Single in Suburbia (2 page)

Swiping the moisture from her cheeks, Amanda checked her watch and then did what she hoped was another casual scan for Rob. She caught Wyatt’s attention and sent him a thumbs-up. Wyatt smiled briefly but then his gaze moved past her toward the parking lot. He flinched and turned away.

Unable to stop herself, Amanda turned to glance over her shoulder. Rob was crossing from the parking lot and heading toward the field, his gaze locked on his son. She watched him bypass the stands altogether—he didn’t even bother to check for her presence—and trip happily down the concrete steps toward the dugout.

He looked like Rob, but not. He had the same blond hair, the same even features, the same lanky build, but the hip-hugging, bell-bottomed blue jeans, the spotless white T-shirt, and the red sweater knotted around his neck were new. And so was the skip in his step.

The heat rose to her face and her hands clenched at her sides. The rush of blood to her brain was so loud she barely heard her own gasp of shock or the sudden silence that now surrounded her. Because trailing along behind him was what could only be the new Z4 in all her tight-chassis, glove leather glory.

chapter
2

S
peechless, Amanda watched them go by. The girl—calling her a woman would have been a stretch—actually looked like she’d stepped off the cover of a magazine. In this case, probably
Teen People
.

She had a cloud of blonde hair that moved with her as she walked and a body that made you look even when you didn’t want to.

She had perfectly sculpted limbs, high jutting breasts, and an absurdly tiny waist. Her stomach was unfairly flat above her low-slung jeans; it had never been stretched by childbirth and then expected to snap back. Her silk blouse was white and the burgundy leather blazer was beautifully tailored, but it was her face that sucked all the breath out of Amanda’s lungs as she passed. It was the most perfect face Amanda had ever seen.

“Holy shit!” The expletive left the mouths of the group of women seated around Amanda; it was torn from their lips and infused with both wonder and horror. Several made the sign of the cross. In their sweats and sneakers, wrapped in their blankets, and bedraggled from an afternoon of shuttling their children all over creation they were a set of serviceable pearls, chipped and unpolished; Tiffany was a four-carat diamond in an antique platinum setting sparkling in the sun.

The theme song from
Jaws
began to play in Amanda’s head. “Da dum…da dum…”

The appropriately named Tiffany grabbed Rob’s arm as they reached the dugout. Stopping at the chain-link fence, Rob leaned forward to say something to Wyatt and the hot flame of anger ignited in Amanda’s stomach.

Leaving them had been unconscionable, but showing up here with this…
child
…was beyond belief. Amanda’s anger built; every move they made, Rob’s laugh, Tiffany’s flick of her hair, the fact that they were breathing when she could not, stoked that flame into a billowing inferno.

How could he do this? How
dare
he do this? No longer caring what kind of show they put on for those assembled, Amanda rose and walked down the steps and directly toward her husband. It was hard to see him, what with the red haze before her eyes and all, but she continued to move forward as if some unseen hand pushed from behind. She could not let this travesty continue.

Suddenly understanding the concept of second-degree murder, Amanda imagined the headlines if she were to give in to the bloodlust she felt right now:

DISCARDED WIFE GOES BESERK AT BALL FIELD.
BASEBALL MOM BATS CHEATING HUSBAND
OVER LEFT FIELD FENCE.

No jury with a married woman over thirty-five on it would convict her.

Every eye in the stands was focused on Amanda’s back, but she told herself it didn’t matter because this couldn’t possibly be happening. As she reached the ground and began to move toward the dugout, the whole situation turned surreal; this was not just her facing down Rob, but WonderWife facing down every dastardly husband who had dared to spit in the face of his family.

“This is completely unacceptable!” she hissed when she reached them. “How could you bring her here?”

Tiffany flushed with surprise and Amanda wondered exactly what the girl had expected.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Wyatt swivel around on the dugout bench to watch them. His face was white, the freckles across the bridge of his nose stood out in stark relief.

“It’s OK, Wy,” she said, though of course it wasn’t. “You just focus on your game, you hear? We’re going to work this out.”

The coach stepped up next to Wyatt. He placed a hand on her son’s shoulder and gave Rob a steely look. Thank God for Dan Donovan. “You all right, Amanda?”

“Yes, thanks.”

Donovan led Wyatt to the other end of the dugout out of earshot. She looked Tiffany in the eye.

“You’re dating a married man and you come to a place where his wife and child will be?”

“Oh, Robbie’s going to…”

Amanda stepped closer, needing to invade their personal space in the same way they’d invaded hers. “Shame on you!” she said, angered anew by the inadequacy of her words. “Shame on both of you!”

“But, Robbie, you said…” the girl began.

“It’s not
Robbie
.” Amanda put every ounce of disdain she was feeling into the nickname. “His name is Rob, and at the moment he’s still married to me. He and I need to have a conversation. We’re not going to have that conversation here in front of an audience. You can go sit down until we’re done, or you can go play on the slide, I don’t care which. But if I see your face again tonight, I’m going to rip every one of those blonde hairs out of your head and stuff them in your mouth.”

Tiffany gasped and stalked off. Without looking to see if Rob followed, Amanda marched in the other direction. She walked until she reached a tree beyond the stands and out of the others’ line of sight. When she turned around Rob was standing in front of her.

“I didn’t mean for her to come tonight. She just couldn’t wait to meet Wyatt and all…” His voice trailed off.

“You didn’t
mean
for her to come?” She shook her head in disgust. “But big bad Tiffany didn’t listen to little Robbie?” She delivered the last in the most offensive baby talk she could manage. “What a crock!”

“Amanda, I…”

“No.” She looked into his eyes searching for the man she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. “I don’t even know who you are anymore. The person I married would never have run away from his family like you have, or humiliated them like you have tonight. What
happened
to you?”

Rob ran a hand through his newly coiffed hair. “You don’t know what it’s like to wake up one day and realize that the best part of your life is over; that all the rest is just an unavoidable downhill slide.”

Amanda took the blow and flinched. All they’d become to him were a symbol of the downhill slide.

“I just felt so trapped.” He put a hand out toward her and she noticed that his fingernails appeared to be freshly manicured. “Things started getting out of control. I could barely get up in the mornings.”

OK, so knowing the truth was definitely overrated. His reasons didn’t change the destructiveness of his actions; his total lack of concern for them.

She looked him straight in the eye. “And where do love, honor, and commitment fit into your little scenario? What about us?”

He sighed as if this was something to be weighed and considered. “I don’t know.”

She studied her husband for a long moment, took in the new polish and salon-styled hair, the stupid red sweater knotted at his throat. And she realized that it didn’t really matter what either of them said now. Even if she wanted him back, and she didn’t know that she did, what was she supposed to do? Yell him into sending the lovely Tiffany away? Force him to burn the clothes and never let another woman shop for him again?

And then what? Then she’d be waiting every moment for his next attempt to break free. She’d know that even if he was there, he’d be wishing he were somewhere else. She and Wyatt and Meghan weren’t exciting enough for him? Well, then he didn’t deserve them.

“Well, I know what’s going to happen now.”

He looked up, surprised.

“I’m going to the ladies room and then I’m going to go back and watch the game.” She raised her chin a notch. “You’re going to leave.”

His mouth opened but she didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Before I come out you and that…girl…are going to be gone. And you are not to bring her to this field again until we’re divorced.”

“Divorced? But…”

She stopped him with a look. “That’s it, Rob. Your dick has drained all sense from your brain if you think you can go out and have a good time and wave it in our faces and then just come home as if nothing’s changed.”

“Well…”

Amanda looked down at her watch. “You’ve got ten minutes to leave; ten, and not a minute more. You don’t
deserve
to watch Wyatt play baseball.”

Amanda stayed in the bathroom for the required ten minutes. This was not easy given the primitive nature of the ballpark’s ladies room. The bare concrete walls and floor, overflowing trash bin, dripping faucet, and cracked fun-house mirror afforded no distractions. She spent the first five minutes pacing, the last five perched on top of a cracked toilet lid, and an extra three staring at her distorted reflection in the ancient mirror.

When she couldn’t put it off any longer, she left the bathroom and walked slowly toward the stands unsure of what she’d do if Rob and Tiffany were still there. She felt some measure of relief when she confirmed that they had, in fact, left. But the way everyone made a point of NOT watching her as she took her seat spoke volumes. And even though all the eyes that had been glued to her earlier were now fixed on the field, Amanda knew the spectacle on the field was nowhere near as interesting to the assembled adults as the one she and Rob had just provided.

Resolute, she, too, fixed her gaze on the field and sat in silence for the remaining forty-five minutes as Wyatt’s team got pounded into the dirt—an experience with which she could completely relate.

When the game was over, the stands emptied quickly but whether it was due to the loss, the plunging temperatures, or the desire to avoid having to speak to her, Amanda didn’t know. Wyatt, too, stood apart from his teammates, completely focused on stowing his equipment in his bag while the other boys jostled and joked.

The cold bit through her leather jacket and useless cashmere sweater, and she hugged herself for warmth and comfort. Hearing the crunch of shoe on dirt, she turned. Hap Mackenzie’s new wife stood beside her, her gray eyes assessing. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah, I feel great.”

The other woman sat down uninvited, ignoring the sarcasm. “He won’t stay with that one, you know.”

Nonplussed, Amanda took a closer look at Brooke Mackenzie. She was somewhere in her late twenties with thick auburn hair and creamy
unwrinkled
skin. Last spring when the recently divorced Hap had married a girl nearly half his age, they’d all been scandalized. Amanda had never said more than a polite hello to her.

“Too flashy,” the new Mrs. Mackenzie said. “She’s perfect for running around, but sooner or later he’s going to expect someone to cook and clean and take his shirts to the dry cleaner. That one’s not going to be able to pull it off.”

“And that’s when I get him back?”

The redhead studied her. “No, that’s when he picks a slightly more domesticated version of her and marries
her
.”

“Gee, now I know why we’ve never talked before.”

Brooke shrugged. “Sorry. I could tell you the statistics but they’re even more depressing.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” She smiled and it changed her whole face; the careful gray eyes lit with warmth and the Angelina Jolie lips twitched upward. “If it’ll make you feel better, it won’t take him long to start treating her exactly like he’s treating you. They only seem to have two settings.” She flicked an imaginary dial. “Wife or girlfriend.”

Amanda smiled back. “Now there’s a real day brightener.”

“Of course, the wife gets more of his time plus the accompanying perks and status. But, frankly, I think the girlfriend gets a whole lot more respect and consideration.”

“You can say that again.”

They both looked up to see Candace Sugarman standing several rows in front of them. The coach’s girlfriend was tall and blonde with a carefully preserved face and figure. She had an innate elegance that belonged on the pages of
Town and Country
, but Amanda couldn’t tell on which side of forty she fell. “I’ve been both and unless she’s got a great attorney, the wife always comes out the loser.”

“Boy you two are just what a wounded woman needs. What are your nicknames: Sweetness and Light?” Amanda looked around. The coach was shepherding his son and Wyatt and Brooke Mackenzie’s stepson out of the dugout. Everyone else had gone.

Not one of her so-called friends had stayed around to console her.

Candace raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Anyway,” she said, “I think you handled yourself really well tonight. And I figured you might need this.” She handed Amanda a business card. “I used her for all three of my divorces; she’s not afraid of anyone or anything.”

The field lights snapped off. Coach Donovan and the boys started up the concrete stands toward them. Amanda looked down at the card. It read,
Anne Justiss, Attorney at Law
. And underneath her name,
Get them where it hurts; in their bottom line.

Dan Donovan reached them first. He slipped an arm around Candace’s shoulders and waited while Amanda and Brooke stood and dusted themselves off.

“If you need any help getting Wyatt to practice or anything, Amanda, just give me a call.” He ruffled Wyatt’s hair and gave Brooke a nod. “I hope Hap will be back in town for Saturday’s game.”

“That’s my understanding.” Brooke smiled tentatively at her stepson, but he walked right by her without responding.