Page 97 of About that Fling
He flashed her a smile, hoping some shred of latent charm in him might still stir softness in her heart. Mia studied him a moment, assessing. She’d always been the better liar between the two of them, or maybe she just paid more attention. Mia knew how to read people, how to tell when someone was uncomfortable or disingenuous. He hated that about her, but he also admired it.
Christ, no wonder Jenna couldn’t stand lying to her.
“Come on, Mia,” Jenna said, putting an arm around her friend. “I just put the kettle on. I’ll make us some tea. You want some of Gertie’s chocolate chip cookies, or do you need to save room for that fancy dinner?”
Mia shot Adam a look he couldn’t read. She bit her lip and turned back to Jenna. “There won’t be any fancy dinner. Actually, would you like to be my date?”
“What? Where’s Mark?”
“Still working on the roof at Ellen’s place. Apparently it’s taking longer than he expected.”
“God, I’m sorry.”
Mia shrugged. “You love Gerlake, right? And I already have a reservation. Come on, my treat.”
“Mia, I shouldn’t—” She shot a look at Adam, then turned back to her friend. “When are you going?”
“Right now. It’s an early reservation, so we’ve got time for a drink before dinner. Their bar has incredible mocktails.”
Adam watched her fidget. Watched her wrestle with what to do. She avoided his gaze, looking right at Mia as she answered. “Sure, why not? Can you give me a second to change into something nicer?”
“Yeah, I’ll just sit for a minute and rest my ankles.” Mia moved toward the sofa, giving Adam a wide berth.
“Oh! Let me grab those special foot lotions we tried out yesterday,” Gertie said, bustling off down the hall. “You said that peppermint one was helping a bit?”
“Thanks, Gertie.” Mia dropped heavily onto the sofa, looking exhausted and a little sad. Adam glanced around, surprised to realize he was alone with his ex-wife for the first time in ages. Her eyes were closed, which gave him a chance to study her. She had lines on her face that hadn’t been there before. Brackets around her mouth that could have been laugh lines or frown lines. Either way, did he have anything to do with them?
She took a heavy breath and opened her eyes, looking more exhausted now than she had before she’d closed them. Adam felt another pang of sympathy, which made him angrier with himself that twinge of smugness he’d felt in the car with Jenna. What kind of dick felt even the slightest hint of jubilation over someone else’s misfortune? He wasn’t sure what she was going through exactly, but clearly all was not right in Mia’s world.
“You okay?” he asked.
He hadn’t meant to butt in, and the flash of her eyes said she didn’t welcome the intrusion. It was a flash he knew all to well. A flicker of hurt Adam wished wasn’t so familiar.
“I’m just great, Adam, thanks for asking.”
The heavy sarcasm made her words thud like rocks onto the living room floor. He knew he should leave, but he wasn’t sure whether to go looking for Gertie to keep up the ruse of legal consultation, or just get the hell out of here.
“Sorry your feet hurt,” he tried. “I’m sure if you ask Mark to rub them for you, he’d be happy to oblige.”
He hadn’t meant it to sound snarky, or hell, maybe he had. Sometimes it was such a goddamn ingrained habit. The spark of anger in her eyes told her that’s exactly how she took it.
“Fuck you, Adam.”
He reeled back. “Hey. What the hell was that for?”
“You know exactly what it was for, you smug ass. You show up here with your woo-woo words and perfect communication skills and everyone thinks you’re some sort of expert on compassion and human relationships. That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
He blinked. “I don’t?—”
“I’ll tell you what you don’t,” she snapped, sitting up straighter with her green eyes flashing. “You don’t get to waltz back into my inner circle and be the wonderful, perfect man who cooks his own meals and posts heartfelt quotes about trust. You don’t get to be this exciting, carefree guy who does pro bono work for little old ladies and volunteers for charity instead of working ’til midnight every night. Most of all, you don’t get to strut around now pretending you give a shit how I’m feeling when you spent five years of our marriage barely noticing I existed.”
She was flushed and panting by the time she finished. Adam swallowed hard, struggling to control his reaction.
“Well, Mia.” He couldn’t stop reeling from her words. “Don’t hold back. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”
“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped. “You gave up the license to do that the second you signed the divorce papers.”
Adam shook his head, not sure what stunned him more. The depth of her anger? The fact that she’d just revealed she’d been stalking his social media? The thought that she saw him as smug and callous?
