“Wait.” He shook his head, clearing his confusion. “What’s going on?”
“Brock knows about us. I don’t know how he found out, but he knows.”
“Good, he knows. Now he’ll give you the divorce.”
They were sitting together in the living room of his simple but luxurious condo, surrounded by browns and blacks. His furniture was overstuffed and comfortable, made for the consummate sports watcher, and Mark loved them all, finding his glory living in a lively sports town like Detroit where every sporting event from kid’s soccer to the NFL was celebrated daily. They were drinking wine under soft lights, and Erika had known as soon as she arrived he was a man with things on his mind, ready to take their relationship to the next level even if she was hesitant.
“He’s still not signing the divorce papers. He wants to move back in.”
“He wants you back?”
She shook her head, not answering because she wasn’t certain what Brock wanted.
He refilled her glass before his own. “He’s playing games with you. The man walks out without any explanation and he thinks he can come back without one. Tell him he’s right about us and divorce his ass. Take him to court and sue the bastard. Whatever you have to do to get rid of him.”
His light features grew dark, and she felt dwarfed by his height, which matched her own, but projected on a larger scale representing his anger. She watched him above the rim of her glass, surprised by his hostility. He’d always been gentle and kind, never speaking negatively of anyone. This sudden flare of aggression made her uneasy. She wondered if she really knew him. After what Brock had done—leaving her without warning or apparent cause—she began to doubt her ability to read people, which left her vulnerable to the world’s mercy.
“I can’t sue Brock,” she told Mark.
“Why not?”
“It’s too complicated with us all working together and his mother living at the house. It would get messy, possibly affecting all of us.” She paused, taking a sip of her wine for courage. “And seeing you makes it more complicated. We all work under the supervision of the same medical director. If Brock tells anyone we’re seeing each other while I’m still married, I don’t know what the repercussions will be.”
“Brock is too arrogant to tell anyone his wife is moving on without his approval.”
“You don’t know him well enough to criticize him.”
“I know his kind. He didn’t know what a good woman he had until he lost you. Now he sees how much I appreciate you and he wants you back. Don’t fall for it.” He set his glass down on the coffee table with a thud. “Are you defending what he did to you now?”
“No.”
“It sounds as if you are.” His anger flashed again, his features hardening as he struggled to keep his fists open, exercising his fingers until he was able to calm himself.
“I can’t defend Brock because I don’t know why he did what he did. I’d never feel leaving without a reason is the right thing to do to anyone you’re in a relationship with—especially your wife. I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you if I believed otherwise.”
The caring Mark she’d grown fond of returned. “You’re protecting me?”
“I’m looking out for both of us. Seeing each other is too risky right now. You’ve been at Mission Hospital less than a year. Five years into practice, I’m still considered a new doctor by many of the physicians at the hospital. I don’t want to lose my clinic because I couldn’t separate it from my personal life.”
He quietly contemplated what was at stake.
“Brock’s mother still lives with me, so it’s not like I can have you over for dinner. And I have to settle this with him—find out why he won’t give me a divorce. I’m sorry, Mark, it’s just too much going on right now for me to start another relationship. It isn’t fair to you.”
“I was the one holding you when he left you hurt and confused.”
“I won’t ever forget it.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I won’t let you do it, Erika. We can back off a little and be more discreet, if you want. But I won’t stop seeing you because Brock is making waves. He was bound to find out about us, and now he has. He walked away when things got rough. I’m not going anywhere.”
Erika was shooting her best game of golf ever, but she wasn’t enjoying one minute of it. She’d decided to hit the greens early with a six-o’clock tee time. She planned to concentrate on her swing and gain a few yards. The weather was sunny and warm, and she lavished in the scenery provided by the lush pine trees and pristine greens. The course was over 5,000 yards of beautiful rolling hills and tree-lined drives. She managed to avoid all the sand traps and water pitfalls, even the infamous ninth-hole pond. She was taking it slow, allowing two other groups to play through.
She had tried to get Brock interested in the sport when they first started dating, but he didn’t take to it. His height made swinging awkward, even with the extended clubs. He was a racketball man. He worked out his frustrations on the court, hitting the ball as hard as he could, running up and down until he was drenched with sweat. She appreciated what the sport did for his body, making it hard and well-toned, but she couldn’t keep up with the pace. They’d agreed they would not share their hobbies.
The one time they’d played together, the ball ricocheted off the wall with the force of a rocket, striking her in the knee and leaving her hobbling for a week. It was her earliest memory of Brock’s tenderness. His handsome features were always knotted in a scowl, causing most to scurry away when they saw him coming. The first time she’d seen him, she’d glimpsed the sensitivity he closely guarded, but he didn’t expose his true nature easily. When the ball smacked her, her knee buckled and she went down on the court. She heard his racket hit the floor a second after he arrived at her side. He lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the car and driving her to the nearest Urgent Care Center. With them both being physicians, the exam was unnecessary, but he was so worried—pacing the waiting room and asking the nurse every five minutes how long it would be before she was seen by the doctor—she didn’t argue about seeking medical help. He couldn’t apologize enough, or do enough to make it up to her. He lavished her with attention, stopping by her place every day after work to feed her and make sure she had everything she needed.
She witnessed his softer side, and she needed that man to reappear long enough to explain what was going on in her marriage.
“How’d you do?” Ginnifer asked when she joined Erika for lunch.
She’d introduced Ginnifer to the sport during a conference held at a PGA golf course resort. Ginnifer had taken to it immediately but was impatient with learning the nuances. She played for fun, not at the professional level Erika enjoyed. Regardless, they met at the private course once a week during the warm months for nine holes of golf and lunch at the clubhouse.
“Came in under par without a handicap.”
“And you look cute as hell too. Bravo.”
“Couldn’t get out of bed this morning?”
“Frick nor Frack wanted to let this warm body go.” She grinned, shimmying her chest.
“You’re outrageous.”
She shrugged, pausing to sip her raspberry iced tea. “Bradley came on to me again, thank you very much.”
“Me? I didn’t encourage him.”
“You got stuck in the room with a schizophrenic waving a scalpel around. You know he must have loved getting the call. Can you imagine his face?”
Ginnifer had ordered their usual—turkey on rye with side salads and raspberry iced