“She felt neglected?”
“Yes. So I bought two tickets to the Bahamas, and came home early one afternoon with them to surprise her.” He plucked a piece of packing material off his slacks, studied it as if it were a small nugget. “She was surprised, all right. So was the guy in bed with her.”
“Oh, Lord.” Claire sat heavily on the sofa. “I’m so sorry, Johnny.”
“Don’t be. It was for the best.” He flicked the tiny piece of plastic away, brushed his palms together. “I moved back to Buttonwood, started my own practice and the rest is history.”
“That’s when you and Samantha, er, began your relationship?”
Pursing his lips, he furrowed his brow. “I wouldn’t call it a relationship, exactly, but she’d just experienced yet another emotional breakup with the volatile Mr. Frye, so we were both alone, miserable and in need of comfort. There were no promises made, no pretense of anything beyond what it was—the sharing of two friends who needed each other.”
He sighed, lowered his hand and leaned forward, propping his forearms on his knees. “Both of us understood that what we shared would be temporary. I wasn’t looking for permanence, and Sam had already spent years in a turbulent relationship in which estrangements were as routine as the sunrise, and nearly as frequent. I suppose I shouldn’t have been shocked when I returned from work one evening to find her closet empty except for a note saying she and Frye had reconciled yet again and they were moving to Albuquerque. Apparently, he has family in the area.”
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