“Where have I heard that before?” The death stare he shot Brighton was full of silent accusations. Whole stories were passed between them in that one, intense gaze.
When he looked back at me, his brows furrowed in frustration. I knew that look; I’d screwed something up. “I see you were too busy to remember the alumni fundraiser tonight. I have to leave in twenty minutes, and you’re supposed to be dressed in cocktail attire by now.”
He ran his eyes over my body, and it felt as if he was reading every sordid secret it held. “Clearly you won’t be ready in time.”
“I can be ready. Just give me fifteen minutes.” I stood, putting some distance between Brighton and me. “Can I finish up the last items tomorrow?”
He was still glaring at Ryan, and I hated seeing anything but affection pass between them. But I knew what it was like to let fear and pain turn into anger. Ryan and I had been living in that limbo for years before Brighton moved into his Uncle Isaiah’s house at the beginning of the summer to renovate it.
“Sure, Liv,” he said, purposefully using Ryan’s pet name for me. There was a time not that long ago when Ryan told him he’d earned the right to call me that. I highly doubted that intimate offer was still on the table after all we’d been through.
I just wanted to go home and take a hot, fast shower—not manage a pissing contest between two testosterone-fueled men.
“When does the house go on the market?” Ryan asked, straightening the cuffs on his tuxedo. He was devastatingly handsome in it, the black a dashing compliment to his dark good looks and closely shaved beard.
“I was just telling Liv that the open house is on Friday. I hope you’ll both still come.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Would we, Liv?” He held his hand out for me, the first time in weeks he’d instigated touch. “Coming?”
I let him lead me from the kitchen and across the yards to our perfect house, with the white picket fence and our sweet puppy, Stitch, who was jumping excitedly at the gate, waiting for our return. I glanced back at the Kerrington estate one last time before following Ryan inside. Brighton was standing at the door, his body just a shadow against the light that surrounded him.
Chapter Two
Ryan
I KNEW EXACTLY where Olivia was the moment I got home and didn’t find her getting ready. She’d known about the fundraiser for a year because it was always on the same day. Disappointment flooded through me, but if there was one thing I’d learned over the years, it was that Olivia couldn’t be controlled—not that I had any desire to clip her wings. She was always the wild to my holy, as she liked to say. Though, with the anger and sadness that lived inside me these days, I didn’t feel like the holy part of any equation.
After walking into Kerrington’s house and finding them alone there—with my wife in his arms no less—it was a slap in the face as far as I was concerned. I was still stewing when, fifteen minutes later, Olivia was dressed and ready to go. That alone spoke volumes about how far we’d come. Back in May, she wouldn’t have had the energy or desire to come to an event like this—no matter how important it was for my career. At least she was trying. But I wasn’t ready to forgive her. I could hardly look at her without images of her and Brighton being alone together haunting every crevice of my mind.
The fundraiser turned out being as droll and boring as ever, but the appetizers were impeccable, and everyone who needed to see me there did. Olivia even offered to drive us home so I could have a few beers. We were ready to leave when Kimber Shanahan and her husband stopped us.
“Ryan!” she said, air-kissing me on both cheeks.
Someone had been dipping into too much free champagne.
“Olivia,” she said curtly before turning back to me. “We’re so glad to have you back after your summer off. Did you get everything you wanted accomplished?”
Everyone knew why I’d taken the time off. After burying our daughter last November, Liv and I desperately needed the time alone to grieve and heal. But Kimber treated it as if we’d been vacationing in the Poconos. I looked at my wife, thinking not of our progress, but of Kerrington.
“I don’t know, hon. Did we?”
I wished I could take back my assholish response the moment Liv’s face paled, but I was hurting. Seeing her and Kerrington comforting each other today hadn’t helped.
“It was exactly what we needed,” she said with a tight smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse us. We were just heading home. It’s been a long day.”
“Oh, I bet!” Kimber said. She turned to her husband. “Olivia has been working intimately with a contractor to flip that old, green house over on West Liberty this summer.”
“That must’ve been quite the job overhauling that old dump,” he said, pulling a cigar from the inside pocket of his tuxedo.
“It’s quite spectacular, actually. And it’s gray now,” Olivia said calmly.
“Roycroft Pewter,” I retorted. She knew I didn’t give two shits about paint colors. That was her and Kerrington’s “thing.” When I thought about the dark plum paint they’d used for his front door—and his obsession with tulips of the same shade for my wife—anger burned beneath the surface of my skin, making my heart rate soar.
“I hear the open house is Friday,” Kimber said, glancing coyly from under thick, black lashes, despite her husband being right there. “Maybe we’ll swing by and check it out. We’ve been looking for a bigger place.”
Oh, hell no. The only thing worse than having my wife’s lover living beside us would be to have Kimber and her weaselly husband there instead. I’d buy the damn thing myself before letting that happen.
Olivia’s face was still pale as we said our goodbyes, but she never said a word as we drove away. The university was close to our house in the city, so it was an uncomfortable but short ride home. The first thing she did was go straight upstairs and strip out of her silver, beaded Mac Duggal, dropping the lacy ballgown to the floor like it was an old pair of dirty jeans. After she padded to the shower, I picked up the dress and hung it back in her closet. Then I plopped onto our bed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
I knew Liv was still hurting. I wasn’t a complete bastard. My heart ached for how hard it must’ve been to get through an evening like this, even after all her progress this summer. We hadn’t been around the entire faculty since Laelynn died, so people naturally wanted to offer their condolences. I watched as the light she’d worn to the event slowly faded from her eyes until all that was left to carry her up our creaky stairs when we returned home was an empty shell wrapped in despair.
When she got like this, there was no letting me in. So, I fixed myself a drink and sat on the back patio while Stitch relieved himself, then pounced on small frogs in the cool evening air. The plum-colored tulips had long since surrendered, but Olivia had spent an entire weekend replacing them with pompon dahlias of the same color. My backyard still screamed of Kerrington’s presence. Even though he was no longer living under our roof, his imprint was everywhere. I would never understand why, but for some reason, it caused an ache deep in my chest. I couldn’t pass by his bedroom and not remember the freedom and release we all shared there. I knew it would hurt, but I headed there now, not knowing exactly what I was looking for or needing. He’d been my friend first. Even though he was just a yard away, it felt as if he’d been torn from my life completely, the distance was so vast between us now. It would take just one word from me to tamp the tension between us so we could be friends again. But until I knew for sure whether Liv was lying to me—and I felt in my bones that she was—that wasn’t going to happen.