Page 64 of Tempt
“Oh, honey, not now,” she said, patting his shoulder from the back seat. “Another time. It’s so cold today.”
Finally, we arrived back at their house, and although they invited me to come in for something warm to drink, I said I had some work stuff to do. “I have to go on an assignment tomorrow, so I should prepare.”
Mason looked disappointed. “Oh. Okay. Well, it’s been really great spending time with you.”
“You too.” I received long hugs from both of them.
“Thank you so much for coming,” Lori said. “It meant so much to both of us.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Thank you for including me. And congratulations.”
“I wish we had more time,” said Mason. “I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface of all the conversations I’d like to have with you.”
“Maybe you could come back at Christmas,” suggested Lori. “I bet you haven’t had a white Christmas in a while.”
I could see Millie again.
The thought popped into my head immediately. No matter how hard I tried, I could not stop thinking about her and what we’d done.
What I wanted to do again.
“I’ll try,” I said.
“You could stay with us, if you wanted,” Mason offered.
But then I couldn’t spend nights with Millie.
“I’ll give it some thought.” Then I lifted my hand in a wave, said goodbye once more, and jumped into my rental car. On the drive back to the hotel, I’d felt like the lowest human being on earth.
Placing both hands behind my head, I stared at the ceiling in my room and wished I had the energy to go work out. A grueling session with heavy weights or a miserable ten-mile run on the treadmill would serve me right. I needed to be punished for what I’d done. For what I wanted to do. I needed someone to tell me I was being an asshole for even considering going back to her house tonight.
I grabbed my phone and called Jackson.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” I said. “I think I fucked up.”
“That’s nothing new. What did you do?”
“I may have slept with my son’s ex-girlfriend.”
Jackson coughed. Or maybe choked. “May have?”
“Okay, I did.”
“Wow. Let me go in another room. Hang on.” He said something to someone—his wife, probably, which meant I was interrupting their family time on a Sunday and made me feel even worse. The background noise on his end receded, and I heard something that sounded like a door closing. “Okay,” he said. “So you slept with your son’s ex. Can I ask what in the hell you were thinking? Or were you thinking at all?”
“I didn’t realize who she was, at least not the first time it happened.”
“The first time? Jesus, Barrett. Have you lost your mind? Do I need to send in a team?”
“Let me explain.” I sighed heavily. “Remember the woman from New York City?”
Silence, as he put it together. “No fucking way.”
“She was Mason’s ex.”
“No. Fucking. Way.” He started to laugh. “That is so messed up.”
