Chapter 4 Lynley #2
“No,” I say slowly. “Why do you ask?”
She makes a small noise. “No reason. Geoff was hoping to get some financial advice from him.”
I pull my phone away from my ear, frowning at the time. “It’s after nine,” I say. “What kind of advice does your husband need this late?”
Caroline clucks her tongue. “I didn’t even check the time before calling. You’re right, though. It’s not anything that can’t wait until tomorrow. You know how Geoff is—impulsive when he’s got an idea, and after instant gratification.”
“Right,” I murmur, wondering if the realizations of the day have me seeing suspicion everywhere. Caroline and I have never had a great relationship, the sisterly bond between us fairly nonexistent, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t still my sister.
“Caroline…”
When I trail off, she prods. “What is it?”
“Have you ever suspected Geoff of cheating?”
There’s a stilted pause before a startled laugh escapes her. “What kind of question is that?” There’s a taut pause, her voice going stiff as she demands, “Have you heard anything?”
“No, no,” I rush to reassure her, staring down into the smooth white wine in my glass. “I was just—”
“This isn’t about Christopher, is it?” she interrupts.
“Because he’s a provider, Lynley. He might work long hours, but he takes care of you and the kids in ways that truly matter.
You’re set for life.” Definitely not imagining the bitterness now.
“Don’t jeopardize that because you’re feeling a little insecure. ”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Isn’t it?” she says archly. “We always knew he was out of your league, in terms of money and status. It was pretty smart, getting pregnant with Mase so quickly.”
My knuckles go white as I tighten my grip on the glass. “I did not trap him,” I say hotly. “You know that.” I drain the wine, setting my glass down firmly on the side table, feeling braver than I should. “Did you know Christopher and I have a prenup?” I ask casually.
“Of course you do,” she says after a beat. “He needed to protect his assets, especially considering the family he comes from.”
I shake my head, not wanting to delve into the argument of our family’s status versus his. “Oh, the prenup definitely favors him,” I agree. “His father made sure of that. But my lawyer insisted on adding in an infidelity clause.”
There’s a hiss of air through the phone line right before Caroline smoothly says, “Well, there you have it. He wouldn’t risk voiding the prenup, would he?”
“It wouldn’t be a smart move,” I agree, relaxing back against the couch, drumming my fingers on the armrest. “Anyway, it’s been a long day, and Ginny’s likely to wake through the night. I should get to bed.”
Caroline hums, her voice softening as she says, “I hope she feels better soon.” A voice calls her name in the background, and she yells back before coming back to the line. “I’ve got to go. Geoff needs my help with something. Give my love to the little duck.”
She makes kissing noises, and then she’s gone before I can say anything else.
Christopher waltzes into the house after eleven, which is actually earlier than I expected. I’m already in bed, my back to him as I listen to him strip out of his clothes, knowing he’ll leave them wherever they drop.
He steps into the bathroom, the light flicking on and brightening our room before the door snicks shut. A beat passes, and then the toilet flushes and the shower turns on, making me roll my eyes.
I’m still awake when the mattress dips as he slides under the covers.
He immediately dashes the hope that he’ll leave me alone when he wraps his arms around me and drags me across the mattress and against him.
I’m dressed in flannel pajamas—the thickest I could find—but I still feel his dick twitch against me, making it clear that he’s naked.
My lips curl into a sneer, hidden in the darkness of the room, and I don’t move, keeping my breathing even and my body relaxed.
“Lynnie?” he murmurs, a hand sliding around to cup my breast, teasing my covered nipple until he feels it harden. I lie there, unaffected and uninterested, fighting a cringe as he presses a kiss to my neck, grinding his hips against me.
A minute of determined petting passes before he finally takes a hint, heaving out an annoyed sigh and rolling to his back. He fidgets for several minutes, but then I hear a soft snuffle as his breathing deepens.
I’m left lying here awake, my mind whirling, wondering how many times he spent today fucking someone else before coming home to me.
How many women have there been?
Did he use a condom?
A man willing to cheat on his wife isn’t going to give a shit about protecting her. I shudder, nausea welling, my mouth filling with saliva at the idea of him fucking some random whore bare, and then coming home to me…to our kids.
I needed to go get tested as soon as possible.
Just another indignity to lay at his goddamn door.
Sleep doesn’t come easily, which isn’t wholly surprising. I spend the hours imagining what would be the most satisfying object in the house to smack Christopher around with.
A frying pan is a little cliché, and I don’t have the upper body strength for a chair to do enough damage.
I’ve seen a movie or two where a woman stabs someone with the heel of her stiletto, but I’d probably need to get the jump on him.
It would be poetic if I used the brass paperweight in his home office, though.
It’s bulky, ugly as sin, but would almost definitely leave a dent in his thick skull.
I jump when his alarm peals in the morning, my eyes gritty from lack of sleep. He groans, rolling out of bed and disappearing into the bathroom, and I take the opportunity to escape, heading downstairs on quiet feet.
I’m scrambling some eggs when light steps catch my attention. I look over my shoulder, finding Mase stumbling into the room, his dark hair flopping into his eyes, and pillow creases still pressed into his cheek.
“Morning, baby,” I greet as he comes over and cuddles into my side. I take a subtle sniff of his hair—not sneaky enough, though.
He cottons on to what I’m doing, pushing me away with an embarrassed groan. “Mom!”
I gently swat his hip. “It’s my right as your mother. Sit. Toast is almost done. You want any bacon?”
“No, thanks.” I pour him a glass of orange juice while he sits at the island, eyeing me. Mase opens his mouth just as Christopher comes into the kitchen, fixing his tie, and he slams his mouth shut, glaring down at the counter in mutinous silence.
“Morning, honey,” Christopher greets cheerfully, pressing a kiss to my cheek on the way to the coffee machine. “Morning, son.” He glances at Mase before looking around. “Where’s Ginny?”
I put our son’s breakfast in front of him, shaking my head with a smile when he starts shoveling it in at speed.
“Easy, tiger. It’s not going anywhere,” I tell him, before saying to Christopher, “She’s still asleep.”
My husband frowns, checking the gold-encrusted watch I got him for his birthday last year. “Shouldn’t she be up? School starts soon.”
Mase looks up at that, gaping at his father. “She broke her arm.”
Christopher’s eyes widen before he clears his throat. “I know that. School is important—”
“I don’t think a day off will hurt her,” I say gently, flashing a warning look in Mase’s direction. “I’ll stop in and see her teachers. Get any work they might have for her.”
“Good, good.” Christopher’s brows draw low before he brushes past the fact that he seems to have forgotten we spent the better part of the afternoon at the hospital yesterday.
Probably because he fucked a screw loose when he got back to the office.
“You’re going to school, though.” He looks pointedly at Mase.
I clear my throat, grabbing my coffee as our son heaves out a sigh. “Yeah, well, Jacob and I are going for pizza after baseball practice. His dad is the coach and said he would take us.” He looks up, watching his father for a reaction, but Christopher’s frown only deepens.
“Oh.”
“I already cleared it with Mom,” he adds hurriedly, shooting me a desperate look.
“Harrison was very kind to offer, and said he would drop Mase off afterward,” I confirm, and our son’s shoulders slump in relief, but there’s a hurt deep in his navy-blue eyes that he tries to hide by ducking his head.
Christopher’s lips flatten, his expression unreadable. “Let me know how practice goes.”
Mase frowns right before a sly gleam creeps into his stare. “Sure. I’ll call Gail and book an appointment.”
I cough to hide my laugh. Those are words I threw at Christopher in an argument weeks ago. I didn’t realize Mase was even around when I said it, but hearing it out of his mouth now…
My husband looks dumbfounded, and I hide behind the rim of my mug before he sees my amusement. He turns to glare at me, clearly blaming me for Mase’s attitude.
“Go get dressed,” I tell Mase when he finishes his breakfast. “Don’t want to be late, hm?”
His stare bounces between us, before he lifts a shoulder, sending one last glare at his father and stalking from the room. As soon as he’s gone, Christopher faces me, hands propped on his hips.
“What the hell was that about?” he demands. “Since when does he talk to me like that?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I say, grabbing the dishes and taking them to the sink to rinse. “You know what he’s like in the morning.”
“Lynley—” I’m saved by his phone going off, immediately distracting him. “I need to go. But we’ll talk about this later. I won’t tolerate that kind of attitude under my roof.”
I lift my eyebrows without turning, but he doesn’t seem to need a response, because he stomps his way out of the kitchen.
Maybe Christopher will go fuck himself out of his attitude.