Why the hell was his ex-wife at this place at midnight? And why is she answering the phone while he’s in the shower? Man’s got some explaining to do.
Thirteen
Liam
“What the hell are you doing?” I tug my shirt the rest of the way over my torso, the fabric clinging to my still-damp skin.
Miranda showed up at my doorstep almost an hour ago as I was getting back from the gym. She was crying, though I suspect it was all a ruse. Instead of letting her make a scene, I invited her in, which was my first mistake.
After downing a drink and negating all my hard work from my workout, I jumped in the shower, unable to listen to her hysterics any longer. I’ll have to scrub away at her lingering bullshit in a second shower later, but this one was still necessary.
“Your phone wouldn’t shut up and you were in there for ages. It’s not like I went through your texts; I need your new password for that.” She mutters under her breath. “Did you have to rub one out to me before you came back?”
“Who was it?” My words are pure grit and I refuse to play into her games.
“Your patient, Flynn. There must be a real emergency for her to call you at this hour.” Her voice drips with sarcasm, like she knows something.
“It probably was important, which is a main reason you shouldn’t be answering my phone. All of my patients have my personal line in case of an emergency.” It’s not a complete lie, however, I have a completely separate phone for those circumstances. “Tell me why you’re here, Miranda.”
“Have you thought about what I said to you?” Every word out of her mouth is bullshit; it’s hard to keep track of what she’s referring to. “Regarding the lawsuit.” She’s really fucking going there.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“This isn’t a joking matter, Liam. I figured now was as good a time as any since the anniversary is coming up.”
“It’s been almost six years. We should be remembering her together. Not fighting.” She shrugs like the heartless bitch she is. “God, look at you. Did you even love her? Was Emily anything more to you than a trap?”
She seethes and her nostrils flare. “I loved her more than anything in the entire world. How dare you?” Her voice cracks and for the first time in years, real, raw emotion floods to the surface. I didn’t think she was capable of feeling anything.
Fuck. I cross the room to where she’s standing, her vulnerability drawing me in. It’s a curse of the trade—my desperate need to help people.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I tug her into a hug. “When did we become like this? What happened to us?” In the broad sense, I already know the answer. Some couples come together when they lose a child, supporting one another through the tough times. Instead, we fell apart.
I move to pull away, but she clings to me, looking into my eyes. The familiar scent of her perfume fills my senses, wrapping me in a warm, comfortable hug.
What happens next is in slow motion, and yet I don’t get a chance to stop her. She leans in, pushing onto her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine. The feeling is somehow both foreign and familiar all at once.
When I snap out of it and back into reality, I push her away. “Miranda, stop, we can’t be doing this shit.”
“It’s nice to know I can still get in your head.” She smirks, proud of herself as she wipes the corners of her mouth with her thumb and forefinger.
I drag an angry hand over my face, wiping the remnants of her kiss away from my mouth. What a fucking manipulative bitch. She steps to me, running her palms up my chest. The scrape of her nails are the crypt keeper’s claws ready to drag me back to hell. “Come on, baby, one last fuck. You remember how good it used to be, don’t you?”
“It hasn’t been good for a very long time.” Hence the divorce—and her habit of fucking her tennis instructor.
“While you’re out fucking your twelve year old girlfriend, remember what I said.”
“Let it go, Mandy. What could you possibly sue me for? She had cancer. What could I have done?” My voice gets progressively louder. The longer I talk, the angrier I get.
I storm to the wet bar and grab a glass. With a heavy hand, I pour double the normal amount of scotch into the tumbler and down it.
“Maybe if you were a little more present. Maybe if you didn’t insist that her stomachache was all in her head. Maybe if you would’ve been home more instead of fucking your pubescent patients when we were married.”
I throw the glass in my hand and it shatters against the wall in an angry explosion not so different from how our marriage imploded. “I wasn’t unfaithful during our marriage and that’s more than you can say. I never fucked any patients while we were married.”
“I’m supposed to believe you only started fucking her after we split up?”
“What the fuck does Flynn have to do with this?” She smirks and that’s when I realize what I just did. I slipped up. She trapped me and I played right into her hand. I’m utterly screwed.
A Cheshire cat grin appears on Miranda’s face and it nauseates me. Fuck. “I knew it. God, you’re sick. You’re a predator.” Her words are nasty, but her face is alight with this information knowing she caught me.
“Have you forgotten that you left me? You’re the one who cheated. Tell me, how is Derek, anyway?”
“Wouldn’t
