Chapter 10
T he last day of the expo wasn't as hectic as the first—thank fuck for that. I wasn’t in the mood to play nice or chat shop with people I didn't care about. Even looking through my lens failed to bring that spark of inspiration it usually did.
I didn't need to be networking as much as the others, so I left the expo early and headed back to my hotel room. I pulled my phone out, the prayer of hope dying on my lips at the sight of the empty screen. Frankie was still giving me the silent treatment.
Carly had texted me, though, but I left her on read before pocketing my phone. It wasn’t fair of me to lay the blame at her feet, but damnit, she really fucked things up for me—even more than I had.
I should've been honest with Frankie. I should've fucking called her when I got back from dinner. I should never have had drinks with Carly in the lounge. I was a fucking idiot, and once again, my sweet wife had to put up with the blowback. I regretted being a pouty asshole when she refused to immediately pick up my calls. What the fuck was wrong with me? I couldn’t seem to stop fucking up.
When I'd returned to the breakfast table, my heart going a mile a minute at Frankie’s reaction, Carly had glanced up at me with a face full of remorse.
"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have invaded your privacy."
I shook my head before taking a long swallow of my juice. I'd been looking forward to having some bacon and eggs for breakfast, but my appetite was now gone. All I had to do was conjure up the look of betrayal stamped all over Frankie's face and I wanted to throw up. Still, it had nothing to do with Carly.
"It's not your fault. Listen, I'm going to head back to my room and get ready."
I’d wanted to call Frankie back again; to apologize for lying. I never should have texted her back in anger. Yes, I omitted that Carly was going, but I was trying to protect her. I didn't want her to worry. Surely she could see that?
A few hours later, after a much-needed power nap, I was flicking through the array of TV channels when I heard a soft knock. I opened the door, my heart sinking a little when I saw Carly there with a shy smile. She was still wearing the clothes she wore to the expo. It must've been another long day for everyone.
"What's up?" I folded my arms, feeling a little self conscious that I was standing there in an old basketball tank shirt—especially when she didn’t bother to hide her appraisal.
"Hey." The glint in her eye faded and was replaced with a friendly smile. "We're having drinks in my room before dinner. You wanna join?"
"You all are?"
"Yeah. Mike and Ben. C'mon, it'll be fun."
"I was just going to order room service and have an early night."
She shrugged carelessly. "That's cool. I figured you'd be tired. We just wanted to celebrate a successful day."
I hesitated as I thought it through. The two days had been profitable for us, and since I was the marketing manager and therefore higher than the three of them, it made sense that I would join. Especially since I’d left early today. One drink to toast, and I'd be done.
Two hours later, I knocked on Carly's door. I’d changed into jeans and a long-sleeved Henley.
She held the door wide for me and ushered me forward. "Come on in," she greeted.
I stopped short when I observed the empty room. I'd purposely been twenty minutes late so I wouldn't be alone with her. "Where is everyone?"
"Oh, they decided to nap before I met them for dinner."
I frowned at her. "Why didn't you tell me?"
She raised a groomed brow, watching me carefully. "What's the issue?"
I shook my head. "I'm gonna head back to my room."
She made a frustrated noise. "Oh, c'mon. One drink. I have to tell you about what happened with the Dennison Group."
She went to the bar and grabbed a beer before wiggling it at me.
I was an idiot because, thirty minutes later, I was grinning along with Carly. "I can't believe he did that! And the whole display fell?"
"Yep," she cackled. "They were convinced he did it on purpose."
She held up another beer, and I nodded in consent, not even realizing that I'd finished my first. My fingers brushed hers when she handed me the cold brew. Carly sat down on the chair beside me, smirking broadly with eyes that were glassy and wide. I wondered how many drinks she’d had before I arrived.
"Ah, I'll just have this and then head back."
"You don't want to have dinner?"
I shook my head. "Nah, I gotta call Frankie. I forgot to last night."
Her brow rose in surprise at my admittance. Shit, I shouldn't have said that.
"Well, I'm sorry again about interrupting your call this morning."
I waved her off, gulping down my beer. "It's okay."
"Was she mad?"
I glanced at her. Something about her tone didn’t seem right. It was slick and probing. "Why would she be mad?"
She rolled her eyes before shifting her body towards me, her leg brushing against mine. "You know…"
My response became trapped in my throat when she suddenly reached out and touched my knee. I froze.
"Did you tell your wife that I was coming on this trip?"
I shifted my knee away from her touch. "Carly…"
"Andrew. I've known you for a while now. I can tell how miserable you are. I can read it in your face, in your tone. Hell, you spend more time coming out for a drink than at home with Frankie."
"Carly," I warned. My wife's name on her lips sounded wrong.
Besides, that wasn't the reason I came out. And it wasn't me being unhappy. It was guilt. It was helplessness. It was anguish that she and I were in this place that neither of us wanted to be in.
"That's not normal in a happy marriage."
"You don't know my marriage, Carly," I firmly replied.
Undeterred, she pressed on. "I know that she's pushing you for kids, and you don't want any. Does she know that? For some women, having a kid is a natural instinct. That's not something every woman could give up."
Her words struck a painful chord with me. It spoke to that fear I’d buried; that insecurity that I wasn’t enough for Frankie. That I wasn’t doing enough. Providing enough.
Sensing a shift in my mood, her hand went to my lap again. This time, I didn't remove it. "Andrew…"
Her hand palmed my cheek before she moved my head towards her. Like a puppet on a string I let her manipulate me. Her face tilted up to mine, and our breaths mixed. I stared at her red lips, mesmerized as I watched her tongue lick them before they parted.
All I needed to do was cover the distance and kiss her. It would be so easy. No one needed to know.
Is this what Carly and I had been doing all along? Playing a game of push and pull that I wasn't aware of until now? It suddenly seemed so transparent; the flirting and banter—the private conversations we would have, even when we were out as a group .
Guilt lanced through me as my wife's concerns flashed through my mind.
Carly's mouth moved closer, and her hand stoked higher up my thigh before her fingers brushed my crotch.
That soft, purposeful touch was like an ice-cold bucket of water being poured over me. I reared back and shot up in a flash. I raked a hand through my hair as panic and disgust overtook me. "Fuck! What am I doing?"
Carly stood up, her hands splayed. "Nothing happened," she started.
"I gotta go," I breathed, almost hyperventilating.
I was unraveling; I was losing it big time. I wanted to turn back time and kick my own ass.
Like the hounds of hell were on my back, I bolted out of Carly's room.