Park Avenue Player(73)

I leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

She sighed. “I’m just hoping I don’t kill my ex-husband during the trip.”

My body went rigid. I’d completely forgotten her friend was also the stepsister of Elodie’s ex-husband. A family vacation meant he would be there, too.

Great. Elodie would be feeling needy and vulnerable and surely doubting my feelings for her based on my behavior this week. And he’d be right there to pick up the pieces, possibly manipulating her. I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t try to get her back. It was a vibe I’d gotten from him that day he’d showed up at her place while I was there. That guy was trouble.

I wanted to open up to her right then and there, tell her I was sorry, that I was ready to take the next step. But despite my jealousy, this was not the time for that. She was upset about her friend. I’d have to let her go and pray I could make things right when she came back.





Chapter 33




* * *





Elodie




The lake house was even more peaceful than I remembered.

The two-hour drive up north had turned into almost three and a half due to rush-hour traffic and a backup from an accident. So it was late by the time we arrived, and Bree was ready for bed the minute we walked in. She always seemed so exhausted lately.

The two of us were sharing a room, so after I helped her set up her oxygen machines and made the beds with fresh linens, we talked until she could barely keep her eyes open.

Bree’s dad and stepmom were in the bedroom across from us, and they’d turned in for the night about an hour ago. Tobias’s bedroom was at the other end of the house, and he seemed to have disappeared, too, which I was immensely grateful for.

But I couldn’t fall asleep. So I walked down the back stairs to go sit on the dock and get some fresh air by the lake.

My mind felt so jumbled. Between watching how weak Bree had become, being back up at the lake for the first time since Tobias and I had split, and the unsettled state of my relationship with Hollis—I just couldn’t relax.

The lake was serene in the dark, as flat and reflective as a mirror, with only the soft ripple of the water lapping against the rocks along the edge. Sounds of what I thought might be a giant frog croaking in the distance alternated with an owl above the bristle of the trees. They almost seemed to be having a conversation.

I sat in a wooden Adirondack chair on the edge of the dock, took a few deep breaths, and shut my eyes.

Fresh air in, unhappy thoughts out.

Fresh air in, negative energy out.

Fresh air in, shoulders relaxed while exhaling.

After a few minutes, my mind started to clear a little. I felt the tension in my neck ease, and my hands, which I hadn’t noticed were balled into tight fists, bloomed open. Everything seemed easier to deal with.

Until I heard the sound of footsteps walking down the stairs.

“There you are.”

My eyes flashed open at my ex-husband’s voice. Whatever tension had started to wane immediately came back.

“Is everything okay with Bree?”

“She’s fine. I went to your room to look for you, and she’s sound asleep. I was wondering where you’d snuck off to. Then I remembered how much you loved it out on the dock. Remember the night we brought a blanket out and—”

I cut him off. No way was I taking a walk down memory lane right now. “Did you want something, Tobias?”

He stepped closer, crouched down, and put his hand on my arm. “I was hoping we could talk.”

I pulled my arm back. “About what?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Anything. The weather. Work. Politics. Whatever you want.”

“My ability to make small talk with you ended the afternoon I found your dick inside your student.”

It was dark, but the moon lit the lake enough that I could see Tobias flinch. Good.

He sighed. “There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret what I did.”

“You know how you avoid having those regrets?”

“How?”

“You don’t shit on the people who care about you.” I stood and started to walk toward the stairs. I’d made it up two steps when I decided I did have something to talk about with my ex-husband. Turning around, I marched back to where he stood and folded my arms across my chest.

Something had been eating at me for a long time. “Why?” I said.

His brows furrowed. “Why what?”

“Why did you cheat on me? I was a good wife. I kept a nice home and cooked you meals. We never really argued. I thought we had a good sex life, even. You seemed to get off, and I can’t remember a single time I turned you down when you were in the mood. I even dressed up and answered the door in those cheap naughty nurse outfits you liked so much.”

“My therapist thinks I’m a sex addict.”

I scoffed. “Sex addict? Therapist?”

“Yes, it’s a compulsive disorder, no different than someone who washes their hands all the time or checks if they’ve locked the door. It’s a disease.”

“Really? Okay, well, people who need to wash their hands all the time or check if the door is locked—do they go to someone else’s house to wash their hands or check if the neighbor’s door is locked? Because I might believe there’s a disorder that makes you obsessive about sex—but that doesn’t explain why you couldn’t just bang your willing wife more.”