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He was with her yesterday? What about last night?
She must be speaking because his voice grows silent.
“Yes,” he says. “I thought a lot about that, about what-ifs and situations that might have been…” He says something else but it’s hard to hear. “You were right. I did push you away and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry that I didn’t do something about it back then. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
He’s silent for several more minutes and I’m itching to hear the other side of the conversation.
Does she want him back? Is that what this is about? Did he tell her he’s still in love with her?
I close my eyes, trying to steady myself as I feel the hallway fading away. I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter as I inhale a few shaky breaths. I hear his footsteps coming toward the door. A second later he pulls it open, his expression surprised.
“You don’t know her, huh?” I cross my arms over my chest, shaking my head at him. “You even had the perfect chance to tell me who she was and you still lied to my face. For what? Why?”
“It’s nothing,” he says, shoving his phone into his pocket and attempting to step around me.
“Nothing?” I spit the word back at him. “Any normal person has a past and exes. I wouldn’t have thought twice if you had told me about her, but the fact you lied and now you’re seeing her and talking to her behind my back?”
“I said it’s nothing,” he barks. “She’s the one who left me anyway so who gives a fuck.”
“I do,” I say, pointing to my chest. “Your wife.”
“I’m not talking about this right now.”
“Funny, I don’t get that luxury with you.” I push against his chest. “You always demand answers from me—about my life and my past. It’s no wonder you won’t share with me,” I say with disgust. “You’re keeping someone on the back burner. I guess I’d feel pretty shitty if I were you too.”
“It isn’t like that. She’s the one who wants to get back with me. I told her I’m married.”
“For now.” I tilt my head like I’m thinking. “Actually no, this is a good idea. We get to get what we need from this arrangement. Meanwhile, we already have our rebound lined up when the divorce goes through.”
“Might I remind you”—he narrows one eye—“that the contract states that you cannot date or fuck anyone else.”
“And are you held to the same standard, dear husband?”
“No,” he says casually.
“Of course you’re not.” I toss my hands in the air in exasperation. “Why aren’t you?”
“Because you’re the one who signed the contract.”
“I need a ride.” I stand in Mac’s doorway, a confused look on his face.
“This late?” He glances at his watch, then back up at the house. “Mr. Knight know?” I shake my head, diverting my gaze from his eyes. “Gimme five,” he says, ducking back into his cottage.
Five minutes later he’s jogging up to the garage and pointing toward a black late model Ford Mustang. “We’ll take my car. That way if he gets pissed, at least I can say I didn’t use his car.”
I wrap my trench coat tighter around my body, not wanting Mac to see any part of my body in this dress. I know it’s a complete mistake involving Mac in this. It’s not that I want Atlas to be jealous or even second-guess my intentions with Mac. It’s that I knew he’d be willing to give me a ride to the city without alerting Atlas.
After our last conversation this evening, he shut himself in his office, making it abundantly clear he wasn’t to be disturbed.
“So why you going to the city this late?” He nods toward the clock on his dash.
“It’s not that late.” I shrug. “A lot of people don’t even start getting ready until after nine.”
“Yeah, not you people, though.” His eyes drift down my body and even though I’m completely covered, my stomach fizzles with an uneasy feeling.
I try to keep the talking to a minimum for the rest of the ride, my focus on the passing cars in the oncoming lanes. I pull my phone out, opening a rideshare app and stealthily calling for a car so it’s waiting for me when he drops me off.
“You can drop me here,” I say, pointing toward the coffee shop where I used to work.
