Frayed Silk(21)

My hand, which is holding another piece of muffin, pauses halfway to my mouth. “Yeah, I do. We get someone in to do the windows and pool every so often, but I clean the house.”

Her jaw drops open and hangs there comically as I smirk down into my mug.

“I’ve known you all this time, so why am I just finding this out now?”

I smile. “Because it’s not important? Besides, if I didn’t have something to do, I’d go crazy. Leo said he’d like me to stay at home, at least until the kids are in high school.” I bring the muffin to my mouth. “I agreed.”

“But …” she stutters through her red painted lips, “he’s worth millions.”

Swallowing the muffin, I frown, well aware of this. “I know.”

“Sorry, but shit, I just thought … if you had that much money, then you’d barely have to lift a finger.”

I brush the crumbs off my hands onto the counter and take a sip of my coffee. “Not always the case,” I mutter.

“So, because you were poor, you don’t like to waste money?”

That makes me laugh. “No, I love to spend money as much as the next person, but I’m just smarter about it because of my upbringing, I guess.”

She pats my hand as if she feels sorry for me.

“Oh, and don’t worry, Leo pays someone to come in and do the lawns every month, too,” I joke, but he really does, though.

It’s right then that I hear his car pull into the driveway and not even twenty-seconds later, the sound of the kids running in through the front door.

They stop in the entryway to the kitchen. “How was swimming?” I ask as they look around, probably searching for any sign of Rupert and Henry.

“Charlie won, again,” Greta groans and walks over to wrap her arms around my waist.

“Congratulations, baby.” Smiling warmly at him as he walks over, I pull him into my side to kiss his chlorine scented head then let him go. He immediately walks out of the kitchen with barely a wave at Fiona.

“And how’d you do, gorgeous?” Fiona asks.

“I don’t race, just practice,” Greta mutters. I rub her back. Swimming has always been Charlie and Leo’s thing that they do together, and I think she’s trying to find that something with her dad, too. Little does she know; she doesn’t have to. Their bond is already pretty special. But she’ll figure that out in her own time.

“Practice makes perfect. Here, muffin?” Fiona scoots the plate over, and Greta takes one before leaving the kitchen. I hear the TV switch on a minute later and cringe as I think about their wet pool hair dripping all over the leather couches.

I’m wondering where Leo is until he stops dead in the entryway to the kitchen a moment later.

Fiona turns on her stool. “Well, hello handsome, how’ve you been?” She beams at him.

He appears to be frozen, his tall frame stiff and unmoving. His top lip curls into a sneer, and his jaw is clenched tight as his ice-cold blue eyes land on her.

My own flit back and forth between them like crazy, watching the way Fiona visibly swallows as he seems to stare daggers at her.

He finally tears his eyes away, letting them skim over me. He clears his throat before turning around. “I’ll be in the office,” he mutters and disappears.

Fiona waits a moment before hissing, “Sheesh, what crawled up his amazing ass and died since the last time I saw him?”

She doesn’t realize that I’ve been wondering the same damn thing for months now.

I feel my cheeks heat—how embarrassing. It might be forced, but he’s managed to remain polite to most people. Especially our friends.

“I’m so sorry. I have no idea what’s gotten into him today.” I reach over and pat her hand.

“No, don’t be ridiculous. He’s probably just having a bad day or week. Dylan can be the same. I stay well out of his way when he gets irritable after a bad streak in the office.” She waves her hand around. “Anyway, where were we …? Oh, you have got to finally tell me where you got those photo frames I saw in the hall …”

We spend the next half an hour chatting, and to her credit, she acts as though my husband wasn’t a complete ass to her. But I’m only half here. The other half of me is wondering if maybe something happened between the two of them. Because even though I don’t think he’s cheated on me or has been having an affair, my gut is rolling right now. So I’m glad when she decides to leave. I need to take five minutes for myself.

I lean over the kitchen sink, and rinse my mouth out with a glass of water in an effort to stop the bile from climbing up my throat at the thought of my husband with anyone, let alone my friend.

Coughing, I place the glass down and stare, unseeingly, out the kitchen window to the manicured gardens outside, just as it starts to rain. My eyes fall on the Dahlias Leo insisted we plant as soon as he bought the house. He went a little crazy. There’s purple, pink, red—almost every shade you can find—as well as various shapes and sizes, including the huge Dinner Plate Dahlia’s. They’re spread throughout the beds in our front and back gardens.

My mom almost fell over when they finally all bloomed for the first time. Tears were falling from her eyes as she told me how lucky I was to find someone who loved me so completely. Who’d show it in ways that neither of us had ever thought possible.