She closed her eyes for a second, gathering herself. “Kade, I’m … flattered.” And seduced and totally tempted. And a horrible, vile person. “But, I can’t. I’m married.”
His eyes widened. “Oh, wow, I’m sorry. I got the vibe we were flirting on the phone and when I saw you weren’t wearing a ring I assumed …”
Her brows knitted. “What?”
Both she and Kade looked down to her left hand and, to her horror, she saw she hadn’t put her wedding ring back on after her shower. She never forgot her ring.
And what had he said? She’d been flirty on the phone?
She thought back to their many calls back and forth over the last few weeks. They’d developed a good rapport and had shared a few laughs. He’d made a few comments about how she was becoming a habit. And … shit, she had been flirty.
Her blood began to pound in her ears. Had she left her ring on the edge of the sink subconsciously hoping for exactly what had happened?
She shoved her notes in her bag, her hands going clammy. “Kade, I’m sorry. But I have to go.”
“Oh, no,” he said, genuine remorse on his face. “This is my fault. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I really do want you for this job. I wasn’t lying about how much I love your design ideas.”
“Maybe it would be best if—”
“Please, Leila. Can we just start over and I’ll not be a jackass this time?” He gave her a disarming grin and lifted his palms. “I would’ve never said anything if I had known you were married.”
She knew she was overreacting. It’s not like he’d come on to her knowing she was attached. But her own reaction had her too freaked out to continue the meeting. She wanted this job so bad she could taste it, but she needed some space to get her head back on straight and her defenses back in place. “Can we just plan to meet at my office sometime next week? We can go over my plans there.”
In a totally businesslike environment.
He frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you’d like.”
“And bring photos of the game room if you can,” she said, already heading back toward the front door.
His heavier footsteps followed hers. “That’s okay. I think I’ll handle that room on my own.”
She had no idea why he was being so weird about the game room, but she wasn’t going to hang out and question him about it. She needed out. Now. Before she totally lost her shit in front of him.
He walked her to her car and apologized at least three more times, but she barely heard any of it. She wasn’t even sure she took a breath until she turned the corner out of his swanky neighborhood. The radio, which was still on the talk station, chattered in the background as she tried to organize the tangle of emotions rioting through her.
How could she have let this happen?
Her hands were slick with sweat against the wheel, and she wondered if this was what a panic attack felt like. Breathe.
“Tonight we’re talking about the seven-year itch. Is it a myth? An excuse used to justify cheating? We’d love to hear from our listeners out there. 1-888-Doc-Love.” The voice of Dr. Dan Witter, relationship coach and popular radio personality, filtered through her panicked brain like weird background music, poking the ugly things inside her.
She gripped the steering wheel harder and turned onto a side street, her heart still pounding. Cheating.
The word sent her stomach into a tumble.
She hadn’t done anything tonight. She hadn’t cheated.
But … she’d wanted to.
Tears filled her eyes and the street blurred. She pulled over to the side of the road and let that realization overtake her. When had she become this person?
Her marriage was dying a quiet death, and she had no idea how to resuscitate it. She and Seth had kids and a life together. How was she supposed to tell the man she’d fallen in love with and the father of her children that she’d gotten to this point?
She leaned back against the headrest, letting the tears fall, and without allowing herself to think about it too much, she picked up her cell phone and dialed.
Past midnight. Seth should’ve been tired after the balls-to-the-wall shift he’d managed at the restaurant tonight, but the fuel of going into mission mode had his body humming like he’d downed a double shot of espresso. This had to work.
Seth slowed down and parked his car in front of the only store on the street open at this time of night. He’d been here many times for social visits, but never as a customer. The kind of stuff Leila’s younger brother, Jace, stocked at Wicked had always been a bit more advanced than Seth had ever found need for. Plus, buying sex toys and gear from your little brother was way too high on Leila’s eww scale.
But Seth was past awkwardness right now. He needed help. Jace had never made any apologies for his choice of business and didn’t hide his proclivities for the wilder side, so he didn’t imagine Jace would get weird about Seth coming to him. The guy was about as comfortable in his own skin as anyone could be. Well, except when Jace was around his father. That was a whole other story.
Leila had always said that if it weren’t for Jace taking up the mantle of the family fuckup, she would’ve been the one disowned when she’d gotten pregnant at nineteen by the boy with no stitch of pedigree to his name. But apparently Jace had done enough scandalous things to keep Leila off the radar—though no one had ever told Seth what the big thing was that got Jace kicked out of the house for good.
Not that Leila had gone unscathed with her family when she’d gotten together with Seth. When Seth had asked Leila’s father permission to marry his daughter, Bill Austin had called Seth a money-hungry scrub and had accused him of getting Leila pregnant just to get access to her trust fund. The accusation had hit deep.
Seth had already been feeling the pressure of an impending marriage and a baby on the way, knowing the cash from his part-time waiter job and the few gigs his band did would never be enough to support a family. And God knows his own family wouldn’t be able to help. His dad did well enough with his plumbing job, but he knew his parents were only a paycheck or two ahead of being broke. The only reason Seth had even been able to go to the fancy art college and rub shoulders with the likes of rich girls like Leila was because his mom was the dean’s secretary.
So Seth had done the only thing he could think of to politely give her father a big “fuck you.” He’d dropped out of his music program and his band, switched to a business major, and had gotten a better-paying job cooking full time at the restaurant. He’d also told Bill Austin to sign the entirety of Leila’s trust fund over to their unborn child for when he or she turned twenty-one. Seth would support Leila and his child on his own.
The move had earned a bit of her father’s respect, and her family had even let them live rent-free for
