Page 31 of Playing With Love

“What does that mean?”

“It means, I married a man and a month into that marriage I realized I’d screwed up. Then he proved how badly I’d screwed up when he cheated on me. My life was a disaster, I needed to get back on my feet and I needed to move on and stop the cycle of self-destruction I was on. I needed to stop blaming you for Arnie⁠—”

Jesus fuck, if my heart was still in my chest that would’ve killed.

“Are you telling me, you blame me for that fucker cheating on you?”

She didn’t say anything. Not a sound came out of her mouth, yet the pain in her eyes said all I needed to know.

None of it good.

All of it total shit.

“Right,” I said instead of calling her out on her bullshit. “Here’s the deal, we’re stuck working together on this case. I’ll do my bit. You do yours. When this is done, you’re right; it’s for the better we end this for good.”

I was on my feet when she called my name.

I glanced down at her, wondering how I’d gotten it so wrong. Ten years I’d loved this woman. Ten years I’d bided my time, waited until we were both in a place to make this work. Ten long fucking years thinking we both understood what we had, thinking we could build on that, thinking deep down she loved me, too.

So goddamned wrong.

I waited, and when she said nothing, I walked out of the hotel.

I’d been wrong about something else. My heart was still in my chest.

When she didn’t follow me out, stop me from driving away, that’s what tore it clean from my chest.

CHAPTER NINE

You know that old adage, ‘what a difference a day makes’?

Total crap.

A day didn’t make a difference. Neither did seven of them.

After my monumental, disastrous attempt at an explanation without giving the real reason I’d ended our friendship, Tucker hadn’t thawed a degree, not even a fraction of one. He was distant and had been that way during every interaction we’d had in the last week.

Luckily I’d been able to get a car delivered to the hotel. Also fortunate—we’d both been busy. Me with Nu Dawn. Him finishing up work he’d been in the middle of for Triple Canopy in preparation to go undercover. I’d spent most of my time at TC working with Dylan or Carter. Sometimes with Nick, when I needed clarification on motive and how best to work Mackenzie. Ditto on the sometimes with Trey, though he only went over the schematics of the compound with me, helping me memorize the buildings and the distance between where the houses were all situated along with the function room from the outbuildings, barns, and stables. That was after I’d had another visit with Allyson and she helped me label the building on the map that Trey had printed out.

I had a week to prepare for the seminar. More than likely I’d only get this one chance to get on Mackenzie’s radar and pique her interest. I needed an invitation to tour the compound. If not that, I needed her to invite me to a nature retreat so I’d get another chance to woo her, and that’s what I had to do—woo the woman into finding me interesting and an easy mark.

This gave me pause. I was a lot of things, I was skilled in many ways but I wasn’t the best conversationalist when it came to…anything other than an interrogation…. or conversing with Tucker. I could talk to him for hours. He’d been spot on about that—middle of the night, late, or early morning the time of day never mattered, we talked when our schedules allowed—day or night—and we did so with comfortable ease. But if it wasn’t a suspect, a witness, or Tucker I had a hard time.

I’d spent every night researching mindfulness and manifestation. I’d practiced meditation which I learned I totally sucked at, but I figured I could fake that. No one could listen to what was happening inside my head. And the more times I’d tried to meditate the more I thought the whole thing was a farce. Who could shut off their brain? Even sitting there thinking about ‘nothing’ you were still thinking about something. I’d chanted, ‘no thinking, no thinking, no thinking’ over and over but that was still thinking. I still wasn’t sold on the whole manifesting your future gig, either. As a concept I understood the power of positive thinking. However I was more of a practical type of person.

Set goals. Work a little every day to attain said goals. Work to create habits that will push you toward your goals. Imagining and wishing and making vision boards didn’t compute. But I could fake that, too.

What I wasn’t going to be able to fake was Tucker.

This was such a disaster I’d contemplated telling Shannon she needed to send in Frank with me, and if not him, someone else. Or find someone to replace me and send her in with Tucker. Though that thought made me sick to my stomach. Literally nauseous at the thought of Tucker playing house with another agent, sleeping next to her, holding her hand, inevitably kissing her. Being his wife. Fake or not, that thought killed.

In other words, my life had turned into a walking nightmare.

A week ago before I had a fumbled conversation with Tucker I was screwed, now I was T-totally fucked. My lie had snowballed to an extreme there was no way to come back from.

And I did it to myself.

I’d thought I could bullshit my way out of it without having to tell the truth. The truth would mean I’d have to acknowledge I was a grown woman still begging for Daddy’s approval and attention. And that was something I’d never be willing to admit.