“Yeah, to work.”
“Look, brother, all I’m saying is, maybe you kick it back a little. Take it down a notch. The more you’re here, the less you’re home with your family. Shit, last weekend, you came in to check on a patient. You said you were going to be here for ten minutes and left after me,” Paul pointed out.
“So?”
“So, I left after nine at night.”
Fuck. He had done that. By doing that, he’d missed going with Nadia and the girls to dinner and the movies. But Nadia hadn’t said anything. Why?
“And while you’re here, your sexy-ass assistant is here as well.” Paul threw a curve ball Owen hadn’t been expecting.
“What?” He frowned, looking at Paul, who was now tying his shoes.
“Be careful with that one,” he warned. Owen shook his head.
“She’s harmless.” Owen shrugged it off. Monique was his assistant, and that was it.
“Like I’m saying, man, be careful. You and Nadia have been tight since, what, like kindergarten?” Paul teased.
“Freshman year in college.” He rolled his eyes. He’d met Paul in medical school, and he’d always given Owen a hard time about the fact he’d tied himself to Nadia from the very beginning.
“All I’m saying is, you’ve been outta the dating scene for a while. You don’t see it, but Monique’s trouble.”
“She’s young.” He rolled his eyes, though his stomach twisted. Hadn’t Nadia said something like that when she had first met Monique?
“Hell yeah, she is. Young and pretty, and she knows it. Like I said, trouble with a capital T, O.”
“She does great work.”
“I bet.” Paul laughed while he shook his head.
“You know I wouldn’t do that. I’d never touch any other woman who wasn’t Nadia, Paul.”
“I know that. You know that. But does Monique?” Paul asked.
“Of course, she…”
“She’s been calling you in a lot. Working late with you.”
“It’s part of our job. Carol does the same with you.”
“Not as often as Monique does,” Paul pointed out. Owen’s eyes twitched, but when Paul sighed, he looked up at him. “Look, man, people talk. But people usually start to talk because they hear things.”
“What is it you’re beating around the bush about here?”
“I heard her telling one of the medical assistants she thought it was only a matter of time before you were finally going to leave Nadia.”
“What the—”
“And that you would be trading Nadia in for a younger model.”
“What? That is not—”
“She insinuated something was happening between the two of you. Luckily, she was talking to Jean, and you know her. She doesn’t put up with gossip.”
Jean was a good medical assistant, and he knew if Paul said she put Monique in her place, she really had.
“But the thing is, if she’s ballsy enough to tell someone like Jean, who do you think she’s already told?” Fuck.
“I’ll talk to her.”
“I recommend you take it to HR, too. Just in case.”
“Got it.”
“You need me to tell HR what I heard her saying, you know I’m here,” Paul offered.
“Right.” He rubbed his forehead. Placing his hands on his knees, he sat looking at the lockers in front of him.
“You need to talk, I’m here.” Paul patted his shoulder but didn’t leave.
“She’s talking about going to the house in Santa Barbara,” he confessed and didn’t miss the confusion written all over Paul’s face.
“Who?”
“Nadia. She’s taking the girls the day they end the school year.”
“Why?”
“I had to cancel a fucking date,” he muttered, not quite believing it.
“One? She’s leaving over one cancelled date? That doesn’t sound like…” Paul started to say, while Owen started to count how many of their date nights he’d had to cancel. Three dates? No, four. Shit. How many times had he broken off their date nights?
“It’s more than one,“ he admitted. “It’s more than just about a fucking date,” he kept sharing. Paul quietly sat next to him on the bench seat. “I didn’t even realize shit wasn’t right between us until last night,” he confessed out loud for the first time; the truth of it settled and took residence in his chest. How long had his marriage been in trouble? Why hadn’t she said anything before? Or had she and he had been too busy and too stubborn to see it?
“She loves you, Owen. Anyone around the two of you with one eye can see she adores your ugly mug,” Paul tried to fruitlessly pep talk him, but Owen couldn’t get himself to believe it. Did she still love him? “Straighten things out, man.” If only it were that easy.
“She wanted a consultation for a mommy makeover? Carol told you that?” Owen turned and asked his friend. The fact that he had no idea his wife wanted to go under the knife gutted him. What was she thinking if she felt the need for a change, like cosmetic surgery and leaving his ass for the summer?
“Yeah.”
“Why? She’s fine the way she is.” Owen asked, but he didn’t miss the way Paul shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. Owen frowned. “What are you not telling me?”
“You know women in this state, man. They all want to stay lookin’ like they’re twenty-one.”
“Nadia looks fucking better than she did at twenty-one,” he stated honestly. The way her breasts had grown fuller, the slope of her hips wider, fitting even better under his own two hands.
“Look, I’m gonna tell you this because we’ve been friends forever, even if you can be a little oblivious.”
“What?” He frowned. He could feel deep lines at his forehead.
“Sometimes women hear shit from people they care about, and it gives them ideas.”
“Like who? Have you heard anyone—”
“You, man,” Paul pointed out bluntly, and Owen stilled.
“I’ve never—”
“Two weeks ago, at that BBQ we went to—”
“At Ritter’s place?”
“Yeah. You said stuff here and there. I don’t even think you notice.” Owen tried to remember, but he couldn’t place what Paul was talking about.
“Like what?” he asked, sounding more defensive than he actually felt. Paul opened his mouth but got paged before he could respond.
“Gotta go. Look, just talk to her, man. Either way, I’ll keep Friday open for her,” Paul said as he hurried out of the changing room, leaving Owen alone with his thoughts.
Had he given Nadia the idea that something was wrong with her body? Did she think something was going on with him and Monique? How the hell had Monique ever got the idea that he was anything other than her boss?
But mostly, how the hell had his life got so out of control in less than twenty-four hours?
***
“What?” Monique’s fake blue eyes opened wide. He stared at her wondering what the point of colored contacts was. But who was he to say anything? He gave women a pair of fake breasts on an almost daily basis.
“My schedule needs to be...” he was starting to repeat himself, but she shook her head.
“I get that, but, like, why?” The shock in Monique’s voice was obvious. He started to realize Paul’s warning might not have been in vain.
“That isn’t your concern,” he told her gently, and she scowled.
“Owen!” she whined. He took a step back, watching her. “Why!?” she pressed. Leaning forward on her desk, she gave him a view of her cleavage, and his eyes met her face. Has she always done that? he wondered to himself. Her face was now flushed red, an angry stare looking back at him.
“Why does it matter?” he asked and regretted it the second he said it.
“Where are you going?” she pouted. He started to get annoyed.
“That is none of your business,” he told her, tired of her questions. What had he possibly done to give her any ide
a that there could ever be anything—
“None of my business? Are you serious right now?” she exclaimed, her face getting brighter by the second.
“Monique, you are my assistant.”
“I take care of you!” she shouted louder. He took another step back, thinking that Paul had probably been right about having HR present when he chatted with his assistant.
“You’re my assistant,” he repeated. The obvious pain that flushed over Monique’s face made him feel ill. He had never flirted with her. Never hinted at anything other than a work-place relationship. Had he?
“I’m your assistant? That’s it?” she whispered; her nose flared.
“Yeah. Look, we’re friends—”
“Friends?!” she shrieked. He could feel the stares of a couple of medical assistants who stood on the other end of the office boring holes into the back of his head. They were watching the scene unfolding before them, but he didn’t look away from Monique.
“Yes,” he carefully said, wondering if he had stepped into some version of Twilight Zone.
“Friends? Your assistant?” She stood, grabbing her designer bag. “I quit,” she announced, and his eyes widened.
“What?”
“I thought you were going to leave her!” Monique shouted, waving her arms in the air dramatically.
“Her? Nadia? My wife? Why would I do that? I love her!” he told her, his own voice rising.
“Right!” she scoffed, shaking her head, pointing a finger at him. “If you loved her the way you say you do, the way you tell everyone you do, you wouldn’t have led me on!”
“I have never—”
“Working late, telling me to call you anytime—” she started to go off on a tangent, but he stopped her.
“For professional reasons—”
“Having me cancel date nights for you. Six in a row.” Shit. Has it been six? “Sending me to buy her your wedding anniversary gifts. Just FYI, Dr. Disaster, a man in love makes time for his woman!” she shrieked. “You were not spending time with her. You were spending time with me!” she pointed out even louder, her glassy stare reflecting back at him.
“I was helping patients—”
“Please!” Monique rolled her eyes, flailing her arms dramatically. “You know you’ve been going above and beyond for your patients lately, right? All these late nights.”
“It’s what I do for my patients,” he growled, trying to keep his cool.
“Having dinner with me!”
“In the hospital cafeteria,“ he pointed out.
“Go to hell. You’re hot, but you are not worth all this.” She walked away swaying her ample ass in a skin-tight pencil skirt.
Has she always dressed like that? he wondered to himself. Wouldn’t he have noticed that? Glancing at his watch as he stepped into the elevator, he groaned; it was going to be another late night. He went into his office, ignoring the stares of the people around him, and shot off an email to Human Resources about the incident and the fact he needed a new assistant.
And two weeks off work.
Chapter Five
Nadia
WHEN THE GIRLS WERE asleep, I found myself standing in the garage staring at the shelves holding our luggage. With a glass of white wine in one hand, I used my free one to grab my cell phone from the front pocket of my jeans.
Past midnight.
Tapping the screen, I brought up my Spotify app and turned on Mumford & Sons before I set my wine glass down on the hood of the minivan and took a stepped closer to the shelves in front of me.
It was past midnight.
He knew we had things to talk about. He knew there was something glaringly wrong between us, and it was going on a quarter after the start of a whole new day and he was still not home. As I stared at my call log, his peppy assistant’s phone call on my list irritated me. Jealousy swam in my belly, creating something ugly I hated feeling. My free hand covered the roundness. I’d been joking with Simone about the mommy makeover, but the thought had drifted back into my head, so I had called one of Owen’s friends’ offices for a consultation before picking the girls up from school.
Luckily, his receptionist told me he didn’t have any openings for another two weeks. I’d felt like an idiot the moment I’d hung up. I’d cancel the consultation first thing in the morning, and no one would be the wiser. Though Owen’s comments about me not being able to afford to eat crappy food didn’t settle well. It wasn’t the first time he had said something insensitive, but there was no way I would go under the knife. Not for him, not for anyone. If he didn’t find me attractive after all this time, he could jump off a bridge.
I stepped forward and grabbed the luggage the girls and I would need this summer. Forty minutes later, my bags were packed, settled in the trunk of the minivan. I would get the girls’ things ready while they were at school.
Those were the last thoughts that swam through my mind as I drifted off to sleep in bed. Alone.
***
My eyes opened and I blinked, feeling slightly confused. Owen’s face was in front of mine. Darkness surrounded us, and for a split second, I thought I was dreaming.
“Hi,” his voice rumbled, and I realized his hand was on my bare shoulder. Has he woken me up?
“Hmm,” I sighed, my hands beneath my cheek as I drowsily stared at him. My mind was still foggy when I spoke without thinking, “Why are you so hot?” My voice was soft from sleep.
“You think I’m still hot?” he asked. His eyes lingered on my lips, and all I could think about was how much I wanted him to kiss me. But why was he home so late? The question woke me up, breaking the intimate bubble we had found ourselves in.
“What time is it?” I cleared my throat and sat up in bed.
“Ten till two.”
“Everything okay?” I asked, studying his face.
“Yeah. I had a patient who had a bad reaction to the anesthesia, and then I knocked out in my office.” Is that the truth? Would I be able to tell if he were lying?
“Oh.”
“Hey, Paul mentioned you called his office.” I blinked the last cobwebs of sleep away.
“Yeah.” I shrugged. Suddenly thirsty and needing some space from him, I slipped out of bed, throwing on my old robe.
“That thing needs to be replaced,” he reminded me like he always did when he saw me wearing it.
“I love this thing,” I reminded him, glancing over my shoulder. He had given me the now grungy robe. I double glanced at the clock. Almost two. Why would a married man get home so damn late? How could he just fall asleep in his office? It was one thing when he was going through his residency, but now? And the better question, was anyone with him in his office?
“Why do you want to see Paul?” he asked, and I felt the walls start to build up between us.
“It was stupid,” I mumbled from the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror.
“He said he can see you Friday morning if you want.” I couldn’t read the tone in his voice, but then again, what was new?
“I was just...” The words stuck in my throat when I caught a glimpse of him. He sat shirtless, the top button of his slacks undone, on my reading chair, a chair I doubted he’d ever sat on.
He looked good there.
Though, he always looked good to me. Chugging down the tap water from my glass, I licked my lips. God, I was horny. Looking at him usually turned me on, but tonight, him sitting there, did something to me. “I just wanted to see what he thought.” I shrugged, trying to ignore the desire I felt for him.
“About?” he pressed, and I felt frustrated. Annoyance prickled at the base of my neck.
“About well...you know…” My voice drifted off. Did he really want me to point out all my faults? Was it so he could say ‘I told you so?’
“No. I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you. You know his specialty is—”
“I know.” Paul was a genius at breasts. He had done a fantastic job on Simone’s, and in a moment of weakness I
had wondered if he would be able to fix mine as well. “I was talking to Simone today, and I just…” I turned and didn’t look at him. My hand sat over the soft roundness of my belly. “I just wanted to see if he thought he could umm…. fix me.” I closed my eyes and braced for the ‘I told you so’ I knew was inevitable.
“Fix you?” he whispered. “What the fuck?” he growled. The sound made me turn. I didn’t miss the way he flinched when our eyes connected. If he didn’t like what he saw staring back at him, well, too bad.
“You know, just a perk up and suck in stuff….” I tried to joke with him, but I didn’t miss the way his jaw twitched. If I wasn’t so tired and just done, I would have laughed. I knew that look. “I know what you are going to say.” I sighed, running my fingers through my messy hair. “It’s expensive.”
Owen
She thought he would have a problem with how much money it would cost? They had more than enough. They were very comfortable. He worked his ass off to be that way.
“But I have a little set aside,” she continued. He sat straighter on the chair.
“Set aside?” He felt his jaw clench and his teeth grit together.
“You know, a rainy-day fund?” Rainy-day fund?
“And it’s raining?”
“It’s just a consultation, Owen. You more than anyone know half of the consultations don’t even go through with it.” She turned away, obviously pissed; he was pissed as well.
“Why do you have to have a—”
She turned to face him. The tears at her eyes made him swallow his words whole.
“The girls are asleep and tomorrow is Thursday. The day before the last day of school,” she spoke softly, and he knew she was trying to keep her cool and not lose it.
“Nadia—”
“I’m tired.” Her voice had that tone again, and he winced. “I was going to cancel the consultation. It was just a call, on a whim. It was stupid, okay? So stop worrying about the money—”
“I don’t give a shit about the money.” He stood from the comfortable chair. He watched, utterly surprised as she slipped back into bed like they weren’t in the middle of a conversation.
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