She could guess the reason now.
“Where were you last night, Ted?”
“I stayed in the cabin at the lake.”
“And you didn’t think to call and let us—the kids and me—know that?”
He didn’t answer, but shrugged out of the jacket and tossed it onto a rattan chair. “We need to talk, Rachel.”
“Was Francine with you at the cabin?”
“For a while. Then I took her home.” He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I apologize for not calling. I should have. I thought it was for the best last night…now that you know, I mean. I figured you’d need some time to come to terms with—”
“With the fact that my husband is a liar and a cheat?” She set her coffee down before he could see her unsteady hands. “After eighteen years, it takes more than a few hours to come to terms with something like that, Ted,” she said bitterly.
“I didn’t plan this, Rachel, I swear to God.” He eased himself down onto the chair. “And neither did Francine. I can’t explain it, how one day we were just friends, and then…the next thing we knew, it was something else. It just…happened. She and I—”
“It just happened that both of you ignored sacred vows? It just happened that you schemed and planned ways to sneak around? It just happened that you forgot what was at stake for you, the father of two children?”
“I know it sounds bad.” With his gaze fixed on his coffee mug, he shook his head. “I don’t expect you to understand, but what we need to do now is figure out how best to handle it.”
Rachel sat gingerly on the edge of the rattan settee. She was thinking back to the countless times they’d been together with the Daltons, two couples, compatible, friends as well as business associates. “How long has this been going on? How long have the two of you been sleeping together?”
Ted turned his face away, flushing with discomfort. “I don’t see any point in going down that road, Rachel.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “You don’t see the point? You tell me you’re in love with another woman and you can’t help yourself, but I’m not supposed to ask whether or not you were having sex with her at the same time you’ve been having sex with me? Then let me put it this way, Ted. Either you answer that question or this conversation is over and any hope you had that we can—” she used her fingers as quote marks “‘figure out how best to handle it’ is zero. So I ask again, how long have you been sleeping with her?”
“A year,” he replied tightly.
A year. Shocked, she stood up quickly and moved across the room. She and Ted hadn’t made love often lately, but they had certainly not given up sex altogether. Now she wondered how she could have been unaware that his heart wasn’t in it. Had he been imagining Francine as his partner? She was sickened at the thought.
“You say you spent the night at our lake house thinking,” she said, her tone quiet and just a bit unsteady. “You said we needed to discuss how to handle…it. I need to know what we’re to handle, the aftermath of your affair or a divorce?”
“It’s not that simple, Rachel.”
“Why not? The way I see it, there are only two options. You end the affair and we’ll see if it’s possible to save our marriage. Or, you continue the affair and I file for a divorce.” Her heart was pounding. Was this the end? Could he really be serious?
“I don’t want to give her up, Rachel. I can’t give her up.”
She stared at him. So his desire for Francine was that overwhelming. “Then you want a divorce.” White-hot pain settled in her chest. Rachel tried to imagine being so enthralled by passion that Nick and Kendall didn’t matter. Or being able to ignore her marriage vows when it was convenient. But she simply couldn’t.
“I thought we’d try a separation.” He rose and went to stand at the glass wall looking out. “Like I said, it’s not as simple considering the circumstances. There’s the practice. And Walter…Walter doesn’t know yet.”
“Yet?”
“Francine plans to tell him.”
“When?”
“When the time is right.”
Rachel laughed bitterly. “Would the time have been right for you if I hadn’t surprised you at lunch yesterday?”
“We knew we were on borrowed time,” Ted said, turning back. “What I’m asking for now is just that…some time. Let me try to figure out the best way to handle this. Hell, Rachel, I spent the whole night worrying about what to tell you, what—”
“After having sex with Francine, I assume.”
“—what to say to the kids,” he plowed on doggedly, “whether to move out, wondering what Walter will do when he’s told. It’s going to be a big mess. I don’t have to tell you that.”
“No, you don’t have to tell me that,” she repeated. “And as for Walter, I can guess what his reaction will be. He’s twenty years older than Francine and tends to be possessive. If you recall, she was married when they met. She got a divorce to marry Walter. He’s crazy about her. He’s an old-fashioned guy. He likes the idea that she belongs to him. He’s not going to take this lying down.”
Ted shrugged. “What can he do? She doesn’t love him anymore.”
“Oh, she loves you now?”
He looked her in the eye. “Is that so hard to believe?”
Was it? Was he saying he felt unloved by Rachel? Had they drifted into the familiar rut of married couples who took each other for granted? Did she no longer see Ted as sexy and desirable? Was it her fault that he’d looked for someone who did see him that way? But…Francine?
“How long will it be,” she asked him, “once the two of you finally get together, that she gets bored with you as she apparently has with Walter and begins looking for someone new?”
“That won’t happen.”
“Really.”
“Really.” After a moment, he sighed. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
Their gazes held, Ted’s defensive and stubborn, Rachel’s filled with disbelief and disgust. Then the moment was broken by the sound of the doorbell. But before either could react, it rang again. And then again.
Ted swore, glancing at his watch as Rachel hurried away to answer. “Who the hell can that be so early?”
Before she reached the foyer, the sound of the chimes gave way to the crash of a fist pounding on the door. At the peephole now, Rachel peered out, her eyes going wide with dismay. Walter Dalton. Quickly, she turned the deadbolt and, before opening the door, said to Ted, who’d followed on her heels, “It’s Walter, and if I were you, I’d get ready for a very dicey encounter.”
To Rachel, Walter Dalton had always looked more like a boxer than a physician. He was fifty-two years old and no more than five eight or nine in his stocking feet, with heavy shoulders and a neck thick from his years as an athlete in high school. But his short, iron-gray haircut and pugnacious features belied a gentle manner that sick children seemed to sense instinctively. There was nothing gentle about his demeanor now. Just the opposite.
He looked beyond Rachel to Ted. “What the hell’s going on with you and my wife, Ted?” he growled.
Rachel glanced quickly to check that no neighbors were out, then reached for Walter’s arm and pulled him over the threshold. “Come in, Walter,” she said, trying for a calm tone. “I’ve got fresh coffee in the kitchen. The kids are still asleep.”
“I don’t want any goddamned coffee. I want some answers.” He lowered his head on his neck and looked narrow-eyed at