The Magnolia Affair (8 page)

“What are you going to do about Senator Hughes?” Cricket asked.

“There’s not much to do. I’m going to keep talking about the issues. Hughes wants to go back to the same old political games. He can do that. I’m not going to stoop to his level.”

“But, his campaign is getting so nasty. There’s no way I believe half the ads he has about you.” Cricket looked genuinely horrified.

“I appreciate your support.”

“I mean every word of it. If there is something I can do to help your campaign, let me know.”

“That’s generous of you. If something comes up, I know who to call.” He laughed and Cricket topped off his drink.

“I’ll be right back, y’all. Jill needs help with the apps before we get started.” She darted into the kitchen, leaving Paxton and me standing next to the makeshift bar.

“I didn’t think you would be here tonight.” I searched his face for an explanation, knowing he didn’t have to answer to me.

“It was kind of last minute. Mrs. Ellerby cornered me in the driveway. I felt like I had to come.”

“She can be persuasive.”

I flinched when he steered me to the corner of the deck. He looked over my shoulder. “I wanted to see you.” His eyes followed the koi swimming laps.

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you mean. You can’t say that.” I plastered a smile on my face. Cricket had reappeared with a tray of hummus and pita slices.

“Later. We’ll talk later.” He stepped away before I could refuse.

Jill turned down the music. “Let’s get started. I think this is going to be an interesting discussion tonight.”

I filed in behind Tina and waited for Paxton to sit first. I wasn’t going anywhere near him.

I couldn’t tell you what we talked about during the discussion. Not a single topic. Everyone else talked. Not me. I couldn’t do anything but drink my sangria and nod at the comments. I must have dreamed this entire scenario. Dreamed that the man who had infiltrated our circle was attracted to me. The candidate for senator was whispering to me in the corner; it was all in my head. Nothing like that was real life. My life was neat and tidy. Full of order and certainty. It didn’t involve secrets and impulsive moments.

I decided I would escape through the side gate on the other side of the backyard and retreat to my careful life. Pepper would be waiting on the couch, snoring while the radar flashed across the screen.

Jill had gone inside to serve the desserts. I could email her tomorrow with a fake headache excuse. Mrs. Ellerby had Paxton tied up. I dumped the last swallow of sangria in the bushes and sprinted for the exit.

It felt good to be on the sidewalk. The house behind me. Paxton left behind, talking about his campaign strategy. Explaining his stance on sales tax and what he thought fracking would mean for South Carolina.

I opened my arms wide, sucking in the air in big decadent breaths. Before I reached the corner, I heard the low rumble of storm clouds. I looked overhead, but it was too dark to see where they were.

I dawdled too long. Basked in my strength before it had truly been tested. My spine tingled when I heard my name.

“Audrey, wait.”

Paxton jogged to catch up to me.

“It’s going to rain.” I continued on the path, knowing I couldn’t let myself stop. We couldn’t exchange pleasantries. Not tonight.

“Wait.” His hand landed on my shoulder and I whipped around.

“Don’t.”

“Here.” He handed me my copy of
The Soldier’s Wife
. “You left your book.”

“Oh. I-I—” I was hit with utter humiliation.

“You left in a hurry.” He took his place next to me, strolling to match my steps.

“I thought there was a storm coming. Thanks for the book.” I held it against my breast.

He surveyed the sky. “It sounds close by.”

I tried to walk a little faster. Jill lived all the way at the opposite end of the street from us. “It does.”

“How has your summer been?” he asked.

“Good. I’ve been busy,” I replied.

“Me too.” He laughed, and warmth spread in my belly. I closed my eyes. I thought I had erased that feeling.

“And the campaign?” I thought it was a safe question anyone would ask.

“I told Cricket it was going well, but the truth is, I’m in a dogfight. Turns out people don’t care as much about the issues as I want them to.”

“That sounds awfully defeatist. What happened to all those ideals you had?”

He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his khaki. “I still have them. Learning that I may have to play the game anyway.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“It is, but if I can’t get in office, I can’t do anything. At least if I get there, I’ll have my platform. I keep trying to tell myself the journey doesn’t matter—it’s all about the destination.” He kicked a pebble down the sidewalk. It rolled off the curb and into the drain. “A means to an end.”

“But then you’re no better than the others. Senator Hughes and whoever else. You’re the standard politician. Clawing his way through voters, saying whatever he has to say. Pandering to the press.” I bit my lip. “God, that was mean. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, I need to hear it. You’re pretty good at seeing through the bullshit. You don’t get wrapped up in trying to tell me what I want to hear. I need someone to tell me the truth.”

The thunder rumbled behind us, and I felt the first cool drop land on my arm. I looked up.

If he noticed the sprinkles, he didn’t respond. “See, I know we haven’t seen each other in a month, but I can’t stop thinking about those conversations. You’ve made this whole thing challenging.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I said.

Another drop splashed on my cheek. I wiped it away and added a quickstep to my pace.

“I know you didn’t. And I know I said I would leave you alone. But—”

The clouds were on top of us. “We better run.” I took off as the drops pelted us in rapid succession. Each one heavier and wider than the last.

Paxton grabbed my hand, pulling me through the curtain of rain. “Hurry!”

The thunder clapped, and seconds later, lightning flashes illuminated the street. All I could see was the back of his water-soaked shirt as we dodged puddles and the stumble spots on the sidewalk. He tugged me up the steps, closing the door behind me.

We were inside his kitchen. I leaned against the door. My hair soaked. My dress thin and transparent against my skin.

I held my breath. I watched as his finger traced the dip between my breasts. “God, you’re beautiful.”

His mouth took mine with rough, drunken kisses. My hands wrapped around his neck, massaging the rain into his skin, pulling him closer, deeper, against me. I fought the touches in my mind, but I moaned when he slid the dress over my head, his eyes lighting with desire at the sight of my body. He carried me to his bed. I could have protested, but instead I gave into the impulsiveness.

The rain beat against the roof and I gave myself to him. He was possessive and sure. He didn’t rush, but he didn’t give me time to second-guess what we were doing. His hands explored every inch of me, pulling me in with kisses, teasing me with heat.

He said my name repeatedly, filling my ears with his voice. I held on until my body became his. He took it touch by touch, and I knew then I was lost.

I
didn’t intend to start an affair with Paxton. I wasn’t the kind of wife who would cheat on her husband. I was never supposed to be that kind of girl. A cheater. A liar. That wasn’t me. I had told myself I was happy in my marriage. It suited me. However, I also never intended to cross paths with a man like Paxton. I know now I didn’t try hard enough.

We saw each other almost every day. With his campaign engagements, it wasn’t easy, but he fit me into his schedule. I was home every day, all day, waiting for his texts, jumping every time my phone rang.

At first, I thought it was just a one-night stand. A night I would add to my list of growing regrets. I would distance myself from him again. No more book club. No more yard work. I could skip voting this year.

But the morning after the rainstorm, I walked along the path between our houses and I discovered something. I wanted him. It didn’t matter that it was wrong and despicable. He had awakened something in me I didn’t know was possible. It wasn’t lust—no, that was too basic. He made me feel layered and complex. The simplicity of my life had been buried under his sheets.

Some days I would sit by the window remembering how he tasted, trying to picture his frame above me. I could sit for hours replaying our meetings. I never let him in our house. I became so paranoid someone might see me venture to his front porch that he had a key made for me that let me in through the back door. I could sneak through the hedges in our backyard completely unseen from the street.

It was thrilling. It was intoxicating, and worst of all, it was addicting. I couldn’t get enough of Paxton and I knew he couldn’t get enough of me.

“Tell me where we could go if you could pick any place in the world.” He ran his fingers through my hair, letting it fall on my shoulders. We were tangled around each other on his living room floor, our clothes scattered across the furniture.

I thought about my standard answer: Europe. He didn’t want standard. “I’ve never been to New Zealand. I think we should try it. Have you been?”

“Nope. Actually, I wanted to hike the Outback when I was in college, but I never made it. I ended up clerking for a judge that summer.”

“Would it sound completely nerdy if I said I always wanted to go to the Hobbit set?”

He laughed. “I like nerdy.”

We spent afternoons that way and some nights. Spencer started spending one night a week in Columbia at the request of the partners. He said the deal to acquire the smaller firm was about to close. He could feel it. If he brought them in as another department, it would add millions in revenue. The Columbia firm specialized in land litigation, something that was lacking in Spencer’s office.

I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t want one. Feeling the newness unleashed in me, Paxton pushed me for more. I told myself I could say no at any time. I could break things off and return to my old life, but he knew I didn’t want it. I craved him. I needed how he made me feel. That was the addiction. He fed it every time I crawled into his bed. Only, I left hung over, starving for more.

I tried not to compare them. They were different men—my husband and my lover. However, there where glimpses of life when I was with Paxton that made me wonder what it would be like to be his wife. Would we stay this impassioned, or would we fall into our own set of habits? Did he even want to get married again?