Always Room for Cupcakes (4 page)

Although I was slightly offended, I had to admit she had a point.

But still… “Did you see him? I don’t know if you got a good enough look, because if you had, you’d know that I really had no choice. He’s that freaking hot! And, manly? I’ve always prided myself on being a good role model for women, but if Cade wanted to hit me over the head with a club, throw me over his shoulder, then take me off and ravage me …. I’d give him the club.”

Amy May nodded, her eyes wide in a way I knew even though she loved her husband, Eric, she’d like to be clubbed by Cade as well.

A little more seriously, I added, “I don’t know, Amy May, I know he’s different. A little dangerous, overbearing, maybe a little scary even, but
God,
I haven’t felt that way with a man in … ever. I think I owe it to myself to see what happens, even if it just ends up being a crazy mistake.”

“I agree.”

“You do?”

“Absolutely, girl, you deserve this. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve to have a man who’ll fuck you like it’s
his job
.”

I giggled at that, slapping my hand over my mouth at the girlish act.

“C’mon, let’s get to work.” She put her arm around my shoulder and led me around the corner. “You have to promise to tell me everything. No more teasing or making me wait. I don’t care if he’s just rolled off you and hasn’t even taken off the condom yet,
you call me
.”

“I swear it,” I said, looking down at her offered pinky and wrapping it with mine.

I stood outside the bank, the scenario I’d come up with working through my brain.

I couldn’t believe I was going to do this, but I had to have a justifiable reason for being in the bank I’d left at the same time I’d left my ex. I’d seen the perp inside, but knew the only way I’d get inside and get close enough to see her, and maybe speak with her, would be to finally give
The Douche
the confrontation he’d been looking for.

Ugh, I felt like I needed a shower just
thinking
about going into his office and having this conversation, but Moose needed this girl, and I needed the money, so…

Like every other time I walked into this bank during our marriage, as soon as I crossed the threshold,
The Douche’s
eyes found mine immediately, as if his gut told him anytime I was on the premises.

I used to think it was romantic, like we were drawn to each other or something, now it just pissed me off. Like everything else about him…

He rose from behind his desk and went to the door to his office, waiting and watching curiously as I beelined for him.

Being in that glass box all day would have driven me crazy, but he liked it. I think it made him feel more powerful, validated his status in some way.

“Delilah,” he said cautiously, probably worried I’d make a scene. Which, honestly, was always a possibility whenever we were breathing the same air.

“
Douche
,” I replied with an evil grin.

“
Jesus, Lila,
not here,” he said under his breath, his hand coming out to grab my forearm and drag me into his office.

I was about to rip my arm away when he released it, shutting the glass door behind us.

I positioned myself so I was standing between him and his desk, my perp directly in my line of sight in her position at the counter.

“What are you doing here?”

“You’ve been saying that you wanted to ‘explain’ for the last ten months,” I began, my hands on my hips in an angry stance that wasn’t all for effect. “Well, now I’m ready to hear it.”

The Douche
ran his hand through his perfectly coifed locks, messing them up unintentionally, and I had a little jolt of glee that he’d be annoyed later when he realized he’d gone through his workday rumpled.

I never said I wasn’t a bitch. I had to be, to come to his job this way, staging a confrontation that I in no way wanted to have, just in order to have eyes on my perp … for a measly picture worth a hundred dollars.

Oh well, I’d already gone too far to back out now.

He cleared his throat, then brought his pained eyes to mine.

“It was a mistake, Lila, a one-time fuck-up that ruined my life. I’m sorry, and I regret it every day.”

My heart started to bleed at his words, so I hardened it, crossing my arms over my chest and asking, “Really? That’s it? That’s all you’ve been wanting to tell me? All the texts and phone calls, telling the kids you needed to talk…”

“I never should have said anything to the kids,” he said, his chiseled jaw clenching. “But I am sorry, babe.”

“No, you don’t get to call me babe anymore. If it was such a mistake, how did it happen? We were married for twelve damn years … How could you accidently end up with your face in Slutty Shirley Finkle’s snatch behind the
fucking
Starbucks? That shit doesn’t just happen. You’re saying that was your only time with her?’

The Douche
stepped closer, his five-foot-nine frame only slightly taller than my five-foot-seven one, so we could almost see eye to eye.

“We weren’t the same,” he said, and I knew he was talking about us. About the last couple years of our marriage. “You were busy with the kids and your events at school, and I was working all the time. It seemed like when I was home, you didn’t have time for me, so I wasn’t in a hurry to
be
home. We weren’t talking, we weren’t having sex, shit, we barely even touched each other…”

I held up a hand to stop him, teetering on the brink of rage or tears, I wasn’t sure which, maybe both. I faced the floor, trying to keep my mask in place.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think over the past ten months, and I can accept that the issues in our marriage were because of both of us. We both knew things weren’t great, but we didn’t talk about it, and we didn’t work out how to fix it. I’ll give you that.”

Then I looked into his handsome face, and at his flinch, I knew the pain was apparent on mine. “What I can’t forgive is your absolute lack of respect for me. Not for the mother of your kids, or the woman who kept your home, for
me … your wife
. If you were tempted, you should have talked to me, or at the very least, told me you wanted to separate, get a divorce. Maybe that would have shaken us up enough to get some help, but to
cheat
… That shows that not only did you not respect me, but you didn’t love me either. Because if you did, you wouldn’t hurt and humiliate me that way.
In a fucking parking lot
.”

I wasn’t yelling; I was too raw, the feelings too close to the surface. This was why I’d been avoiding him since the divorce. I didn’t want his excuses, because I knew they wouldn’t be good enough, and I’d only feel more pain.

“Of course I loved you, and shit, Lila, I respected you and what you did for our family. It wasn’t about you, it was about me not feeling like I meant anything to you. I went to the bar to meet the guys that night, but Joel called and canceled at the last minute, so I sat down and had a drink. I wasn’t there looking for anything, I was just having as drink before coming home, then I felt a hand on my shoulder and Shirley Finkle sat down next to me. It was obvious she’d been drinking, and I told you how she’d always had a crush on me in high school … She was looking at me in a way that no one had looked at me in years. Like she
wanted
me.
Me
. She started saying stuff in my ears, telling me what she wanted to do to me and what she wanted me to do to her…”

“I don’t need to hear the details,” I said, my voice practically a whisper, as a pain I thought I’d beaten back bloomed within me.

“I don’t know how we ended up in the Starbucks parking lot, all I know is that what she said, and what she did, drove me out of my mind, and it felt good to be desired. I didn’t intend for anything to happen, but it did, and I’ve regretted it every second since.”

I turned my head, unable to look at him any longer, and noticed my perp grabbing her purse and waving to the other tellers. Shit, I needed to move, which was actually perfect, because I wanted to get as far away from here as possible.

I put my hands up and pushed roughly against
The Douche’s
chest, causing him to step back a few feet.

“Thanks,” I said nastily, pushing past him toward the door. “Thanks for proving I made the right decision when I got rid of your ass. You’re not the man I thought I’d married, you’re just a weak shell of that man.”

I gave him one last glance, ignoring the flash of hurt, which was nothing compared to the gut-wrenching pain his words had inflicted on me, then walked out after my perp.

I hoped she was guilty, because I was itching to nail someone’s ass to the wall.

I was disappointed when I followed the young brunette into an upscale bistro on the other side of town. It was a happening lunch spot for local business people, a lot of whom were bank customers.

I figured she was
actually
stopping in for lunch, but decided I’d stick with her just in case.

I got a table outside and ordered a wrap. I could see the perp inside from my vantage point
and
get some food in me at the same time. Two birds, one stone.

At first I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. She seemed to know just about everyone in the bistro, probably a side effect of her job as a teller at the largest bank in town, and flitted from table to table as she waited for her order to be ready.

It was at the second table that I realized what she was doing. She threw her head back and laughed at something the older gentleman she was talking to had said, and while his eyes roamed down to her quivering cleavage, she slid his pinky ring right off of his hand.

I don’t know how he didn’t feel it, although in his defense, she had a really great rack.

I paid close attention as she hopped around the dining room, taking a watch, a wallet, another ring, and a pocket watch. When I saw her take a pretty diamond hair clip out of a woman’s hair, I had to admit, I was kind of impressed. I’d never seen slight of hand up close like that before, and it took a special finesse to do what she did without getting caught.

Except, of course, she was getting caught … on camera, by me … but still, it was impressive.

The perp sat and ate her meal as if she hadn’t just robbed the entire clientele of the bistro, then said her goodbyes after paying her bill and left, just as carefree as when she entered.

I left money to cover my tab on the table and followed her a couple blocks down and a street over, to the local pawn shop.

I waited outside until I saw her walk up to the shop owner, talk for a minute, then follow him into the back room. Reaching my hand up to the top of the door, I opened it slowly, wrapping my hand around the bell before it could signal my entrance, then I eased inside.

Tiptoeing and keeping my breath even and as quiet as possible, I moved toward the back until I could hear their voices, then paused.

“Here’s your take from last week,” the man’s voice said. “The old man with the Rolex actually thinks it’s his son that stole it from him. I told him that I couldn’t remember who I’d bought it from, but he’s convinced. Said it was the final straw, he was cutting the boy off.”

They both laughed and I felt a chill run through me.

They were running a con on the residents of the town. She stole their items and he sold them back to the victims, or probably anyone who came in and wanted to buy them, claiming someone sold them to him. Then they split the money from the sale.

What dirty bastards…

I left the shop as quietly as I’d entered it, going around the corner to the coffee shop to give her a chance to leave.

I went through the pictures I’d taken, then zoomed in on the pinky ring. It was sterling silver with a B engraved in it, and looked like it was very expensive. Although, I wasn’t an expert on jewelry, so what did I know.

I enjoyed my latte, played a few rounds of Trivia Crack, then dropped my camera in the van before going back inside the pawn shop.