Junk Mail(46)

“I put him on kid duty,” Claire whispers as she hands me a full coffee mug.

Thank God. I’m exhausted from that drive.

With the living room occupied, and the kitchen close enough that the little ones would be within earshot, I suggest we take advantage of the nice weather and move this conversation outside. Claire agrees, and I follow her out through the sliding glass door and onto the patio. Although the last thing I want to do is sit after being in a car for so long, I politely take a seat in the Adirondack chair across from her.

We’re quiet for a moment, which gives me a chance to get a few sips of coffee in me before I launch into my mess of a story. As we sit here, I can’t help but reminisce about the last time I was on this patio, introducing Peyton to the kids and watching them race to the playset. I’d be called a rotten egg all over again to have her here with me again.

My heart swells at the memory of how good she was with the kids, how she didn’t even think twice about getting her nice dress dirty. She said she wants to come back here. Or at least wanted. The thought of that being in the past tense puts a knot in my stomach.

“So,” Claire says, putting an end to my daydream. “What’s going on, and why do I have a feeling it has to do with the girl you brought here?”

I snicker into my coffee. “Busted. But yeah, it’s gotten complicated.”

Claire stifles a giggle. “Complicated? Wasn’t it already complicated that you and your business partner were so totally into each other?”

“Was it that obvious? We were trying to hide it.”

This time, she doesn’t even bother trying to hide her laugh. “Yeah, it was incredibly obvious. The way you two looked at each other? That’s not how you look at a coworker. Anyone with eyes could see that.”

“Yeah, and that was the problem.” I sigh, working a hand through my hair. “I guess people caught on. Well, Brody did, at least. He got all riled up and was going to put an end to our deal with her company. So I kinda had to play hardball.”

A crease forms across Claire’s forehead. “Define hardball.”

“Well, after Peyton, you know, spent the night for the first time, I overslept, and Brody pitched a fit. So she was worried that us being together would get in the way of work stuff. And then Brody comes at me with this how are you gonna prove you’re not thinking with your dick bullshit. Long story short, I made him a deal where I’d back off the project and stop talking to Peyton until the launch was done.”

Claire’s eyes bulge, and her chin drops to her chest. “You slept with her and then you stopped talking to her? Are you kidding me?”

“It wasn’t permanent. Just for two weeks, give or take. It was for the good of the business, she has to know that,” I explain, my tone turning defensive. “And it was so Brody would believe me when I said this deal would be a success. This way, I could keep things professional, like she wanted. I was trying to help.”

Claire blinks at me in disbelief, her mouth hanging open a solid two inches. “Um, question . . . When did you inform her of this brilliant plan?”

I recoil. “Sorry, what?”

Claire squeezes her eyes shut and inhales sharply. She’s obviously trying to stop herself from yelling at me, but whether that’s for my benefit or the kids’, I’m not sure.

“Listen, Josh,” she says in what’s obviously a forced calm tone. “A woman left your bed feeling insecure about your relationship. Your job is to soothe those worries, to make things right with her. Instead, your solution was to completely ignore her for two weeks?”

“Well, I guess when you put it like that . . .”

“What do you mean ‘when you put it like that’? That’s what you did. It doesn’t matter that there was some kind of professional reasoning behind it. All you did was confirm that poor girl’s worst fears—that she’s a one-time fuck who means nothing to you.”

“But she’s not,” I snap, as if Claire were the one I’m trying to convince.

Claire rests her mug on the arm of the chair and folds her arms across her chest. “And how is she supposed to know that?”

An insane amount of pressure starts building in my chest. Fuck. She’s right.

There’s no way in hell for Peyton to know that. Because all I did was disappear and then crash her celebration at Speakeasy without an explanation. And I never thought to ask Brody about how he broke the news of my disappearance to Peyton. For all I know, he might have said I was dead. Or worse, seeing someone else.

“You need to call her, Josh,” Claire says, leaning forward in her chair and laying a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“No shit.” I snort, shrugging her hand off of me. “I already tried that. She won’t even pick up. She doesn’t want to hear a word I have to say.”

Claire rolls her eyes and folds one leg over the other, then crosses her arms again. She looks like the world’s most annoyed pretzel. “Listen. I can’t tell you how to fix it. I wish I could, because I really liked Peyton.” Her face softens, probably at the memory of the two of us goofing around with her kids on the playset. “But I will say this. If Peyton is half as wonderful as she seemed when I met her, she’s not going to stay single for very long. Girls like that get snatched up quick.”