The Solitude of Passion (47 page)

“You still wish I’d left him that night.” She looks out at the ocean as a wave sweeps over the shore, white as a pearl. “You wanted that. I know you did, and I disappointed you.”

I wish I could say that wasn’t true—that I would never have wanted that, but I can never say it.

“I hoped.” I barely have the nerve to whisper it. “I knew it would be complicated. And if it had been anybody else but Max”—I hang my head—“I probably would have backed off—for like a minute.” I push my shoulder into hers and we share a stifled laugh.

“Do you still hate him?”

“No.” I want to. It feels like self-sabotage to admit I have no more hatred left for Max Shepherd.

“You tried to keep us apart.” It comes out drenched with disappointment. “You gave up your best friend because you didn’t think you could trust me.”

“I trusted you plenty. It was him I didn’t trust. I wasn’t going to make a big deal of what happened that night. But he wanted you, Lee. And there was nothing in me that was about to stand around playing third wheel. He slept with you. I had that small window, while he was away, to get your attention.” The moon glints over her glossed features, and I brush my thumb over her cheek to wipe away the tears. “I thought if he wanted to play dirty, so would I. I thought I could control things, but I was wrong. I couldn’t control losing my father. I couldn’t control the inexcusable way he emotionally slaughtered my mother, so I vowed the day he died I would do anything to protect the ones I loved—that I would never hurt them, but I did. I hurt you, and I hurt Max. All along, I was trying to get my way. I was no different from my father after all. Turns out the selfish bastard didn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Mitch.” She folds into me. “That was the end for Max and me, but not because of anything you did. It’s because I chose to be with you.”

“It wasn’t the end.” I shake my head. “Not even close. I’m being humbled. God is taking me down in grand style. He’s showing me who’s really in control. He put Max in your path once, and he did it again. I’m not the one who’s in control, Lee, I never was.” The detention center blinks through my mind in snatches, quick and haunting like clattering teeth. It’s as if the entire universe is working in favor of Max Shepherd, and, if I’m not careful, I’ll wind up right back in the dungeon where I came from.

Lee winces into me. “So you’re trying to tell me, you think Max and I were meant to be together—that you were just some obstacle to our destiny? I don’t think you believe it for a minute.”

The ocean and its menacing thunder fills in the silence. We watch the waves collapse on the shore and pull out in a fury while trying to drag everything with it.

Max and Lee. It couldn’t be right.
Mitch
and
Lee
, we were the super-couple. We were the great loves of our lives, weren’t we?

“Max isn’t going away,” I whisper. It sounds like a betrayal coming from my own lips.

She pulls back. “And we’re not going to arrange that.” A fire ignites in her eyes. She’s all hell and fury over the thought of me hurting Max.

“I think the bigger question is when is Max going to make
me
disappear? I still haven’t ruled that one out. If I wind up in a ditch, don’t be afraid to point fingers.” I’m only half-joking.

“He would never hurt you.” Lee pulls me in by the chin. A sad smile breaks loose on her lips. “Mitch,” she whispers it solemn as a eulogy. Lee holds my face and offers a careful kiss over my lips, soft as air. I pull her down to the sand and cover her mouth with mine. It’s an inventory of gums and teeth, nothing but the fire from our mouths to keep us warm. Deep, meaningful groans expel from our throats as we soak it all in. If my soul were required of me at this very hour I’d die a happy man in the arms of the woman I love.

My father and his philandering ways blink through my mind, and I lock him out. This is different. This is Lee.

She tugs at my shirt and pulls it over my head. Lee runs her hands over my chest, slow and easy as if she were committing it to memory. I think we’re all done discussing Max and homicidal tendencies.

“You taste so good.” She gives it in a heated whisper right over my ear.

I pull the blanket out and roll Lee and I over it. We spend a small eternity exploring the hot of one another’s mouths until she lets me peel off her jeans. I slip my hand between her thighs and she gives a quiet groan of approval.

“Mitch,” her eyes float to the back of her head as I plunge my finger deep inside her. She reaches down and frees me from my boxers, pulls me out like she’s about to hold my cock for ransom.

“Do you want this?” I pull back to give her a moment to think.

Lee bites down on her lip as if she were unsure, as if her hormones overruled any rational thought she was capable of making.

Lee pulls me in by the back of the neck and dives her tongue into my mouth, hungry and needy. She reaches down and strokes me until I’m pretty damn sure I’m going to come right there in her hand. Lee guides me in, and I die from the sheer glory of the moment. I was starting to doubt this would ever happen again, and here we are, back in our own private paradise. I glide in and out determined to make it last. I plan on showing Lee exactly how much she means to me, how much I love every ounce of her, body and soul. And I plan on loving every last ounce, right here, until the sun comes up, then long past that into forever.

Tonight we’re breaking the rules.

I don’t mind breaking the rules with Lee.

Max

It’s hard falling asleep when it’s four in the morning, and your wife is still not home—and by some almighty coincidence neither is her ex. She’s not answering her cell, neither is Mitch. Kat said she left the restaurant with him and apologized profusely as if she had shoved them into a hotel room herself.

The kids are at Janice’s, and I’m holding out hope that Mitch is there, too—hell, I’d love it if Lee were there—if they were having one big family sleepover. Sure beats the alternative.

Wish I could fall asleep. Wish I could wake up and find Lee next to me—that it was months ago. I’d fly to China and strangle that son-of-a-bitch before he ever got a chance to set foot in an airport. He’s taking advantage of her. Lee is too jacked up on hormones to notice. I’m sure she’s hoping this will all somehow work itself out. Sex with Mitch on Tuesday—

The unmistakable rattle of the door sends me flying out of bed. I race down, and as soon as I see Mitch I jump the lower third of the stairs and crush him with my full body weight. The last thing I see is the surprise in his eyes. If I’m lucky enough to kill the bastard, I can always say I fell. I don’t waste any time, just pummel him in the gut, hard and fast.

“You’re
killing
him!” Lee screams.

I want to tell her I’m not that lucky, instead, I clock him in the face so hard I feel a satisfying pop beneath my knuckles. Mitch lobs me in the upper jaw, and I bite down hard on my tongue.

Shit!

The salt in my blood distracts me enough for him to blindside me with a fist to the chest. A blinding pain rips through my body. My lungs deflate, and I struggle to take my next breath.

Holy fucking shit. He gave me a heart-stopper. I twist over him and shake him by his sweater.

“You trying to kill me?” I roar.

Mitch brings up his knee and lands another powerful blow to my gut.

“That’s for Lee.” Mitch jumps up and hobbles to the back room.

“Are you okay?” She pulls at my elbow until I rise unsteady on my feet.

Her hair is disheveled. Her makeup has been cried off, leaving long muddied streaks down the sides of her face.

It crushes me to see her like this, broken, coming home with Mitch.

I don’t want to look at her. I want all of my rage focused in on the right person tonight. I speed over to the family room and find Mitch sprawled out on the couch.

“Get up,” it comes out hoarse.

Mitch gives a slow blink past my shoulder. “Lee, end this bullshit right now,” he groans, struggling to stand.

Lee doesn’t say anything. Instead, she comes around and parks her body between the two of us like a barrier.

“It’s your bullshit, Mitch.” I knock a stack of books off the end table. “You keep throwing yourself at her, and she still hasn’t left me. There’s not a single document drawn up to take down this marriage. What does that tell you?”

His eyes dart over to hers. “End this.” He moves to stand beside her. “Tell him right now.”

“Tell me what, Lee?” I lock onto her. I’m ready for it. Whatever it is she wants to say, whatever she’s been sharing with Mitch behind my back, I want all of it dumped at my feet like vomit.

She presses her hand into my chest and takes a step closer.

“Tell me.” I lift my hands with the invitation. “That you slept with him again? I figured that out myself.”

“
Lee
.” Mitch could slice tension wires with the desperation in his voice.

She gives a sad smile never breaking our gaze.

“Now,” he urges, placing his hands square on her shoulders. “If you meant it at all, do it right now.”

Lee doesn’t move. She closes her eyes and presses her lips together to keep them from quivering.

“You lose, Mitch.” I force a smile to come and go. “Now leave us the hell alone.”

“Look at me.” He spins her around with a crazed look in his eye. “What do you find so difficult about the truth? Say it, Lee. Say it
right
now
,” he barks within an inch of her face.

Lee’s entire person seizes.

“Let go.” I free her from his grip. “Keep your hands off my wife.” I pull Lee toward the door and broaden my chest in the event he feels the urge to charge—hell, I’m inviting it.

He circles around me and steps into her line of vision.

“I can’t do this anymore.” He’s pleading with those algae-riddled eyes. “I thought I could take it. I thought that you’d eventually come around. But it looks like I’ve just stepped in your way.” A single tear tracks down his face. “You know what it feels like?” His voice jumps up an octave, his lips twitch. He’s shaking, trying to keep his emotions in check. “It feels like I’m some guy you have on the side. Like you’re having an
affair
with me. It feels wrong. And if I feel that way maybe you do, too.” His voice reverberates off the walls. I don’t think I’ve seen him this angry before, not even at me. “I’m sick and tired of trying to saw your family in half. This should have been black and white, Lee. It would have been for me. But, then, I guess I don’t really know you. I guess we were never who I thought we were.” He turns and heads into the guestroom—nothing but the slam of drawers, the pump of hostile footsteps. Mitch reappears with his backpack slung over one shoulder as he makes his way past us, marking his exit with the quiet click of the front door.

Lee stares at me wild eyed. She looks lost, abandoned.

The roar of his engine fills the night as Lee and I make our way to the living room. We watch his headlights back out of the driveway before disappearing down the street.

It feels final. I’m not sure how it feels for Lee, but in my gut I know he’s not coming back. He’ll always be in our lives as Stella’s father, but it’s looking like hurricane Mitch is finally starting to dissipate.

Lee

The days bleed by, black—somber as a funeral.

Mitch won’t pick up the phone. He’s steered clear of the house. Janice says he’s laying low with Colt.

Max is happy enough to fill the void. He’s resumed the role of faithful, loving husband, and the rhythm of the house has returned to just this side of normal.

On Thursday, Max asks to take me to Dr. Van Guard’s office, just the two of us. It feels off, like we walked backward into couples counseling, not that we didn’t need it.

“Mitch has maintained contact with me.” Dr. Van Guard’s smile retracts when he says it.

It’s the first topic of conversation, and my spirit soars just hearing his name. It makes Mitch feel real again, not like some dream I accidentally dragged Max into.

I struggle to read Dr. Van Guard, what he might be trying to tell me on a subliminal level. I’m desperate for a glimmer of hope that Mitch might be coming back here—to
me
—but Dr. V. offers nothing more than his elastic smile.

“Lee”—he leans over his glasses, looking at the two of us—“Mitch shared that you had another indiscretion with him. He also informed me that Max is aware of what happened.”

I hold my breath a moment. Indiscretion sounds like code for mistake, and I hate the thought of being with Mitch as a mistake.

“I’m very sorry,” I say. I’m mostly sorry I couldn’t tell Mitch what he needed to hear, but there’s no point now.

“Do you understand why I asked for the trial separation—the breathing room? You’re living in a boiling cauldron of emotion. Something like this was bound to happen without time apart.”

He should have taken me aside and pointed this out in private.
Keep the fuck away, or you might accidentally sleep with Mitch
. I give him a sharp look. I know he’s the least to blame. But I’d love to point the finger.