he bought on a whim, and he had a back-up gift. Before he could, Willow put the painting down, stood up, and threw her arms around his neck.

  The concern that she wouldn’t like it eased up and he moved his arms, wrapping her a little tighter against his body. Instead of pulling back, she nuzzled against him, both of her arms locked securely around his neck.

  “So, you like it?” he asked lightly.

  “Ethan, I love it so much. It’s beautiful.”

  “Better than a pony?” he teased.

  “Infinitely better than a pony.” Leaning back slightly, she held onto his face and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

  When she pulled back again, he caught a lock of her hair between his fingers, lightly rubbing it before tucking it behind her ear. “You’re welcome.”

  Willow leaned against him again, her right arm tightening around his waist, the other curling around his neck as she
nuzzled her face back into his shoulder. Affection rushed over her as she breathed him in, closing her eyes when he began lightly running his fingers across her back.

  It was more than a thoughtful gift—it was perfect. It was something she would have picked out for herself, and he had clearly been paying attention in order to glean that knowledge—especially since she had only even mentioned her interest in art on one or two occasions. Paris she was confident she had only mentioned once.

  It was also something that Brian, as nice as he was, would never have picked out for her. Even though she knew she shouldn’t compare, it was impossible not to; Brian had given her a bottle of Jim Beam and a humorous card for her graduation present.

  He might be a million times easier and piss her off almost never, but he also didn’t get her the way Ethan did.

  Ethan might be a territorial pain in the ass sometimes, but dammit, she wanted him to be her pain in the ass.

  For a couple minutes she stayed like that, yearning to remain in his arms for as long as she could, right and wrong be damned.

  While she knew she cared about Ethan, wanted Ethan, she wasn’t entirely sure she could depend on Ethan—not yet. Not in a romantic relationship, anyway. She remembered all too well the hollow, cheap feeling of being abandoned after both of their sexual encounters, and while she hadn’t been able to say much about it under the circumstances, it still sucked. And he was still only separated, not divorced, which could be a potential complication.

  She also wasn’t allowed to be with Ethan. Which would mean lying and sneaking around. Which would mean risking her parents possibly pulling her college fund if they caught her.

  Then there was the fact that when she had asked him outright if they would be dating if she would’ve shown up single, he hadn’t been able to tell her yes.

  As much as she wanted him, Ethan was a gamble.

  Seeking to distract herself, she asked, “So, where do we stand on that movie?”

  He took her by the hand, causing her stupid heart to flutter, and guided her back to the couch, moving the painting to the floor and sitting in the corner. Instead of letting her go to the other end of the couch to keep things friendly, he tugged her into the seat directly beside his, so that their hands remained entwined and their sides were touching.