With her ex, there had been times when she was away for work, and he’d go quiet on her for weeks. Eventually, it just became a thing to adapt to. To wait out. Was Maxwell the same way? Were all men like this?
She blew out another frustrated puff of air, stepping back to admire the sparkling stove.
“Touchdown!” shrieked Cameron from the living room. She peeked into the room to check on them. All was well—they were still snacking on their cheese crackers from earlier, happy as clams with the blocks and cars and general mess of toddler life around them.
Jill returned to the kitchen, trying to find another appliance that she could use to relieve her frustration. The sink. That needed scrubbing down. Along with her memories. She got to work trying to clean Maxwell’s big deep sink, finding strange remnants of toddler-related crud there. And sure, she could hire this out. Maxwell had a cleaning lady come twice a month. But Jill needed the distraction—and the chance to focus.
Because the other thing that freaked her out about Maxwell’s shift of behavior was that, if she went by what she’d learned with her ex, it meant only one thing.
Maxwell was cheating on her.
When Jill had discovered her ex-husband’s infidelities, she’d found a slew of supporting evidence: his long weekend “work trips” that coincided with hotel rooms on the personal credit card. Extravagant purchases that were traced back to diamonds and necklaces for his mistresses. Even cosigning on a personal loan for a woman named Marcy.
What if this “work review” with James was just the one shot Maxwell had seen to take his cheerleader girlfriend out for dinner?
Her stomach plummeted to the ground as she finished up the sink.
You’re being ridiculous.
She tested the thought out enough times that the words stopped making sense. After all, when would Maxwell have time for a mistress?
But she’d told herself the same thing countless times while struggling with her husband’s strange behavior, back before it had been verified. How could a busy surgeon have time for a mistress? She’d asked herself the question ad nauseam. Well, that busy surgeon had found time for not just a mistress, but multiple.
She was sure an NFL star had plenty of tricks up his sleeve.
The evening ground on, Jill feeling thoroughly dour and negative after her kitchen clean-up session. Food arrived, which turned into more of an emotional binge-fest than a celebratory family dinner. The kids loved the pulled pork, and she made sure to save a little bit of everything for whenever Maxwell chose to show up.
It wasn’t until an emotionally taxing few hours later that Maxwell finally stepped through the front door. Jill already had the kids upstairs for their baths, and when Maxwell joined them, the kids went wild.
“Touchdown!” Shelley screamed.
Jill laughed, shielding herself from the bubbly spray of water the kids launched. Maxwell pressed kisses to the tops of their heads, including Jill’s.
“Welcome home,” she said, avoiding his gaze. She wanted to focus on the task and get out of here. “There’s dinner in the fridge. I ordered in.”
“I already ate,” he said, still sounding weary. But was it just a front? Her ex had perfected the art of sounding bone-tired when really he’d probably been mid-coitus with his mistress of the week.
“Oh? Where’d you go?”
“Ernie’s,” Maxwell said.
That was odd. More alarm bells went off inside her. “I thought you said you did game review.”
“Yeah, well, some of the guys were starving, and they invited us out.”
The perfect excuse. And at this point, after all these hours of mental jumping jacks, she was tired. “Well, if you need a snack…it’s there.”
Maxwell helped dry the kids off and get them corralled into their pajamas and into the bedroom. He sat in the armchair in the corner of the room, eyes drooping as Jill read through the usual round of books. And by the time the kids were in their cribs and the lights switched off, Jill knew she had to leave—now.
They stepped into the hallway, leaving the door cracked a few inches. She looked up at Maxwell, but she couldn’t see the usual warmth and tenderness that she’d grown used to. All she could see was the web of lies she feared he was weaving. The invisible kisses that lingered from whatever girlfriend he’d actually taken out that night.
“I gotta run,” she said, her voice sticking to her throat. At this point, she wasn’t sure if she felt guilty, angry, betrayed, or just in over her head. The only clear thing was that she needed to leave. “You need anything before I go?”
“You don’t want to stay?”
She grimaced. Was that hollowness in his voice from the exhaustion, or was he just bad at pretending he wanted her here? “I’ve got an insane day tomorrow. I just need to go decompress and get my head on right for the clinic.”
He nodded, and she hugged him briefly. He tried to kiss her, but she offered her cheek, his lips missing her mouth.
“See you soon,” she forced out, then hurried down the stairs as fast as she could.
Running both from the demons of her past and the little voice that told her to crawl into bed with Maxwell and see if they couldn’t make things right.
16
Another week, another win.
Time was slipping like sand through Maxwell’s fingers as the season wore on. And one of the casualties of the intense schedule was alone time with Jill.
After another Sunday win, one of his teammates suggested a Monday evening outing for the crew. Nothing wild like that engagement party had been, but something to celebrate the amazing season, the upcoming playoffs. Where they could all let off a little steam, drink their one beer, and head home for a good rest.
Maxwell agreed, partly because his teammates were beginning to tease him that the triplets were running his free time. Which was true—it had to be true, if he wanted to see them at all—but he thought the adults-only night out was something that would do him and Jill good.
He felt like he’d barely seen her for the past few weeks. And between her dodging intimacy and spending two nights a week at her own place, he could tell there was a rift growing between them. He didn’t know how to fix it, either. Or if Jill even wanted to.
“Hello, fam,” he crooned as he found Jill and the kids on the back patio, soaking up the late evening. Dusk had already fallen, but the tiki torches were lit, the patio lights casting a relaxed, amber glow. The kids were happily playing in the big play cabin he’d recently ordered for them. They stopped what they were doing when they saw him, shrieking and running toward him.
“Touchdown!” shouted Cameron and Shelley in turn. He laughed, sitting down in a lounge chair so they could attack him properly. Jill smiled over at them from her post on a lounge chair across the deck. She was her now-usual chipper but distant self. He’d stopped trying to shower her with kisses, wanting to play it safe by gauging her own interest in their relationship. Because what if he pushed too far? Was he misreading her altogether? Everything felt like question marks these days, and he wanted to end that. Maybe this night out could be the end to the questions.
“Still no ‘touchdown’ from Kevin, huh?” he asked, smiling over at her.
“Nope. But I’ve been working on it.”