Page 88 of Forgotten Romance

“No questions asked, huh?”

“It would be helpful.”

I don’t point out how impossible a request like that actually is, but on the other hand, he shouldn’t have to ask me to trust him. When it comes right down to it, Mack is one of the most trustworthy people I know. It’s my own insecurities—and probably fear that I might lose him again—coming through.

“Fine. No questions. Disappear when you need to, and I’ll look the other way.”

I’m rewarded with a kiss. One of those closed-mouthed, too-long, gut-swooping kisses.

My hand finds his lower back, urging him closer, and we break off before things go further, but he doesn’t back away. His eyes drop closed as his forehead rests against mine.

I linger in the moment for a second before I step away. “I need a promise from you,” I say.

“What is it?”

“I’ll keep quiet, but you have to promise not to sneak away tomorrow night. We’ve already promised the kids we’ll take them to the fair together, and I’m not compromising on that.”

“Agreed. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

I wave a hand toward the door. “Go on, then. Go and help Ford.”

“Don’t you want me to clean up breakfast?”

“Nope. The sooner you go, the sooner you can be back home with us. The kids want to play board games later.”

“That went terribly last time.”

“It did. And I’m sure it will again. Which is why I’m not going through it solo.”

He laughs and slaps me on the ass as he passes. “It could be payback for all the times I have.”

“Low blow.”

“Hey, I said I’d move on; I didn’t say I’d forget. You still owe me a lot of tantrums before we’re even.”

There’s a small part of me that’s worried he’s doing that joking-but-serious thing. Until he winks. And in that one tiny action, I know without a doubt that we’re going to be okay.

Eric calls partway through our board game, and Mack clocks his name at the same time as I do. With a deep breath, I silence the call, curious but not enough to put an end to the game.

Mack nudges my phone in my direction. “Better see what he wants.”

“We’re busy.”

“We can wait.”

The urge to ignore it and pretend like it never happened is strong. I’ve gotten so good at not talking about work that having it openly discussed feels like a dirty little secret.

“Before he hangs up.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” And hell, if I can get whatever this conversation is done with, it means it won’t be hanging over me for the rest of the day.

Unless he suddenly wants me to come back to work tomorrow, then I’ll very quickly be out of a job because I won’t have any issues with telling him where to stick it. It’s hard enough not telling him to fuck off as it is. I’ve earned this time off, dammit.

With the smallest bit of hope that Eric is calling to tell me they don’t need me back at work early after all, I answer the call.

“Hey, Eric.” I don’t mean to sound so short, but I can’t even fake a little of my usual professionalism. “I’m in the middle of spending time with my family, so this will have to be quick.”

“Of course. We’re wrapping up things in the office, so I wanted to call and wish you and Mack happy holidays.”

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