He was right, too, about what he’d said in the immigration office, although I had been angry about it at the time.
A kid with my brains and his athletic prowess would be a force. But more than that, Dustin would be the best dad ever.
The chasing dad caught up to his daughter in the park, and she screeched loudly as he scooped her up. “Gotcha, you little devil!” he said.
Realizing I was officially the weirdo who had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and was staring at other people’s kids, I took my phone out and faked like I was texting someone, then crossed the street, making a beeline for Dustin’s apartment.
I sucked in a breath as I thought about the costume I had packed for tonight. We hadn’t seen each other for a full ten days since he had been traveling with the team—including Valentine’s day. Not that Valentine’s day was a big deal to me, but I thought we might as well try to have some fun with it.
Besides, I liked playing dress-up and Dustin had requested it. Well, he’d requested a surprise, technically, and I got to use my creativity.
I opened the door to his house, turning the key, and headed into the first floor.
Dustin was on a plane across the continental United States right now, so I wasn’t expecting anyone to be home.
Much less to hear what I was hearing.
A woman’s voice was coming from the kitchen, blasting James Taylor and singing along toHow Sweet it is to be Loved by You.
As I made my way, slowly, through the dining room, and she came into view, my stomach coiled into a tight knot.
There was a woman in a French maid uniform cleaning Dustin’s house. Anattractivewoman in asexyFrench maid uniform, I might add.
I felt my blood pressure shoot through the roof. She was so into what she was doing that she didn’t even notice me come through the door.
Whipping out my phone. I sent Dustin a quick text asking himwhy the fuck there was a naked woman in his apartment,then cleared my throat, loudly, so she could hear me.
She converted her singing into humming, but didn’t stop the dance moves she was making as she dusted the kitchen counter.
“Hey big boy,” she said, then turned around with a giant smile on her face. The smile dissipated when she was it wasn’t Dustin staring back at her.
“Uh, what are you doing here?” she asked.
My eyes widened. “What amIdoing here? Are you serious?”
Her cheeks reddened. “Shit. You’re the wife, aren’t you?”
I held out my hand, my heart beating out of my chest. Anger spread through me. I took Dustin for a joker. But not a cheater. I guess this was where my little Las Vegas fairy tale was meant to end.
“That’s me! So, I guess this is one of those ‘other woman’ scenes,” I said. “So let’s just skip the fighting and get right down to it. How long has this been going on? Have you been doing this all month?”
The woman was actually shaking as she stood behind the kitchen counter. She opened her mouth to speak, but words didn’t come out.
I couldn’t help it; I softened a little.
“Hey, look,” I said. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Dustin knows he’s married and he shouldn’t have been talking to you.”
Then she did something unexpected.
She broke down, folded her arms on the kitchen counter, and bawled her eyes out. “Ididn’tthinkhismarraigewasrealI’msosorry,” she wailed.
“Um, what?”
“Valentine’sdaywasadisastermyfiancewascheatingonmeandIneededapickmeupandDustin’sthebestsexIeverhad.”
Okay, okay,” I said. “Slow down.” I walked over to her side of the kitchen counter. My sympathetic nature took over, though I remembered Dustin had specifically told mepuck bunniesweren’t on his mind.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, finally a few coherent words. “I really thought this marriage was like, a front-type thing for your immigration papers.”
