The Perfect Life (23 page)

But I already knew Oliver regretted what happened, and though I was pretty sure he felt a similar connection to me, he wasn’t interested in carrying around the burden of guilt in being ‘the other man’ any more than I wanted him to think of me as a cheating wife. And it wasn’t like we could tell him the truth about our marriage . . . as much as I secretly wished we could. Colin and I had made vows to each other, and even though they weren’t the traditional pledges that man and wife usually made, they were binding all the same. We’d keep each other’s secrets safe and be there for each other . . . to the very end.

That led to the next problem—my ‘secret’ that Oliver had asked about Friday afternoon. Everything was going great, excellent really, especially during the comedic showcase he put on with my juice-hunting in the refrigerator, and then his niece’s phone call. I’d felt like we were fully comfortable around each other again, when he had to go and not only share with me his family’s heart-wrenching story of devastation and perseverance, triggering an explosion of emotions inside my chest that left me feeling vulnerable and exposed, but then ask me about the one thing I can’t fathom talking about.

What was even worse was when I managed to gather my wits about me and give him my standard, not-completely-untrue answer,
I
knew that
he
knew. His amber eyes bore straight through my earthly body to the depths of my soul, where the repugnant stains of shame still remained, no matter how many years’ worth of good deeds I’d tried to hide them behind. And although Oliver may have pretended to be satisfied with my response then, I knew without question that the conversation between us wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

As I typed out a text to let him know I was waiting for him downstairs in my car, I hoped and prayed he wouldn’t be eager to bring it up again so soon. Then, I decided if he did try, I’d just kiss him again to shut him up. That would kill two birds with one stone—redirecting his attention away from my past, and fulfilling the perpetual desire I had to feel his lips pressed against mine once again.
Great plan, Monroe. That won’t set off any red flags in his mind at all.

I rolled my eyes at my own senselessness, but before I had time to derive another masterminded plan or to contemplate the other reasons us going to this game together was a terrible idea, Oliver emerged from the rustic brick building looking like he’d literally just stepped off the cover of
GQ
magazine. In a gray cashmere sweater over a plaid button-down and paired with khaki chinos, he appeared every bit the chick-magnet his niece had claimed he was.
Put a damn saxophone in his hands, and my God, he could Michael Bolton me all night long.

My stomach flip-flopped as I watched him draw near, and to stave off the craving to bury my fingers in his dark, silky waves that glistened in the mid-morning sunlight the minute he got in the car, I white-knuckled the steering wheel until I was sure I had initiated the early stages of carpal tunnel syndrome. I really needed to get a grip on my out-of-control hormones before I completely lost my mind. I’d always thought that between the combination of my small bullet vibrator and my own fingers, I’d be able to keep my sexual needs sated, because before that point, it had been. Once or twice a month while reading one of my romance novels seemed to do the trick just fine, but I’d done it just the night before—two times in a matter of a few hours! And already, at the mere sight of Oliver, a tingling sensation surfaced between my legs and spread rapidly over my entire body, heating me from the inside out.
Maybe I need a bigger vibrator.

“Good morning, Rizzo,” he greeted me with a warm smile as he lowered himself into my car. “You coulda warned me that it was freezing outside today. I probably should’ve brought my jacket. Maybe you have a Pink Ladies’ one in the back I can borrow?”

Returning the cheerful grin, I pointed at the two coffees nestled securely in the drink holder that I’d stopped to get on my way over. “Or you could be a big boy and look up the weather all by yourself,” I teased back. “There’s this new, really cool thing called the internet that provides all kinds of information, like the weather forecast in every city, including when cold fronts are blowing in. You should check it out sometime.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, smartass,” he chuckled as he reached for the steaming cup labeled ‘Sandy D.’ “And thanks for the coffee. I wasn’t sure if that was only a Monday through Friday perk of our friendship, or if I’d have to beg you to stop some place on the way there.”

Once he’d taken a sip and buckled his seatbelt, I shifted the transmission into drive and took off into the relatively light traffic in the direction of the highway before replying, “Friends don’t let friends go without caffeine. Plus, being such the rabid football fan you are and all, I figured you’d need something to help keep you awake.”

“Hey, now,” he retorted, pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know I stayed up late when I got home last night to do a little bit of research so I didn’t completely embarrass you around your friends today. I know I may not be the coolest cat around, but it’s not from a lack of trying.”

His passing mention of having gone out the night before stung a little bit, though I wasn’t quite sure why. It wasn’t as if I expected him to never leave his apartment unless he was with me. The guy was going to be in town for half a year; he needed to get out and explore, make new friends, and meet women who didn’t have baggage like gay husbands and fucked-up childhoods.

“So you went out last night? Have a good time?” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them, the curiosity eating away at me.

Cutting his eyes over at me with a strange look on his face, he nodded hesitantly. “Yeah, I got out and walked around the neighborhood yesterday. I was mainly looking for some new places to eat, but I happened to stumble across this little jazz bar about three blocks over from me that was really chill. I went inside for a drink and to check it out, and ended up talking to the manager for a while. If he likes my stuff, I think I’m gonna get a weekly gig there on Thursday nights. The guy he had booked for that slot recently moved, so he’s been scrambling to find someone to fill in. Even though he knows it would be temporary, it gives him some time to find someone else for after I leave.”

“That’s awesome!” I exclaimed with full sincerity, more than a little relieved to hear he hadn’t been out trolling the local bars. Not that I had the right to feel any way at all, even if he had. “We didn’t get a chance to talk about it the other day after your niece mentioned it, but why hadn’t you told me before that you play the sax? I asked Allison about it when I talked to her yesterday, and she didn’t know either! Are you like some musical savant you don’t want any of us knowing about?”

He barked out a deep belly laugh as he threw his head back against the leather seat. “No, no, nothing like that. I assure you. My family tends to over-exaggerate my musical talent,” he shook his head, still amused from my question, “but I guess that’s what families usually do, right? Think you’re a lot better than you are at whatever it is you do?”

I pressed my lips together and nodded, pretending I knew what he was talking about. My mom definitely didn’t go out of her way to make me feel like I was good at anything but ruining her life, and according to her, I was amazing at that. “Yeah, but that’s still cool that you know how to play an instrument well enough to perform in a bar. My dad was apparently a stingy asshole who didn’t pass down any of his musical abilities to me,” I joked half-heartedly, pausing to take a drink of coffee. “I’d love to hear you play sometime. Maybe I can come watch your first Boston show?”

His cheeks turned pink as his eyes fell to his lap, where his thumbs twiddled nervously. “If you want to, I’d like that,” he mumbled softly. “Though it’ll probably seem a bit underwhelming after seeing the seventy thousand that come to watch Colin play today.”

“Don’t do that,” I admonished him with a sharp gaze. “Don’t belittle or devalue yourself, especially when comparing it to what Colin does. Most of the people there today care about one thing and one thing only—the Patriots winning the Super Bowl. They really don’t care who it is who takes them there. They are fans of the team, not any specific player, despite what they’ll tell you today. If Colin were traded to the Jets tomorrow, all of those people who supposedly love him so much would suddenly view him as the enemy and be throwing darts at his face in a pool hall. The only ones who truly care about him will be the people you meet up in the box . . . plus his family, of course.”

He offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound quite as disparaging as it did. So who is it that I’ll be meeting today? Some close friends of you guys’?”

For the remainder of the drive to Foxborough, I told Oliver the story of Colin growing up next door to Seth and Effie and how, even after all three of them went away to college, they all ended up back in Boston, tight as ever—leaving out the obvious part about the guys falling in love and living in the closet for eight years. My stomach turned over—and not in a good way—when he asked a couple of extra questions about Effie, but I convinced myself it was only because I’d told him I was planning to ask her to be my office manager/personal assistant.
Though I’m not sure what her marital status has to do with that . . .

I was thankful when we finally pulled into the special parking lot for the families of the players and got out of the car, so I could start showing him around the stadium and stop talking about the Andrews kids altogether. I knew Colin still hadn’t heard from Seth since the Tuesday night blow-up, but when I’d texted him on Saturday to see if he’d be at the game the following day, he said he would, but nothing else. So with that source of tension, Effie’s usual random dramatics, and the addition of a new person to the mix, the day had all the makings of a real doozy.

I glanced up at the scoreboard and silently begged the time to speed up. Nine minutes left in the fourth quarter could lead to thirty in real life, and I wasn’t sure I could make it that long without my ears starting to bleed. Seth had brought a date with him—no doubt a statement to Colin—who had whined non-stop from the moment they’d arrived. It started with her not being able to see the field, so after we’d all shuffled around to accommodate her, she then decided it was too cold and windy in the front row, forcing us all to move back. Then, her drink didn’t taste good, she was a vegetarian and couldn’t eat any of the food, and the latest was heights made her dizzy—an issue she didn’t have for the first two and a half hours of the game!

When she finally excused herself to the back concourse to answer a phone call—another etiquette no-no—I whipped my head toward Seth and glared menacingly.

“What?” he laughed out, acting like he wasn’t equally as annoyed with Whiny Wendy.

“
What?!
Really?!” I whisper-shouted back at him, looking around to make sure no one could hear us. “What in the hell are you doing? Are we supposed to believe that you really like her? If you’re gonna try and make him jealous, at least make it believable.”

He shook his head with a wicked smirk and continued to play along with his charade. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Roe baby. I do really like Jessie. She’s such a sweet girl. Don’t you think so?”

Huffing, I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. I don’t understand either of you, which is exactly why you deserve each other.”

“It’s over, Monroe. Let it be,” he warned under his breath as he scooted closer to me. “I’ve been tired of it for a while, and he just made my decision easier this week. I love him. You know that more than anyone, but I just can’t do it anymore. I’ve tried and tried, for so many years. And every time I think I’ll be able to change his mind, to convince him that our love is strong enough, but the truth is, it’s not. I deserve better than being his dirty little secret.” Pausing, he turned and peered down at me. “And you deserve better too.”

The truth in his words knotted in the back of my throat, and I swallowed hard, trying to make it disappear. But it didn’t, so he kept on talking.

“It’s Oliver, isn’t it?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder to where Effie and Oliver had been looking at a Boston coffee table book for most of the second half.

As I had anticipated, Oliver wasn’t interested in the game much at all. He’d paid attention for a while, but when he’d discovered that book at halftime, he’d sat down on one of the sofas in the lounge area to flip through it. Thirty seconds later, Effie had sidled up next to him, pressing her thigh against his and occasionally brushing her breast across his arm when she’d point at something on one of the pages. I’d attempted to join the conversation, but Effie declared that she was showing him all of the places he needed to make sure to visit while he was in town. Then she offered up her own services to take him around town, so I took my cue and left them alone.

“Is
what
Oliver?” I answered his question with my own, knowing damn well how guilty it sounded.

“He’s the one you guys were fighting about the other night, right?” Seth playfully bumped his shoulder into mine and waggled his eyebrows. “It’s okay, Roe girl. You don’t have to lie to me. It’s written all over your face.”