the truth.
Grayson Atwell was a good man. Far better than she deserved.
She hadn’t bothered with a note. For heaven’s sake, he was her landlord, only a backyard separating them.
Another reason she shouldn’t have let things go so far. It was one thing to say that sex wouldn’t change anything between them. Quite another to accept the outright lie.
She’d spent the rest of the morning holed up in the carriage house, surreptitiously peeking out the windows trying to glimpse signs of life from the rambling Victorian. Had she expected him to come after her? To beg her to return to his arms or tell her how much she suddenly meant to him.
Of course not.
Then a sleek Mercedes had pulled into the driveway, Violet bouncing from the back seat and skipping toward the house. Gray had met his daughter on the back porch. He’d swung her into his arms and hugged her tight. Maybe his gaze had tracked to the carriage house, but only for an instant. Avery hadn’t been able to read the expression in his green eyes, and she could only imagine what he thought of her when she’d basically run away.
His ex-wife had emerged from the black sedan, all long limbs and glossy hair. Avery’s stomach plummeted to her toes. The ex looked like someone she would have called a friend back in California. She was way too overdressed for a lazy weekend morning. Her slim-fitting dress grazed her knees and the understated heels she wore accentuated her toned legs. In so many ways, Stacy reminded Avery of herself.
She didn’t like what that said about her.
Huddled at the corner of the window, spying on the three of them, the sharp ache that speared through Avery’s gut almost had her doubled over in pain. She’d been a shy kid and a socially awkward teen, never sure how to engage in the easy camaraderie or even the manipulative backstabbing that seemed to come so easy to most girls. She’d looked the part of a confident, refined woman, but it had been an act. She’d managed to convince herself she was happier alone, content with superficial connections to coworkers and social acquaintances. Her relationship with Tony started as an office friendship.
Both of them were driven, spending long evenings dedicated to projects when most of the staff left to enjoy their lives. Slowly, they’d grown close and Avery had forgotten to be uneasy. They had so much in common. She’d also believed him when he said his marriage was on the rocks. He’d gone so far as to claim that they’d legally separated and explained his move into his own apartment downtown, which was where he’d taken Avery after one particularly late night of work.
All of it had been a lie, and her gullibility had ruined her life.
So she watched the body language between Gray and his ex-wife with the intensity of a detective, looking for any clue that they weren’t as finished as he’d led her to believe. Of course his story was plausible. He’d given her no reason to doubt him, but she couldn’t help it.
Stacy had crossed her arms over her chest as she stood at the bottom of the stairs leading to the kitchen door. One hip jutted out in obvious impatience. Gray lowered his daughter to the ground, and she disappeared into the house. Once they were alone, it was clear an argument ensued. Gray ran a hand through his hair. His full mouth—the mouth that had done all manner of wicked things to Avery the night before—had thinned in obvious irritation. His ex shook her head, then spun on her heel, throwing up her hands as she stalked to her car and backed out the driveway.
He’d stood there a few seconds longer, then lifted his head to stare at the carriage house. Although Avery knew she was hidden behind the curtain, she swore he could see her. Or at least sense her there. It made her feel like a voyeur, witnessing a private interchange that hadn’t been meant for anyone else.
She’d at least gotten clarity that there was, indeed, nothing more between Gray and his ex. But that didn’t inspire her to return to Summer Fair, even after both Carrie and Meredith