Passion, Vows & Babies: Seven Year Itch (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Sarah Curtis

  "Well, good morning to me," her husband's voice came from behind her.

  She picked her head up from the floor, looked over her shoulder, and grinned.

  "A sight I'll never grow tired of."

  She snorted. "My ass in the air?"

  He closed his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah."

  "I don't even want to know what you're envisioning." She stood, throwing her newfound collection on the coffee table to clean up later before dusting off her knees.

  He opened his eyes, his smirk turning into a smile. "Think back three nights ago."

  It was now her turn to smirk. She remembered. And even had a few bruises left from his hold on her hips as he slammed into her from behind.

  She took the few steps to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You know, I bet if I ask real nicely, Mia would watch Emma for me again today, and I can stop by your office for that surprise lunch I had planned yesterday. I might even put myself on the menu. I bet we can find an interesting use for your really big desk."

  Brushing his lips on hers, he murmured, "As tempting as that sounds, I'm going to be swamped today."

  A stab of disappointment poked her in the chest, and she gave him a weak smile. "I understand."

  But she couldn't help but wonder whether that would have been his answer a few years ago or would he have made the effort to rearrange his schedule for her.

  ≈≈≈≈

  "Everything keeps adding up, and sadly, one plus one seems to equal three." Ali leaned her elbows on the kitchen island and buried her face in her hands. She had her butt plopped on the bar stool in her friend's kitchen, and like a true friend, Mia had listened while Ali bitched, moaned, and complained for the past hour.

  She was finally unloading her suspicions onto her best friend's shoulders.

  Ali had met Mia five years ago at a Mommy and Me class they'd both attended. Sarcastic, fun, and loyal to a fault, Ali had latched onto her instantly, and they'd been best friends since.

  But now her fun-loving attitude was missing and in its place was serious contemplation. She shook her head, and the beads at the ends of her braids clacked together, creating a pretty melody. The sunlight streaming through the kitchen window brought a glow to her creamy-mocha skin. "I don't know, Ali, I just don't see Garrett doing something like that."

  "Whose side are you on?"

  "I'm on your side, always, but in this case, I think you've got it wrong, and as your friend, I'm just pointing that out."

  "Come on, you've got to admit it all sounds suspicious. And according to the article in Ardor—"

  Mia cut her off. "Are you really going to take that load of crap as gospel?"

  "Well... no," Ali said, feeling a little embarrassed.

  Mia didn't let her off the hook. "You are!" She snorted. "It's a bunch of garbage, Ali."

  "It made some valid points," she kept defending, feeling silly she'd brought it up in the first place. "What would you do if you suspected Mark was cheating on you?"

  Heat entered her eyes, and a twisted smile warped her lips. "I'd castrate him."

  Ali laughed. "There's the Mia I know and love." Then after a beat of silence, she confessed, "I'm thinking of looking through his phone. If he's hiding something, it'll be in there."

  Mia's expression turned serious again and her brow furrowed. "Do you really think that's such a good idea?"

  "Absolutely. At the very least, I'll find out who's texting him all the time."

  "Just don't go making a mountain out of a molehill. Promise you'll talk to me before you act on anything."

  Ali nodded. "I will." She looked at the time, took the last swig of her coffee, then stood from the stool. "I've got to get Noah. Thanks again for watching Emma for me yesterday even if it was a bust."

  "You know I don't mind. It's actually less work for me when she's here. She keeps Callie company and saves me from having to play Barbie."

  Ali giggled, scooping her three-year-old off the floor and placing her on her hip. "Still, I owe you one. Maybe you and Mark can have a date night soon. God knows, my calendar is wide open."

  "Call me tomorrow and let me know what you find out," Mia said, picking up her now complaining two-year-old and mimicking Ali by placing Callie on her hip. The little girl instantly stopped whining and had a big smile on her face, proud she'd gotten her way.

  "I will." Ali gave her a wave as she let herself out of the house.

  ≈≈≈≈

  Ali lay awake, waiting for the sound of deep breathing, signaling Garrett was asleep. Then waited longer, working up courage and debating with herself whether she really wanted to do what she was planning to do.

  She had a moment of doubt—ashamed of herself for not trusting her husband and thinking to invade his privacy. But if Garrett wasn't hiding anything, it shouldn't matter whether she looked through his phone. And he shouldn't care.

  Then why sneak around? Why not just ask to look at it?

  Because if he were hiding something, that would put them both in an awkward spot if he didn't want to hand it over. She would then have to confront him about everything when she wasn't ready to do that yet. Not until she had more solid facts.

  Sick of arguing with herself, she slowly slid from her husband's embrace. He made a noise and rolled over. She stilled, waiting to see if she'd woken him, but his breathing remained deep and even. For the first time since they started sleeping together, she wished her husband snored. She scooted the rest of the way from the bed, being careful not to jiggle it too much.

  Moving silently around to Garrett's side, she made sure he was still fast asleep before nabbing his phone from the nightstand.

  Dashing on her tiptoes, she made a beeline for the bathroom, soundlessly closing the door and making sure to lock it before turning on the light.

  She needed to pee and decided to get that out of the way before she started snooping.

  Snooping. Such a dirty, dirty word.

  She looked at the phone, lying on the bathroom counter while doing her business, telling herself it wasn't too late to change her mind. But curiosity got the best of her, and though her stomach was in knots of apprehension, she still picked the damn thing up and pressed the wake button.

  She punched in the password on the lock screen but nothing happened. Thinking she mistyped, she tried again with the same results.

  Did he change his password?

  Why would he change his password?

  The only answer that made sense was he was hiding something. Her already knotted stomach dipped, and her breathing became shallow as she fought tears and nausea.

  She typed in other password possibilities she thought Garrett might use, but came up with a fat goose egg. None of his usual codes seemed to work.

  Think.

  So focused on the phone while trying a few more possibilities, the sharp rap on the bathroom door startled her. Her whole body jerked, and the phone flew from her hand. She watched—as if in slow motion—as it sailed in an arc, landing with a small splash right into the toilet.

  A toilet she'd never flushed.

  Her eyes went wide, and a horrified gasp escaped her throat as the implications of what had just happened sunk in, and she lunged for the toilet, gingerly fishing the phone out with two fingers.

  "Babe? You've been in there a while. Everything okay?" Garrett's voice came through the door sounding gruff and sleepy.

  Oh, God. She looked down at the dripping phone then over at the door. "Um... Yeah, I'm just not feeling well. I think something I ate didn't settle."

  "Can I get you anything?"

  She heard him try the doorknob, relieved she remembered to lock it. "Um... Do you mind getting me some Imodium? It's in the kitchen."

  "Sure. I'll be right back."

  "Take your time," she whispered under her breath.

  She rinsed the phone under the faucet—knowing more water wasn't the best idea but... gross—then quickly disassembled it, wiping everything down with a towel.
After putting it back together, she tried powering it back on.

  Nothing happened. Black screen.

  Shit.

  She wasn't sure what to do, but she did know she needed to sneak the phone back before Garrett returned with the medicine. She knew it would take him some time to find—he had the same "searching" skills as his son—but she also knew he wouldn't return without it.

  Cautiously opening the door, she poked her head out. Seeing the room empty, she raced to the nightstand and put the phone back exactly as she'd found it.

  She was just crawling back into bed when Garrett returned. "I couldn't find the Imodium, but I brought you some Pepto-Bismol."

  She took the offered bottle. "Thanks but I'm feeling better. Whatever it was must have passed."

  Garrett climbed in beside her, touching a hand to her forehead before leaning in to give it a kiss. "You don't feel warm."

  Ali brushed his lips with hers. "I'm fine. Let's try to get back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you."

  He gathered her back in his arms, but she lay awake, her mind racing. She was so conflicted. When he was with her, it didn't seem as if he were having an affair. Their sex life was still great, and he was as attentive as always. But why the changed password, late nights, and secretive phone calls?

  She decided she definitely needed more to go on before she confronted him. She didn't want to accuse him of something that may be false and have him think she didn't trust him. Which was really hypocritical of her if she thought about it too closely. She sighed into her pillow. She was turning into a horrible, untrusting wife, and she hated herself for that.

  But only if it weren't true.

  ≈≈≈≈

  After rushing through her morning routine—the story of her life—Ali was about to step out the bedroom door when she heard Garrett say, "Babe, before you run off," he held out his cell, "this damn thing is broken. Do you think you can stop by the phone store and pick up a new one?"

  She inwardly cringed, waiting for him to elaborate, telling her he'd found it sitting on the nightstand in a puddle of water. But when all he did was stare at her expectantly, she took it from his hand. "Sure. No problem."

  Grasping her nape, he leaned down and gave her a kiss. "Thanks, babe." He took a step back. "I'll be working late tonight, so go ahead and eat dinner without me."

  And once again the red flags started to wave. "Why?" Her voice was soft and low but still held an edge.

  If her husband noticed, he ignored it. "Sam Johnson, the guy I had lunch with the other day," he paused and waited for her to acknowledge she remembered who he was talking about. "We need to tie up loose ends, and he was only available tonight."

  "You said he signed the contract that night?" The red flags in her head were not only waving but were now being twirled by a color guard followed by a full-piece marching band.

  "He did, but there were a few amendments he wanted us to make, and we need to go over them before it becomes official."

  If he were lying, he was the best liar in the world and could've been fooling her their whole marriage and she wouldn't have known it. She nodded, choosing to believe him. The alternative was unacceptable. "Okay, but call me if you're going to be too late. You know I worry."

  He gave her another quick kiss. "Babe, I don't have a phone."

  Oh, yeah.

  ≈≈≈≈

  "I'm at the phone store," Ali reported to Mia, her phone to her ear as she waited in line for her turn. On her hip, a squirming Emma was getting restless and heavy.

  "That doesn't sound good. I take it things didn't go according to plan last night."

  Looking down at her feet and speaking low, Ali told her the whole embarrassing story.

  There was a moment of silence before a burst of laughter filled her ear. "You've got to be fuckin' kidding me."

  "I wish I were." She bounced Emma higher on her hip. "Don't overlook the fact he changed his password."

  "Oh, believe me, I didn't."

  "So what does that mean?"

  Mia sighed. "I don't know. But it doesn't mean he's hiding something from you."

  "Who else would he be hiding it from?" She'd said the last pretty loud, and the guy in front of her turned his head to look at her. Ali gave him a small smile and lowered her voice when she continued, "It's not like there's anyone else in the house that would care what's on his phone."

  "Maybe it's someone at work?"

  Ali snorted in disbelief. "Why would anyone at his work want to snoop through his phone?"

  "Who the hell knows, but it's a possibility. One that shouldn't be overlooked."

  "Yeah, okay," Ali sighed, not sounding the least bit convinced.

  "So the phone idea was a bust. What's the next plan?"

  "I don't know." Arm breaking, Ali set Emma on her feet but held her hand, so she wouldn't wander off. Through the glass window of the phone store, her eyes landed on a spy shop across the way. "I guess I could bug him," she said half in jest.

  "I don't see how pestering him to death will give you any useful answers."

  "Not that kind of bug, you know like a listening device."

  "Jeez, Ali, this isn't Mission Impossible or a James Bond movie."

  "We could totally pull off being Bond girls."

  "Maybe you could, but I don't think I can run in heels."

  Ali laughed. "We'll work on that next week." She looked up and saw she was next in line. "I've got to go. I'll call you later."

  "Don't forget yoga at ten on Sunday."

  Shit, she had forgotten, just as she'd forgotten last week. She couldn't ditch her friend two weeks in a row. "I'll be there."

  "Be there or be square."

  Ali was still laughing even after she clicked off the phone.

  ≈≈≈≈

  The rest of her day flew by—grocery store, getting Noah from school, homework, feeding the kids dinner, baths, and then putting them to bed—so she hadn't had time to ponder much on Garrett's questionable actions. But once eight o'clock rolled around, with the house quiet, her husband still not home, and nothing pressing to do, her mind drifted, dwelling on what he was doing at that exact moment. Unfortunately for him, she had a very active imagination. Also, unfortunate for him, her imagination wasn't portraying him in a favorable light.

  Innocent until proven guilty. She must remember that.

  She heard the garage door leading into the house slam and stood from the couch as Garrett walked into the living room. "How was your night?"

  He blew out a tired sigh. "Long."

  His suit jacket was off, and he carried it slung over his shoulder by a hooked finger. His tie was askew, and his hair was a bit mussed. And was that... lipstick on his jaw?

  Garrett tossed his jacket on the couch and took a long stride toward her. She took a hasty step back, wrinkling her nose. "You smell like a whorehouse."

  Her idiot husband had the audacity to laugh. "What?"

  "You smell like cheap perfume," Ali clarified, folding her arms across her chest. She put on a brave face, showing anger, when what she really wanted to do was cry. A lump filled the back of her throat, and she forcefully swallowed it down.

  His brow furrowed. "Are you upset about something?"

  Ali let out a humorless laugh. In the back of her mind, she remembered the magazine article had cautioned against being confrontational, but she was too upset to take heed. "Are you kidding me right now?" She held up her pointer, counting off items. "You've been working a lot of late nights." She put up her middle finger, forming a vee. "You suddenly feel the need to take phone calls out of the room," she added another finger, "and get a gazillion texts." She lifted her pinky. "You were unexpectedly not at work when I showed up."

  "Which I explained," he butted in.

  "Fine, then explain the perfume and lipstick."

  "I shouldn't have to," he held up a hand when she opened her mouth to speak, "but I will because I can see how disturbed you are by it."

  Ali felt her eyes bug.
Disturbed was putting it mildly.

  "Sam Johnson's secretary came to dinner with us, and she gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek as we were leaving."

  "And you let her?" Her voice was laced with accusation, which she knew was the wrong way to behave, but she didn't friggin' care. Her whole world was tumbling out of control.

  Garrett looked exasperated, and he had an edge to his voice when he said, "Ali, Mrs. Dickerson's eighty if she's a day."

  Well, that took a little wind out of her sails. But she had more. "What about the secretive phone calls and texts?" She crossed her fingers and hoped he didn't put two and two together and suspect she was the one who'd broken his phone.

  "They're business calls, Ali. I step out of the room so the caller won't hear the kids in the background. As for the texts, I've been CEO for almost a year now. Everyone's finally gotten the memo." He shrugged. "I'm popular." A sexy smirk pulled at his lips. The same smirk that had coaxed her out of her panties ten years prior and wasn't any less effective now. He took a step closer. "Where is this coming from? What's going on in that head of yours? Why the mistrust all of a sudden? You know I love you and would never do anything to hurt you."

  She didn't back away this time as he stepped in closer and wrapped his arms around her. "I guess everything piled together... It just looked so suspicious. I was being silly. I'm sorry I doubted you."

  "You're not silly. But it does hurt to think you don't trust me. That you'd think I'd do something like that to you. You're the love of my life, Ali. I would never do anything to jeopardize what we have."

  She snuggled closer, trying to ignore the cloying scent that permeated her nostrils. God, how could she have doubted him? They'd been together so long—since college. They had so much history together. He'd been her first everything. If anything happened to the two of them, she'd be devastated.

  Could that be why she misconstrued what was really happening? Did she let her fears blow everything out of proportion?

  Squeezing him tighter, she again apologized, "I'm sorry."

  Tightening his arms around her, he kissed the top of her head. "You don't need to apologize, I just wished you'd talked to me. I don't like that you had those thoughts running through your head."