Chapter 6
Jillian
Tourists had already begun to line up outside the Perk Up & Read when we arrived.
Maybe I had been wrong to worry about Frankie. He had been a little distracted recently, not as attentive as he usually was.
But today, he was all smiles and affection.
And the way he had woken me up! Burrowing under the covers and between my legs to pleasure me in lengthy, leisurely strokes, like he could’ve spent all day down there.
I needed to just shake off this jealousy and move on.
I was sharing breakfast biscuits with Athena when Cash Alden walked in.
He was a tall, dark-haired, rugged man with craggy features and big, rough hands.
We’d gone on a few dates in college, but they had never gone anywhere. He was too serious for me and I had a massive crush I couldn’t shake on the laid-back surfer in my American History class.
“What can I get you this morning?” I asked cheerfully.
But his face looked serious, and he scratched his dark beard with a big hand.
“Jillian, I need to talk to you.”
Shit. My heart started to pound. What could this be about?
Frankie was over on the other side of the café loading up our tray of breakfast pastries.
It could not be anything to do with my husband.
He’d been with me all evening. Snoring beside me in bed all night.
Well. . .except for when he’d had to run back to pick up whatever it was he’d left at the pub.
Had he taken a long time? I didn’t remember. It always took Frankie a long time to run any errands. He was so friendly they always took him a while because he had to chat with everyone. . .
“Can it wait—" I asked weakly, feeling my heart plummet, unable to face the possibilities.
“It’s important.”
“All right,” I said, following him out.
“What is Frankie playing at?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean what is going on with him and Christabelle?”
Fear seized me.
“They’re just friends.”
But he shook his head.
“People are starting to talk. About how he is with her. Like he can’t stay away from her. I’m worried about you.”
“Thank you,” I said, forcing my voice to be firm, when really I wanted to burst into tears. You shouldn’t listen to gossip, Cash.”
He looked unconvinced.
“If you need anything, anything at all, just message me. Anytime.”
“All right,” I whispered.
But despite the brave face I had put on for Cash, I felt sick all day, could barely concentrate on the customers, or Mrs. Greenberg when she came in with her usual tricky order.
Usually she came into the coffee shop with a salty disposition, asking for some kind of drink I’d never heard of before to trip Frankie up, but today I just gave her a lavender latte, since that was her favorite anyway, instead of indulging in whatever she suggested.
Cash was wrong. He had to be.
Christabelle was only in part time, but even though she wasn’t scheduled to work today, her presence seemed to hang over the coffee shop, cloud every conversation with my husband.
“Let’s get some fish and chips,” Frankie suggested at lunch. “Want to run out and get it or stay here and add up the cash register?”
“I’ll run and get it,” I said, “I need a break from the cash register.”
And from the constant worry.
Was my husband lying to me? Should I confront him?
I was so frazzled I got in line before realizing I had forgotten to bring my wallet.
Damn! Where was my mind today?
I tried to shake off this funk as I hurried back, but when I reached the entrance to Perk Up & Read, the front door was locked.
What the hell? Why was this door locked? It was never locked. I fished around in my belt for the keys and inserted the big, brass one in the lock.
I jerked the door open.
“Frankie?”
Then I froze.
My husband was leaned back against the prep table in the kitchen, his eyes closed and mouth hanging open.
Christabelle was kneeling in front of him, down on the ground and looking up. His hand was buried in her blonde curls.
And it was the most painful, awful sight I’d ever seen, the bright curls wrapped around his strong fingers.
Then she turned around with an audible pop.
And I saw his cock slide, wet, sticky, and glistening, out of her mouth.