by A. R. Torre
“Don’t give me that look,” he groaned. “What? What are you worrying about?”
“Ashley said you two were in the boardroom.” I shrugged. “What was wrong with your office?”
“I had a meeting prior with a large group. I stayed in the room. After Neena, I would have met marketing in there.” He frowned at me. “You don’t have anything to worry about. You know that.”
“I know that you have four different companies to run, and there’s plenty of other people who could take her to the hospital. Me. Maria. A friend, if she even has one.”
“Cat, I—”
“Look. Matt is your friend. I understand that. And I want to be here to support them. But you’ve just been so busy lately, I feel like I haven’t gotten any time with you. And yet, now you can ditch everything to go sit in a hospital? You know it’s going to be hours, right?”
“I can call—”
“I already called the hospital. They’re ready for him, and they’ll get him right in. Best and quickest of everything. But still, it’s going to take time.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him on the lips. “Just . . . be good.”
“I’m always good,” he said against my mouth.
I pulled away from him and wished I could believe it.
CHAPTER 28
NEENA
I fastened the seat belt, straining to hear Will’s conversation with Cat, one that involved lots of frowns and head shakes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. I watched as her hand curled into his hair and fought the wave of jealousy that ripped at my chest. He shouldn’t be kissing her. Not when he’d kissed me just an hour ago. Not when my husband was in the ambulance and the attention should be focused on getting me to the hospital. He lifted his mouth from hers but stayed in place, their heads close, words quiet.
Looking for a distraction, I reached forward and quietly opened the glove box, snooping through the contents. I spotted some eye drops and grabbed them, glancing back out while I twisted open the top. They were still in place, her body clinging to his. Lifting the small vial, I tilted back my head and dripped the saline solution in both eyes, then pocketed the container, flipping the glove box closed. They turned to me, and I managed a pained smile, hoping that they could see the faux tears. I blinked, and a drop dribbled down my cheek.
He kissed the top of her head and left her side, rounding the front of the vehicle and opening the door. “You okay?” He settled into the seat and closed the door, starting the car.
“Yeah.” I wanted to reach over and hug his arm, lace my fingers through his, and lean into his warmth—but I didn’t. I faced forward, lifting a limp hand in parting as we pulled past Cat. This was an odd part to play—the emotional almost-widow. I tried to think of a take that would endear him to me, one that would make him jealous of Matt. It wasn’t a clear path to navigate, especially given the powerful one we’d already been on—the one that had been going so well until this interruption of it. What could have happened in the next fifteen minutes of that meeting? Would I have straddled his hips, his hands roaming underneath my sweater? Just the thought of it made me a little light-headed, and I pinched my knees together, shifting on the seat.
“Did they tell you about his injuries?”
I needed to decide what to do when he mentioned the kiss. With our abrupt halt, I wasn’t able to follow the plan—one where I would reluctantly tell him that we shouldn’t keep this up, all while spurring him on. At the end, I had planned to focus the conversation on keeping the secret versus what we had done. I could probably still follow that plan, but it would be less effective with his mind clear.
“Neena?”
I looked at him. “Yes?”
“Do you know how Matt is? How badly he’s injured?”
“Oh.” I swallowed and turned a little in the seat to face him, hoping he saw the moisture on my cheeks. I should have been a little more aggressive with the drops. “They said a broken arm and probably some fractured ribs.”
“Thank God Cat heard him screaming.”
“Yeah.” Thank God for Cat. What would I do without her? Oh, let’s all praise Cat and her ability to swim laps in her million-dollar pool and hear my husband’s cries. I bet she lay all over him when she was helping him out. She probably loosened the tie on her robe and let it fall open, revealing her bikini-clad body. Had he looked at her? I dug my nails into the seat belt, imagining it was her throat. I didn’t have much in this life, but Matt was one of the few things that was solidly mine. It was out of line for another woman to lounge all over him during an injured moment when he couldn’t move away.
And besides, it wasn’t like she saved his life. Chances were, I would have come home after my meeting with William and found him. And if I hadn’t—it was a broken arm and some ribs. He could have eventually crawled inside and called his own ambulance. Or, heaven forbid, driven himself to the hospital. Honestly, I don’t know why she took it upon herself to call 9-1-1 instead of just calling me.
William paused. “Cat’s close with the head of the hospital. She called her already, so they’ll take good care of Matt.”
I hadn’t been aware, until Cat rubbed my face in it, that the Winthorpes had paid for the new east wing of the hospital. She’d assured me that the staff would bend over backward for Matt if they knew “our connection.”
She had no idea of connections. No idea of what was growing between her husband and me. William was on the hook. I just needed time—without her or Matt—to reel him in.
“Look . . .” And here it came—the mention of the kiss. I could already hear regret coating his words, an apology hovering on his lips.
I cut him off at the pass. “Don’t worry about it.” I watched him turn at the light, storefronts and street signs passing, the morning sun streaming through the front windshield. I flipped down the visor and resisted the urge to raise the seat, the height set for Cat’s long legs and torso. “It’s between us. No one has to know about it.”
He said nothing, his eyes on the road. As he made the turn into the hospital, I unclipped the seat belt and leaned forward, grabbing my purse off the floorboard. “Mind dropping me off up front? I’ll let the reception desk know we’re here.”
He nodded, pulling up to the grand front entrance and stopping at the curb. He shifted the vehicle into park, and I leaned toward him, half crawling over the center console as I wrapped my arms around his neck in a hug. “Thank you,” I whispered, hoping he could smell the scent of my new perfume.
I felt his hand slide around my back, squeezing me against him for a brief moment. “I’ll park and come find you. Call me if you have any trouble.”
I pulled away and opened the door. “Thanks. I’ll see you inside.”
There was a moment before I stepped out—a break of time where our eyes met and I felt the undercurrent of chemistry still taut between us.
Stepping out of the vehicle, I couldn’t help but smile.
CHAPTER 29
NEENA
Matt was awkward in the car. His cast was too bulky, bumping into the door with a loud clunk as he tried to adjust the seat belt. From the back seat, I watched him fumble and swallowed a sharp remark.
“Thanks for the ride,” he said to William, then turned his head in an attempt to see me. “Neena, why didn’t you drive your car?”
I looked out the window, grateful that he couldn’t see me from his position. “I was so worried about you. We thought it’d be safer if William drove.”
Matt bought it as easily as every other lie I spoon-fed him. I listened as he went on and on, re-creating the yawn-worthy scene for us.
Coffee in hand. Black, like always.
The weather almost too cool to be out on the porch.
Saw a hawk on one of the trees.
Was leaning against the railing, as he always did, when it gave way.
“I swear, I’ve never cursed those high first-floor ceilings in my life. What do you think they are, eighteen feet?”
Silence hung, and I realized he was talking to me. “Uh . . . yeah. Eighteen feet.”
Matt chuckled, and I don’t know why he found that funny. “Thank God I hit the grass. You know, they say you should go limp when you fall, and I knew that, but I stuck out my hand like an idiot. Good thing I didn’t land feetfirst. I’d have snapped my weak ankles like twigs.”
He did have weak ankles. We used to laugh about it. I once put an anklet of mine on him and it fit, though a bit snugly, the gold chain tight around his hairy leg.
“Doc gave me three weeks of staying at home and letting my ribs heal.”
I made a face at the thought. Three weeks of tripping over him in the house? I’d go mad. And it was his right arm, of all things. He was high maintenance already—would be much more so with a crippled dominant hand. I reached forward and rubbed his good shoulder, making sure that William caught the action. “I’ll take good care of you, baby. Spoil you rotten. You’re going to hate it when you finally heal enough to get back to work.”
He turned his head and kissed my hand, and he really was sweet. It would be hard to re-create the amount of love and naked trust that Matt had for me, paired with his ability to overlook all my flaws.
William’s cell rang, and I saw Cat’s name light up on the dash. He hit the screen, and her voice broke through the speakers.
“Hi, love. Where are you?”
I hated the way she spoke to him. It was filled with such ownership, such familiarity and confidence. I’d been with Matt since high school, yet somehow—whenever I saw them together—it felt as if we were inadequate. I couldn’t wait to knock her off her perch and destroy that casual arrogance.
“We’re headed to the house now.” The stoplight ahead turned yellow, and William gunned the engine, slipping through as it flashed red.
“Great. I’ll head over and meet you. I threw the pieces of the balcony in the trash and put some tape up between the posts.”
“That’s great, Cat.” Matt craned forward, as if he needed to get closer to the delicate speaker in order for it to hear him. “Thank you so much.”
Oh yes. Thank you so, so, so much. I thought of her passing through our bedroom and onto the balcony. She probably judged us with every step through the house. Thank God I’d made the bed.
“I’ll put up a temporary railing,” William offered. “I can do it tomorrow evening. That’ll tide you over until you can get a replacement piece.”
“That would be great.” I reached forward and squeezed his arm, letting my hand trail over his bicep. “That’s so kind of you, Will.”
On the other end of the phone, Cat said nothing, and I knew that this—me with both of our men—was killing her. I sat back in my seat and smiled. “Will?” I called out sweetly. “Would you mind stopping on the way so we can grab something to eat?”
“I’ve already got food here,” Cat broke in crisply. “William, Philip just made lobster rolls and those cheese biscuits you love.”
William perked up, she blabbed on and on about their gourmet lunch, and I was ready to gag by the time they finished their I love yous and hung up the phone. It wasn’t natural, how often they said it. As a semi–health professional, I could recognize the insecurity in the gesture, the constant need to verify the feelings a giant red exclamation point of concern. If I were a marriage counselor, I’d tell them to hold back the words and show their love more with actions. I’d also pull William aside and make it clear that he could do much, much better.
We started up the hill, into the neighborhood, and I looked out the window, watching as the landscape passed by. In the front seat, the men started a heated conversation about the 49ers’ chances of a playoff run. I listened to them talk, laughter and insults slinging between the front seats, and wondered if William felt guilty toward Matt, about our kiss. Or was he like me and turned on by the close association and risk?
I didn’t know yet, but I would soon. If there was guilt, I’d massage it. I’d invent and provide a justification for our actions. And if it aroused him, I’d play up that angle, too. Increase the danger and heighten the stakes.
Either way, he didn’t have a chance.
NEENA
Now
“According to employees at Winthorpe Tech, you and William Winthorpe started to spend more and more time together and conducted most of your meetings in the boardroom.” The detective looked up from her notebook. “Were you meeting in the boardroom because it was more private?”
I thought of the first time we’d had sex, just one week after Matt’s fall from the balcony. My skirt pushed up around my hips. His dress slacks unzipped. A pen rolling off the table. It had been quick. Dirty. Sexually unsatisfying but emotionally breathtaking.
“I’m not sure what you’re trying to allude to,” I said stiffly. “You already know that we had an affair. If you missed it somehow, you need a new job. Cat has made sure that everyone in town knows.” They say that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and Cat had been a shining example of that mantra.
“You’re right, Neena. We have proof that you seduced Ned Plymouth. Proof that you seduced William Winthorpe. Let’s jump right ahead to the meat of the matter.” She sat on the edge of the table, close enough to touch me, and folded her arms over her scrawny chest. “When did you decide your husband needed to die?”
PART 4
AUGUST
ONE MONTH EARLIER
CHAPTER 30
CAT
“I swear, I literally couldn’t listen to another one of that woman’s stories. They were disgusting. If you’d been stuck beside her on an international flight, you’d have done the same thing.”
William shook with silent laughter, the glass never making it to his lips before he had to set it down. Holding up a hand, he tried to speak. “I—I wouldn’t have. I would have smiled politely and listened to every story.”
“Oh, bull,” I sputtered, leaning back as the waiter set a strawberry shortcake before me. “You would not. During the playground orgy story, you would have found an excuse. Maybe not a ghost on a plane—”
“Definitely not a ghost on a plane.” He brought the chocolate torte closer to him. “I would have gone to the bathroom.”
“I did that,” I pointed out. “I went to the bathroom, came back, and she dived right back into her stories.”
I dipped my fork through the six layers of shortcake and cream, watching as the white-gloved staff set down more desserts. After two days of a juice cleanse, we’d thrown caution to the wind and proclaimed ourselves deserving of a drinks-and-desserts date. Two bottles of champagne in, we were laughing through a memory of a promiscuous grandmother I’d gotten stuck next to on an eleven-hour flight to London. Running out of options, I started screaming that I saw a ghost sitting in her lap. The flustered first-class flight attendants had assured me that there was no ghost, but I’d stuck to my guns until they moved me to a different seat.
He lifted his glass to me. “Here’s to being blacklisted from American Airlines.”
“Well worth it.” I tapped mine against his. “Plus, it prompted the jet purchase.” I grinned at him. “Which may have been my evil plan the entire time.”
He smiled. “I love you so much.”
I leaned over the table and stole a kiss.
We were watching the bananas Foster presentation when he dropped the bomb. “I’ve been thinking, and I’m ready to think outside the box with starting a family.”
It was such an unexpected statement that I choked, a chunk of strawberry lodged in my throat. I took a long sip of water and managed, my stomach coiling in protest against whatever he was about to say. I couldn’t do a surrogate. I couldn’t. Not yet.
“I’m willing to consider adoption.”
The contraction in my stomach eased, and I let out a shuddering breath, switching to champagne as I processed the information. “Are you sure?” I studied him. “You’ve always been against—”
“I’ve been stubborn. You kn
ow, male lineage and pride. But I want a family, and let’s face it, I’m getting old.” He grimaced.
“You’re not old.” I reached for his hand, pulling it across the table, and tried to decide if I was happy or hurt by the realization that he was giving up on my ovaries.
He smiled at me. “I want to see you as a mom. And Neena said that the adoption process can be as quick as a few months.”
Any percolating enthusiasm immediately withered on the vine. “What does Neena have to do with anything?”
“Well, you know—with Matt, they can’t have children. They’ve looked into adoption in the past. She’s the one who brought it up and pushed me to consider it.”
“So you two discussed my infertility again?” I pushed the plate away, nauseated by the thought. She’d thrown away her baby. Kept it from reaching a family who might want to adopt. And yet he was discussing it with her. Getting advice from her.
“No, it wasn’t—” He stopped. “Please, I don’t want to ruin our evening. I thought you’d be happy.”
“I find it interesting that she and Matt looked into adoption, considering that she had an abortion eight years ago.” I clenched my jaw, immediately upset with myself for showing the trump card I should have held on to longer. But I couldn’t keep the words inside, not when they had clawed up my throat and out of my mouth. She had killed her baby—she didn’t have the right to adopt another.
“What?” He flinched, and maybe it hadn’t been wasted after all. “Where did you hear that?”
“It’s true. I have proof of it.” I crossed my arms and rested them on the white linen surface. “So, if Matt’s shooting blanks, then who do you think the father was?” I raised one brow and waited for a response.
Beside his spoon, his phone lit with a notification. He glanced at the screen, and it was all I could do to keep from reaching over to see if it was her. “I’m not going to ask why you’re digging into Neena.” His gaze flicked back to me. “But I just told you I was open to adoption, something you’ve pushed for for years, and you’re turning this conversation into a fight about her.”