Page 20 of Theo (Stone Brothers #6)

EIGHTEEN

LACEY

I 'd finished working with my four current clients and logged off the computer.

The apartment we were renting, while looking for a house, overlooked a massive green park that included bike trails and a lake for kayaking.

George had gotten a position as head of cardiology at a big hospital, and he worked endless hours.

I was thankful for that. We were three months into our farce of a marriage, which meant I had a year and nine months to go before all of the Plunkett's social circle learned that I was such a basket case George couldn't take it anymore.

I was sure Joan would finish what she started with her evil plan.

One good thing had come from it though. We hardly ever saw or spoke to his mom.

She'd always doted on George, but it seemed once we tied the knot, she'd achieved her main goal, that her only son had gotten married and was living a perfectly dull, normal life with his wife.

Kids were out of the question, of course, which was fine with me.

George and I never slept together anyhow.

He was a terrible lover, and frankly, bad sex was even worse than no sex at all.

He wasn't the least bit interested in me or my life, and I couldn't have cared less about his.

Still, surprisingly, it wasn't altogether unpleasant.

We even managed to have decent conversations and the occasional laugh as if we were just good buddies instead of husband and wife.

I could never figure out why he hadn't put up more of a fight about being forced into this marriage, but he seemed content with our setup.

He was far too busy to be bothered. When he wasn't at work or on call, he was out golfing or hiking with his best friend since medical school, Gabe Netherland.

Gabe was an orthopedic surgeon and they now worked at the same hospital.

I half expected George to have an affair or start seeing someone on the side.

I even suggested it at one point, but he said he was too busy.

He also liked to tell me that I'd ruined his view on romance and love.

As for me, I kept myself occupied with work, bike rides and the occasional lunch with friends or coworkers.

I'd also taken up plant-based cooking, something my cardiologist husband approved of greatly.

All in all, life could have been worse. It could have been better too.

My freedom was still months away, but that gave me time to make a plan for my future.

The only problem with that was every time I visualized my future, Theo Stone was standing in it with his heartbreaking smile.

I grabbed a bowl of leftover rice and veggies from the fridge and walked to the window.

Unseasonably hot temperatures had brought people out of their apartments.

They swarmed the lush green lawns and cool blue lake in the park.

After lunch, I decided to slather on some sunscreen and take a walk around the lake.

Deciding the sunblock wasn't enough, I pulled on my straw hat and sunglasses.

The heat hit like a blast from a furnace as I reached the sidewalk.

I could feel the heat through the soles of my walking shoes.

I reached the path and stayed to the right to avoid bikes in the center lane.

A goose waddled next to me on the path. I pulled out my phone to snap a picture.

The bird stood proudly with her bright orange beak in the air as if she knew she was being photographed.

I tapped the screen to scroll through my social media for new recipes and stopped in the middle of the path when Theo's smiling face popped up.

He'd won another race. Jules had posted the picture.

He was holding a gold trophy, and he looked incredibly happy.

I would have given anything to be standing there in the crowd, waiting to throw my arms around him for a victory kiss, but it seemed that the universe had worked its hardest to keep us separate.

It wasn't in the cards for Theo and me, no matter how often my daydreams tried to convince me otherwise.

I liked the photo and quickly stuck my phone in my pocket. I'd stopped posting anything on my own accounts after the wedding. I had nothing to share, nothing to add to the social-sphere that I considered important or relevant.

I continued along the path. The city had set up brightly colored shade umbrellas, and most of them were occupied with mothers trying to give their little ones a respite from the hot sun, students reading or working on laptop projects and lovers, using the big shady umbrella for a little privacy.

I reached the end of the trail where pedestrians had the choice to go right, toward the road and shops or left to the kayak rental kiosk on the lake.

The sun was just brutal enough to urge me to forgo the choice and turn around to head back.

As I swung around, I spotted a flash of electric blue.

It was the custom color of George's Porsche.

I always thought the color was a bit too much for a Porsche and for a doctor, but he loved it.

I glanced around to see if I spotted George's tall head somewhere in the park or on the sidewalk near the car, but there was no sign of him.

A smile formed on my lips as I considered the possibility that George had come to the park to meet a lover. Maybe he'd been having an affair, after all, and not wanting to spark any speculation or gossip at the hospital, he'd been arranging to meet her at the park.

I stopped at the lemonade cart and bought a frozen lemonade.

It was far sweeter than I expected. I'd been hoping for tart, cold and refreshing.

An umbrella became free when a pair of teens emerged looking blushed and not necessarily from the sun.

The boy had long blond hair and a tan. Together they reminded me of Theo and me as teens, only we used to drive up to a lookout point to make out rather than a park umbrella.

I snagged the vacant umbrella and sat down to enjoy my lemonade.

I was tempted to take out my phone and stare starry-eyed at Theo's picture again, but I told myself I was being an obsessed idiot and stretched back to rest in the strongest part of the shade instead.

I stared out at the lake, watching people paddle in circles and putter across the glassy water.

The sun's reflection was so strong it was hard to see anything past it.

I rested all the way back, closed my eyes and was about to doze off when I heard a familiar laugh.

The familiar laugh was followed by an equally familiar deep voice.

I sat up and noticed a pair of loafers I recognized sticking out past the next umbrella in front of me.

I'd caught him. I'd caught my mostly pretend husband in the middle of a tryst. I was feeling just ornery enough to interrupt the fun.

I picked up my drink, pushed to my feet and headed toward the laughter.

I circled around. "Well, well, well," I said lightly and then took a sip of lemonade.

The sugary drink caught in my throat as George stared up at me in utter horror.

His partner did too. It seemed my husband was having an affair … with his best friend Gabe.

Both men sat straight up as if they'd been prodded with a hot poker. "Lacey, what the hell? What are you doing here?" I'd never seen Dr. George Plunkett, renowned surgeon, look so damn flustered.

"Just out for a walk," I said airily. Now that the shock had passed, I found nothing untoward about any of it.

"I didn't mean to interrupt." I peered up.

"Actually, that was my original plan, but now that seems like a boring idea.

Carry on as if I was never here." I winked at Gabe and walked back to the path.

My park visit had come to an interesting end.

I'd barely gotten inside the apartment and back into the comforting glory of air conditioning when the door opened. It was George. He looked beside himself.

"George, what are you doing home? Look, we both know that this marriage is just an act. I don't mind at all. In fact, I'm kind of relieved because you and I—well, our sex life sucked. Now I know why."

George ran his fingers nervously through his hair. "You can't—this can't—my mother?—"

"Wait a minute. So that's why she was so insistent that we marry, even though she clearly hated my guts.

Mutual feelings there, as you probably guessed.

" My flippant tone was upsetting him. He looked as if he was ready to throw up or pass out.

I suddenly had far less animosity toward the man, and I actually felt sorry for him.

I softened my tone. "So, you have to hide in the closet because your mom doesn't want any embarrassment in her social circles.

Her beautiful boy, her pride and joy is gay, and that doesn't cut it in her snooty, prudish world. How very last-century of her."

I walked to the kitchen and got each of us a glass of water.

I handed one to him. George was always in charge, always strident and in control, but he looked positively wrecked.

I motioned for us to sit on the ridiculously overpriced couch the interior designer had chosen.

I hated everything about her choices, including the impractical snow-white couch.

We sat down and George chugged the water. I drank mine, too. The refreshing frozen lemonade hadn't been all that refreshing. It seemed my normally not-lost-for-words husband was just that—lost for words. I continued.

"It would explain why you started getting so short and cold toward me as we got closer to the wedding. And that wedding." I shook my head. "Your mom made it the event of the century just to make sure people understood how super-duper straight you were."