It was still like a stake in his heart. That’s what it felt like, the unwelcome knowledge that some other man had been intimate with her. It wasn’t just about the sex, although the thought of another man touching her as he had colored his vision with a red haze. Sex wasn’t the same thing as love; he knew that better than anyone.
No, it was the idea that she had cared for another man enough to marry him that cut him up inside. To give to another that which he craved so fiercely.
But in his heart, he knew that wasn’t completely true. Mary had never submitted to another man as wholly and completely as she had with him – hadn’t she told him that much? Which meant that maybe, just maybe, Lexi was right.
Damn it. He had to see her. He had to look in her eyes and hear her say that she wanted him, only him. That what she had before wasn’t the same as what she had with him. Perhaps it was selfish and unfair of him to expect to hear it, but there it was.
Aidan stood up suddenly and had to grab his desk when he felt a sudden wave of dizziness. Just how many drinks had he had?
He sank back into his chair. Was this what he had to look forward to without Mary in his life? Hitting the Scotch in the middle of the day? Not eating? Not sleeping? Withdrawing from his family and friends? Feeling sorry for himself?
It was like New Year’s Eve all over again, but a hundred times worse.
Except that night, Mary had saved him. Despite the fact that she didn’t know him from Adam. Despite the fact that he was drunk and showed incredibly poor judgment. Despite the fact that the car he was driving was one step away from being sold for scrap.
Aidan dropped his head into his hands. God, what she must have thought of him! And she had still taken him home. Mary, while kind and compassionate, was not the sort of woman to do something so reckless. She must have gone against every ounce of common sense she had for him that night.
Why? What had she seen in him? Had she, on some subconscious level, recognized him as her croie even then?
She had taken him into her home without question. Cared for him. Fed him. Given him two of the most glorious nights of his life by surrendering herself to him. Hell. She’d shown an unbelievable amount of faith in him; even now he had trouble wrapping his mind around that.
And what had he done? He’d ignored all of that and dropped her like a rotten sack of potatoes the moment he discovered something from her past. It wasn’t even something bad. She’d been married. Years before they’d ever met. And he’d treated it like some horrible betrayal.
And he hadn’t exactly been honest with her, had he? He hadn’t gotten around to telling her exactly who and what he was. If anyone had a right to call foul based on sins of omission, it was Mary.
He glanced at the calendar. February 16th. Two days after Valentine’s Day.
With a snort he remembered the grand plans he’d had for the holiday. If he hadn’t gone snooping and found that damn box, he and Mary would probably still be celebrating in a bed somewhere. Except she wouldn’t be completely naked. She’d be wearing his ring.
Aidan picked up his phone and dialed Mary’s cell. She must have turned it off; it went right to voicemail. “Mary, it’s Aidan. I’d really like to talk to you. Please, call me.”
Unwilling to give up just yet, Aidan dialed her house phone. It rang twice before someone picked up. “Hello?”
The voice on the other end wasn’t Mary’s.
Thinking that in his distraction he’d thumbed the wrong number, Aidan apologized and hung up. When he redialed, however, the same voice answered. A male voice.
“Hello?”
“I’d like to speak with Mary, please.” It took every bit of self-control he had not to throw the phone against the wall and smash it into a thousand pieces. Was he so easily replaced? Had this guy fucked up like he had, and Mary felt the need to care for him, too? Or was he the ex that Aidan hated so passionately without ever having met?
“Mary’s not here. Can I take a message?”
Aidan paused. “Why are you in Mary’s house if she’s not there?”
“I’m dog sitting.”
“Why does Max need a sitter? Where’s Mary?”
The easy-going voice on the other end hardened. “Who is this?”
“Aidan Harrison. Where is Mary?” he repeated.
“Aidan Harrison,” the man said, his voice growing noticeably cooler. “Yeah, she told me about you. What do you want?”
Aidan wondered exactly what Mary had said. Judging by the ice in the guy’s tone, it wasn’t anything overly flattering. “I want to speak to Mary.”
“Well, she’s not here.”
“Yes, so you’ve said.” Aidan reached deep for patience. “Who are you, anyway?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m Andrew.”
Aidan searched his memory for the familiar name. “You own the flower shop with her.”