Fran shrugged. But it was clear, she had been crying. Her eyes were red and her face was puffy. Red tear streaks stood out against the pale of her face.
“Are you okay?” Will asked.
Fran shrugged, said, “I’m fine,” and then burst into tears.
Will stood quickly and moved toward Fran. He folded her into his arms, and she buried her face in his chest. She cried for a long time, heaving, body-racking sobs. Her breathing gradually slowed, and finally the sobs shuddered to an end.
“I got your shirt all wet,” Fran said, her voice muffled against Will’s chest.
“It’s okay. It’ll dry,” Will said.
“And I got mascara all over it,” Fran said, leaning back a little to inspect the damage.
Will pulled her close again. “I’ll throw it out.”
“Don’t be nice to me. I don’t deserve it.” Fran’s voice was muffled again.
“Of course you do.”
“No, I really don’t.” Fran leaned back again and looked up at him. “After everything I’ve put you through. I’ve been so stupid. I almost walked away from our marriage. I almost … well, I did something stupid.”
Fear slashed through his stomach, hot and sickening. He didn’t want to hear whatever was coming next. Fran was about to tell him she wanted to come back. That was all he wanted to hear. That their marriage would have a second chance. He didn’t want any of the details of why she’d come to this decision.
“You’ve changed your mind about leaving?” Will asked.
“Yes. Unless you want me to leave. Which I would totally understand, after everything I’ve put you through.”
Will closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, inhaling the essential Franness of her. And then he asked the question he had to ask, no matter how much he didn’t want to know the answer.
“What were you doing at Coop’s tonight?” he asked.
Fran stiffened in his arms. “Did he call you?” she asked.
Will shook his head. “I followed you.”
“You followed me? Why?” Fran stepped back. Her face was pale and vulnerable. Dark circles under her eyes stood out like bruises.
“I wanted to find out if you’ve been having an affair,” Will said.
And then he waited.
Fran looked at him. In each moment that ticked by, Will felt his world falling down around him.
“I haven’t. Not exactly,” Fran said.
Will waited, but she didn’t go on. “What does that mean?” he finally asked.
Fran sighed. “It means that I wanted to have an affair with Coop. He turned me down,” she said flatly.
Will looked at her for a long moment. He could hear his breath, loud and ragged, in the quiet night. Fran looked back at him, her eyes large and somber, her makeup smeared. But Will barely noticed this. Mostly, what he thought as he stared down at her, was that he did not know his wife.
Then he turned and walked away from her, heading into the house.
“Will,” Fran called after him.
Will didn’t turn back. He’d spent weeks wondering what he could have done differently, what he could still do to keep his marriage together. And now, for the first time in their life together, he was no longer sure that he still wanted to be married to Fran.
COOP PUSHED OPEN THE door to the Seawind Day Spa, setting off the chime of a bell. The aroma of rosemary and olive oil and something else—Patchouli? he wondered—enveloped him. The cute but ditzy receptionist was behind the desk.
“Hi, there,” she said when she saw Coop. She smiled flirtatiously. “You’re Audrey’s friend. The mani-pedi guy.”
“Right. The mani-pedi guy. Just what I’ve always wanted to be known as.”
The receptionist giggled. “What’s your name again?”
“Coop.”
She smiled at Coop, showing off lots of large white teeth. “I’m Lisa.”
Coop had the feeling that Lisa would be thrilled if he popped a biceps for her. Or asked for her number. And he had to admit, there was a time when she would have been exactly his type. Young, beautiful, vapid.
“Is Audrey here?” Coop asked.
“If you want another pedicure, I can book it for you,” Lisa said helpfully.
“No, thanks,” Coop said. He grinned, taking care not to hit her with his most charming smile. There was no reason to punish the girl. “I was just hoping to talk to Audrey, if she has a free minute.”
Lisa shrugged in a good-natured way. “I’ll go check,” she said. “She might be in a meeting. That’s what she pretends, sometimes.”
Coop wondered if he should mention to Audrey the obvious deficiencies in her receptionist’s job skills—hitting on potential clients and/or business contacts, an inability to lie convincingly about her boss’s schedule—but decided that when it came to Audrey, he had enough complications to deal with without getting into her staffing issues.
Lisa got up and sashayed to the back of the office. She was wearing a very short plaid skirt that showed off her very long legs. Coop made a valiant effort not to notice.
I do not ogle receptionists. That is not my way. Or, at least, it isn’t anymore, he thought.
She reappeared a few minutes later.
“Audrey will be right out,” she said.
“Did you give her my name?” Coop asked.
“Mmm-hmm. I said that there was a Carson waiting to see her. Oh, and that you were a repeat customer,” the brunette said.
“It’s Coop.”
“Oh, well. Too late now,” Lisa said.
Audrey’s appearance was heralded by the clicking of high heels against hard floors.
“Lisa, have you called to confirm tomorrow’s appointments yet?” Audrey said as she rounded the corner into the waiting room. She saw Coop and came to an abrupt halt.
“I can, like, call, but people always say they’re coming in, even if they aren’t,” Lisa said, clearly dubious that such phone calls were worth her time.
“Hi,” Coop said.
“Hi,” Audrey said.
She looked beautiful, if a bit flustered. She was wearing a red blazer, a black and white striped shirt, dark jeans, and—as usual—black pumps with very high heels.
I love her, Coop thought. He knew it absolutely. It was like a spotlight shone down on her, highlighting the crown of her head, the angles of her cheekbones.
Coop opened his mouth. He wasn’t sure what he meant to say—declarations of love, perhaps?—but instead, what came out was, “What is it with you and high heels?”
Audrey frowned and looked down at her shoes. “What?”
“Why do you always wear such high heels?” He had absolutely no idea why he was going on about her shoes.
Stop it. You’re being a jackass, he told himself.
“Is that why you came here? To ask me about my footwear?” Audrey asked. She crossed her arms.
“Um, no. About something else actually.” Coop glanced at Lisa, who was watching them with frank, wide-eyed curiosity. “Maybe we can go somewhere a little more private?”
“Don’t mind me,” Lisa said, flapping a hand. “Just pretend I’m not here.”
Coop had to swallow back his laugh. And, for a moment, he thought that Audrey was also trying not to grin. However, when she spoke, her voice was cool. “Let’s go to my office.”
Lisa looked disappointed.
“Don’t forget the calls,” Audrey reminded her.
“Oh, right,” Lisa said without enthusiasm.
Coop followed Audrey back to her office.
“Is it wrong that I continue to employ someone I have absolutely no faith in?” she said once they were inside her office, and the door was firmly closed.
“Yes,” Coop said. “But I’m sure she has her good points.”
“I’m sure you noticed all of her good points,” Audrey said darkly. “She doesn’t exactly keep them hidden.”
Coop wasn’t about to fall for that one. “She seemed like a very nice girl,
” he said lamely.
Audrey snorted and sat down behind her desk. “What can I do for you?” she asked.
“This is all very businesslike,” Coop said, sitting in one of the chairs opposite her desk. It wasn’t exactly the reception he was hoping for, but then again, maybe it was unrealistic to expect Audrey to strip off her clothes and fold herself onto his lap.
“That’s me. I’m all business,” Audrey said.
Coop had a flashback to Audrey in his bed, arching up under him, but decided that mentioning this distinct lack of businesslike behavior might not be in his interest at the moment.
“How was your trip? I never got a chance to ask you about it,” Audrey said.
“It was a mistake,” Coop said. He wished they weren’t having this conversation in an office, across a desk, but didn’t want to squander the opportunity. “I shouldn’t have gone. I should have stayed and worked things out with you instead.”
Audrey’s hand, which had been playing with the pen, stilled. “I told you to go.”
Coop smiled. “I’ve never been one to do as I’m told.”
When Audrey spoke again, her voice was gentle. “It wouldn’t have changed anything. You and I … we’re just too different. It would never have worked.”
This was not what Coop wanted to hear. His feelings were hurt and the childish retort came out before he could stop it. “And you and Kenny are?”
“No. We’re not seeing each other anymore.”
Although Coop welcomed this piece of information, he was still stung by Audrey’s lack of enthusiasm over his admission that he’d been wrong to leave. Still, he decided, he might as well make his case.
“You and I were great together. You just need to give it a chance. To give me a chance,” Coop said. He hesitated. “The thing is, I think … I mean, I don’t just think it, I know it … but here’s the thing … I love you.”
Audrey’s eyes seemed to grow darker and larger, and Coop found that he was holding his breath. He flexed his hands over his thighs, amazed to find that his palms were sweating.
“Thank you,” Audrey finally said.
Coop swallowed. “Thank you?” he repeated.
“Yes. That’s a lovely thing to say.”
“Is that all you have to say?” Coop asked. It felt like there was a balloon inflating in his chest. Only no, not a balloon—which was soft and elastic—but something harder, that made it difficult to breathe.
“It’s just … I can’t. I can’t be in love right now,” Audrey said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
Forget the balloon. Coop felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. He actually had to remind himself to start breathing again. In all the times he had imagined this moment, he had never, not once, thought she’d first thank him—what the hell was that?—and then turn him down. And while some of his ex-girlfriends might chalk that certainty up to his innate cockiness, that wasn’t it. The truth was, he truly did love Audrey. And he thought she might just love him back.
Clearly, he had been wrong.
“Okay, then,” Coop said. He stood, feeling a little shaky.
“Wait,” Audrey said, standing, too, and quickly moving around her desk toward him. She put a hand on his arm. “It’s not you. It’s me.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Jesus, now I am talking in clichés. But this really is about me. I don’t trust myself enough to be with someone else right now. Does that make sense?”
“Not really, no,” Coop said, glancing at the door and wondering if he should just make a run for it.
“I need to figure out why I’m so bad at relationships. And until I do, getting involved with someone … with you … it wouldn’t be fair. Not to you, and not to me.”
“That sounds like a firm, definite no,” Coop said, trying to keep his tone light.
Audrey’s eyes softened, and her grip on his arm tightened. “I’m so sorry.”
Coop nodded stiffly and swallowed. “I am, too,” he said. Then he gently dislodged her hand from his arm, stepped around her, and walked out of her office.
JAIME WAS JUST FINISHING changing Ava’s diaper, when she heard her cellphone.
Crap, she thought. She’d left her phone in the kitchen.
“Let’s hurry,” she said to her daughter, stretching the diaper tabs to close them, and making a mental note to look into early toilet training. Who knew, maybe Ava would turn out to be a baby prodigy and pick up the idea quickly. It was unlikely. Logan, almost four, still hadn’t mastered the concept.
Jaime plucked Ava off the changing table, which she had outgrown, and, tucking her daughter on one hip, hurried across the house. She managed to grab the phone right before it went to voice mail.
“Hi, Jaime, it’s me.” It was Emily calling from her cellphone. She sounded upset.
“Emily? Why aren’t you in school?”
“I am in school.” Emily was definitely upset. In fact, it sounded like she was in tears, or close to them. “Something terrible’s happened, and I can’t get ahold of my mom.”
“Calm down. Take a deep breath,” Jaime said. “What’s going on?”
“Today’s my presentation on the early pioneers, and I left all of my stuff at home on my desk,” Emily wailed.
“Can’t you just ask your teacher if you can give your presentation tomorrow instead?”
“No way! Mrs. White is so mean. She’ll make me give the presentation today, even if I don’t have my notes and visual aids. And then she’ll fail me! You have to bring them to me. Please, Jaime,” Emily begged.
“But you said they’re at your mom’s house? How am I supposed to get them?” Jaime asked. She suddenly pictured herself trying to crawl into Libby’s house through a window and getting arrested for breaking and entering in the process.
“There’s a spare key hidden by the front door. It’s under the sundial,” Emily said. “Please, Jaime. Practice went so late last night, and Coach Sarah made me run wind sprints. And then I had to stay up past midnight to finish my presentation and I overslept this morning, and Mom made me rush to get to school on time, and I forgot it,” Emily wailed. “I swear, if you bring it to me, I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”
Jaime hesitated, but then sighed. “Where exactly is this key hidden?”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
JAIME LOADED AVA AND Logan into the car. Ava was rubbing her stuffed turtle against her face. Logan had brought along three Thomas the Train engines with him, but was worried about the ones he’d left at home.
“Mommy, I need Percy,” Logan said.
“Don’t worry,” Jaime soothed. “Your trains will be fine. We’re almost at Emily’s house.”
“I thought our house was Emily’s house,” Logan said.
“This is Emily’s other house. Where her mother lives,” Jaime said.
“I want two houses, too,” Logan said.
Ignoring this, Jaime said, “Once we get there, we’re going to run into the house, pick up something for Emily, and then drive it to her at school.” Jaime glanced in the rearview mirror and groaned inwardly. Ava had fallen asleep. It meant that the already Herculean task of herding the kids from the car to the house, back into the car, then into the school, then back to the car yet again would be made even more difficult by the heavy weight of a sleeping child. It was one of life’s mysteries: Sleeping children always weighed more than awake ones.
Jaime pulled in to the driveway of Libby’s large home with its stunning view of the Intracoastal and found herself staring at Mark’s car. She felt a stab of irritation. Had Emily also called Mark and asked him to pick up the forgotten history presentation? And if so, why hadn’t she called back to tell Jaime he was getting it?
“Typical,” Jaime muttered.
Jaime pulled out her cellphone to call Mark to confirm that he was in fact bringing the school project to Emily before she bothered to unload the children.
The phone rang four times and then went to voice mail. Jai
me tried again. This time, the phone rang only twice before it went to voice mail.
Did he just reject my call? Jaime wondered, her irritation growing tenfold.
Then, suddenly, Emily’s voice came back to her. I can’t get ahold of my mom.
Libby wasn’t answering the phone, not even for her daughter. And now Mark wasn’t answering his phone. And his car was parked in front of his ex-wife’s house.
Suspicion trickled down Jaime’s neck like cold water. No way, she thought. There was no way Mark would ever have an affair with Libby. He couldn’t stand his ex-wife. They always made an effort to remain polite for Emily’s sake, but when Mark and Jaime were in private, Mark rarely had a positive word to say about Libby or his marriage to her. He thought she was selfish and demanding, said that she had always put her needs ahead of his and Emily’s.
But then Jaime thought of all the late nights Mark spent at the tennis club, all of the weekend trips he took with Emily. Libby went sometimes, too. Jaime had never thought much of it—they were both committed to Emily’s tennis career, and besides, they always traveled separately and, of course, stayed in different hotel rooms.
Didn’t they?
No, Jaime thought. No way.
Then again. The weekends away would have given them plenty of opportunities to be alone together. When she wasn’t playing, Emily always spent most of the tournament weekend off with her girlfriends, hanging out by the pool or in the hotel coffee shop.
Jaime turned her ignition off. She glanced back at the kids. Ava was still asleep, but Logan was wide awake, kicking his chubby legs up in front of him.
“Come on, we have to go inside for a minute,” Jaime told him.
“Carry me?” Logan asked hopefully.
“I can’t carry both you and your sister. You’re going to have to walk,” Jaime said, wishing she could leave them in the car, but knowing it was probably a bad idea. Logan was perfectly capable of unhooking the straps of his car seat, climbing into the front seat, and putting the car into gear. Just the mental picture of the SUV rolling down the driveway, out of control with both of her children inside, gave Jaime the chills.
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