Page 48 of Unmatched

Her phone rings.

She gives me a look that’s half apology, half relief, and then she answers the damn thing. Effectively cutting me off right when I was about to set everything right.

“Hello? Charlotte?”

My hands curl into fists, but I stop cold at her lawyer’s name. She keeps walking down the sidewalk without even glancing at me. Surely she’s not going to discuss a divorce right here? My pulse jumps, all the relief I felt after she came home suddenly evaporating, a heavy dread sinking into its place.

I watch the sway of her hips ahead of me, moving farther away, and my mouth goes dry. Can I even blame her? She caught me red fucking handed trying to cheat. And when she gave me a second chance I never deserved, I blew it to smithereens. I close my eyes, wishing I’d said or done anything different this morning. Yesterday. This whole week.

But then it occurs to me—Charlotte’s a business lawyer. She’s negotiated contracts, written up legal documents, and advised Lydia on a couple employee disputes, but she wouldn’t handle our personal mess. Maybe Lydia got in touch with her asking for a referral to someone who would, though. I tug on Heartthrob’s leash, increasing my pace until I fall into step right behind her. Close enough to hear her side of the conversation. I’m sure she knows I’m there. We’ll see what she’s willing to discuss.

“That’s not at all what I expected you to say,” Lydia mutters.

There’s a long silence. We reach the green space along the duck pond, and Heartthrob catches my eye, stretching his paws out in front of him and sinking his big body into a playful bow. I insert a tennis ball into his ball launcher, unclip his leash, and hurl it across the grass. He takes off after it like the whole balance of the universe depends on him.

“I...I’m going to have to think it over,” Lydia finally says. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

She turns away. I can’t see her face, but her shoulders are tense, and my brain struggles to fill in the gaps. It’s nearly eight p.m. Lydia and Charlotte have worked together for years, but I can’t think of what could be important enough to call about outside of business hours. Unless it’s a personal favor.

Heartthrob drops the ball at my feet, and I throw it again absently.

“Okay. Let me know when and I’ll meet you at your office. Thank you again, Charlotte, for everything.”

She ends the call, staring at the dog shooting back toward us over the lawn. He reaches her, drops the ball directly at her feet, and she flings it back into the air, watching him take off again. After a couple repetitions of this, she glances over her shoulder, raising her eyebrows like she’s surprised to see me.

“So.” The corners of her mouth turn down. “How was your day?”

I part my lips. Then press them back together. She’s really not going to say a thing about our current situation or the call she just took in front of me?

I clear my throat. I don’t know how to have this conversation, but I’m also tired of beating around the bush. “Look, this morning, I wasn’t expecting?—”

“It was a mistake.” Her eyes close briefly. “I had this idea, but...it wasn’t a good one.”

I want to tell her it was. She took her freaking clothes off trying to get me aroused. I can’t remember the last time she did anything like that. I could’ve kept my mouth shut and touched her. We could’ve spent the day in bed together.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. Her eyes snap to mine, and I grimace. God, I’m going to fuck this up worse before I fix it. “Um, what I meant is, I was a jerk. I’m sorry.”

She holds my gaze for a moment, her eyes clearly stating: Yes. You were. Then she shakes her head. “It won’t happen again.”

My stomach drops. Does this mean we’re done trying? Was the call with Charlotte about us after all? What happened to seeing if we can do better? I close my eyes, wishing I could go back to this morning. Redirect her. Tell her, without being an ass, that the whole performance wasn’t necessary—she doesn’t have to act like someone else. I just want her to want me.

Unless. She really doesn’t.

Heartthrob tosses the tennis ball at my leg and whines. I open my eyes. Lydia takes the ball launcher, sending the dog racing back across the grass, and as she lowers her arm, the setting sun glints off her wedding rings. She hasn’t taken them off. She straightens and looks at me, and as she does a breeze tosses her hair, making her look fresh and carefree and completely alluring. I step forward, holding her gaze, my body absolutely buzzing for her now. I reach out, but she turns her head away again to the dog. And I have to fold my arms and clench my jaw.

Maybe this is a waste of time. Maybe I’m torturing both of us trying to hold on when she’s clearly not interested. My brother’s right about her being every straight guy’s fantasy, but I’ve done enough frustrated late-night reading to understand there are people in the world who just aren’t into sex. If the universe is cruel enough to make my wife one of them, I can’t hold it against her.

But I can’t live that way either.

I clear my throat, balling my hands into fists. “Lydia, I think?—”

“The past few days have been a lot,” she says at the same time, staring at Heartthrob’s leash.

I raise my brow. Maybe she’s reached the same conclusion on her own. Maybe she’s already made the decision for me.

“I need some time. I—I don’t want to rush this.”

No. I bite back the word, but she can’t be serious. We can’t keep dragging this out. “Ah, look, if we’re coming to an end no matter what, let’s just be done with it.”

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