Accidental Tryst

by Mia London

  After the boys went upstairs to finish their homework, Angie pulled sheets and a blanket from the closet and began making up the futon in the office.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Angie’s heart hitched as she spun around to face Mac, standing in the doorway. She inhaled. “Shit. I’m making up the futon so you can sleep here.”

  His eyes narrowed, studying her for long seconds. “This isn’t like you, Angie. What’s changed? Are you seeing someone? Is that where this is coming from?”

  She stood upright, her face growing warm. How dare he? “Seriously? No, I’m not. I have a full-time career, take care of the house, cook and clean, do all the boys’ stuff.” She slapped a hand over her chest. “Sure, I’m having an affair in all my spare time.” She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream. “But I’m sure you’ve had plenty of opportunity with all the traveling or working late. Anything you’d care to share?”

  She waited a beat, and when she didn’t hear an answer, she stormed passed him to grab his pillow off the bed.

  He followed her. “I told you. I’m not having an affair. But I think you’re being selfish.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Do you seriously want to put the boys through this?”

  A bead of sweat trickled down the back of her neck. “Don’t put this all on me. Here,” she flung his pillow at him. “I was selfishly making your bed, but you’re a big boy. You can handle it on your own.”

  God bless it! She stormed to the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind her.

  She wouldn’t cry. She would not cry. Although her eyes clouded in spite of her commands. She leaned against the vanity and tried to calm her racing heart. A flood of emotions hit her—anger, pain, sadness—and she hadn’t a clue how to deal with them.

  She washed her face and got ready for bed. It was too early, but she was exhausted. She opened the bathroom door, just as Mac had pulled on it from the other side. She met his gaze.

  His eyes locked with hers, then he quickly took a step back, waiting for her to pass first.

  She awkwardly passed and headed for bed. She could hear him gather a few things, and shortly after the door opened and closed.

  She lay in the darkness, wondering if she would make it through this divorce alive.

  Chapter Six

  A few days after her and Mac’s explosion, Angie had an appointment with an attorney specializing in divorce. She glanced at her watch as she sat in the waiting room, fidgeting with the piece. Her foot swung restlessly.

  “Mrs. MacKey, please come in.” Sherrill Monahan offered her hand.

  “Thank you.”

  “I understand you want to file for divorce.” Sherrill took her seat behind her desk and looked Angie directly in the eyes.

  Hearing it out loud was no less strange than a two-headed dog offering her a martini. She swallowed hard. “That’s correct.”

  “Okay. I want to ask first, is there any hope of a reconciliation? Have you tried counseling?”

  Aside from a few days ago, the last time Angie had asked Mac if he would consider counseling was at the end of last year. Stress in the house had been high. She’d obviously picked the wrong time to broach the subject. His company was trying to close out the year strong, and he was still traveling Mondays through Fridays. But his promotion was right around the corner, and Angie held on to hope that things would soon change because Mac’d become more apathetic at home. Some nights he’d fall asleep on the couch. Angie’d noticed he started tuning out to television, and sometimes the kids. Mac was clearly overworked. She should have expected his reply: I barely have time to brush my teeth. There is no way I have time to see a shrink.

  “My husband has no interest in counseling. He believes he’s done no wrong. So, no, reconciliation is not an option.”

  She nodded once. “I see.”

  Sherrill explained that she strove for a collaborative divorce and what that meant. She also discussed her fee structure, and after they agreed on that, she started asking Angie a slew of questions to get the suit filed.

  She also recommended Angie contact a financial advisor, if she hadn’t already. “No matter how badly you want this over, you need to be smart,” Sherrill advised.

  Then she explained how mediation worked and asked that any requests go through her instead of directly through Mac.

  They finished up, and Angie walked out of the building feeling like she was wading through fog. She slid into the driver’s seat of her car and sat for several moments. She could do this. She had to do this. She was miserable the way things were, and this was her only way out.

  Her diamond ring stared back at her on her left hand. Sparkles danced off the light. She twirled it around her finger, the warmth of the band mocking the coldness of their relationship. She slipped it off, and stuck it in the interior pocket of her purse. Her hand looked strange now. Naked.

  Move on, Angie.

  She ignored the nauseous feeling in her stomach and finished her day at the office. Work provided a fine distraction. When Nicole stood to leave, she asked, “Nicci, do you have a minute?”

  “For you, always.” Nicole swung around the cubicle walls to Angie’s cubicle. She grabbed a chair from an empty space and sat down, her face placid. “What’s going on, Ang?”

  “I asked Mac for a divorce a few days ago.”

  Nicci remained silent for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

  Angie exhaled and stared down at her hands. “It just came out, but frankly I didn’t have the motivation to take it back. In some ways, it felt liberating to say it,” she said in a calm, but sad tone. “I dread telling the boys.”

  “I bet.”

  “Mac is still in the house, although he’s sleeping in the home office.”

  “How long will that go on?”

  Angie shook her head. “Not long, as far as I’m concerned. I suspect he’s looking for an apartment.”

  Nicole nodded. “So, how are you doing?”

  “I think I’m okay. It’s just so . . . surreal. Like this really isn’t happening. I’ll wake up at any moment and realize it was all a dream.” She smoothed her lips between her teeth. “When we first got married, I never envisioned this for our future. I saw us growing old together, still making each other laugh, holding hands when we walk, and kissing each other goodnight. I certainly didn’t envision arguing about how much money was spent on eating out last month or why I couldn’t do at least one load of laundry every day.”

  Her eyes clouded.

  Nicole leaned in closer, holding her hands. “Take it one day at a time, babe. You’ll get through this. And of course, I’m always here for you.”

  She gave her friend a half-smile before they hugged. Nicci was her best friend, and having someone who cared and would listen was all she could ask for. She bit back the tears; there would be time for that later.

  Angie knew she’d erected a wall around her heart. She used to be so laid-back and carefree. Years of disappointment made her callous, and she hated that about herself. But building a wall was the only thing she could think to do to survive, to manage every blessed hour of every day.

  Mac noticed Angie’s missing wedding ring from her finger the bloody minute he walked through the door. A knife to the heart would be less painful.

  “Where are the boys?” he asked as Angie stood wiping down the kitchen counter.

  “Upstairs, doing homework.” She glanced briefly at him. “Your dinner is in the oven.”

  “Thank you,” he replied while he pulled against his tie, slipping it off and loosening another button.

  Shit. Was this how they remained calm and non-defensive—talk in simple, short sentences? Like they were practically strangers.

  She hung up the washcloth, dried her hands, and looked at him. “We need to talk to the boys.”

  He nodded. “When?”

  “Now. We should get it over with, so you can find an apartment and move out.”

  Her words stung, but he wasn
’t overly surprised by them. He’d already been on the hunt for an apartment. Hearing the words spoken, though, added to the complete picture of chaos, disappointment, and emptiness he’d been feeling. He knew once he got through this bullshit, he’d be stronger in the end. But that was little consolation now.

  “And they will stay here.”

  She nodded. “We need to let them know we are going to work out arrangements so that we can co-parent, and we shouldn’t throw around any accusations.”

  Did she direct that statement to him? His eyes narrowed. “I agree.”

  Her facial expression hadn’t changed one bit since he’d walked in. He found it impossible to read her thoughts.

  They called the boys downstairs, and everyone took a seat around the kitchen table.

  “We need to tell you boys something,” he began.

  “Your father and I are getting a divorce,” she cut in.

  Both sets of eyes widened, and Robbie’s mouth gaped.

  “Please know we love you both, and this has nothing to do with you.” He couldn’t even tell if any of his words were registering with them. “This is not your fault.”

  “If we could have worked it out, we would have,” Angie added. “Your father will find an apartment, but he’ll be close. You’ll stay in the house with me, and we’ll figure out arrangements for you two to see him regularly.”

  The silence that fell on the room was bleak.

  Finally, Stuart spoke. “I should have figured since Dad was staying in the office the last few nights.”

  Angie nodded. Robbie’s eyes watered, but Mac could see him feverishly blinking back the tears.

  He covered Robbie’s hand with his own. “We’ll get through this, guys. We’ll be better in the long run.”

  Robbie pulled his hand back, and Stuart snorted.

  Okay, they just needed some time to adjust to the news. As any child would. Hell, he was still adjusting.

  “What about our games?” Robbie asked, his face twisted in grief. “You’re not going to come anymore? You’re supposed to help coach next season.” His eyes pleaded with Mac.

  She cleared her throat. “We’ll try and keep the schedules as normal as possible. Your dad will still come to your games; he just won’t live in this house anymore.”

  Mac threw a glance her way. Her words were certainly innocuous enough, but he couldn’t help wonder if there was some hidden meaning to them. She never took her gaze off the boys. He noticed her eyes appeared misty as well.

  “Is there anything else?” Stuart huffed.

  “No. Do you have any questions?” Mac looked at them one at a time.

  They both shook their heads.

  Mac caught sight of Angie twisting her hands in her lap. “Okay. You can always come to us if you do. For now, you’re excused,” she said.

  They rose and double-timed it back upstairs. Before Mac could say anything to Angie, she’d stood and turned to make her way back to the bedroom.

  “Okay,” he said to no one. He strode to the bedroom. “Angie, I really don’t think this is the best option. I’m willing to see a counselor with you, if that’s what you want. But ending it, . . . well, there’s got to be a way to fix this.”

  She met his gaze for several long seconds, and he thought maybe, he’d broken through.

  “Mac, you need to find an apartment, and do your own cooking and cleaning. That’s a fix that I can live with. Now I’m going to get ready for bed.”

  She walked into the bathroom, closing the door. Telling him, the conversation was over. He thought of following her, but he didn’t want to risk another argument. Instead, he left and went to the kitchen.

  The quiet in the house was unnerving. These are the times when a man needs a dog, he thought.

  Mac pulled his dinner from the oven, poured a glass of wine, and sat back down. Damn, the meatloaf was excellent. Angie was a good cook. Actually, she became a good cook. He could recall more than one occasion when dinner was burned or tasted foul because she’d screwed up the recipe. He laughed to himself.

  Now it would be his turn to learn to cook.

  He groaned and forked another bite.

  Chapter Seven

  Angie and Mac had decided it would be best not to have the boys present when he moved out. Serendipitously, both boys had practice for their sports Saturday morning. Angie hadn’t returned yet from dropping them off. What was taking her so long?

  His gut wrenched. He’d planned on talking with her before leaving. Maybe to avoid leaving. Give it one more try, in their home. The whole week had been short, polite communication. But basically a lot of avoidance. Avoiding each other and avoiding talking about how to fix them.

  Is this what it boils down to?

  He slammed shut an empty dresser drawer. Eyeing a framed photo of the two of them shortly after getting married, he lifted it out of the box and set it in the middle of the dresser.

  How could someone throw twenty years away?

  He wouldn’t give up though. He would find a way to win Angie back. He hadn’t a clue on how, but damn! There had to be a way.

  Mac carried another box to his car and slammed the trunk closed. He’d packed a fair amount of his clothes, some dress shoes and workout shoes. He boxed some casual clothes, toiletries, and his alarm clock. Although the apartment was furnished, he had no doubt he would still need a few things. Glancing around the house, he reached for a framed picture of the boys taken at the beach and another of all of them celebrating Angie’s birthday a few years back.

  He roamed the kitchen. Really nothing there he needed.

  He took in a shaky breath and turned to leave.

  He was stalling. And he knew it. Where the hell was she?

  * * *

  Angie dropped off the boys for their practices and started for home, but never quite made it. She’d driven the back way into the neighborhood and parked under a huge, shady oak tree several houses away.

  She could see that the garage door was open with Mac’s car still parked inside. He hadn’t left yet.

  Her breath hitched when she saw movement.

  Mac put his suitcase in the backseat, then opened the driver’s side door to sit. Soon the brake lights switched on and the car backed out of the garage.

  Her breath stalled in her lungs as he pulled out of the driveway, moved up the street in the opposite direction of where she’d parked, and out of the neighborhood.

  She sat for long moments, watching even after he was out of sight. Vehicles had passed, but she didn’t care. She started her car after a few beats and pulled into the garage. Walking into the house, Angie heard nothing. The silence felt eerie. The house had a new kind of emptiness. Angie shivered as she glanced around.

  Snap out of it! You wanted this.

  Angie straightened her back and walked into the bedroom. She slipped off her shoes and got to work on her weekend chores. She put on the radio, hoping to kill the absolute silence of the place until the boys got home.

  Stripping the bed of its sheets, she went upstairs to do the same in the boys’ rooms.

  Whew! Some room deodorizer might be in order.

  She loaded the washing machine and returned to the master bedroom for more to wash. She walked into the closet and froze.

  Mac’s side of the closet was half bare. Blank bar space and a few stray hangers sent her head into a tizzy. She hadn’t prepared herself for that.

  She took a deep breath and reached into the hamper for dirty clothes. Some of Mac’s clothes lay on top. Tears welled in her eyes. She lifted out the laundry and left the closet. A framed picture of the two of them as newlyweds caught her attention. Mac left it there intentionally. She stared at the happy couple. She wanted to warn that couple everything isn’t rosy; marriage required a crap-ton of work.

  She made a half-step toward the door when she collapsed to her knees on the floor of her bedroom. A sob escaped.

  She shook her head as if she couldn’t understand what was happening. What s
he was feeling? She wanted this. Asked for this. Did you seriously think it was going to be easy?

  Didn’t people say that? “Divorce is the easy way out.” Hardly. This was anything but easy.

  More tears streamed down her cheeks. Hunched over the laundry in her lap, smelling the vague scent of Mac’s cologne, she couldn’t move from the spot.

  A radio station aired a song that sounded vaguely familiar to Angie. She lifted her head and tried to focus. Lisa Stansfield’s All Woman—a song about a man taking his wife for granted. No truer words were ever spoken.

  She struggled to her feet, leaving the pile of clothes behind and went to the radio, staring at the miserable thing. At the end of the song, the man came around and the relationship was saved.

  Thoughts of her and Mac’s time together flooded her mind. Twenty years later and he still wasn’t “coming around.”

  “Ah!” Leaning down, she yelled at the device, a tiny bit of spit flew. She picked up the radio with two hands and yanked the cord from the wall, causing the lamp to jostle. Her face grew hot.

  “Ah!” she yelled again as she lifted it over her head and threw it to the ground.

  Expecting the device to crash in a million pieces, it only bounced and rolled twice on the plush carpet. Dammit!

  Tears streamed down her face as she just stared at her vacant room. Funny, it always seemed too small. The whole house seemed too damn small. But not today. How many times had she just needed room for herself? Suddenly there was plenty.

  Rubbing her hand over her aching heart, more tears streamed down. How can I ease the pain?

  She let out a loud breath, realizing all this nonsense would get her nowhere. She wiped her eyes, bent down to retrieve the laundry, and made up her mind. She would have a productive day. No matter what.

  Damn you, Mac.

  Mac dropped his luggage and shifted his hanging baggage to slip the key in the apartment door and open it. He strode into the solitary space and looked around. There was a neutral-colored sofa and upholstered chair with a coffee table in the living room which spilled into an eating area and the kitchen. The whole space looked like different shades of beige and brown.