Page 8 of Seven Year Itch

Ali was still laughing even after she clicked off the phone.

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The rest of her day flew by—grocery store, getting Noah from school, homework, feeding the kids dinner, baths, and then putting them to bed—so she hadn't had time to ponder much on Garrett's questionable actions. But once eight o'clock rolled around, with the house quiet, her husband still not home, and nothing pressing to do, her mind drifted, dwelling on what he was doing at that exact moment. Unfortunately for him, she had a very active imagination. Also, unfortunate for him, her imagination wasn't portraying him in a favorable light.

Innocent until proven guilty. She must remember that.

She heard the garage door leading into the house slam and stood from the couch as Garrett walked into the living room. "How was your night?"

He blew out a tired sigh. "Long."

His suit jacket was off, and he carried it slung over his shoulder by a hooked finger. His tie was askew, and his hair was a bit mussed. And was that... lipstick on his jaw?

Garrett tossed his jacket on the couch and took a long stride toward her. She took a hasty step back, wrinkling her nose. "You smell like a whorehouse."

Her idiot husband had the audacity to laugh. "What?"

"You smell like cheap perfume," Ali clarified, folding her arms across her chest. She put on a brave face, showing anger, when what she really wanted to do was cry. A lump filled the back of her throat, and she forcefully swallowed it down.

His brow furrowed. "Are you upset about something?"

Ali let out a humorless laugh. In the back of her mind, she remembered the magazine article had cautioned against being confrontational, but she was too upset to take heed. "Are you kidding me right now?" She held up her pointer, counting off items. "You've been working a lot of late nights." She put up her middle finger, forming a vee. "You suddenly feel the need to take phone calls out of the room," she added another finger, "and get a gazillion texts." She lifted her pinky. "You were unexpectedly not at work when I showed up."

"Which I explained," he butted in.

"Fine, then explain the perfume and lipstick."

"I shouldn't have to," he held up a hand when she opened her mouth to speak, "but I will because I can see how disturbed you are by it."

Ali felt her eyes bug. Disturbed was putting it mildly.

"Sam Johnson's secretary came to dinner with us, and she gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek as we were leaving."

"And you let her?" Her voice was laced with accusation, which she knew was the wrong way to behave, but she didn't friggin' care. Her whole world was tumbling out of control.

Garrett looked exasperated, and he had an edge to his voice when he said, "Ali, Mrs. Dickerson's eighty if she's a day."

Well, that took a little wind out of her sails. But she had more. "What about the secretive phone calls and texts?" She crossed her fingers and hoped he didn't put two and two together and suspect she was the one who'd broken his phone.

"They're business calls, Ali. I step out of the room so the caller won't hear the kids in the background. As for the texts, I've been CEO for almost a year now. Everyone's finally gotten the memo." He shrugged. "I'm popular." A sexy smirk pulled at his lips. The same smirk that had coaxed her out of her panties ten years prior and wasn't any less effective now. He took a step closer. "Where is this coming from? What's going on in that head of yours? Why the mistrust all of a sudden? You know I love you and would never do anything to hurt you."

She didn't back away this time as he stepped in closer and wrapped his arms around her. "I guess everything piled together... It just looked so suspicious. I was being silly. I'm sorry I doubted you."

"You're not silly. But it does hurt to think you don't trust me. That you'd think I'd do something like that to you. You're the love of my life, Ali. I would never do anything to jeopardize what we have."

She snuggled closer, trying to ignore the cloying scent that permeated her nostrils. God, how could she have doubted him? They'd been together so long—since college. They had so much history together. He'd been her first everything. If anything happened to the two of them, she'd be devastated.

Could that be why she misconstrued what was really happening? Did she let her fears blow everything out of proportion?

Squeezing him tighter, she again apologized, "I'm sorry."

Tightening his arms around her, he kissed the top of her head. "You don't need to apologize, I just wished you'd talked to me. I don't like that you had those thoughts running through your head."

Ali sighed against his chest, letting out a relieved breath. "I didn't like having them there either."

He planted a quick kiss atop her head. "I'm going to grab a shower. Now that you've brought it to my attention, I can smell the perfume, and it's giving me a headache."

She watched her husband walk up the stairs, feeling better than she'd had in weeks. Then making sure everything was locked and turning off all the lights, she followed him.

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