Page 50 of Rebound

His words come from a place of genuine love, but they piss me off. “Don’t talk about her like that, okay? You can think what you like about her, but at least show me the respect of keeping your mouth shut on the subject.”

He looks surprised, then annoyed. Mel lays a calming hand on his arm before he can say anything else. It has an immediate effect, and he takes a breath. “Message received and understood. But she’s your ex—you don’t have to defend her anymore.”

I don’t reply because nothing that comes out of my mouth right now will do any good. Instead, I pass baby Luke the Jenga block I found in my pocket. Delighted, he lets out a demonic giggle and whacks it solidly into his dad’s eye socket.

As I close the door behind me, I smile at my brother’s exclamation of “Fuck!”

I’ve given Gretchen the night off, as I always do when I’m meeting Amber. I trust our driver completely, but it’s not fair to put her in such a difficult position of having to keep Amber’s and my secret. I hail a cab and check my phone on the drive into New Jersey. Tonight, we’re making this a federal crime and crossing state lines. It was Amber’s idea—since she moved into the Brooklyn house a week ago, she’s fallen in love with the idea of trying new places. Being a gentleman, I certainly don’t want to discourage her spirit of adventure. Especially as it seems to translate into every aspect of her life, including the bedroom.

I was initially resistant to the idea of her living in Brooklyn. And by resistant, I mean absolutely fucking horrified. Drake bore the brunt of it, and he was typically Drake throughout. He listened, his face completely unreadable as I ranted and raved, and he let me get it out of my system. Then put me in my place. “You’re being a dick,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with Brooklyn, and there’s nothing wrong with the house my girlfriend grew up in. Get your head out of your ass and admit that you just don’t want her out of your sight and out of your influence.”

There wasn’t much I could say to that without proving him right, but I took a halfhearted stab at justifying my concern on security grounds. He was having none of it. “She’ll be fine. Mrs. Katzberg lives across the way, and that woman would scare the shit out of Chuck Norris. Plus, Amber’s going to learn Krav Maga and buy a semiautomatic.”

I gaped at him, and he finally cracked a smile. “Joking.” He cleared his throat, obviously fighting the urge to laugh when he added, “She’s more of a pearl-handled pistol kind of gal, wouldn’t you say?”

Ultimately, I had to face the fact that I couldn’t control Amber or her decisions—and the fact that she is so much happier now that she is making decisions with only her own wants and needs in mind. She’s lighter now, like a snake who shed her skin along with all the expectations and glitzy trappings of her previous lifestyle.

When she made the move to Brooklyn, I moved back into the townhouse and I immediately understood where her desire to get out of there came from. The place is far too big for one person. Hell, it was too big for two, and all that extra space really does seem to taunt me with the life we planned for when we bought the house.

Maddox has stayed over a few nights, which has been great. I’ve enjoyed spending quality time with my baby brother and getting to know this version of him better. He spent years traveling and dealing with his own demons, and he’s different from the rest of us because of it. Healthier than the rest of us, no doubt. I’m hoping he stays put for a while now for all our sakes, but especially Dad’s.

It’s nice having him around, but nothing compares to this—to the thrill of a secret night with Amber. My wife and my mistress, all wrapped up in one intoxicating package.

We’re traveling out of the city to meet in public for dinner, like any other cheating couple I imagine, and I can’t wait. She suggested a little town on the river that’s known for its quaint community feel and historic buildings. It’s highly unlikely we’ll see anybody we know in New Jersey, and the media interest predictably died down after we released a short video that we filmed on neutral territory in Drake’s office. As Mason predicted, we bored them to death by being so damn civilized. Ha, if they only knew.

I chose the specific place we’re meeting, and I have an extra surprise waiting nearby. I find myself grinning in the back of the cab, excited to see her reaction. We draw up outside the restaurant, and I’m amazed at how different this little town is from Manhattan. Only a forty-minute drive, but a whole world away. Amber arrives at the same time, and I see her chatting to Sanjay through the window of his cab. She waves him off with a laugh, and when she turns and sees me, a huge, surprised smile transforms her whole face, making her radiant.

I warned her to dress casually. It’s part of my surprise for her, and she’s taken me at my word. Her endless legs are encased in pale gray skin-tight leggings, and she’s wearing a baggy pale-blue sweater that comes down to her thighs. It’s casual, but it’s also Amber—she’s matched it with heels and yet another long-chained necklace that takes my mind to dark and dangerous places.

“You look like you’re going to a yoga class at Buckingham Palace,” I say, sweeping her into my arms. She lands against me with a little squeal and wraps her arms around my waist.

“Excellent. That’s exactly what I was aiming for. How are you, Mr. Smith?”

My heart rate spikes as I seal my lips over hers. Our tongues slide hungrily against each other, and she groans and melts into me like hot wax. “I’m better now, Mrs. Smith,” I say once I come up for air.

She rubs herself against me and smiles. “Yes. I can tell. You’d better start thinking about Dr. Braithwaite or we might get arrested for public indecency.”

“Well, that would count as one of your firsts, wouldn’t it?” I take her hand and lead her inside. “Getting arrested?”

“As far as you know,” she quips, grinning up at me. Fuck, she’s so beautiful. It seems like every guy in the room turns to look at her, and I feel like the luckiest man alive. Because I get to touch as well as look.

We’re shown to a table by the window with a view across the river. It’s December now and dark already. Yellow light from the town and headlights from the cars on the bridge reflect on the glassy surface of the water.

“I think this is another first,” I say after we place our order. “You actually showing up for something on time.”

“Oh, I know. I was almost early—that would have been a disaster.” She pauses, then says, “It was never on purpose, you know.” Her eyes fill with tears, and she blinks them away, offering me a sly smile. “Well, maybe sometimes.”

She’s obviously trying to keep the conversation light, so I play along. “I suspected as much. You really were a frightfully spoiled brat.”

“Hey, less of the ‘were’ if you don’t mind. I still have my moments.” Her huge eyes shine as bright as the lights on the river, caramel-blond hair lying in loose waves on her shoulders. She’s wearing a little makeup, but it’s less of a suit of armor and more of a playful mask. This new life she’s building for herself suits her. I feel the sting of that, because her new life is one she’s building without me, but I also admire her. It takes guts to do what she’s doing. It took guts to end the toxic crazy train we were stuck on together.

“You look amazing,” I say quietly, pouring her wine. “You are amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so stunning.” My voice comes out especially deep, and color infuses her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she says on a light laugh. “But I’m not sure you’re right. This whole low-maintenance look isn’t always good for the ego. I see a lot more lines than I used to. I guess I’m at the age where most women we know have work done.”

“No, you’re not,” I say firmly. “You’ll never be at that age. You’ll always be perfect the way you are.”

“Really? Even when I’m old and gray and crinkled up like a raisin?”

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