Page 87 of Forgotten Romance

Mary ties back her hair, determination settling on her face. “Let’s do it, then.”

27

Davey

Something’s going on. All weekend, Mack keeps needing to duck out to “appointments” or to “catch up with a friend,” and given it’s only days until Christmas, something isn’t adding up. If he was ducking out to pick up Christmas gifts, I’d get it, but I’ve already got those organized.

I’d assumed since this is the two-week block that we always have together that we’d be spending whatever time we could in each other’s company. Maybe that was short-sighted of me. Of course he has his own life and his own friends, and it’s not fair of me to expect him to put an end to all of that just to hang out with me.

Especially since the time we have together is perfect.

We’re still sharing our bed, I still get to wake up to that gorgeous sleepy face—even if Van is wedged in between us. There hasn’t been any more sex, which is probably a good thing since it was so intense and raw last time that I can’t get through that again with everything still so uncertain between us.

There has been kissing though. The type of kissing that makes me feel young again. From the sort that lingers that moment too long to be friendly, nothing else touching between us, to the quick slip of the tongue, to the bold desperateness that flares up between us before one of us remembers to stop. It always leaves me breathless and my gut a knotted mess in the best possible way.

While I appreciate that he let me sleep in this morning, I don’t want to wake up without him beside me.

I creep up behind him in the kitchen and wrap my arms around his waist. Mack immediately melts into me, and I can’t stop from leaving a lingering kiss on his neck. Right on that spot where his scent is heaviest and gets a sharp inhale from him every time.

“Tell me you don’t have plans today?”

The guilty look he throws me over his shoulder is the only answer I need. And honestly, it annoys me a bit.

I step away with a sigh. “Is it at least something I can do with you?”

Mack groans. “Not this time. I have, uh … Ford’s got this thing. He needs help with.”

“And I can’t help because …”

“It’s … private! Very private. I’ve been sworn to secrecy, or I’d totally tell you.”

“Husbands don’t keep secrets.”

“But we’re not husbands.”

The truth stretches out between us. He’s right. Obviously. Doesn’t stop from making me want to punch something. Our whole situation is fucked-up, and it’s the waiting to be able to do something about it that has me more frustrated than anything.

It’s not Mack’s fault.

Not spending time with me is though.

So is throwing the fact that we’re not actually together back in my face. I have no right to feel hurt. I agreed to it all just the same as he did. We were idiots, obviously, and since we worked that out, we’ve been honest about where we stand and what we want.

Except for these fucking disappearances.

Following my husband—ex, sorry, Mack—wasn’t on my list of things to do today, but I’m curious. So curious. I also know how fucked-up it is to be thinking like that, so I swallow my pride and stamp down that need to make Mack think I’m okay always and ask, “Are you seeing Luke?”

I hate how defeated my voice comes out, but I don’t know why else he’d be sneaking around.

Mack’s head snaps my way, and the shock reflected on it helps ease my jealous suspicion. “No. I’d tell you if I was. I promise.”

He doesn’t need to promise because I’d believe him without it. “Okay, but I have to be honest here; you sneaking off has me asking questions.”

Mack drops his head onto my shoulder. “There’s no one else, I already agreed to that. So can you please, please try to trust me and know that I wouldn’t voluntarily be spending time away from you if I didn’t need to and just stop asking questions?”

“Stop asking questions?” I almost laugh until Mack looks up and I catch how earnest those blue eyes look. “Don’t give me that look.”

“Pleeease?”

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