Chapter 27

27

Davey

Something's going on. All weekend, Mack keeps needing to duck out to "appointments" or to "catch up with a friend," and given it's only days until Christmas, something isn't adding up. If he was ducking out to pick up Christmas gifts, I'd get it, but I've already got those organized.

I'd assumed since this is the two-week block that we always have together that we'd be spending whatever time we could in each other's company. Maybe that was short-sighted of me. Of course he has his own life and his own friends, and it's not fair of me to expect him to put an end to all of that just to hang out with me.

Especially since the time we have together is perfect.

We're still sharing our bed, I still get to wake up to that gorgeous sleepy face—even if Van is wedged in between us. There hasn't been any more sex, which is probably a good thing since it was so intense and raw last time that I can't get through that again with everything still so uncertain between us.

There has been kissing though. The type of kissing that makes me feel young again. From the sort that lingers that moment too long to be friendly, nothing else touching between us, to the quick slip of the tongue, to the bold desperateness that flares up between us before one of us remembers to stop. It always leaves me breathless and my gut a knotted mess in the best possible way.

While I appreciate that he let me sleep in this morning, I don't want to wake up without him beside me.

I creep up behind him in the kitchen and wrap my arms around his waist. Mack immediately melts into me, and I can't stop from leaving a lingering kiss on his neck. Right on that spot where his scent is heaviest and gets a sharp inhale from him every time.

"Tell me you don't have plans today?"

The guilty look he throws me over his shoulder is the only answer I need. And honestly, it annoys me a bit.

I step away with a sigh. "Is it at least something I can do with you?"

Mack groans. "Not this time. I have, uh … Ford's got this thing. He needs help with."

"And I can't help because …"

"It's … private! Very private. I've been sworn to secrecy, or I'd totally tell you."

"Husbands don't keep secrets."

"But we're not husbands."

The truth stretches out between us. He's right. Obviously. Doesn't stop from making me want to punch something. Our whole situation is fucked-up, and it's the waiting to be able to do something about it that has me more frustrated than anything.

It's not Mack's fault.

Not spending time with me is though.

So is throwing the fact that we're not actually together back in my face. I have no right to feel hurt. I agreed to it all just the same as he did. We were idiots, obviously, and since we worked that out, we've been honest about where we stand and what we want.

Except for these fucking disappearances.

Following my husband— ex , sorry, Mack—wasn't on my list of things to do today, but I'm curious. So curious. I also know how fucked-up it is to be thinking like that, so I swallow my pride and stamp down that need to make Mack think I'm okay always and ask, "Are you seeing Luke?"

I hate how defeated my voice comes out, but I don't know why else he'd be sneaking around.

Mack's head snaps my way, and the shock reflected on it helps ease my jealous suspicion. "No. I'd tell you if I was. I promise."

He doesn't need to promise because I'd believe him without it. "Okay, but I have to be honest here; you sneaking off has me asking questions."

Mack drops his head onto my shoulder. "There's no one else, I already agreed to that. So can you please, please try to trust me and know that I wouldn't voluntarily be spending time away from you if I didn't need to and just stop asking questions?"

"Stop asking questions?" I almost laugh until Mack looks up and I catch how earnest those blue eyes look. "Don't give me that look."

" Pleeease ? "

"No questions asked, huh?"

"It would be helpful."

I don't point out how impossible a request like that actually is, but on the other hand, he shouldn't have to ask me to trust him. When it comes right down to it, Mack is one of the most trustworthy people I know. It's my own insecurities—and probably fear that I might lose him again—coming through.

"Fine. No questions. Disappear when you need to, and I'll look the other way."

I'm rewarded with a kiss. One of those closed-mouthed, too-long, gut-swooping kisses.

My hand finds his lower back, urging him closer, and we break off before things go further, but he doesn't back away. His eyes drop closed as his forehead rests against mine.

I linger in the moment for a second before I step away. "I need a promise from you," I say.

"What is it?"

"I'll keep quiet, but you have to promise not to sneak away tomorrow night. We've already promised the kids we'll take them to the fair together, and I'm not compromising on that."

"Agreed. I've been looking forward to it all week."

I wave a hand toward the door. "Go on, then. Go and help Ford."

"Don't you want me to clean up breakfast?"

"Nope. The sooner you go, the sooner you can be back home with us. The kids want to play board games later."

"That went terribly last time."

"It did. And I'm sure it will again. Which is why I'm not going through it solo."

He laughs and slaps me on the ass as he passes. "It could be payback for all the times I have."

"Low blow. "

"Hey, I said I'd move on; I didn't say I'd forget. You still owe me a lot of tantrums before we're even."

There's a small part of me that's worried he's doing that joking-but-serious thing. Until he winks. And in that one tiny action, I know without a doubt that we're going to be okay.

Eric calls partway through our board game, and Mack clocks his name at the same time as I do. With a deep breath, I silence the call, curious but not enough to put an end to the game.

Mack nudges my phone in my direction. "Better see what he wants."

"We're busy."

"We can wait."

The urge to ignore it and pretend like it never happened is strong. I've gotten so good at not talking about work that having it openly discussed feels like a dirty little secret.

"Before he hangs up."

"Okay. I'll be right back." And hell, if I can get whatever this conversation is done with, it means it won't be hanging over me for the rest of the day.

Unless he suddenly wants me to come back to work tomorrow, then I'll very quickly be out of a job because I won't have any issues with telling him where to stick it. It's hard enough not telling him to fuck off as it is. I've earned this time off, dammit.

With the smallest bit of hope that Eric is calling to tell me they don't need me back at work early after all, I answer the call.

"Hey, Eric." I don't mean to sound so short, but I can't even fake a little of my usual professionalism. "I'm in the middle of spending time with my family, so this will have to be quick."

"Of course. We're wrapping up things in the office, so I wanted to call and wish you and Mack happy holidays."

The flicker of hope dies. No Christmas miracles for me. "Right." Too late, I add, "You too."

There's a beat of silence. "I know you're disappointed about the rearrangements, but?—"

"It isn't something we'll be discussing today."

"I also wanted to let you know your Christmas bonus should show up today. Congratulations, Davey, you've earned it."

"Thank you. Merry Christmas." I hang up before he gets a chance to reply. I'm sure there'll be a conversation about my rudeness, but that conversation can happen when I'm on the clock. Not now. Not here.

Mack might have been okay with me taking that call, but I'm not. Work already overreaches when it comes to my family time. How many phone calls have I answered over dinner? How many nights did I sit up working on my laptop? The flexibility to be able to work from home is amazing, but it blurs the line between office hours and family time to the point where I always have to be on. Talking to someone in the office as I drive the kids to school or Mack to work is usual. Creating meeting minutes or last-minute updates to a client's package the second the kids are in bed is common.

Once I'm back at work, my professionalism won't be the only conversation we need to have. I'll be drawing clear lines between what's acceptable and what isn't.

I rejoin my family, and the second I'm back cross-legged on the ground, Van wriggles up into my lap. I hold him close, loving how attached he is, even as my heart breaks over why it might be. Mack is gently teasing Kiera as she lands on a snake during her turn, and then Van rolls the dice, almost knocks the board over, moves Mack's piece instead of his, and shrieks when we try to put it back. Then also shrieks as we try to replace Mack's with the one he's sucking on.

"Van's ruining it!" Kiera pouts.

Van responds by throwing the dice at her head, which immediately has her in tears.

Mack smiles at me over our bawling daughter. I smile at him over where our son is chewing on the side of the board.

"Why do we keep trying to have a games night?" he asks me.

"Because we love it."

He gives me a you sure about that? look, but I am. Sure. Because I'll take all the good and bad I can get with these three.

Not even the five-figure bonus I get can change my mind.