“She’s fine. Why are you in my home?” Lon didn’t sound pissed, just mildly curious.
“Your home. Not hers, even though she lives here too and you’re long gone.”
She shot Jeff a glance, simultaneously gratified and dismayed by his quick defense. Didn’t he understand arguing would only make everything worse?
For whom? How much longer can you stay mute and numb?
“Jeff’s a…friend,” she said in an attempt to quiet both her mind and her lover. She didn’t want arguments, didn’t need strife and she definitely didn’t like the hot look Jeff tossed her.
What did he expect her to say? If Lon had half a brain, he could guess what had happened between them.
“Yeah, I’m her friend who just put on his pants.”
Karyn didn’t attempt to stop Jeff when he turned around and headed back upstairs. She just wanted peace.
She shoved her hands through her hair in frustration. God, when was she going to realize she wasn’t going to get peace? It just wasn’t going to happen. She needed to stand up for herself for once—and for Jeff—or she’d be on her own again and it would be her own damn fault.
“You’re sleeping with Maddox?”
She would’ve taken outrage better than shock. Lon sounded stunned at the mere possibility she had a lover. No wonder her self-confidence needed some work.
“His name is Jeff.” She dropping her hands to her sides. “Yes, I’m sleeping with him. Since you’re involved with his sister, you can’t claim to not understand the family appeal.”
For once he had the courtesy to look embarrassed. “Daisy’s a student of mine at the night school. She came in to take a course and—”
“And you decided to hell with professional ethics?”
“It’s not a university,” he said under his breath. “They’re just continuing education courses. She’s above age.”
“Barely.”
“That’s not the point. The point is you. How long have you been sleeping with him?” he demanded, showing more interest in her than he had in years.
She glanced at the slim bangle watch around her wrist. “Seven hours, give or take.”
“You know better than to go for a rebound relationship, Karyn.” The bored, patient tone she’d grown so used to had again returned to his voice. “You’re not experienced enough to be able to sleep with someone without your feelings getting all tangled up.”
“So? What if they are tangled? Did it ever occur to you maybe he wouldn’t mind?”
She didn’t know what Jeff would or wouldn’t mind but it wasn’t for Lon to speculate on. They could discuss things, if and when they needed to. In the meantime, he needed to get his sanctimonious ass out of her house.
“Maddox? He’s hardly your type. The guy growls more than speaks.” With a shake of his head, he held out a hand. “I’d like my phone back now.”
“Maybe he just growls at you. Ever think of that? Since you’re fucking his little sister and he knows you’re married.”
For the first time she could recall, he smirked. Actually smirked at her. “Check your left hand. So are you. Doesn’t look like it stopped him, now does it?”
She reached down and yanked off her ring and threw it against the wall. It bounced and hit the hardwood with a satisfying ping. “There. Now what? You want me to agree to the divorce?”
She turned and charged into the living room, continuing into the connected dining room before her brain could engage. She didn’t want to think. Her anger mobilized her. For once she didn’t care if she’d taken the wrong step. Moving itself was enough.
“Karyn,” Lon said in a soothing, steady tone as he followed her. “Take it easy. Are you all right?”
Ignoring him, she grabbed the papers she hadn’t touched in almost three weeks. Like a damn ostrich, she’d dug her head so far in the sand it covered her ass. As usual she’d tried to pretend she didn’t have to deal with her life. That if she just waited the situation out, it would all go away.
Just as her parents’ divorce had gone away. They’d almost divorced so many times, but look at them. They were still together, thirty years later. Despite how many divorces they’d started and dropped, despite the fights, despite the river of tears she’d seen raining down her mother’s face as she sat on the kitchen floor cradling the latest piece of crockery her father had broken in a rage. But he’d never touched her mother or her or her younger sister. Not in anger. That was what mattered, her mother said. Words didn’t wound like fists.
Yeah, right. What a load of crap. Both words spent and words deferred hurt. Holding feelings back, guarding them like a miser hoarding pennies, tore holes in people. Her husband’s seeming lack of emotion had torn damn sinkholes inside her and she’d done the shittiest patch-up job ever.