Page 122 of The Work Wife

Her mouth actually fell open. More because he’d known the word sext than because he’d suggested she send one to her husband. “I think this conversation is over.”

“Good,” he said. “Let’s go get ice cream. Ice cream always makes you happy.”

She might have pointed out that it had worked when she was eight. Except she did want some ice cream. Not that she expected it to make things better.

Her father’s logic only held true if Wes loved her.

And she didn’t know if he did.

* * * *

Wes frowned at the pretentious restaurant his brother had brought him to. He just wanted to get something good to eat. From a menu that didn’t have things he couldn’t pronounce. A place where the only French item was fries.

“Archer,” Ben said to the host, or maître d’, as it were.

They were seated and Wes pointed to his selection from the menu, unable to say it. Benji—no, Ben—ordered them a bottle of wine.

“Did you bring me to this fancy restaurant so I would see how grown up you are?”

“No. I brought you here because it used to be your favorite place.”

“It was?” He looked around and frowned again. It did look familiar.

He sat back and realized he was probably a snob back then. He’d been rich, and his life was laid before his feet like royalty. No doubt he’d probably liked this place because he felt he should.

When he’d run away to Boston he’d rejected everything he had, and became something else. Someone else. Jamie had influenced this change in him to some degree.

“I guess I’ve changed,” Wes finally told his brother. “I’m more of a good-food person than an expensive-food person.”

“Good for you,” Ben said with a smile. “The next time you get time for dinner I’ll take you to MacGregor’s. It’s my favorite place. And not because my girlfriend’s band plays there.”

“Hold on. Your girlfriend is in a band?” He couldn’t even picture his stiff younger brother dating a rocker chick.

“Yes.”

“Does Mother know?”

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” They both laughed.

When the bottle was empty and the laughter was coming easier, Benji turned contemplative—as drunk men often do.

“Tell me why you left.”

Wes let out a breath. He’d already shared the story with their mother. If he thought it might change the way Ben felt about their father, he might have kept it a secret, but neither of them were ever that close to the man. It was impossible to be close to someone who only cared about his business, and apparently his mistresses.

“He had an affair.” Maybe he shouldn’t have blurted it out like that. Or at the very least he could have waited until Benji wasn’t sipping his water.

Wes smacked him on the back as he choked.

“What?”

“Dad cheated on our mother.”

“When? He was at work all the time.”

“It was at work. I happened upon them one evening when I was staying late. It was more than unpleasant.” So much more.

“I can imagine.”