by Tawna Fenske
But when she flung the door open, it wasn’t Mia standing on the threshold.
“Adam? What are you doing here?” Her traitorous heart leapt at the sight of him, thudding in her chest and trying to crawl its way up her throat.
“My laptop,” he said, shuffling a little on the front porch. “I’m sorry, I forgot it in your backseat. I wouldn’t have come, except that I need it and you mentioned Mia had a class at three. I figured the coast was clear, especially since her car isn’t here.”
“Sure, no problem,” Jenna said, feeling a little bad about the fact that the man she loved was forced to act like a secret agent. She glanced at her watch, relieved to see it was after three and Mia would be safely in her birthing class. “I haven’t unpacked the car yet, but it’s in the garage. You can come through the house to grab it.”
“Thanks.”
She waved him through the door, pointing toward the kitchen. “Garage door is right over there next to the kitchen.”
“I’ll be quick,” he said, dipping his head a little as he stepped into the living room. “Gertrude—or should I say Gigi? Lovely to see you.”
“Lovely to see you, too, dear. And please, just call me Gertie.”
“Gertie, you’re looking ravishing as ever. I’ll just grab my laptop and be on my way.”
“Oh, please—stay!” Gert jumped up and followed him to the kitchen, trailing behind as he headed for the garage door. “I feel like I owe you a cup of tea at least. You missed out on the pot roast the other night.”
“I didn’t miss out,” Adam said, shooting a look at Jenna that left her blushing to the tips of her hair.
“Right,” Jenna said, hurrying to the kitchen. “I’ll get the tea going. I left the car unlocked.”
“Thanks,” he said, scooting by her on his way to the garage. His elbow brushed her breast as he moved past, and Jenna felt faint all over again. She watched the door close behind him, wondering how it was possible to crave him this much after a weekend of having him every time she wanted.
“Wow.”
She turned to see Aunt Gertie studying her with frank interest.
“What?”
“You’ve got it bad,” Gertie said, leaning against the counter with a Cheshire cat smile. “I’ve never seen you look at a man like that before. I didn’t realize things had gotten this serious between you. That must have been some weekend.”
Jenna thought about demurring, but her smile broke through. “It was,” she said. “It was incredible. His family was amazing, and we talked for hours and hours about everything.”
“From the way you’re glowing, I’m guessing you did more than talk.”
She laughed and shot a glance toward the garage door. “I guess you could say that.” She lowered her voice. “He told me he loves me.”
“Really?”
“And I said it back. I know this is fast, and I know we’ve only had a few weeks together, but—”
“You don’t have to justify anything to me, sweetheart,” Gertie said, squeezing her hand. “Sometimes the chemistry is just there.”
“You’re telling me.”
Gertie smiled. “So you’re keeping things quiet for now?”
“For now.” Jenna bit her lip. “There are rules against colleagues dating at Belmont, and then there’s the other complication of Mia and—”
Ding-dong!
Jenna frowned at the front door. “Now what?”
“Probably Jehovah’s Witnesses. I made the mistake of giving them some cookies last week, and now they keep coming back.”
Jenna glanced at her watch. It was only ten past three, so it couldn’t be Mia yet. Her birthing class was a full hour long. Jenna reached for the knob, ready to announce that her soul was beyond salvation and no, she wouldn’t like a copy of their special magazine.
But as she yanked open the door, a cold gust of wind hit her in the face.
So did the full force of what was about to happen.
“Mia.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mia said, wiping a smear of rain from her cheek. “I just couldn’t do it. I know it’s my last birthing class and this probably makes me a terrible mother. But I got halfway there and just couldn’t stand the thought of going in there alone without my husband when—Adam?”
Jenna turned slowly, knowing before she did that she’d see him standing behind her, looking as perplexed as his ex-wife did.
She held her breath as she watched the wave of emotion wash over his face, from recognition to anger to guilt all in the blink of an eye.
“Mia.”
Chapter Fourteen
Adam stood staring at his ex-wife for what seemed like an eternity. He stole a look at his watch, not sure if he was checking the timeframe for eternity or to confirm that Mia wasn’t supposed to be here.
“It’s after three,” he said stupidly, not sure what the hell else to say.
Mia frowned from the doorstep. “Is that your impression of a cuckoo clock? If so, I’ll just wait here while you crow three times and then go back in your little hut.”
He watched Jenna look from Mia to him and then back again. She cleared her throat, clearly not any better at coming up with a lie on short notice than he was. He should probably feel glad about that, but right now gladness didn’t fill his heart.
“Mia,” Jenna said. “I wasn’t expecting you. I—please, come in.”
Adam stepped back, trying desperately to think of an excuse for being in Jenna’s house. Something about a personnel issue at Belmont, or maybe an urgent need for her best banana bread recipe, or perhaps—
“There you are!”
He turned around and closed his mouth—grateful no words had emerged from it yet—and saw Gertie marching into the living room. She beamed at him and held out her hand. “Adam, can we please get to work now? I have a meeting in an hour, and I really want to review those contracts. You have everything on your laptop?”
He blinked at her, then looked down at the computer case gripped in his hand. “Yes—I—where would you like to set up?”
“Let’s head to the office and give these girls some privacy. Mia, dear—so good to see you again.”
“Gertie,” Mia said, her expression dubious. “How do you know my ex-husband?”
“Oh, it’s such a funny story. I had a little trouble at the grocery store last week, and Adam here came to my rescue. We got to talking and I learned he’s an attorney with some expertise in literary contracts.”
Mia frowned and turned to Adam. “I thought you didn’t practice law anymore. And you said there wasn’t enough money in literary contracts.”
“I don’t. There isn’t. I mean, Gertrude needed someone to look over her contracts, and she offered to pay me in home-cooked meals, so what could I do?”
He smiled at her, hoping some shred of latent charm in him might still stir some softness in her heart. Mia studied him a moment, assessing. She’d always been the better liar between the two of them, or maybe she just paid more attention. Mia knew how to read people, how to tell when someone was uncomfortable or disingenuous. He hated that about her, but he also admired it.
Christ, no wonder Jenna couldn’t stand lying to her.
“Come on, Mia,” Jenna said, putting an arm around her friend. “I just put the kettle on. I’ll make us some tea. You want some of Gertie’s chocolate chip cookies, or do you need to save room for that fancy dinner?”
Mia shot Adam a look he couldn’t read. She bit her lip and turned back to Jenna. “There won’t be any fancy dinner. Actually, would you like to be my date?”
“What? Where’s Mark?”
“Still working on the roof at Ellen’s place. Apparently it’s taking longer than he expected.”
“God, I’m sorry.”
Mia shrugged. “You love Gerlake, right? And I already have
a reservation. Come on, my treat.”
“Mia, I shouldn’t—” She shot a look at Adam, then turned back to Mia. “When are you going?”
“Right now. It’s an early reservation, so we’ve got plenty of time to make it.”
“Yes. Okay, why not? Can you give me a second to change into something a little nicer?”
“Yeah, I’ll just sit for a minute and rest my ankles.” Mia moved toward the sofa, giving Adam a wide berth.
“Oh! Let me grab those special foot lotions we tried out yesterday,” Gertie said, bustling off down the hall. “You said that peppermint one was helping a bit?”
“Thanks, Gertie.” Mia dropped heavily onto the sofa, looking exhausted and a little sad. Adam glanced around, surprised to realize he was alone with his ex-wife for the first time in ages. Her eyes were closed, which gave him a chance to study her. She had lines on her face that hadn’t been there before. Brackets around her mouth that could have been laugh lines or frown lines. Either way, did he have anything to do with them?
She took a heavy breath and opened her eyes, looking more exhausted now than she had before she’d closed them. Adam felt another pang of sympathy, which made him all the more angry with himself for his twinge of smugness in the car with Jenna. What kind of dick felt even the slightest hint of jubilation over someone else’s misfortune? He wasn’t sure what she was going through exactly, but it was clear all wasn’t right in Mia’s world.
“You okay?” he asked.
He hadn’t meant to butt in, and it was clear from the way her eyes flashed that she didn’t welcome the intrusion. The flicker of hurt in her face was something Adam wished like hell wasn’t so familiar.
“I’m just great, Adam, thanks for asking.”
Her sarcasm was so heavy that her words thudded like rocks onto the living room floor. He knew he should leave, but he wasn’t sure whether to go looking for Gertie to keep up the ruse of legal consultation, or just get the hell out of here.
“Sorry your feet hurt,” he tried. “I’m sure if you ask Mark to rub them for you, he’d be happy to oblige.”
He hadn’t meant it to sound snarky, or hell, maybe he had. Sometimes it was such a goddamn ingrained habit. The spark of anger in her eyes told him that’s exactly how she took it.
“Fuck you, Adam.”
He reeled back. “Hey. What the hell was that for?”
“You know exactly what it was for, you smug ass. You show up here with your woo-woo words and perfect communication skills and everyone thinks you’re some sort of expert on compassion and human relationships. That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
He blinked. “I don’t—”
“I’ll tell you what you don’t,” she snapped, sitting up straighter with her green eyes flashing. “You don’t get to waltz back into my circle of relationships and be the wonderful, perfect man who cooks his own meals and posts heartfelt quotes about trust. You don’t get to be this exciting, carefree guy who does pro bono work for little old ladies and volunteers for charity instead of working ’til midnight every night. Most of all, you don’t get to waltz around now pretending you give a shit how I’m feeling when you spent five years of our marriage barely noticing I existed.”
“Well, Mia.” Adam swallowed, reeling from her words. “Don’t hold back. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”
“Don’t patronize me. You gave up the license to do that the second you signed the divorce papers.”
Adam shook his head, not sure what stunned him more. The depth of her anger? The fact that her words revealed she’d been Facebook stalking him? The thought that she saw him as smug and callous?
Or the faint possibility she might be right.
“I’m sorry, Mia,” he said, wanting to take the high road. Wanting to get out before things turned uglier. “I’m sorry for everything.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’ve gone and made yourself a much better life, and you can tell all the women you date how you narrowly escaped your cheating bitch of a wife. Congratulations, Adam—you sure showed me.”
He shook his head, tamping down the urge to rage back at her. “You think this is somehow my fault? You’re unhappy now, and I’m the one to blame?”
“I think it’s pretty fucking convenient you embark on this mission of self-improvement now instead of when we were married. It’s like some sort of, ‘fuck you, Mia.’”
“I see,” he said tightly, trying not to take the bait. “Despite what you seem to believe, my happiness has nothing to do with you.”
She glared at him as she gripped the arm of the sofa in fingers that had gone terrifyingly white. “You’re right. It never did. And you made damn sure mine had nothing to do with you, either.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but he stopped himself as Jenna bustled into the room wearing a black wraparound dress that showed off her curves. Her hair was pinned up and she wore black boots with spikey heels and a spritz of perfume that made him dizzy. He wanted to gather her up in his arms and kiss her until they were both horizontal.
“You look—” he stopped himself, swallowing back the compliment and taking a step away from her, “—like you’re in a hurry. I won’t keep you ladies. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get to my meeting with Gertrude.”
“The office is down there,” Jenna said, frowning as she caught sight of his face. She glanced at Mia and he watched her frown deepen. “Is everything okay here? Did I miss something?”
Adam looked at his ex-wife. He saw all the anger, all the disappointment, all the resentment flashing in her eyes. How was it possible after three years to still feel responsible for that?
“Everything’s fine,” he said, turning to walk away.
The host at Gerlake sniffed when Mia told him there’d been a change in plans.
“The reservation is under the name Mark Dawson,” he said, looking down his nose at Jenna and Mia. “Do you mean to tell me Mr. Dawson will not be joining you this evening?”
“That’s correct,” Mia said, her voice shaking a little. Jenna reached over and squeezed her hand.
“You realize that dinnertime reservations at Gerlake fill up months in advance—particularly on a holiday weekend,” he said, flipping a page in the reservation book. “I’m going to need to see some identification.”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Jenna said, stepping forward. “Is there really a rash of people impersonating diners with reservations? I can see our table over there. It’s the one with the sterling silver roses on it, right? They’re Mia’s favorite. She had them at the wedding.”
Mia gave her a smile of gratitude and pulled out her phone, flipping quickly to the photo album. She thrust the phone in the host’s face. “That’s right. See? Right here. There’s me, there’s Mark Dawson, and there are the damn sterling silver roses. Just like the ones on the table. Do you want me to text my husband, or can we just sit down now, because my feet are killing me.”
“Hmmph,” the host said, and turned his back on them. “Follow me.”
They trudged through the restaurant to the flower-adorned table by the window. Jenna pulled out Mia’s chair, then sat down across the table from her. A waiter appeared beside them wearing a starched white shirt and the same disdainful expression their host had worn.
“I understand there’s been a change in the reservation?”
Jenna sighed. “The reservation is for two people. There are two of us here. Is that a problem?”
The waiter frowned, shooting Jenna a look like she’d just piddled on the floor. “Gerlake prefers to reserve this particular table for special occasions. If you’re not celebrating a milestone of some sort, we’d prefer to find you a more suitable table. There’s a lovely spot right over there next to the kitchen—”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” Jenna said, placing her hand on Mia’s. “My wife and I
are celebrating the impending birth of our baby. Now if you’ll give us a moment to look over the menu, we’d be grateful.” She flicked her hand at the disgruntled-looking waiter. “Run along now.”
The man harrumphed and turned on his heel, leaving Mia giggling behind her hand.
“I’m your wife now?”
“Why the hell not?” Jenna said, reaching over to grab a pitcher of ice water from a nearby server’s station. She filled Mia’s glass first, then her own. “It’s legal in Oregon, and we get along better than most spouses. I’m totally going to expect you to put out.”
“You’ll have to buy me the lobster then.”
“Deal. The flowers are beautiful, by the way. That was nice of Mark to have them waiting for you.”
“He didn’t.”
“What?”
Mia sighed and fingered a petal. “I ordered them. I wanted to make things romantic.”
“You did,” Jenna said, squeezing her hand again. “As your wife, I appreciate it.”
“Thanks.”
“So,” Jenna said, clearing her throat. “What the hell was going on back at the house? I feel like I walked in on something between you and your ex.”
Mia set down her menu. “Was it that obvious? Adam and I were having a few words.”
“A few words? If I’d been ten seconds slower in coming out there, I think I might have tripped over severed limbs.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then shook her head before opening them. “That’s a lie. It was exactly that bad. I don’t know what got into me.”
“You’re stressed, for one thing. You’re hugely pregnant, your workplace is in turmoil, and your husband just pulled a no-show.”
“Is this supposed to be cheering me up?”
Jenna winced. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I was bitchy to Adam, and he didn’t deserve it. I’ll e-mail him an apology as soon as I get home. It’s just—I get so angry sometimes.”