I’m not sure if April could see the cogs turning and put two and two together about my guilt over Max, but her words soothe me, nonetheless.
Upon hearing Anna’s footsteps, we quickly shift our attention back to the tarot cards.
“Now, where were we?” Anna asks brightly as she rejoins us, placing three full wine glasses on the table.
“I was just about to tell April that I know all about her second magnesium mishap at work,” I blurt.
“What the hell, Anna! I told you that in confidence!” April squeaks, attempting to hide her grin as she admonishes Anna.
“What?” Anna says innocently, dropping to the floor and crossing her legs. “You can’t tell me something as brilliant as you shitting your pantsagainand expect menotto tell Gemma,” Anna says.
I swivel to face April with faux outrage. “Honestly, I think the only person with the right to be shocked here isme. After everything we’ve been through together, you kept this absolute gem a secret?” I drop my voice to a theatrical whisper, pretending to tear up. “I told you about that vibrator getting stuck up that bloke’s arse and everything.”
“Speaking of,” Anna interrupts, “Gemma, I haven’t heard any juicy dating stories lately—what’s going on?”
Shit.Shit, shit, shit. Quick—think of something!
“Work. Yeah, work’s been super busy. Henry and I have been pulling heaps of late nights to bring the project timeline forward, so I haven’t put much effort into meeting anyone lately,” I say.
She lifts her brow in surprise. “Huh. Makes sense. Max has been really busy too.”
My stomach drops as I rush to think of an excuse. “Yeah. Calls to New York and stuff.”
“Oh, of course, I forget about the time difference,” she concludes, nodding to herself.
“But I did try to meet this guy from KinkApp the other week. Unfortunately, his equipment couldn’t handle the job, so I sent him on his way,” I divulge, hoping that will appease her.
“That’s more like it. Atta girl,” she says, raising her glass in a toast.
April slyly nudges me with her elbow, shooting me a small, knowing smile.
I owe her one for not saying anything to Anna. As long as I keep my promise and ensure this deal remains a simple arrangement, we should be fine.
Before I can dig myself a hole, April launches into wedding mode, pulling out her phone to show us venue photos.
Thank God, because I was about thirty seconds away from having a fecal accident myself.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Max
I haven’t touched Gemma in a week and I’m twitchy as hell.
I’m lounging on the sofa, answering emails when my phone cuts through the silence. I look down and see Casey’s name flash on the screen, and my chest tightens.
She doesn’t know that I’m back in London.
I set my laptop aside, staring at her name. It’s the third time she’s called this month. I ignored the previous two.
I thought we were getting better—thoughtshewas getting better. That after I screened her last two calls, she’d finally understood I can’t be her emotional crutch anymore.
I clench my jaw, running a hand over my stubble. It’s not her fault that this has been happening for years, not entirely. I’ve entertained her calls because this is a woman with whom I shared my bed, my last name, mylifefor seven years. Seven whole years. I’ve watched her break and tried to put her back together again countless times. Even now, years after the divorce settlement, an inflated sense of responsibility has me hovering my finger over the accept button because, to be honest, I’ve been scared of what might happen if I don’t answer.
But I can’t keep doing this. It isn’t fair—to either of us. I don’t love her. I haven’t loved her for a long time. I’ve tried to be therefor her, lending an ear when she needed to talk through her issues, offering advice when she asked or talking her through tears at 2 a.m. because there hasn’t been anyone else.
She misses me. She misses us. I still care for her. How could I not? But it’s over and was long before we put ink to paper. She’s reaching for something that no longer exists.
I gave Casey more than I’ve ever given any other woman, and it led me to heartbreak and disarray.
