protest. “She’s absolutely no one.”
Chapter Twenty
BROOKLYN
By the time I pull up in front of my townhouse, the sun has long since disappeared beyond the horizon. I spent more time with Drew than I planned, but I didn’t want to leave him. After his run-in with Carla, I could tell he was shaken up, regardless of his assurances that he was okay, that she didn’t matter, but it wasn’t true.
When she vanished from his life without a single word, other than divorce papers requesting no financial support, he never got any closure. To anyone else in a loveless marriage, as theirs had become, it would have been a proverbial “get out of jail free” card. But to Drew, it was another thing he lost. As much as he wanted to pretend he was all right, that the pain of what Carla did was nothing but a distant memory, it was obvious by his morose attitude the rest of the day that wasn’t the case.
As I head up the walkway toward my front door, my own steps sluggish from the mere thought of how much Drew’s hurting right now, I come to an abrupt stop when I see Wes sitting on the top step, leaning back against the newel post. I consider leaving, maybe driving back to Drew’s to keep him company. A part of me worries he’ll have Molly or Gigi come watch the girls so he can go see the woman he’s been sleeping with. It’s a physical relationship with no commitment, but I still hate the idea of them together, of her touching him, kissing him, screwing him. I’ve never been jealous of her before, but now, it irks me, even though I’m in a relationship myself…at least I’m supposed to be. I’m not sure anymore.
“Where were you today?” Wes asks in a low voice when I remain frozen.
I hesitate before answering, then blow out a breath, heading toward him. I could lie, but I won’t do that to him, even if he deserves it. “At the science museum.”
“With him?” He lifts his eyes to mine and my heart falls at the pain I see. His voice is tearful, his expression slack.
“Who?”
“You know who.” He raises himself to his feet. “Were you with Drew?” There’s a subtle tremble in his chin as he pulls his lips between his teeth, his entire body seeming to tighten.
I hate that he’s hurting, but he brought this on himself. Even if he’s not cheating on me with whomever I heard on the other end of the phone, he still lied. I can put up with a lot, and I have, but I refuse to be lied to, to be made a fool of. I’ve already hit my lifetime quota of that.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.” I hold my chin high. “I went with him and his girls.”
His shoulders deflate as he absorbs my response. “Why?”
“It sucks, doesn’t it? Expecting someone to be somewhere and finding out they’re not,” I bite back.
His spine straightens as he furrows his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t play dumb.” I slip past him, heading toward the front door.
“Play dumb?” He follows close on my heels. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Brooklyn. Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? I tried calling. Repeatedly. We all did.” He grips my arm, forcing me to face him. I gasp, about to berate him for touching me when he continues. “When I couldn’t get a hold of you, I ended up calling every hospital in the greater Boston area.”
“You did?” I swallow hard.
“Christ. Of course I did!” He releases his grip on me and paces my tiny porch, tugging on his hair. I study him, noticing how disheveled and weary he appears, a stark contrast to the put-together man I thought him to be. His tie is loose, his crisp white shirt untucked from a pair of wrinkled suit pants. “You weren’t answering your phone. You weren’t here. I kept thinking that something happened to you, and I had no way of knowing, of getting to you.”
I peer into his pale blue eyes, his concern clear. But is it real? Or has it all been an act? Reminded why I chose this course of action, I shake off the regret at the idea of being the cause for his worry, firming my resolve. “Why? Guilty conscience?”
“About what?”
I cross my arms in front of my chest. “About where you were last night when you