Page 74 of After Care

“No,” I scoffed, startled by the accusation. The hint sounded precariously similar to something David would say to me and that dripping-wax heart melted. He shifted so his left hand held the steering wheel and his right hand reached for me. Taking my hand in his, he lifted it and kissed my palm.

“Edie, you’re everything I need.” The comment gave me momentarily ease, so I let my worries flicker away.

After an awkwardly silent ride, we arrived at The Vineyard Inn, the ironic name of a quaint and secluded resort. The older couple who owned the place told us they had been married for over fifty years. I loved their wrinkled faces and the sly smiles they gave one another. Hard work and long love made them beautiful.

That night, we had a very quiet dinner despite other patrons in the restaurant. An eerie feeling surrounded me as I scanned the couples. I was quickly learning the guests were not there to intermingle but to not be seen.

“This place is famous for the rich and famous,” Tommy explained. He nodded toward a couple. “Movie director. She’s not his wife, but his assistant.” Peering over my shoulder, I tried not to stare. Their age difference had to be over twenty years.

Shifting his eyes to my right, Tommy continued. “Movie industry exec and a girlfriend, also not his wife.” I briefly took in the more age-appropriate match. Then Tommy tipped his head toward the bar. “World champion MMA fighter. That is his wife.” The brunette beauty giggled softly behind the bar as she served her husband a drink. “Her grandparents own the place,” Tommy clarified, and I remembered the older couple who registered us.

“Just be thankful the first wives’ club isn’t in session this weekend.”

“What’s that?” I laughed nervously, sipping my Californian rosé to disguise the dread creeping over my skin as I awaited his explanation.

“A group of barracuda women on the rebound from their divorces. They’re first wives of the famous and they come here to celebrate their freedom.” He air-quoted the second statement. “They have no shame.”

I suspected Tommy had been the recipient of such a celebration. Moreover, he’d probably brought a woman here previously for its privacy. The place suddenly didn’t hold the romantic appeal I had imagined, knowing I didn’t qualify as the second wife, but more likely a third or fourth woman he’d brought here. I took another sip of my wine to divert my attention.

The weight of his stare pressed on me as I remained quiet. “You don’t like it.”

“I do,” I said too emphatically. “It’s just a bit surreal. I feel like I’m having a clandestine affair instead of a romantic weekend away.” Then again, we were lovers. Nothing more.

Tommy sat back, his head bobbing. He tugged at his plump lips with his teeth and a hardness filled his eye. I’d hurt his feelings, and I laid my hand on the table, but he didn’t reach for me. My feelings hurt instead.

“So, what did you have planned for this weekend?” he asked, swaying the conversation.

I took a deep breath as I withdrew my hand, lowering it under the table as if ashamed of myself. “I was supposed to go to a concert.”

Tommy’s brows shot up in excitement. “Oh yeah, who?”

“The Nights.” Tommy whistled low in response. “That’s some serious shit, that band.” He leaned forward, crossing his elbows on the table. “How’d you get that ticket? And why didn’t you tell me?”

I didn’t speak for a half a second, but I watched as his brain clicked.

“Were you going on a date?” He teased, but his dark eyes narrowed.

“No,” I sputtered. “No, not exactly.” His eyes widened.

“Well, what exactly was it?” he spat, his head lowering as he realized his voice rose too loud in the hushed surrounding.

“Just a friend going with a friend.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed on mine. “What friend?”

I chewed at my lip, tugging so hard, it burned. “Max.”

“Your boss?” He sat up and slapped a hand on the small table, jiggling it under the pressure.

“Yes.” My voice was so low, it was hardly a whisper. Tommy signaled for the check. When the waitress came to the table, he told her our room number and stood without a glance at me. I stood as well, thanked the girl, and followed his large stride. I didn’t race to catch him. His anger filled the void between us, and it was all my fault. I shouldn’t have been honest. Actually, I shouldn’t have accepted the concert invitation, but I’d been alone so long, so often, and I didn’t see anything wrong in wanting company, even if it was my boss. My attractive boss, who might be paying too much attention to me.

I followed Tommy into the room, where he stood with a hand braced on the wall. He stared out the window, despite the darkness of the night.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accepted.”

“You’re damn right you shouldn’t have accepted.” He pressed off the wall and spun to balance against it with his back. He glared at me across a small room that felt just as wide as the miles between us.

“You don’t have to raise your voice.”