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In minutes, he was entering the shop and zeroing in on his wife. He stood still for a second watching her. A smile that he hadn’t seen in years filled her beautiful face. Her body moving in a language he didn’t understand anymore. As he moved toward her, her eyes caught him, her head swinging back to meet his eyes.
“Hey.” She said when he reached the table.
“Hi, Gage.” Maryanne greeted. “You joining us?”
Gage shook his head and looked back to his wife. “Can I talk to you?”
“I’m Warren,” The man who was sitting at the table rose, hand out.
Gage’s eyes moved to him, he didn’t offer his hand, just a chin lift. Again, he asked his wife. “Can we talk?”
Heather’s eyes scanned the eyes staring at her. Warren took his seat, Maryanne reached for her iced tea. “Sure.” Heather lifted from her seat and told the others, “Give me a minute, please.” Her coworkers hummed their responses.
Gage snatched her hand and guided them outside. He didn’t stop until they were away from the front of the eatery and next to his truck. “You forget or just don’t give a shit?” Gage bit out, releasing her hand.
“What are you talking about?” Heather asked, confused. Gage let out a sarcastic breathy chuckle. “Oh,” Heather drawled when realization hit. “I’m so sorry, honey. One of the programs at work went down and things got hectic and I totally forgot.”
Gage nodded. “Yeah.” His head was still moving. “I get it, Heather. But just remember I’m the one making an effort here, yeah?”
She lifted her arm, a hand going to his forearm, she gripped it. “I’m sorry, Gage, I am—”
Gage shook his head before he started. “Two fucking weeks, Heather, I’ve tried to get you to go to dinner with me. When that wasn’t working, I tried for fucking lunch. Jesus, you blew off my concern about Letty never being home, you didn’t even go to the movies with me and her the other night. This morning, I left you a damn note that I’d pick you up at one for lunch today and—”
“I told you, honey, I forgot.” Her hand squeezed his arm for emphasis. “As for what you said about Scarlett the other night, it’s a stage. She wants to be with her friend.”
He ripped his arm from her grip. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Gage spat out. “She’s staying at Rachelle’s cause we are falling the fuck apart. Our family is falling apart, Heather. Are you that blind? Or do you not wanna admit it?”
“I’m trying to have a career, Gage,” Heather grated out, her eyes moving to see if anyone was watching them. “Scarlett is doing just fine. Sharon told me her grades are wonderful, and she’s a pleasure to have around.”
“Jesus,” Gage grumbled loudly. “Her own mother is sitting here telling me she’s okay with another woman raising her daughter.”
“That’s not what I said,” Heather rebutted.
“Listen to yourself, it is, Heather.” Gage shook his head in disgust. “I don’t know what the fuck else to do here.”
“As for us—” Heather started.
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Gage swung his arms out wide. “If I stamped your bank logo on my fucking cock, you’d find it.” Gage huffed, turned and opened the driver’s side door. He folded in and looked at Heather. “Enjoy your lunch,” he snapped before shutting the door, starting up his truck and taking off.
He was only seconds down the road before she was there. Then again, she always was. Fuck. He missed Tilly.
_______________
“Alright, dish.” Candice said, reaching for her glass of wine before pulling her legs up under her on the sofa.
They were at Candice’s. It was a Saturday night, and instead of spending it with her husband, he was working, like practically every other weekend. The kids were off with friends, but Tilly couldn’t stand being in the empty house with her thoughts. Three weeks had gone by since she’d talked to Gage. Three weeks since that day. Instead of it getting easier, it was getting harder. It was to the point that she had to talk about it. A part of her could admit she needed to know if what she was feeling, what she wanted so much to do, was wrong. Because it didn’t feel wrong.
“Does this have to do with that guy?” Candice asked, taking a sip of wine. “Whatever happened to him anyway?”
Tilly’s glass stopped midway to her mouth. “How do you know something happened?”
Candice leaned up, reached for a cracker, pointed it at Tilly and said, “For the fact you pretty much just admitted something happened with that response. You’ve been edgy lately.” She popped the cracker in her mouth, chewed and added, “Short tempered. Not like you.” She leaned back and smiled. “So tell me. What happened?”
Tilly drained her glass before she placed it on the table and stood. She couldn’t stand still, so she started to pace. “Where the hell do I start?”
Candice’s eyes went wide. “From the beginning.”
“We texted.”
