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But just as the words are about to tumble out of me in a rush of emotion, a man’s voice calls out behind her. “Trina?”
Trina stiffens in the doorway. “I’ll be right there,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Who’s at the door?”
Trina glances at me, and the short, sharp inhale she takes tells me everything I need to know. Then I catch a glimpse of a tall, familiar man walking across the living room windows, and it feels like a slap in the face.
Her ex-husband is inside with her.
She took her ex-husband home with her tonight. The man who called her a whore just a few weeks ago. The man she was so comfortable cuddling with on the sidelines when she needed comforting.
“I have to go,” she tells me, and I notice that she never told Shitstain Kevin it was me at the door.
“Trina, wait.”
“Thanks for the flowers. I… I can’t talk right now. Goodbye.”
Then the door closes.
I stand there, stunned, listening to the lock flick shut as Trina goes back to her ex-husband and her kids, and I’m left outside in the cold. I stare at my hands, which had just been holding a bunch of flowers that I wasn’t even sure she’d accept. They’re trembling.
I don’t even realize I get in my truck and drive to the Grove until I’m pushing open the heavy timber doors and stumbling inside. My brother looks up from the bar and frowns as I slide onto the closest stool.
“Drink,” I gasp. “I need a drink.”
Lee doesn’t get me a drink. He leans his broad palms against the worn wood of the bar and stares at me. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Get me a fucking drink, Lee,” I bite off.
“No. Not when you’re like this. You’ve never used alcohol to cope. Tell me what the fuck’s the matter.”
“She’s with him,” I hiss. “She went back to him. I pushed her away, and she’s back with her ex.” I tug at my hair, trying to make sense of it. “And I fucking love her. I’m in love with her. I can’t stop thinking of her and dreaming of her and remembering what it felt like to bury my face in her hair and she’s with him. That’s what the fuck’s the matter.”
Lee pushes off the bar and, without another word, gets me that drink. He makes it a double.
CHAPTER 29
Trina
I lied to Kevin. I told him it was the school who brought the flowers over on a welfare check to make sure I was okay after the incident at the soccer game.
Well, I guess it’s not exactly a lie—except I’m pretty sure Mac wasn’t there on behalf of the school.
I let out a long sigh and glance across the room at the vase full of flowers. Blushing pink roses, a few white lilies, frilly carnations, and enough greenery to make the bouquet look full and bursting with life.
When Kevin saw the bouquet, his lips did that pinching, downturning thing he used to do when he was upset with me. It made a sour taste coat my tongue as I busied myself putting the flowers in water. Then Kevin told me—didn’t ask, mind you—that he would be showing a few pieces at the pop-up gallery opening in Heart’s Cove in January. He said his agent recommended it, since there are so many artists who live here, and the town has a reputation for fantastic art. But isn’t it great, he said, that he’d be able to spend an extra weekend with the kids?
And when he said it, I wondered—is this healthy co-parenting, or is he stomping on my boundaries? Is he inserting himself in my life where he shouldn’t, or is he just trying to be a more present father than he was before? Should I refuse to give him more than the court-ordered time? Is that spiteful and vindictive on my part? What’s best for the kids?
I don’t know the answer to any of those questions.
Now, after he’s taken the kids to his rental for the night and I slump down on the sofa with Mr. Fuzzles curled next to me, I can’t stop thinking about the look on Mac’s face when he heard Kevin’s voice. I wanted to explain that Kevin just came over to make sure I was okay and get the kids’ stuff for the night, but I also didn’t want to be standing there so long Kevin would come investigate and see Mac on my doorstep.
I still don’t think Kevin’s put two and two together. He still doesn’t know Mac is the motorcycle man from the coffee shop, and that’s how I want to keep it. Especially since Mac made it abundantly clear that he never wants to be with me.
Except, tonight, there was a moment…some look in his eyes when I first opened the door that made me think he wasn’t just here to apologize.
Then there was the other look. The one he gave me when he heard Kevin’s voice, and when I started closing the door to keep him out. A look of pure, intense hurt. Anger. Shock.
