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dial?”
    “Shooter…” Wes’s tone was full of warning.
    “What? She decided to break it off in Atlanta. You weren’t drunk then, were you, darlin’?” Shooter touched her knee. Her legs fell apart as she imagined his hand reaching higher. She needed to make this call and now.
    “No, I wasn’t. Now hush. I’m calling.”
    “What time is it in London?” Shooter whispered.
    “Not any time you’d want your drunk fiancé to call and break up with you, I’m sure,” Wes answered.
    Maryann waved her hand at them. “Shh. It’s ringing.”
    Now that she was set on doing it, she began to feel a little sick to her stomach. Then again, that could be the combination of the all-you-can-eat barbecue and too many big red plastic cups full of mysteriously strong drinks.
    The ringing halted as Robert answered the phone. “It’s about bloody time you called to tell me you arrived.”
    That was a lovely way to answer the phone. “I did call. I tried the office and your secretary said you’d called in sick. I tried your cell a few times and it was always off. I left a message.”
    “Oh, uh, yeah. I didn’t feel well and called in.”
    She was drunk, but she still had enough wits—and nerve—to try and catch Robert in his lies. She hoped her acting skills weren’t diminished by the alcohol. “I’m sorry. I guess that means you had to cancel that big meeting because you were sick.”
    “Uh, yeah. I did. Real pain that was. Have to reschedule that.” He hesitated just a bit and Maryann realized exactly how often he did that. How many lies had he told her?
    “Look, Robert. I know. I know you disappear from the office for two hours every day. I know you had no meeting scheduled yesterday. I even know there were no bleedin’ dodgy sandwiches.”
    “What’s all this with the sandwich?” Shooter whispered.
    Wes shushed him as Maryann continued. “I know you’re probably seeing someone else and you know what, I don’t care. I’m done. We’re done. I don’t want to marry you.”
    She expected a denial, a lie, even anger at her accusation. Something typical of Robert. What she got was dead silence for what seemed like forever, then he let out a loud breath.
    “I’m sorry, Maryann. I should have broken it off with you myself.” When Robert finally spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically apologetic.
    “Why didn’t you?”
    “Because she’s married. I thought as long as she and I couldn’t be together, I might as well stay with you.”
    Maryann was gobsmacked. Robert couldn’t even act honorably in his indiscretions. It didn’t matter. She was done. “I’ll move out when I get back.”
    “No, you keep the apartment. I’ll start moving out today.”
    “How can you find a place—” she began to ask, and then it hit her. He already had another place. It was probably where he met her every day. It would be far cheaper than renting a hotel room for two hours daily week in and week out. “You truly are a git, Robert.”
    She flipped the phone shut and sat in stunned silence.
    In the dim quiet of the truck, as Maryann tried to absorb what Robert was and had always been, Wes’s cell phone rang, blaringly loudly.
    He cursed under his breath and juggled the steering wheel and his phone, finally answering it on the second ring. “I’m on my way, Ellen.”
    Wes paused and Maryann could hear the soft faraway sound of Ellen’s voice through the earpiece, though she couldn’t understand the words.
    “Okay… Yeah, we’re still out with her… See you home later then.” Wes flipped the phone shut and shoved it into his shirt pocket. He glanced at her. “She got someone at work to change the tire for her. You okay?”
    “Did you hear it all? Robert as well?”
    Wes grimaced. “Yeah. Sorry. You okay?”
    “I’m all right. It’s a bit of a relief actually, knowing the truth.”
    “If he wasn’t across an ocean, you know he’d be facing us right about now and paying for what he did to you.” For the