Page 62 of Forgotten Romance

I’m sitting at the dining room table when Mack walks in, the clothes dryer a low hum in the background. It’s late and he’s quiet, but the light must clue him in to my still being awake because his head pokes around the door a minute later.

“Davey?” His tone goes up. Less of a question and more … do I hear guilt? Or do I only want to hear guilt?

Fuck, I shouldn’t have looked. Shouldn’t have poked my head out the window, waiting for him. Then I never would have seen what I did.

“What are you doing up?” Mack asks, stepping into the room, big coat swamping him, nose bright red.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh.”

“I’m fine.”

His silence hangs between us. A huge question mark asking so many things we both know I can’t answer. Their date must have been good to end with a kiss good night, and I know I need to say something because the elephant in the room keeps getting bigger.

All I have to do is check he had a nice time. Tell him the kids went down easily. Make sure Luke treated him right. Instead, I notice his wedding band missing from his finger, and what comes out of my mouth is “He looked like a good kisser.”

And I can’t say I loved the tone I used either.

Mack’s face falls. “You saw that.”

“Heard a car and wanted to make sure it wasn’t someone turning up to rob the neighbor. It’s late, after all.”

His usually sweet, happy face turns stormy. “You said you didn’t care if I went out.”

“I don’t.” I push up from the table so that we’re both standing.

“Kinda sounds like you care.”

“I guess I didn’t realize how late dates go these days, that’s all.”

He snorts, and it’s heavy with derision.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“It’s supposed to mean bullshit. Which is all that’s coming out of your mouth.”

“Bit hard for me to know what happens on a date when I can’t remember the last one I went on.”

Mack scoffs and moves into the kitchen, heading for the cupboard he keeps the glasses in. “Maybe you should check your MyMatch profile. I’m sure it will have the whole history on there.”

My … Air rushes into my lungs. How the fuck did he find out about that? Mack isn’t on the app. I checked. He’s always been very anti-meeting people online.

He fills his glass and takes a long gulp, then sets the cup down heavily. “Yeah. I know. You’ve dated. So don’t be a hypocrite.”

“A hypocrite? I talked to a handful of men on there when I thought it would help me get over you! Do you have any idea the type of hole you left in me when you asked for a divorce? Signing those papers was the single hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, Mack. Fuck.”

“R-really?”

“You know it was. Come the fuck on.”

“I … I thought you’d be happy. At least if you’re not tied down to me, you can hook up with men in whatever cities you were in and not be held back by the old guy in a small town.”

Old guy? Held back? Fury rings in my ears. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He averts his gaze. “I know you didn’t feel the same way about me as when we first got together. You never wanted sex when you were home, and it was like … like I was … in your way.”

“I was fucking tired! Between travel, work, and young kids, I was maxed out.”

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