Chapter 13

13

Davey

"Do you really need my help?" I ask Art, trailing after him into town hall.

"Yes. You're the only one not at work, so get your butt up here."

"You know, some people take vacation leave to … have a vacation. From working."

My friend pins me with his intimidating gaze. "You telling me you want to sit on the couch binge-watching shows all day?"

"I'd like to have the option."

He laughs and pushes open another door. "Such a liar. You're like me, and between the two of us, we wouldn't know what a day off looked like if it pole danced naked in front of us."

I think of Mack pole dancing naked. Fuck. "No, but I'd be interested enough to find out."

He gives me one of those looks that could be checking me out if I didn't know him better. No, this look is all assessing. Sizing me up. Which means there's something on his mind.

"How was the other night?" he asks.

The best and worst night of my last year. I don't mean for my sigh to slip out, but of course, Art latches on to it.

"That good, huh?"

And even though he's being a smart-ass, I agree. "Yeah. It worked perfectly."

"Then why the long face?"

Well, I can't tell him we slept together, so what other reason could I possibly come up with other than this sucks and it's hard and I want my Mack back? Another sigh balloons in my chest over my situation, but I smother it aggressively.

"Remember when you were all stupid eyes and falling for Joey?"

"Never happened."

"Yeah. Right. You definitely didn't stalk him at work or anything."

"I'm glad we agree."

My laugh is soft and short, just enough to release this tension. "Well, remember that feeling, and then picture having it every day from the second you wake up to the second you fall asleep."

Art slows his footsteps, and we hover in the hall outside of where the festival planning is taking place. "Have you given more thought to my suggestion?"

"Yes, and I appreciate you offering me somewhere to live." It means more than he knows. "I …"

"Want to continue torturing yourself." He nods. "Got it." Art stuffs his hands in the pockets of the expensive dress pants he's wearing. "You're both my friends. I give you both my opinion on what I think is best for your own scenario, not taking the other into account. You know I won't tell Mack that I've offered you somewhere rent-free for the weeks you're home, but I still think it's the best choice."

"I'd miss the kids too much." And Mack. I'd miss him too much too. Plus, there's that dark little fear that if I left, Mack would find it easier to move on. He'd forget about me, and all the Lukes in Kilborough could show up for him whenever he wanted.

None of those thoughts are ones I'll be sharing with Art. I trust that he doesn't share our conversations around, even though he has a reputation for being a loudmouth—under that playboy persona, he's a great friend.

"Also, I don't think I ever thanked you for offering to blow my husband." I narrow a glare his way, and Art cracks up laughing.

"I wondered if he'd tell you. He missed his chance now I'm locked down, but what did you expect me to do? A man should not go that long without getting laid. It's unnatural. Not to mention you've probably slept with whoever you wanted—he had to get the first orgasm out of the way."

Art goes to keep walking like he hasn't dropped a huge bomb on my head.

"Wait." I grab his arm and yank him to a stop. "What do you mean?"

"Ah …" His gaze flicks from me to the door and back again. "I don't mean anything. I laughed, and then I said nothing. Not a thing."

"Mack hasn't slept with anyone?"

Art's expression hardens. "You didn't hear it from me. Don't look into it. This was months ago, and I have no idea if that's still the case."

Something in his face twitches, making me suspicious. "You're lying."

"Am not."

"What aren't you telling me?"

Both of his hands land on my shoulders. "You and your ex-husband are both pains in my ass. That's what. Now we're late, and you know how I am about punctuality."

He turns and strides toward the room before I can grab him.

"There was no arrival time," I call, but it's too late.

I know I need to follow him, know I need to go in there and help like I said I would, but my gut is breaking out in that wriggly nervous thing it does, and it's an impossible mission to forget what Art said.

Mack hasn't slept with anyone either. Or at least, he hadn't.

Is it still true? Has it felt as wrong for him as it feels for me?

I grit my teeth, wishing these were questions I could ask him. But what's the point? It's opening old wounds up for the both of us, and we're going through enough. Things have been normal, but … not exactly strained or awkward, just different. It's like every time I catch him looking at me, we're back at that night together, and I'm aching to kiss him again. I can already see it, how easy it would be to fall back into sleeping together. To forget about the worries we had and delude ourselves into thinking it will be different this time.

I don't trust Mack to be strong, so I'm going to have to do the work for both of us. Which starts with forgetting what Art let slip, helping with this festival planning, and not climbing Mack like a tree the second I'm home .

We get into it, and I offer suggestions for how to better manage the volunteer schedules. They've also got stalls set up way too far from the entrance/exit, which logistically would be the best place for them. I know that after taking Kiera and Van around, they'll be hungry and tired, so having that option on the way to the car would be a godsend.

"Look at you," Art teases. "A regular little event planner."

"God no," I shake my head quickly. "But when it comes to knowing what people want and how to market something, I'm your guy."

Art hesitates over the list he's working on. "So … that sounds like the type of job that would come with a high consultant fee."

"I don't hire out my services, but I know a few people who do, and they make a pretty penny."

He clears his throat and drags his pen down the margin of the paper. "Could do it from anywhere, I'd imagine."

Ah. What he's hinting at sinks in. "Technically, yes. The problem is if I was to take on consultancy for businesses, I'd still need to travel to them. Promotion isn't just about typing up a plan and handing it off to execute."

He drums his fingers on the desk, still thinking, and I cover his hand with mine.

"Trust me, I've thought about this. You don't think I'd move home permanently? When Mack first asked for a divorce, I spent the rest of the month trying to find something here that would fit. I was open to anything with similar skills and was even ready to take a slight salary cut, but while this place is getting bigger, it's still a small town. The opportunities aren't here."

"It kills me, you know," he finally says.

"What does? "

"How two people so perfect for each other and so in love can't find a way to make it work."

"Yeah. You and me both."

I'm distracted for the rest of the hour we're there, wanting to forget the way Art assumed it would be so easy for me to start consulting. Building that type of portfolio takes work, and while, yeah, working for myself would mean setting my own hours, there's only so much I can do from the home office.

Where I'm at now, I know these guys. I know how the company is set up and what each person's strengths and weaknesses are. I know the projects we'll be implementing soon and have a whole list of suppliers that keep our clients' costs down because of the regular work we supply. Doing that on my own? Not being there to manage the project?

It's not that simple.

I came to terms with that realization around the time I signed the divorce papers, but every now and then, I have a tiny flicker of hope that it could be different now. That something might miraculously turn up, but it never does.

The longer I'm home though, the more I remember I miss it. When I'm not here, it's like this deep-seated part of me goes cold and hollow, and no matter how much I'm enjoying myself with work and my colleagues, it doesn't ever go away. Not until I'm back. If I hadn't negotiated all this time at home, I'd likely already be gone again. The thought of saying goodbye to Van and Kiera again so soon makes me want to throw something. I know Mack thinks I'm the villain in all this, I know he thinks I broke up our family for nothing, but I'm fucking stuck, and I don't have a single soul to talk about it with. We have shared friends, my parents are on his side, and Mack, the one person I want to talk to more than anyone, is biased. His solution would be to quit and work it out .

Like it's so easy.

But what if I can find a way?

Urg, there's that hope again.

No matter how much I squash it down, it bobs determinedly back to the surface. And I think it always will while Mack loves me.

So I have two choices if I can't keep us continuing the way we are.

I either give him up completely, take Art's offer for a place to stay, and then encourage him to start dating.

Or I go back to figuring out the solution to our problems. And this time, I can't stop until I find it.