Accidental Tryst

by Mia London

  A stark contrast to the reds and yellows in his house. Angie had done the bedroom in pale blue and gold; she’d called it “spa blue.”

  This is home for a while, he thought, before he hefted his bags to take them to the master bedroom. He made a few more trips from his car, bringing in boxes, bags, and his golf clubs. He stowed most of it in drawers and closets, and finally dropped down on the sofa for a breather.

  The apartment was just a place to keep his things and sleep, and had a bedroom with two twin beds for the boys. It was conveniently located halfway between the house and work.

  It wasn’t home. The whole damn thing felt unreal, like he was living someone else’s life. The lives of absentee fathers, take-out dinners, and work-obsessed men depicted in the Lifetime movies Angie watched, which all led to broken homes. He rubbed a hand over his brow.

  Time to focus on something else. He stood and went to scope out the kitchen. Most of what he needed in terms of cooking implements appeared to be there, but nothing edible beyond several gratis water bottles the management company left in the fridge. What he really needed right now was beer.

  He swiped his car keys off the counter and made his way out.

  After an hour of shopping for the essentials, beer, and a take-n-bake pizza, he returned to the apartment. He sent out a few texts to his close friends, inquiring about their evening. Considering it was a Saturday, he had a chance of getting in on a poker game or watching a college ball game. In no time, a few guys got back to him that they already had plans and wanted a raincheck. Ryan replied that he was out of town, but promised they would get together soon.

  He opened his notebook at the kitchen table and popped the cap off his bottle of beer. Maybe he could get some sales reporting done.

  He knew he needed to reach out to his boys. He worried, but damn if he knew what to say. He shot them some texts and got a few responses about hanging out with friends. Good for them. They should be around their friends during this time.

  Geez! It was too damn quiet.

  His home had been a hotbed of activity, of energy. He grinned. There had always been something going on. Boys coming and going. Friends showing up. Angie bustling about. Doing her own thing, either with the house or work, and keeping up with the boys’ stuff too.

  She was damn good at her job, always had a strong work ethic. Somehow she managed to have an incredible career and raise two incredible boys at the same time.

  Angie.

  What happened? What went wrong? How had he missed the cues? If Angie had been unhappy for so long, why didn’t she tell him? He absently toyed with a pen, and replayed so many scenes they had together. Sure they argued, but didn’t all couples? Even now, he could feel the heat fill his cheeks thinking about some of their disagreements. Most of them seemed so petty, in retrospect. No one was perfect. And they’d had good times, too. Like family vacations, sharing milestones when the boys were little, going on drives to look at the fall colors and picking up a gallon of apple cider along the way.

  At least he’d thought they were good times.

  They would not throw away twenty years. He shook his head.

  Mac prided himself on being a solution-finder. There had to be a solution to this mess. His moving out could not be the final chapter in their relationship.

  He loved his wife. In his heart of hearts, he had to believe she loved him too and would see that they could work this out. That this was merely a pothole in the road.

  Chapter Eight

  She had survived the weekend without Mac. She only thought about him a million times when awake and half a million when she tried to sleep.

  Another day, another press release, Angie begrudgingly thought. At least when she walked in the office Monday morning, she knew she had work to distract her.

  “Hey,” Nicci called from over their shared wall. “How was your weekend?”

  “It was fine.”

  “I thought you would call me,” Nicci said, not in an accusatory way, but in a supportive way.

  “I thought about it more than once, but I got through. The good news is my house has never been cleaner.” She gave a sardonic grin, and Nicci smiled.

  Angie turned back to her computer to focus on her busy day. She opened her calendar and saw several meetings scheduled. One with the distribution and marketing folks regarding a full rollout the men’s line, another with several store managers about an outreach program they were a part of in California. However first, Terri in Advertising wanted to discuss a fashion campaign leveraging social media. Seeing her friend would be good; she missed Terri.

  * * *

  As she got comfortable in a chair across the desk in Terri’s office, she glanced around at several large blow-ups of the latest ad campaign resting on easels. Angie reflected on how close the two of them used to be. Clearly, as the company grew, they got busier with their jobs and responsibilities, and life took its toll on their close relationship. In addition, Terri had gone through a divorce two years prior, and consequentially seemed to put herself in a cocoon.

  Angie’s heart had broken when she’d heard the news of Terri’s divorce, but to make things worse, she’d felt pity for Terri. How ironic that she was now in that same position.

  “Hi, Terri. You look good,” she smiled at her friend. Terri had let her blonde hair grow passed her shoulders a few inches, but the color hid any gray trying to poke through. Her svelte body was just as Angie remembered it—statuesque with subtle curves.

  “Hey, Angie. Thanks. I’m coming along. How are you?”

  Angie smoothed her lips together and took in a breath. “Well, things have been better. I . . . was actually hoping we could talk over lunch. Are you free this week?”

  Terri tipped her head, then turned to look at her calendar on the computer. “Yes. Tomorrow, actually. Lunch it is. It’s been a while,” her voice dipped.

  She nodded. “It has. So tell me your idea.”

  “Okay. I want your opinion before I run this by the team. If you don’t think this will fly, then we scrap it.”

  “Okay,” Angie said slowly.

  “I would like to start a campaign on social media, a contest really, centered on the fashion of the stars. How often have we seen actors, royalty, etcetera,” she waved her hand absently, “step out in hideous attire? Then they’re splashed across the tabloids and picked apart on cable TV.”

  Angie chuckled softly. “It’s true.”

  “Well, I want to hold a contest in which entrants send in the original photo clip of the star poorly dressed, and then a picture of how they would change it. Sort of a before and after.” She paused a moment searching Angie’s eyes for a hint of what she thought. “We could have prizes for first, second, and third place. What do you think?”

  Terri had creativity running through her veins. No doubt about it. This could be brilliant. “Terri, I like the idea, but I have some reservations.”

  She sent a flick of finger pointing Angie’s way. “I thought you might.”

  “On one hand, we get some great exposure, and really leverage our social media channels. On the other hand, we could be insulting some of the very folks that shop our stores. Not to mention, this probably wouldn’t draw in our target market.”

  Terri pinched her lips together. “Right. One thing I considered was limiting the number of things that can be changed from the before. That would be like saying ‘they were so close.’ Would that minimize the insult-factor?”

  “It could.” Angie toggled her head side to side, thinking about how to spin this into a positive for l’Amour. It was a good idea; there had to be a way they could use it. “What if we target students and make the prize scholarship money. Then there would be less complaining,” she said with air quotes, “because it benefits a really good cause—education.”

  “Yeah,” Terri drew out the word. “Plus we hit our future target market.”

  “Do you have a budget?” Angie tapped her pen against her index finger.

&nbs
p; “Not specifically. I thought I would formulate an idea with the team and generate a plan before I ran it up the flagpole.”

  “Well, obviously the bigger the prize money the more exposure and press it could gain for l’Amour.” Angie raised an eyebrow. “But too high, and it could look too much like taking advantage of an unfortunate choice.”

  “True,” Terri said with a smirk on her face.

  Thinking through the plan, Angie said, “I can help with the positioning and messaging. Being a fashion retail company, this could show how dedicated l’Amour is to good fashion, furthering innovation in the industry, and educating future generations, Ter.”

  “We’re on the same page. Great.” Terri clapped her hands together. “I’ll get my team working on a plan and the pitch.”

  “Okay, and if you want, run it by me before Jarmon sees it,” she said with a smile, “but Terri, I love the idea. It’s liable to go viral.”

  “I can only hope.” Terri’s eyes twinkled with enthusiasm.

  Angie chuckled as she stood. “Okay, lunch tomorrow.”

  “You got it, Ang.”

  Angie made her way back to her office. Terri was a visionary, so creative. Terri used to call Angie to her office regularly to bandy ideas around. She hadn’t heard from her friend in quite a while. Terri’s divorce took a toll on her drive, and her outgoing nature. It was good to hear from her. Angie smiled. Good to see Terri’s life getting back to some semblance of normal.

  That thought dropped a pit in Angie’s stomach. Did this mean she was doomed to have the same experience? Go through a battle to be free of pain and anguish only to enter into another world filled with pain and anguish? Angie let out a shaky breath. She couldn’t think about it now; she might break down, and that was not good for business.

  Mac shut down his computer and stashed some papers in his desk drawers. As he slipped his arms into his jacket, Camille stood in his doorway.

  “Hey, Mac,” she said, wearing a bright smile.

  “Hey, Camille. What’s up?”

  She strode in. “I’m sorry. Were you about to leave?”

  “Yes. I have an appointment.” Mac wanted to tear himself away early to meet with his attorney, Tyler Benson. He hadn’t been looking forward to the meeting, but it was necessary nonetheless.

  “Okay, I won’t keep you. I was reviewing some revenue numbers for Australia. Sales seemed to have spiked considerably last month. Do you know why that was?” She tipped her head and her hair fell over her shoulder.

  “Wasn’t that right after the Outback Marathon? I think we were big sponsors this year, right?”

  He knew they were one of the top sponsors of the marathon. He wanted to give Camille the benefit of the doubt. How unusual that she would ask him about this.

  “Oh, that’s right.” She shook her head lightly and grinned. “I’m sorry to have bugged you. I probably could have found that out on my own.”

  He gave her a gracious smile. “No problem.” Mac walked toward the door, holding the door knob.

  Camille took her cue and walked out. She paused long enough to say, “Good luck with your appointment.” She pivoted in her high heels and walked away.

  That was odd, he thought. Granted he’d only been in this position six months, but Camille would have never come by his office for such a trivial matter. She would have called. He scowled. No, she would have gone to someone on her team first.

  He didn’t have time to deal with Camille right now.

  * * *

  Minutes later at his meeting with his attorney, they discussed a temporary order sent over by Angie’s lawyer outlining custody of the boys, child support, and how the bills would get paid. Tyler had a great reputation, and Mac could see he was thorough. He even asked Mac if he thought Angie had a lover on the side. The thought turned over and over in Mac’s mind. But his gut yelled no way. It wasn’t in her make-up. He’d never had the sense she was cheating, even during all of his years traveling, he never thought she’d strayed. She emotionally pulled back, and that was frustrating enough.

  His conclusion—highly unlikely.

  All his travel, while good for his career, had been a disaster for his marriage. He vowed to not get consumed with work so much anymore.

  “Okay. Let’s go through some other items,” Tyler said.

  As they went through more details and discussed assets, Mac held back the rush of melancholy, and pushed aside the emotion that rose to the surface. He found himself wanting to give Angie what he could. He felt like he owed her. She was a good woman and mother. Perhaps she wasn’t supposed to be a wife, his wife, but nevertheless, he didn’t want the mother of his children to struggle.

  His throat thickened as he spoke. “If divorce is imminent, I don’t want to sell the house. In fact, there are only a few more years left on the mortgage, I should be able to pay it off.” He didn’t know exactly how Angie felt about the house, other than it being too small. Yet one thing he was certain of—she would want minimal disruption of the boys’ lives. They both wanted that. And that meant keeping them in the house, at least until Robbie graduated from high school.

  Tyler asked, “You said if divorce is imminent. You’ve been served with papers from your wife, Mac. How do you propose changing her mind?”

  He paused before he answered. The man was probably going to think he was looney. “Honestly, Tyler, I don’t know how—but I do know that I will find a way to get back together with her. She’s my wife and always will be in my eyes.”

  Tyler had an excellent poker face. Mac couldn’t be sure, but he might have seen a twinkle of admiration flash in the man’s eyes.

  * * *

  On his way to the gym, Mac received a call from his VP of Sales, and personal friend, Cameron Blayke.

  “Hey, Cameron. How’s it going?”

  “What—did you bail out early?”

  Mac chuckled. “Yeah, man. I had an appointment.”

  “Alright. You free tomorrow night?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Cool. Let’s grab a drink after work.”

  Mac liked the sound of that. Hanging with a friend was just what he needed to get his mind off his troubles, at least temporarily. “Sounds good to me.”

  “Okay. I’ll probably see if Pete and Kurt are available too.”

  “Good idea. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He ended the call.

  Whenever Mac was in town for the weekend from his travels, the four of them would play golf at the local courses. Mac missed his friends. Knowing he would see them again lifted his mood as he had something to look forward to.

  He grabbed his gym bag from the trunk, strolled into the gym, and quickly changed. The first station he started on was the treadmill. He jogged up to a good clip, his goal being three miles. Only a few moments had passed when Bonnie approached him. Bonnie was a shameless flirt. Not even his wedding ring stopped her. That day she wore a hot-pink sports bra with blue stripes going down the sides, and tight shorts to match. The bra may have been a size too small because her enhanced breasts looked like they were stuffed into that thing.

  “Hi, handsome. How’s it hangin’ today?”

  “Good, Bonnie. How ‘bout yourself?”

  “If I were any better, there would need to be two of you to handle me.”

  Oh, yeah. She was a live wire. He let out a polite chuckle.

  Then, in an unexpected move, Bonnie squeezed in alongside his treadmill and smoothed her hand down his forearm. “Lookin’ good, Mac.” Her exit—a more surprising move—was a pat on his ass. “Definitely looking good,” she purred.

  The smell of the sickly-sweet scent she wore lingered after she was gone. Bonnie meant no harm, but he was in no mood for games.

  He jumped off the treadmill and slipped on his gloves. He needed to work off as much stress and frustration as he could, and one thing called to him to do just that. The punching bag.

  Twenty minutes later and dripping with sweat, he snagged a towel and wiped his face. He g
rabbed some free weights to work his chest and triceps. Could he work himself to exhaustion? Possibly have a good night’s sleep?

  After a hundred crunches, Mac went to an area of the gym cleared for stretching out. More times than he could count, Mac had used strenuous workouts to help blow off steam, especially when he and Angie had fought. He knew for certain that although he’d had a tough workout, it barely dented his overwhelming frustration and helplessness.

  The thought of failing Angie, failing their marriage, and letting his boys down, was more than Mac could face. He’d gone into his marriage thinking it was forever. There was no Plan B.

  Although he wasn’t perfect, he thought he’d done enough of the right things. Sure, Angie wanted more time with him, but traveling constantly didn’t exactly make that easy. He’d call when he could though. And these last six months he thought was just adjustment. They would find a new groove and be happy again. It just took a little time.

  Mac wiped the towel over his face and head. Clearly, the phone calls and gifts weren’t enough. She had mentioned more than once that she liked it when he held her hand. He’d done that a few times, but didn’t stick with it. Holding hands was a simple enough request. Wasn’t it?

  He exhaled hard. Well, shit.

  A few more conversations replayed in Mac’s mind. Requests she’d made. Tears of frustration she’d shed over his stubbornness. And that’s what it came down to. He was stubborn . . . and stupid. The signs were there, and he’d chosen to ignore them. He took his wife for granted. Neither were perfect, but he needed to own his part.

  The knot in his gut grew. A feeling of failure overtook him. He had to fix this.

  If he did manage to win her back, a few things were going to change. He would listen to her, pay attention to her needs, compliment her more. And he was sure as shit going to make sure she came when they made love.