Page 44 of About that Fling (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #2)

A dam stood staring at his ex-wife for what seemed like an eternity. He stole a look at his watch, which was absurd. But knowing that didn’t stop dumb words from slipping out of his mouth.

“It’s after three,” he said stupidly, swallowing back a sour lump in his throat.

Mia frowned from the doorstep. “Is that your impression of a cuckoo clock? If so, I’ll just wait here while you crow three times and then go back in your little hut.”

He watched Jenna look from Mia to him and then back again. She cleared her throat, clearly not any better at coming up with a lie on short notice than he was. Maybe he should feel glad about that, but right now gladness didn’t fill his heart.

“Mia,” Jenna said. “I wasn’t expecting you. I—please, come in.”

Adam stepped back, trying desperately to think of an excuse for being in Jenna’s house. Something about a personnel issue at Belmont, or maybe an urgent need for her best banana bread recipe, or perhaps?—

“There you are!”

He turned around and closed his mouth—grateful no words had emerged from it yet—and saw Gertie marching into the living room.

She beamed at him and held out her hand.

“Adam, can we please get to work now? I have a meeting in an hour, and I really want to review those contracts. You have everything on your laptop?”

He blinked at her, then looked down at the computer case gripped in his hand. “Yes—I—where would you like to set up?”

“Let’s head to the office and give these girls some privacy. Mia, dear—so good to see you again.”

“Gertie,” Mia said, her expression dubious. “How do you know my ex-husband?”

“Oh, it’s such a funny story. I had a little trouble at the grocery store last week, and Adam here came to my rescue. We got to talking and I learned he’s an attorney with some expertise in literary contracts.”

Mia frowned and turned to Adam. “I thought you didn’t practice law anymore. And you said there wasn’t enough money in literary contracts.”

“I don’t. There isn’t.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I mean, Gertrude needed someone to look over her contracts, and she offered to pay me in home-cooked meals, so what could I do?”

He flashed her a smile, hoping some shred of latent charm in him might still stir softness in her heart.

Mia studied him a moment, assessing. She’d always been the better liar between the two of them, or maybe she just paid more attention.

Mia knew how to read people, how to tell when someone was uncomfortable or disingenuous.

He hated that about her, but he also admired it.

Christ, no wonder Jenna couldn’t stand lying to her.

“Come on, Mia,” Jenna said, putting an arm around her friend. “I just put the kettle on. I’ll make us some tea. You want some of Gertie’s chocolate chip cookies, or do you need to save room for that fancy dinner?”

Mia shot Adam a look he couldn’t read. She bit her lip and turned back to Jenna. “There won’t be any fancy dinner. Actually, would you like to be my date?”

“What? Where’s Mark?”

“Still working on the roof at Ellen’s place. Apparently it’s taking longer than he expected.”

“God, I’m sorry.”

Mia shrugged. “You love Gerlake, right? And I already have a reservation. Come on, my treat.”

“Mia, I shouldn’t—” She shot a look at Adam, then turned back to her friend. “When are you going?”

“Right now. It’s an early reservation, so we’ve got time for a drink before dinner. Their bar has incredible mocktails.”

Adam watched her fidget. Watched her wrestle with what to do. She avoided his gaze, looking right at Mia as she answered. “Sure, why not? Can you give me a second to change into something nicer?”

“Yeah, I’ll just sit for a minute and rest my ankles.” Mia moved toward the sofa, giving Adam a wide berth.

“Oh! Let me grab those special foot lotions we tried out yesterday,” Gertie said, bustling off down the hall. “You said that peppermint one was helping a bit?”

“Thanks, Gertie.” Mia dropped heavily onto the sofa, looking exhausted and a little sad.

Adam glanced around, surprised to realize he was alone with his ex-wife for the first time in ages.

Her eyes were closed, which gave him a chance to study her.

She had lines on her face that hadn’t been there before.

Brackets around her mouth that could have been laugh lines or frown lines.

Either way, did he have anything to do with them?

She took a heavy breath and opened her eyes, looking more exhausted now than she had before she’d closed them.

Adam felt another pang of sympathy, which made him angrier with himself that twinge of smugness he’d felt in the car with Jenna.

What kind of dick felt even the slightest hint of jubilation over someone else’s misfortune?

He wasn’t sure what she was going through exactly, but clearly all was not right in Mia’s world.

“You okay?” he asked.

He hadn’t meant to butt in, and the flash of her eyes said she didn’t welcome the intrusion. It was a flash he knew all to well. A flicker of hurt Adam wished wasn’t so familiar.

“I’m just great, Adam, thanks for asking.”

The heavy sarcasm made her words thud like rocks onto the living room floor. He knew he should leave, but he wasn’t sure whether to go looking for Gertie to keep up the ruse of legal consultation, or just get the hell out of here.

“Sorry your feet hurt,” he tried. “I’m sure if you ask Mark to rub them for you, he’d be happy to oblige.”

He hadn’t meant it to sound snarky, or hell, maybe he had. Sometimes it was such a goddamn ingrained habit. The spark of anger in her eyes told her that’s exactly how she took it.

“Fuck you, Adam.”

He reeled back. “Hey. What the hell was that for?”

“You know exactly what it was for, you smug ass. You show up here with your woo-woo words and perfect communication skills and everyone thinks you’re some sort of expert on compassion and human relationships. That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

He blinked. “I don’t?—”

“I’ll tell you what you don’t,” she snapped, sitting up straighter with her green eyes flashing.

“You don’t get to waltz back into my inner circle and be the wonderful, perfect man who cooks his own meals and posts heartfelt quotes about trust. You don’t get to be this exciting, carefree guy who does pro bono work for little old ladies and volunteers for charity instead of working ’til midnight every night.

Most of all, you don’t get to strut around now pretending you give a shit how I’m feeling when you spent five years of our marriage barely noticing I existed. ”

She was flushed and panting by the time she finished. Adam swallowed hard, struggling to control his reaction.

“Well, Mia.” He couldn’t stop reeling from her words. “Don’t hold back. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”

“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped. “You gave up the license to do that the second you signed the divorce papers.”

Adam shook his head, not sure what stunned him more. The depth of her anger? The fact that she’d just revealed she’d been stalking his social media? The thought that she saw him as smug and callous?

Or the faint possibility she might be right.

“I’m sorry, Mia,” he said, wanting to take the high road. Wanting to get out before things turned uglier. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’ve gone and made yourself a much better life, and you can tell all the women you date how you narrowly escaped your cheating bitch of a wife. Congratulations, Adam—you sure showed me.”

He shook his head, tamping down the urge to rage back at her. “You think this is somehow my fault? You’re unhappy now, and I’m the one to blame?”

“I think it’s pretty fucking convenient you embark on this mission of self-improvement now instead of when we were married. It’s like some sort of, ‘fuck you, Mia.’”

“I see,” he said tightly, trying not to take the bait. “Despite what you seem to believe, my happiness has nothing to do with you.”

She glared at him, gripping the arm of the sofa in fingers that had gone terrifyingly white. “You’re right,” she snapped. “It never did. And you made damn sure mine had nothing to do with you, either.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but he stopped himself as Jenna flew into the room wearing a black wraparound dress that showed off her curves.

Her hair was pinned up and she wore black boots with spiky heels and a spritz of perfume that made him dizzy.

He wanted to gather her up in his arms and kiss her until they were both horizontal.

“You look—” he stopped himself, swallowing back the compliment and taking a step away from her, “—like you’re in a hurry. I won’t keep you ladies. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get to my meeting with Gertrude.”

“The office is down there,” Jenna said, frowning as she caught sight of his face. She glanced at Mia and he watched her frown deepen. “Is everything okay here? Did I miss something?”

Adam looked at his ex-wife. He saw all the anger, all the disappointment, all the resentment flashing in her eyes. How was it possible after three years to still feel responsible for that?

“Everything’s fine,” he said, turning to walk away.

The host at Gerlake sniffed when Mia told him there’d been a change in plans.

“The reservation is under the name Mark Dawson.” He peered down his nose at Jenna and Mia. “Are you suggesting Mr. Dawson will not be joining us this evening?”

“That’s correct,” Mia said, her voice shaking a little. Jenna reached over and squeezed her hand.

“I see.” The host did not look impressed as he consulted his tablet. “You’ve arrived at the incorrect time, which leads me to believe there’s been some sort of?—”

“We’re grabbing a drink at the bar first.” Jenna fought the urge to grab the guy by his starched lapels and shake him. “We’re aware the dinner reservation is for five-thirty, but your bar opens at four-thirty, does it not?”

“It does indeed.”

Mia shot Jenna a victorious look, but their celebration was short lived.