Oh God.
“Goddamn it, get out now!” Eric growled.
Tyler flinched. Del rushed over, placing a soft, reassuring touch on his shoulder, as she often had. But now everything was different. The feel of his bare skin under her hand swamped her with longing. They’d just had sex minutes ago. He’d given her five amazing orgasms. But it wasn’t just about sex. She ached to be close to him, feel his arms around her. Why?
Suddenly, she wasn’t too certain she wanted the answer. More guilt crashed over her. She’d agreed to Eric’s request to save her marriage, not have great sex. Not fall for someone else. She had to put tonight out of her mind and focus on the man she’d pledged her life to.
Slowly, she withdrew her hand. “It’s okay. Go. Eric and I have to work this out.”
Tyler stiffened at her dismissal, no matter how soft. “Call me tomorrow.”
She drifted toward the door. “Are you okay to drive?”
“I’ll walk. Let me know if you need anything.” He grabbed her hand. “Anything.”
“Get your f**king hand off my wife and get the hell out the door,” Eric shouted.
Del cringed. How could such a loving, giving friendship have gone so south in one night? She prayed that tomorrow everything would go back to normal. Would Eric be able to put this behind him, forgive and forget? And how would she ever look at Tyler again without remembering that feeling of being one with him?
She feared she never would.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Tyler.
“No, I’m sorry. I f**ked everything up.” He drilled his stare into her, eyes so green and direct. “I just . . . I couldn’t say no to having you.”
Shock vibrated through her at his confession. He’d wanted her before tonight?
She was still grappling for a response when he slammed the door behind him.
In that moment, Del had never imagined that she wouldn’t see Tyler again for two years or that she’d give birth to his son on her own. She only knew the profound sadness of someone really valuable leaving.
The second the door shut, Eric began shouting, “What the hell? You came for him five times! You’ve never let yourself go like that for me. What’s that supposed to mean, that I’m not man enough for you? That you don’t love me anymore?”
They’d argued all night, and as the hours slipped past, no amount of reassurance had been enough for Eric because she couldn’t deny that being with Tyler had fundamentally changed her feelings for him forever. In the days that followed, she’d cut off contact with him—at Eric’s insistence—to try to save her marriage. In the end, she’d lost both men.
Del blinked, returning to the present, to Tyler’s guest room and Seth’s little grunt as he rolled over in his sleep. It was time—and her heart was breaking.
Before she remembered all the reasons that she’d rather stay in Lafayette with Tyler and Seth and enjoy life, rather than risk it, she rose from the bed, scrambled into her clean clothes, shoved on her shoes, grabbed her bag, and leaned over to pat Seth. Del wished desperately that she could kiss him once more, but didn’t dare risk disturbing him. So she found the note she’d written earlier with Seth’s care instructions and left it on the nightstand, then slipped out the window as silently as possible with a last glance back at the little boy. She hoped that father and son would forgive her someday—if she made it out alive. If not . . . at least she’d die knowing she’d done so trying to give her son life once more.
Chapter Six
JUST before dawn, Del parked her neighbor’s run-down car in the long-term parking garage at the airport in New Orleans. She was exhausted, but she’d have to sleep on the plane back to Los Angeles. No time now. Still, second-guessing haunted her. Had Tyler discovered her absence yet? Was he angry or resigned? Would he be able to care for the son he knew so little about? She wished she could have left him more than a note. Would Seth be all right, happy? Regret weakened every muscle in her body with the need to run back to her little boy. She had to keep reminding herself that dealing with Carlson now gave her and Seth the only chance for a future.
After a long trek to the terminal, she made her way to the ticket counter. She’d stopped briefly at a twenty-four-hour diner on the outskirts of town for a cup of coffee and an egg. She was down to her last five bucks. It would have to hold her for now because she refused to ask Tyler for money. He’d already taken on caring for their son. That was more than enough responsibility for a man used to easy living and f**king even easier women at every possible opportunity.
At the café near the airport, she’d used a pay phone to call the airlines to book a fare home. It was heinously expensive since she was traveling last minute, but Glenda’s car wasn’t reliable enough to risk trekking back across the country alone. And she didn’t have the cash for more gas.
To book her flight, Del had been forced to use a credit card. She prayed that Carlson’s reach didn’t extend all the way from Los Angeles County to Orleans Parish. Or that he wouldn’t have a team of thugs waiting for her when she arrived.
Inside the mostly deserted terminal, the chill of the air-conditioning hit her, a relief after the sweltering humidity outside. A bleary-eyed airline rep manned the ticket counter. A check-in kiosk blinked nearby, clearly on the fritz. She chose another, trying to keep her head down and her face out of the security cameras, just in case. If Carlson had influence here somehow, she had no doubt that he could have her arrested on some trumped-up charge and thrown into a backwater jail to rot. The deeper she’d dug, the more she’d realized that he dealt with his enemies ruthlessly. She hadn’t told Tyler the half of what she’d been through. He’d berate her for not coming to him sooner if he knew.
In a few moments, the machine spit out her boarding pass. The sliding doors behind her opened. An old lady with a cartful of luggage, pushed by a hunk of man wearing jeans and a low-slung cap entered. Dismissing them as a threat, Del turned toward the security line, dragging her duffel. The bleary-eyed TSA agent talked to a guy in a suit.
As she approached, another man sporting his Brooks Brothers look emerged from the nearby men’s room—and kicked her instincts into high gear for two reasons: First, he and the dude talking to the TSA agent locked gazes and had a tense, seemingly silent conversation. Second, the air conditioner caught his suit coat. It flapped open just enough to see the shiny black semiautomatic in a shoulder holster.
A moment later, they both turned and headed straight for her.
If they were packing heat and in the airport’s security line merely to board a plane, they’d be flashing badges and marching through, not looking at her.