God. Matt was right. He’d warned me that Quinn was seeing some redhead . . .
“You know what, Leila?” I said. “Three is a crowd.”
Hurt, humiliated, and so angry I couldn’t see straight, I moved to the drawer Quinn had set aside for me, yanked out jeans, a sweater, socks. I didn’t have shoes here, but the black go-go boots would do. I went back into the bathroom, dressed, and began to storm out.
As I reached the front door, the man walked in.
“Get out of my way, you son of a—”
“Clare!” Quinn took hold of my shoulders, stopping me. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Through a filmy blur of exasperated tears, I glared at the lying, cheating, jerk of a—“I just witnessed your ex-wife handcuffing herself to your bed, wearing a Mrs. Claus nightie, and you ask me what’s wrong?!”
For three mind-numbing seconds, Quinn’s confused expression dropped into horrified shock. Then his face flushed with pure fury.
“Wait right here,” he bit out.
“No! I’m leaving—”
“Please, Clare, wait. You need to see this!”
Swiping away my angry tears, I stiffly stood by the apartment’s open door, vowing to give the man no more than thirty seconds for whatever stunt he was about to pull.
TWENTY-NINE
QUINN kicked open the bedroom door.
“Get out.”
“Oh, calm down,” Leila replied with a little-girl voice. “You want me here, Mike. Admit it . . .”
“You have no right. No right to invade my privacy.”
“You gave me a key!”
“I gave you a key because you can’t seem to drop off our kids anywhere close to a time we’ve agreed on. I gave you a key for Molly and Jeremy, not to handcuff yourself to my damn bedpost!”
Quinn cursed a blue streak. I could hear him manipulating the cuffs, unlocking them. “Get dressed—”
“You’ll change your mind. You will—”
“Listen to me, Leila. I told you a dozen times over the last week. I don’t want you in my bed ever again. Have you got that?”
“You’re just acting like this because she’s in the next room listening.”
“Get out. Now. Or I swear to God I will have you arrested for trespassing.”
Leila laughed. “Go ahead. Why do you think I brought the toy handcuffs? Remember when we first got married? They used to be your favorite—”
Quinn cursed again. “Get out!”
I gritted my teeth as I listened to the scene, remembering too well how ugly things had gotten between me and Matt at the end of our marriage. As I heard Leila stomping toward the bedroom door, my whole body went rigid. A second later, her statuesque figure sashayed across Quinn’s living room. She was fully dressed now—a cashmere sweater and little skirt, a dainty box handbag dangling on her slender arm.
“Here!” Mike grabbed her overcoat off his couch and flung it at her.
I’d never seen him so angry. This was no act. He was absolutely furious.
Leila picked the coat up off the floor and took her time putting it on. Her big blue eyes connected with mine, then collapsed into slits. “He’ll change his mind about you.” Her voice was no longer girlishly saccharine. The tone was bitter, guttural, threatening. “And when he does, I’ll be there.”
I said nothing to the woman. This wasn’t my fight.
“Get moving, Leila. Get out.”
“I’m going,” she told Quinn sweetly, and with one last withering glance my way, she added, “For now,” then shut the door.
The room fell silent. I felt numb. Mike was still furious; his harsh breathing was audible. Finally, I got up the courage to meet his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Clare,” he said. “She just found out about you.”
“What? After all this time, you never mentioned me?!”
“Sit down, sweetheart. Let me explain.”
Frankly, I was tempted not to. This night had put me through the grinder, and all I wanted right now was a warm gingerbread steamer and a soft mattress. I’d wanted Mike’s arms around me, too, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight. Maybe not ever again.
“Please hear me out.” Mike’s face was no longer filled with rage. As he studied me, his expression crumbled into an almost painful helplessness. “Sweetheart, please . . .”
I finally did as he asked, moving to the sofa and sitting stiffly on its edge. “Talk.”
Mike took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair. “Remember when Leila changed plans on me two weeks ago, dropped off the kids for Thanksgiving? You changed your own plans so that you could help me take the kids to the Macy’s parade, make us that incredible turkey dinner, play with the kids when I was