The Other Man(43)

He’d always had a nerve.  When we’d been young I’d called it pluck and found it charming.

That was a very long time ago.

I almost laughed.

Instead I shook my head at him.  “What in the world are you doing here, Eduard?”

“What’s he doing here?” he shot back as though he had some right to question who should be at my house.

“What are you doing here?” I repeated.

“He spent the night?” Eduard cried out like he was honestly shocked.

“What gave it away?” Heath asked him dryly.

“What do you want, Eduard?” I asked him.  “This is not a good time.  If you have something to say to me, you need to call, not just show up at my house.”

“I can’t believe you!  How long has this been going on?”

It was strange.  The divorce had had opposite effects on us.  The longer we were apart, the more indifferent I became to him and the more bitter he grew toward me.

It was a refreshing change from our marriage where I’d cared too much and he too little.

I looked at Heath, who was calm as could be, just watching me while he kept my ex easily out of the house.  “Just shut the door on him,” I told him.  “If he has something important to tell me, he can call and leave a message that I may or may not listen to.”

“I’m telling the boys about this!” Eduard shouted as the door started to close on him.

“They already know!” I shouted back.

“We all had dinner together last night,” Heath added and shut the door in his face.

“Does he show up here often?” Heath asked me, the doorbell ringing enthusiastically to punctuate his words.

“No.  Hardly ever.  Did he say what he wanted?”

“No.  I think the sight of me changed his focus, but I’m pretty sure I can guess what he came here for.”

“What?”

“You.  He wants you back.”

I couldn’t help it.  I made a face.  “God, I hope not.  That’s never happening.  Not in a million years.”

“Good.  I’ll have a word with him sometime; make sure he gets the message loud and clear.”

“You don’t have to do that.  I can handle him.  He’s harmless.  Just an annoyance these days.  Honestly.”

He didn’t say another word about it, which should have worried me more, but I was distracted just then, as he took me back to bed.

We didn’t get a day in bed, but we did get a morning, so I couldn’t exactly complain.

Heath left for a few hours in the afternoon, for work, he said, but told me he’d be back in time for dinner.

I thought it was him at the door sometime later, and so was doubly surprised when I opened it to find a young blonde girl standing there.

“Is Heath here?” she asked me.

I was caught off guard, for obvious reasons.  “Um, no, no he’s not.  He stepped out for a bit.  Can I help you?”

“Could I wait inside for him?  I’m supposed to meet him here.”

I let her in.  What else could I do?

I went back into the kitchen.  I’d just been about to open a bottle of wine, so I offered her a glass.

“Oh, no, thank you.  I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant, so I definitely shouldn’t.”

“Excuse me?” I asked her.  I just didn’t know how to place her in my mind.  Who was she, and why had she come here to find Heath?

“Also, I’m not actually old enough to drink,” she added.

That had me studying her.  She was a young thing.  She had white-blonde hair and was drop dead gorgeous.  She looked like something you’d see in a Victoria’s Secret catalogue come to life wearing sweats and nerdy glasses.

She studied me right back.

“I’m Iris,” she said, breaking a long silence.  “And you must be Lourdes.  So nice to finally meet you.”

“Nice to meet you,” I mumbled back.

Iris beamed at me.  “So you and Heath, huh?”

She sounded so happy about it that I found myself studying her face some more.  And then it hit me.  Of course.  Aside from their different, striking eye colors, they even looked alike.  “You’re his sister.”

She laughed.  And laughed.  I didn’t get the joke, but her laughter was contagious and so I found myself smiling.

“Oh my God,” she gasped.  “You are so much more observant than Dair.  It took him forever to figure that out.”

I blinked at her.  “Dair . . . Alasdair Masters?  You know him?”

For that, she started studying me again, her eyes intense in a way that made me think I’d underestimated her.  Greatly.

“Yes, I know him,” she said quietly.  “He’s a friend of yours, right?”

“Well, yes, we’ve worked together a few times, and we’re friendly.  How do you know him?”

She shook her head sharply.  “Long, long story.  How are things going with you and Heath?”

I didn’t know how to answer that.

And she didn’t seem to need an answer.