Chapter 3
I stir uncomfortably, my mind clinging to a troubling dream just as a hand on my face jolts me awake.
“Hey,” Tony says softly, his face hovering above mine. “I’m sorry to wake you.”
I blink, my head swiveling left and right only to refocus on Tony. “You’re dressed? What time is it?”
“It’s early. A little after eight, but I have to get into the office.”
I frown, sliding up in bed and pressing my back against the fabric headboard, taking the sheet with me for comfort as I try to remember what I was dreaming about only to come up empty. Still, I can’t keep the annoyance and hurt from my voice as I say, “It’s Saturday.”
It’s also the first full weekend I’ve had off in I don’t even know how long.
“I know, but we’re working on a big case.”
I sigh, rubbing my hands up and down my face, clearing my head of any residual fogginess. Tony sits on the edge of the bed, taking my hand and pulling it away from my face, linking our fingers together.
“You mad?”
“A little. I was hoping to spend the day with you. I didn’t even hear you come in last night.”
“That’s because when I came home, you were already passed out. I’m all yours tonight and tomorrow,” he promises, his blue eyes regretful, guilty. “I shouldn’t be home too late. I’ll try for four. How’s that? You can take the day for yourself. Go to a yoga class or whatever. You need a break.”
“So do you,” I counter.
He smiles, leaning in and kissing the tip of my nose the way he always does. “Soon. I’m so close to this promotion and once I get it, we’ll have more time for us.”
More time for us. It’s a promise I’ve been clinging to for years now. Both of us have been. My internship was hard on us. My residency is hard on us. His job is hard on us.
But if we can just make it through…
“Okay. But I want a date tonight. A real date.”
He grins, kissing my lips. “You got it. Anywhere you want to go, I’ll take you.” His eyes track down to our joined hands where he gives me a squeeze. “I love you. I don’t deserve you. I know that. But I love you so much.”
Well, now I can’t be mad that he’s working today.
“I love you too.”
He plants another kiss on my nose and then he’s gone, up and out of the room with the sound of our front door shutting behind him seconds later.
I decide there’s no sense moping around and now that I’m awake, I’m awake. Besides, that yoga class he mentioned sounds pretty good and if I move my ass, I can get there in time for the ten o’clock one.
* * *
The city is jam-packed with its typical weekend lunchtime rush. For once, I’m not in a hurry. My yoga class was exactly what I needed and after getting more than eight hours of sleep last night, I feel completely recharged.
The door to my favorite cafe swings open with vigor, practically smashing into someone about to exit. I make my apologies and head up to the counter to order my usual salad and soda and then snag an open table.
The sun shines in through the large picture window, creating a delicious warmth over me as I take a moment to people watch before I start to read over the patient file for Carter’s surgery Monday morning.
The robot. I could practically squeal with excitement.
Not even having to face Carter—who has been doing wild, unfamiliar things to my insides lately—can even wipe the smile from my face.
“Thank you,” I say to the waitress as she sets my food in front of me.
Just as I take the first bite of my salad, my seat is bumped from behind. “Oh, sorry,” the woman apologizes with a warm smile that lights up her honey eyes.
I wave her away. “It’s fine,” I tell her, going back to my lunch and chart reading as she sits with her friend at the neighboring table.
But once she and her friend start talking, I find it futile to focus on anything else.
Partially because they’re uncharacteristically loud for such a small café and partially because of the subject matter.
Now, I’m not typically one to eavesdrop on a conversation that does not involve me, but the way they’re speaking, my proximity, and the discussion make it impossible not to.
“Tell me about the guy you left the bar with last night,” her friend demands with an obvious smile to her voice. “Did you get lucky with him?”
“Yes. Oh my God, Sheri,” the girl who bumped my chair practically squeals in an overexaggerated cadence.
“It was hands down the best sex of my life. I mean, you saw him, right?” I can’t see her friend, but I’m assuming she’s nodding.
“He was so hot,” she goes on. “Older, but hot. And even hotter in bed.”
“Details.” Her friend laughs. “I want every single detail now.”
I do too , I think with an inward smirk as I take another bite of my salad.
“Well,” the girl continues without missing a beat, like the words have been on the tip of her tongue just waiting to spill out.
“We left the bar together, but at first, he said he was just going to make sure I got home okay. So when we pulled up in front of my building, I didn’t expect anything to happen.
” She laughs. “I mean, I hoped it would, but I wasn’t counting on it, you know? ”
“Sure.”
“Anyway, he leaned in and kissed me in the back of the Uber and after that, it didn’t take much to get him upstairs with me. But once we did get upstairs, he was like a totally different man.”
“What do you mean? How so?”
“He ripped off my dress, Sheri. Like into shreds. And then my panties, and before we even got back into my bedroom, his face was between my legs.”
“Holy shit,” her friend chokes. “I am so freaking jealous. I never get men to go down on me. I swear, it’s like they have an aversion or something.”
“Well not this guy,” the girl says. “He got me off twice like that and then we did it three times. Three .” She emphasizes the word. “And all kinds of crazy positions, too.”
Damn. I’m jealous. I continue to stare at my phone, though by this point, I’m not even registering the words on my screen.
“Did he stay the night?”
“No. He said he had to work early today. He left around three or so, but swore that if he could stay, he would have bought me breakfast. Then he kissed me goodbye and left.”
I almost want to snicker at that. I guess I’m too far removed from the dating and one-night stand scene to relate.
A guy saying he’d buy you breakfast doesn’t really seem like it should be the big deal she’s making it out to be.
But maybe I’m wrong. That girl, from the quick glance I got of her, can’t be any older than twenty-four. So maybe I’m just out of my depth here.
“Did he leave you his number at least?” her friend Sheri presses with interest.
“Yes, but I haven’t used it yet. It’s too soon and I don’t want to seem desperate. I figure I’ll text him tomorrow or something and see if he wants to meet up for a drink sometime this week.”
“Good plan. What does he do that he’s working on a Saturday?”
“He’s a lawyer; like all the guys in the bar last night were. They work for some big firm in Back Bay. He’s not a partner yet, but he said he was close. I teased him and said they’d have to add his name to the letterhead once that happens. Parker, Slade, Barker, and Marvelo.”
Marvelo ? My lungs empty.
No. It can’t be. There’s no way.
Before she can say anything else, I find myself on my feet, staring down at her. Her blonde head whips around at my sudden movement and she gives me that smile again. She’s pretty. My mouth opens to speak, but no sound comes out. I don’t even know what to say.
And young. Twenty-four might have been generous.
My mouth opens to speak, but no sound comes out.
“Are you okay?” she asks, but all I can hear is the sound of blood rushing through my ears. My heart is racing out of my chest and my legs feel weak, ready to give out on me any second.
All I can do is shake my head. “I’m sorry, did you just say Marvelo?”
She blinks up at me, surprised, and then blushes as she realizes I overheard her entire conversation. “Um. Yes.” She shifts uncomfortably, glancing over to her friend and then back up to me. “I’m sorry, is there a problem?”
Yes. Yes, there’s a big fucking problem .
I want to say something to her. I want to tell her that the man she had the best sex of her life with is my fiancé. I want to scream at her. Shake her. Pound my fists into her small body.
But I’m rendered helpless, my thoughts chaotic.
Everything blurs and somehow I’m racing from the café out onto the street, my hand pressed to my chest, my thundering heart beneath it. I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe?
Hot tears begin to rain down my face. I can’t stop them. I can’t do anything.
I begin to walk, the motion of the crowd forcing me along like the current in the ocean.
But all I hear in my head, set on blaring repeat, are her explicit descriptions of their night together.
He made her come twice with his mouth. They had sex three times.
They did it in all kinds of positions. He kissed her goodbye before he left.
He gave her his number.
Last night. He did this last night when I was out with my friends. No wonder I didn’t hear him come home. And then he kissed me goodbye this morning. He kissed me goodbye after he kissed her goodbye. He told me he loved me, that fucking son of a bitch.
We’re supposed to go on a date tonight. Would we make love after all the things he did with her the night before?
Tony never gives me oral sex. Not anymore, at least. I think maybe in the three years we’ve been together, he’s done it only a handful of times.
And not since we got engaged. Every time I’ve asked him to do it, he says he’s too tired.
Or too stressed. Or has too much work to get back to. Or that his fucking neck hurts.
He’s filled with a million bullshit excuses.
Same with the crazy positions thing. He doesn’t do those anymore either. Missionary and occasionally me on top. But that’s it.
Our sex life has become decidedly boring and lackluster. And that’s when we can find time to fucking have sex.