The Player Next Door

Shane shakes his head in disbelief. “I thought you were into this. It’s why I brought you into Cody’s life.”

I’d laugh, if my heart weren’t breaking.

Into this? I’m utterly consumed by this. I’ve never been this happy. Not even for those two delirious months one summer thirteen years ago. That was child’s play. This?

This had the potential to be “till death do us part” everlasting.

“I was. I am.”

“Then don’t end it.”

A prickly ball of emotion swells in my throat. “I have to. For Cody. His happiness is more important than mine or yours.” Damn it, Bott, you pickled-pigs’-feet-eating witch.

Shane lets out a mirthless chuckle. “But he is happy. He likes you. He likes us being together.”

“But he needs his parents getting along right now. Until you two can figure out how to do that without him getting caught in the crosshairs, I can’t be a part of this.”

“Shane!” Penelope nods her head toward a nurse with a clipboard.

He turns back to me. “Don’t let her win, Scarlet.”

“She’s not. Cody is.”

Resignation weighs his features. There’s no arguing around that, and he knows it. “There’s nothing I can say to change your mind?”

“No. Go and see your son.”

He looks torn but, finally, he nods. “Too complicated, huh?”

I back away, forcing a playful smile that is probably pitiful but it’s keeping my tears at bay. “You’re way too complicated for me. I need easy.” I push through the revolving door before he has a chance to respond.

A lone taxi sits outside. I manage to climb in and give the driver my address before I let myself cry.

Shane Fucking Beckett.

For the second time in my life, he’s managed to break my heart by being everything I thought he wasn’t.

I regard the red Hyundai sitting in my driveway when the taxi drops me off.

Justine is waiting for me on the porch, her compact body curled up in a rocking chair, huddled within her black bomber jacket and knit hat.

“What are you doing here?” I call out, unable to muster excitement in my voice as I drag my heels up the path. “I haven’t listened to your message yet. It’s been a bad night.” Did she somehow sense that I would need my best friend’s shoulder to cry on tonight?

Not until I reach the porch do I see her puffy, red eyes and hear her sniffles. She’s been doing some crying of her own. “Justine, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Her bottom lip wobbles. “Bill’s been cheating on me!” she wails.

Twenty-Nine

“How long has it been going on?”

“Two months, off and on.” The woman is another trader. Isabelle. Justine had heard her name plenty of times in idle conversation. She was a friend. Just another one of the guys.

Until Just Another One of the Guys and Bill shared a spontaneous, heat-of-the-moment kiss while having drinks at the bar after work. It has since snowballed into multiple dinners and Bill inventing a piano recital for his daughter so he could shack up overnight in a hotel.

The name Isabelle now joins the reviled ranks of Debra. That name can no longer be uttered without earning Justine’s sneer.

Becca shifts away from the kettle in the staff room, giving others space while she dunks her tea bag.

And I do my best to ignore Bott’s dissecting stare from her seat at the table where she chews her apple.

“How’d she find out?” Becca asks.

“A text.”

She nods. “Of course.”

That’s always the case nowadays. A text, or an email. Some sordid message intercepted with the guilty parties growing bold in their treachery. When she questioned Bill, at least he had the decency not to deny it. “He wanted to see where it would go before he broke up with Justine. He says they’re in love.”

Becca’s mouth gapes. “Oh my God. She must be devastated.”

That’s an understatement. Justine looks like she’s suffering from a horrendous allergic reaction. Her eyes are so puffy and red after days of around-the-clock crying, interspersed with rants about castration. “She’s still at my house. She called in sick today and told her boss she’s working remotely for the rest of the week.” That her boss is her uncle helps. Though, I can’t say he’ll go for this long-term, and she’s already told me she’s never going back, period. She’s been flipping through paint chips for my spare room, with plans to convert it to her own.

“Wow.” Becca’s eyes bulge with shock. “And she had no idea?”

“None of us did! I’m a terrible best friend for not seeing it!” Am I not supposed to? Is it because I moved away and I’ve been too wrapped up in my own life to notice? Bill and Justine had moved in together. I thought his initial reluctance had to do with one failed marriage, not the fact that he’s secretly a douchebag who wasn’t sure he wanted to commit. I didn’t see it. Nobody saw it. Nobody who’s talking, anyway. “Her brother said he’s going to murder him.” Bill and Jeff have been best friends for decades, so to do this to his baby sister is reprehensible. Of course, they’re guys, so they’ll likely get drunk, punch each other out, and then go golfing the next day.