The unmistakable flicker she saw in his eyes was quick, but she hadn’t missed it. He smiled, kissing her softly. “All mine for eternity. I fucking love that.”
He kissed her a little longer, and the marathon was on. She’d be more than exhausted tomorrow at work, but she could already tell this would be completely worth every yawn.
Eight
Fucking Brilliant
B
ecause of the nature of Romero’s work, he had a heightened awareness for the signs of infidelity. He’d confirmed countless suspicions for clients over the years and had become a bit jaded about just how often this happens in marriages. It was beyond disheartening, not to mention alarming, how the most seemingly moral and decent people could get caught up in cheating—something he couldn’t even fathom.
Not since he’d met and fallen so hard for his Izzy had the thought of being with anyone else crossed his mind. In fact, he didn’t even have patience for the women who still came on too strong sometimes, even knowing he was a married man. He’d seen that side of Izzy long ago, the side that wouldn’t tolerate any of that type of bullshit, and he hadn’t even done anything. So when women didn’t get the hint and still flirted with him, he didn’t care if he was rudely blunt. He’d be damned if he’d allow anything that might upset his wife.
When he’d started this job, he’d always assumed men cheated far more than women, so it was most eye-opening that he’d had equal numbers of jobs from husbands hiring him to follow their wives. And it was never what he imagined either: some pole-dancing whore you’d know just by looking at her who would be a cheat just for the taste of it. It was always the ones he would’ve least suspected: upper class, well-educated women with respectable jobs. Women who should know better or at the very least have the decency to walk away from the marriage if they weren’t happy. Not stray.
It wasn’t all coldhearted and brashly done either. In all the years he’d been sleuthing, he’d listened in on plenty of private conversations of wives in tears, insisting they loved their husbands and shamefully admitting how they were unable to believe it themselves that they were doing what they were doing. But they were still fucking doing it, damn it.
One woman in particular came to mind. It was one of the few cases that seemed so cut and dried, yet Romero had actually played a part in saving the marriage. But it still had gotten to him so much he’d actually talked to the Morenos about it one day when they were hanging out. He usually didn’t share specifics about any given case he worked, but that time he was curious on their take.
The couple was in their early thirties. They’d finally had twin boys after several expensive tries using in-vitro fertilization. She’d stayed home with the twins for a year but then went back to her nursing job a few days a week. She worked twelve-hour shifts at the hospital, and according to the husband, they didn’t have any marital issues. He said the only low they’d had their entire marriage was the fact that they’d had such a hard time conceiving but now that they’d had their boys he thought things were perfect.
As with all his other clients, the clues were all there even before Romero began his investigation: the changes in her mood, the hushed calls, or calls at odd hours at night, even the sudden lack of interest in sex, which was one of the most telling signs especially in younger couples. But he attributed her lack of interest in sex to exhaustion from work and then dealing with the twins on her days off. And he insisted they had a very happy marriage, only his suspicions had gotten to the point where he needed to know.
Romero was almost certain that, like with all the other clients who already knew but just went to him to get full confirmation before ending their marriage, this, too, would end the way most of the others had. Her husband had brought in her car so Romero could bug it. Within a week, Romero had the recordings he needed. First, the nervous giggly conversations she had on her cell with someone named Ted, whom she was obviously flirting with. Then later came the call with her sister when she confessed to being attracted to Ted. Ted turned out to be a doctor at the hospital where she worked. According to what she’d told her sister, she hadn’t actually done anything, but she said she was tempted to take him up on his offer to have a drink.
From the sound of the conversation, since he could only hear her end, her sister was trying to talk her out of it. One of the times she’d broken down crying, saying it was only when she was at work and around Ted that she felt alive and jubilant again and not just a worn-out mommy. Apparently, the attempts at getting pregnant and obsessing about it for so many years had taken its toll. When she was home now, everything revolved around the kids. It was all they ever talked about, and they’d even begun to discuss how much longer they should wait before trying again since they were no spring chickens. She said she hadn’t felt sexy and thought of sex in more than just in terms of getting pregnant in years. So getting out of the house with Ted making her feel sexy was a welcome and much-needed break from the monotony.
Then there was the conversation with her and Ted in the car together. Romero knew the guy was older, was married too, and after hearing their conversation in the car, was a pushy prick. It was obvious all he was looking to get out of it was his jollies from banging a much younger woman. It was also obvious that he’d picked up on her vulnerability, and while Romero wasn’t making excuses for her, the conversation had been maddening.
She really didn’t want to.
He’d already listened in on her telling her sister just talking to him and hearing him say she was sexy was exciting enough and all she needed but that he’d begun to wear her down. Romero had been wary of that. It sounded like bullshit to him when she’d told her sister, but hearing the asshole and the way he practically begged for them to go get a room, even though she kept saying she just couldn’t, made Romero want to punch the guy in the fucking throat himself.
They didn’t get the room, but he convinced her to let him do something he said he’d been dying to—kiss her. It was a long one too because the silence had gone on pretty long until she finally said she had to stop. Later, she’d called her sister and had broken down crying again when she confessed to having let him kiss her. She said she never would’ve believed she’d do anything like that in a million years, much less even consider getting a room with another man, as she had for a moment. She sounded genuinely remorseful, and unbelievably, Romero had felt bad for her.
Romero called her husband and let him in on it immediately. He wouldn’t even allow himself to think about the possibility of Izzy ever doing anything remotely close to what this man’s wife had done. Even if there’d been no kiss, the simple fact that Izzy would even carry on a flirtation with a guy that might have her considering what this woman had, would be an end-all for him. Despite feeling bad for this guy’s wife, Romero couldn’t imagine forgiving Izzy. But he hoped this guy’s marriage was still salvageable for their twins’sake and because he’d heard it in the guy’s wife’s voice. She wasn’t the cheating type. She was just enjoying the whole excitement of it, and she’d let it go too far. So for the first time in Romero’s career, he withheld information from the client. While he did tell him all the other stuff that would be just as heart-spearing—that she’d been flirting and enjoyed it and even admitted to her sister that she was tempted to cheat and cried about it—he kept the part about the kiss to himself.
For some reason, all these guys he once considered saps thought that just because Romero dealt with this so often he’d have advice for them. In most cases, their spouses were blatantly cheating and doing so over and over, so Romero’s advice was always “Dump the bitch.”
In this guy’s case, he’d advised him to talk to his wife and try to work it out. She’d only considered cheating, and he did make sure to mention how fucking pushy the doctor was. Though Romero hadn’t told him about them being in the car together. He said he knew because she’d told her sister about the doc being so damn pushy. Hopefully, he’d insist she quit the job.
It was something t
hat had stayed with him for weeks afterward and, since he was now still thinking about it, obviously years. A couple of weeks after he’d been done with that particular case, while playing pool in Angel’s garage, he posed the question to them.
Angel had mentioned his neighbor’s house was up for sale because they were getting divorced. He said he was pretty sure there’d been some infidelity though he didn’t know the specifics. Once again, the case of the almost-cheating wife had come to mind.
“Let me ask you guys something,” Romero said as Alex bent over to take a shot. “If any of you found out your wife had a flirtation going on with a co-worker or whatever but didn’t actually cheat and she promised it’d never happen again, would you still dump her?”
They’d all stopped and stared at him, speechless for a moment. “Did Izzy—?”
“Shut your mouth!” Romero said before Angel could even finish. “This has nothing to do with Izzy. This is about a client I had a few weeks ago. I tailed his wife and found out she was thinking about it.”
He explained the details, leaving out the part about them kissing. That would make it too easy. It was what had him asking them in the first place and what had brought the memory back now. Even now, he refused to believe that his Izzy would ever even consider doing anything remotely inappropriate. She already knew how he felt about Elliot. But was it possible she would enjoy the attention of another man? A man whose scholarly conversation she might find invigorating—refreshing? If so, could Romero deal with that? Deal with her spending four hours a day with this man every day?
The very thought already had him fisting his hands. He was glad that he’d put his hypothetical question to the guys even harder because he needed to remember what they’d said now, specifically what Sal had said.
“Say she wasn’t talking on the phone with him or anything.” Romero had made the question more specific. “Just a few texts here and there and he complimented her often, maybe even told her she was sexy—more than once. But not in an innocent playful way he could say in front of you. They were being sneaky about it.” Immediately, Alex’s and Angel’s faces had gone hard. “She knew thanking him and by not calling him on his shit—telling him that his compliments and flirtatious behavior were inappropriate—she was encouraging it to continue, and yet she did anyway. But it didn’t go any further than that. Would you be cool with that?”
“Hell no.” Alex was the first to respond.
“Fuck that.” Angel was quick to follow.
“Well, hold on,” Sal, ever the voice of reason, said, holding up his hand. “It would depend on a lot of things: how long and how often this had been happening and how I found out. Did I hear it for myself—caught the inappropriate behavior—or did she tell me about it? There would also be the question of who the fuck is this guy? In my case, if it were a co-worker of hers, it’d be an employee of mine disrespecting me in my own restaurant. His ass would be gone like that.” He snapped his fingers. “And if she’d allowed it, then, sure, I’d be pissed, but you’re asking if I’d dump her for it—end my marriage over some flirting?” He shook his head. “No, but we’d have a lot to discuss: like what the hell was she thinking and what the consequences would be if it happened again. Because let’s face it, even if nothing else but flirting was going on, it’s bullshit. Just like we know what we should or shouldn’t be doing with other women, our wives”—he laughed, turning to Alex, who looked mad just thinking about it—“Val and Sarah and especially your wife”—he pointed at Romero—“know better than to even pretend innocent flirting with some dude who tells her she’s sexy would ever fly. Hell, even Gracie would know I’d be pissed.”
It wasn’t that Romero suspected Izzy might be doing anything even vaguely close to that client’s wife—the very thought made him nauseated. He’d always said he’d never be as stupid as his clients and wait until all those prevailing signs were there, but a tiny part of him couldn’t help wondering now if maybe his clients weren’t so stupid after all. Maybe like him they dismissed early signs because they just couldn’t fathom their spouses doing anything like that to them either. And maybe Izzy would never, but like the mother of those twins and as Manny and Max had suggested, something more innocent but just as dangerous was going on that was making Romero feel such unease.
Not ten minutes ago Romero had talked himself down about Izzy’s strange behavior the past several days. It wasn’t unusual for her to be sneaky this time of year. She was always trying to surprise him with her gifts for Christmas. Maybe if he weren’t as bad as the kids trying to figure out what she could be up to, she wouldn’t have to resort to being so sneaky. He knew this was all it was. It had always been part of their holidays: both of them trying to be sneaky and him more than anything being a kid about it, trying to figure out what she’d gotten him. Mostly because she was always so much better at it and he was always hoping to outdo her for once. But he couldn’t help feeling that there was more going on this year.
He’d just been over this in his head because of the strange mood Izzy had been in that morning again and the fact that twice this past week she’d appeared to have been startled by him when he walked in the room while she was on the phone. Both times she’d hung up quickly, and both times she seemed jumpy or nervous when he asked her about who she’d been on the phone with.
The memory of the look in her eyes, the slight change in her tone when she’d assured him almost a week ago that “no matter what” he had nothing to worry about assaulted him again. It had each time he thought he noticed something odd in her behavior. What had she meant by “no matter what”? No matter if she was feeling attracted to someone else? No matter if that someone else had her feeling sexy and giving her a break from the monotony of what her life had turned into since she’d been home with the kids?
There was no way.
He’d just talked himself down after calling her for the second time and getting no answer. She rarely didn’t answer his calls even when she was at work. She’d told him herself he could call her at any time. Elliot didn’t have a problem with her stepping outside and taking a call. Elliot understood she had little ones and had to keep her phone on at all times. If she ever couldn’t take his call that minute, she always called him back within ten or fifteen minutes, tops. It’d been over twenty minutes, and she still hadn’t returned his call, so he’d called her back, and just when he was getting ready to jump in his car to drive down to that fucking university, she texted him back to say she was in the middle of a lecture and would call him back.
See? He’d reminded himself again as he’d exhaled, clutching the phone. He had nothing to worry about. Ever since he’d questioned her about silly Elliot making her laugh, she’d even cut down on talking about her time and conversations with the guy, but even that made him wonder why.
Manny had even called Romero the day after Thanksgiving to tell him that he and Max were now in agreement. Maybe they’d jumped the gun, being so worried about Izzy working with this guy. After Romero had explained about Elliot and the ballet teacher and how that was why they’d seen her whispering with Elliot a few times, Manny was even more adamant that Romero had nothing to worry about. His uncles almost seemed worried and even a bit regretful that they’d begun to get in his head the way they had. They knew him better than anyone, and Romero suspected they’d begun to get nervous about what might really happen if anything they’d insinuated was actually true. They’d since all but stopped making any remarks, except once in a while to remind him that it was normal to feel as if maybe something had changed in his marriage because something had. She’d gone back to work after years of being home, and that was huge. Of course things were going to feel different. It was to be expected but nothing to freak out about.
One thing that hadn’t changed was their lovemaking. If anything, he’d noticed it intensified lately. When he told her their marathons nights had to happen more often, he’d been optimistically realistic. Yes, he wanted them more often, but he hadn’t expec
ted it to really happen. Not only were they happening more often, even the quickies were up too. They’d even pulled a fast one at Manny and Max’s when the kids and his uncles were engrossed a video game. Romero and Izzy had snuck off together to the upstairs bathroom, and it’d been her idea!
He’d been nervous as shit that the kids or his uncles would notice them gone, so it was a fast and dirty one against the bathroom door, but it was still hot.
His mind had just gone back to thinking of Izzy and how she still hadn’t called back. The phone rang to his utter relief before he could give it another infuriating thought, and it was Izzy.
“Hey, babe,” he answered, the smile replacing his frown.
“Oh my God,” she gushed. “That was so incredibly thrilling.”
“What was?” he asked as he felt his smile morph right back into that galling frown.
“I finally got the nerve to give an entire lecture on my own today. It’s why I couldn’t answer your call.” He could practically hear her huge smile, and he tried to be happy for her—he should be. “I’ve told you about the lectures I’ve done with Elliot before. He’d hand it over to me and I’d take over a part of it for him, but this time it was all me from beginning to end, and I had everyone hanging on my every word. They were taking notes furiously.”
She went on for a bit, and Romero listened and actually began to smile as he sat back and listened to his excited wife. It was bittersweet. He loved hearing her so happy, but at the same time, any hope he had that she might decide to hold off on her career and have another baby any time soon was losing ground with every animated word out of her mouth.
Almost as if she’d read his mind, she added. “I can’t see myself doing that every day though. As thrilling as it was, it was equally mentally exhausting. I worked on that lecture for over a week too. Elliot does at least one of these a day.” She laughed softly. “I mean I suppose like with anything else practice makes perfect and I could eventually get used to doing that. It’s what Elliot says anyway, but I don’t know. I think he’s just naturally brilliant. It’s what I always thought of most of my college professors. It’s almost as if it’s something you’re either born to do or not. After today, I’m not sure I am.”