Kept (16 page)

“I’ve got time.”

Awesome.

She fell into step beside him. He sped up, but she matched him. “I’ve been thinking about the other day.”

Of course she had. Nothing heated things up like revealing his virginity to a woman having an affair.

“I wanted to continue our conversation—”

“I don’t.”

She sent him a sudden glance. Good. Maybe she’d catch on.

They passed a jogger going the other direction, then another. A couple bikers. More joggers. Waves slapped the harbor wall. Shedd Aquarium bobbed closer.

Finally she spoke. “Sorry for the other day. If you want to wait for the right girl, who am I to question that?”

Dead right.

“You hear me?”

How could she still run
and
talk? “Yeah.”

“Can I ask you about Mark?”

“Scheider?”

“I need a guy’s perspective. Tracy said something about not being able to trust him if we ended up together.”

Good job, Trace.

“What do you think? You and Mark—” She panted, and Dillan tried not to be happy about it. “Apples and oranges, I know. But I think I trust you.”

What was it with this woman and frank discussion? He stopped and bent over, planting his good arm low on his thigh.

Miska slowed beside him and walked in a tight circle, hands on hips, sucking in shallower breaths than he did.

He craned his neck to look up at her. “You want to talk while we walk back?”

“Sure.”

Good. He’d give her what she wanted so she’d leave him alone. Panting less, he drew himself up.

Behind her, the row of trees shielded them from traffic. Skyscraper tops poked higher. The red CNA Center behind Metropolitan Tower, Sears Tower—or whatever it was called now—standing tall and dark. It was a different world from where he’d grown up, from subdivision after subdivision, strip mall after strip mall.

And here he stood with a woman who wanted an honest opinion about the man she was having an affair with.

He’d give it to her.

She surveyed the same view he did. “It doesn’t get old, does it?”

He couldn’t help it. He let himself take her in. “Nope.”

“So.” She started back the way they’d come. “About Mark.”

He cleared his throat.

“I know you live differently than he does, but…”

He followed the pink flush in her cheeks and neck and arms and the skin exposed by the scoop neck of her tank top.

She turned toward him.

He looked away.

“I don’t know if you can put yourself in Mark’s shoes or not.”

He massaged his throat. Yeah, a little.

“I don’t know what Garrett did. If he was just partying—”

“It was more than that.”

“Oh.” She peeked at him. “Would most people think it was bad?”

“They would. You would.”

“Oh,” she said again, surprise in her voice. “What happened?”

He’d already said too much. “That’s Garrett’s story. Ask your question.” So he could get this conversation over with.

“Tracy said I wouldn’t be able to trust Mark—if he left his wife for me. I know to a certain extent that’s true. There’d always be some doubt. But is it always true that a relationship that begins like ours couldn’t last?”

“You mean a relationship that begins with an affair?” How dumb
was
she?

Shame tainted her voice. “Yes.”

He pressed his lips together.

“I think Mark really loves me. His marriage was a mistake. But even my dad, the master of affairs, says an affair will never last, and I can’t get that out of my head. Since then, Mark and I can’t talk without arguing. For a year everything was good. And now—now I wonder.”

He nodded. The beginning of the end, most likely.

“What do you think?” She held his arm, made him face her. “Do you think Mark and I have a chance?”

Her touch flamed through him, and Dillan raised his hand to his scalp, removing himself from her fingers. “All I know is that any guy willing to have an affair with you doesn’t care about you. It’s all about him, about sex. It’s just sex. But women want a relationship. So he goes along with it until the sex isn’t worth the relationship.”

“How do you know?”

Come on. “I’m sure you’ve seen it, the way a guy looks at a woman who’s made it clear how far she’ll go. He doesn’t care about her; he wants one thing.”

She looked away. Her jaw tensed. Her eyes shone, and she lowered her head.

Oh, great—she was gonna cry on him. He studied the nearest boat bobbing in the harbor.

“So,” she finally said. She brought her fingertips to her lips and played with them. “You think Mark is just here for the sex.”

Duh. “Most likely.”

“Then what do I do?”

“About Mark? Send him packing.”

“No, I mean how do I find out what he’s here for? Me or the sex.”

He rolled his eyes, not caring if she caught him. “Tell him no sex.”

“Until?”

He shrugged. “Marriage?”

She caught her breath. “He won’t wait that long.”

“Right. Because he’s here for the sex.”
Listen, woman.

“But don’t men have needs? A guy who’s used to having sex—he’s not going to turn that off. It’s not realistic.”

“Then come up with some arbitrary date. Either way, the second you say no, he loses interest. He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t respect you. There is no real relationship.”

She lifted her chin and stared at him.

He stared right back. She’d asked for it, so there it was. What she did with the truth was up to her.

And if she didn’t like it, maybe she’d leave him alone.

He turned toward home. “I’m heading back.”

She nodded and walked beside him.

Dillan kept silent, waiting for her to go off.

A minute passed before she looked up. “Thank you.”

He shrugged her words away.

“I think you were really honest with me when most men wouldn’t be. So thank you.”

Absolutely. No problem. After all, he only had her best interests at heart. He scratched his neck, his sarcasm bringing discomfort.
God, why can’t I avoid her?

“Do you have plans for lunch?” she asked.

“I do.” Good old tuna sandwich, apple, and chips. He’d have to send Tracy a thank-you for opening up a bunch of cans over the weekend. Now every time Garrett opened the fridge, he got to listen to him complain about the odor.

“If you ever need a can of tuna opened, let me know.”

Funny lady. “You’d do that?”

“You were honest with me. It wasn’t easy to hear, but I’m grateful.”

Her words stopped him. “Miska—”

“Don’t, Dillan.” She pressed her hand to her mouth. “I need to go.” She hurried up the steps that led to the street.

Dillan stood at the lake’s edge and watched her disappear. If only he could do it over—with true compassion, the way a real pastor would.

Because it sure looked like Tracy was right. Something was going on inside her. And all he’d done was shove her away.

As usual, Dillan disappeared over the weekend. For a single guy who said he didn’t get out much, he seemed to have an active social life.

His words, though, hung around and haunted Miska. It was uncanny how he’d described Eric, the guy from the club, who’d known how far she was willing to go and wanted her for his own desires. But hadn’t she gone to the club for the same thing? For a man to use?

She ground the guilt away. There was no point thinking about the past. She had a decision to make—what to do when Mark arrived Thursday evening.

Did he love her? Or just love her in bed? All the time they’d spent together, the nights and mornings they’d shared—what if it were all for nothing?

Dillan’s suggestion was risky. What if Mark became angry? What if he left her?

Complicating everything was her body, ready to ovulate exactly when Mark would be here. She could get pregnant by him and bind them together. How could she take Dillan’s advice and miss that chance?

The options plagued her, equally important. She had to know how much Mark loved her, but if she wanted to get pregnant by him, this next visit was it. The one window she had.

Then she’d always wonder if she’d trapped him. Like Mom had trapped Dad, like Jody had trapped Dad. She’d never rest easy.

And Dillan would never, ever look at her again.

Miska, he isn’t looking at you now.

The beginning of the week passed between work and exercise. By Tuesday evening, she’d almost finished her current project and called it a night with a jog down eighteen flights of stairs to pick up a delivery the doorman said had come.

The package was from Kendall Sullivan, the basketball player she’d met last winter.

Why was he sending her a package now?

She sorted the rest of her mail while she rode the elevator up. But her hands shook. What did Kendall want? His season was over. She hadn’t expected to hear from him until October at the earliest.

In the common hallway, Garrett and Tracy stood outside his door, a frown on Tracy’s face.

“Miska,” Garrett called. “Whatcha got there?”

“Just mail.” She hoped.

Tracy held up a DVD. “Guess what? Season two!”

“That’s my favorite season.” She glanced at Garrett. He hadn’t acted liked she’d ever been a drunken fool, and for that she was grateful. Even Tracy had moved past it. “When do we watch it?”

“Tonight?” Tracy sent a poochy lip at Garrett who rolled his eyes. “He has to head back to work
again.
I may need to get a job there if I want to see him.”

He pecked her on the cheek. “Can’t be helped. Once the case is over, I won’t have to work so much.”

“He lies. It’ll be another case then.”

“That’ll teach you to marry a lawyer,” Miska said.

“True love can’t be helped, though. Farewell, dear barrister. Until we meet again.” Tracy held out her hand, queen-style, for him to kiss.

Garrett raised his eyebrows at her hand. “This Abbey stuff is going to your head.”

“It’s
Downton Abbey
, and they don’t kiss hands. Do they, Miska?”

“I don’t remember. Maybe?”

He shook his head. “You two debate that while I earn us some moolah.” He pulled Tracy close and gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll give you a call if I’ll be back before nine.”

“So see you tomorrow? At church if you’re not working?”

Already down the hall, he held up his hand in an I-heard-you wave.

When he was out of sight, Tracy sighed. “I’m sorry, but Matthew Crawley is a poor replacement for that man.”

Miska unlocked her door and pushed it open. “Matthew’s got some great eyes.”

“I did notice that. Who’s the package from?”

“Oh. A friend.” She’d almost forgotten it. “Why don’t you start the DVD while I make popcorn.”

“I’m on it.”

Miska set the package and mail on the counter beside the fridge where Tracy was unlikely to see it. With kitchen shears, she cut through the large manila packaging. The contents were wrapped in several plastic bags, and as she unwrapped them, she realized what they were.

Cash.

Why was Kendall sending her more money?

She finished unwrapping the contents. Four stacks of rubber-banded twenties with a letter tucked into one. She glanced over her shoulder.

Tracy fiddled with the DVD player.

Miska opened the letter.

Surprise, Miska! Since my favorite hockey team’s playing your Blackhawks for the Stanley Cup, I thought I’d swing by for a few days, take in a game. You like hockey? I’ve got tickets for game one, May 28. I’ll get in May 27. Here’s the extra money, per our arrangement. See ya’ then, hot stuff.

Her stomach turned. She swallowed and fingered the money.

What had their arrangement been? An extra four thousand for visits outside his basketball schedule? She’d already received his May payment and put it right on the mortgage. That had been easy to take, but him coming here again, staying in her bed, wanting her…

He doesn’t care about her; he wants one thing.

She pressed a hand against her forehead. She’d been flattered when Kendall paid her attention at that club six months ago. Mark had been vacationing with Darcie, and Miska was sure she’d never hear from him again. Kendall was charming enough, and she’d already felt the pinch of not having Mark’s gifts. She’d assumed one guy was as good as another.

How wrong she’d been.

His last trip to Chicago had been in March. She’d breathed easier once he’d left. Six months of his payments with none of his presence. She’d never imagined he’d want to see her during his off-season.

“What’s this?” Tracy asked.

Miska flipped a crumpled bag on top of the money and turned.

Tracy was looking at the open laptop, head cocked to the side. Miska’s blog dashboard was up, the post box blank but the title there.

“Oh, that.” Miska hoped her laugh sounded realistic. “It’s a friend’s. It’s nothing.” She kept her walk toward the desk normal. What had Tracy seen? How much had she guessed? “Let me shut it down, and I’ll get that popcorn.”

“Sure.” Tracy walked to the kitchen.

Miska glanced over her shoulder, making sure the money was covered.

“I wish Garrett didn’t have to work so much.” Tracy took two glasses from a cabinet. “Makes me wonder how we’ll ever see each other once we’re married.”

Miska logged out of the dashboard. “You’ll be living together. That’ll make it easier.”

“I’ll have a commute, though. I’d love to stop working so I can be available whenever he’s home, but we decided not to do that until the kids come.”

“You planning on waiting long?”

“No, maybe a year. There’s no guarantee it’ll happen right away, you know?”

Miska mulled that over. True.

“You got plans for Memorial Day?”

Mark’s last game against the Cubs was Memorial Day afternoon, and Kendall got in sometime the next day. “Morning plans. Why?”

“Our singles group from church is grilling out at Garrett’s parents’ place that night. You should come. We’re just going to eat, goof off, be lazy. What do you think?”

Dillan’s home, a bunch of Christian singles. All virgins? Tracy and Garrett weren’t, so unlikely. Still… it could be interesting. “Sounds like fun.”