Chapter 18 #4
I grin at him. "I was somewhat preoccupied at the time, Cole." My gut flips, remembering. "You know…the giant cock in my mouth and all. Hard to pay attention to anything else." I lick my lips, nibble my lower lip. "Tell me again."
"You. Always you. I couldn't help it, even though I felt guilty.
Like I was using you. I thought of you naked.
That was enough by itself if I'd gone long enough.
You riding me. You sucking me off. Dancing for me.
Always you. No one else could ever…" he shakes his head.
"No one else has ever been able to compare to you. "
I open his photos and swipe down, scrolling up through his photos.
Mostly him and the guys in various places and times.
Photos of documents. His truck, freshly washed and waxed and looking mighty fine.
A selfie he'd taken in a public bathroom of some kind, shirtless, facing away from the mirror, taking the shot over his shoulder to show off a wicked sunburn.
"So what was your idea that involves my phone?" he asks.
"Oh. Right." I open his browser and log in to my iCloud account through the external website and bring up my photos.
I, too, have a hidden folder. I bring it up, but pause before clicking the button to open the folder.
"These go back to the earliest days of our relationship. I…he requested them all the time."
"Of course he did."
I blink at him. "Wouldn't you? Haven’t you?”
He tips his head to one side. “No, I haven’t, and no, I wouldn’t.
I feel intensely uncomfortable asking for certain things.
I'll never, ever ask you to send me a nude. If you did so on your own, I’d be over the fucking moon to receive it, and obviously there’s no possibility I’d even look at it around anyone else, and it'd be in the hidden folder. "
He covers the phone screen with one big hand. "You don't need to show me anything. You didn’t take those for me."
"Cole, Jesus, you're too good. He doesn't deserve them." I gnaw on my lip, eying him. "Don't tell on me, Mr. Policeman, but when I found those nudes of his nineteen-year-old girlfriend, I may or may not have gone through his phone and deleted any spicy pictures of me. Nudes, lingerie, all of them."
"Smart girl," Cole says.
I move his hand. "I kept them on my phone and put them in that folder because I…
I guess I just like having a reminder of the old me, of who I've been and what I've looked like through the years.
And a lot of them I worked pretty hard on.
Lots of takes, lots of digital editing. And I think I look pretty good in some of them. "
Cole keeps his eyes fixed firmly on mine. "Lacey, you don't have to—"
I clap a hand over his mouth. "Cole, you are your own worst cock-blocker, you know that?"
"I just don't want you to—"
I bite his lower lip with a grin. "Shush. I know, Cole. You're an honorable man. You're selfless. You're considerate. You're respectful. I just have one question for you."
He gives me a long look. "And that would be what?"
"Do you trust me?"
The look he gives me says everything, even as he remains silent, allowing his expression to speak for him—he did just give me his phone code and ATM PIN.
"Then trust me to know my own mind," I say.
"You've said you don't know what you want," Cole points out.
"From life. I don't know what my role is, what my career or next phase of life should be. Do I want to get back into law? Something else? But what? Yes, Cole, there's a lot of unknown in my life. Like pretty much everything is one giant question mark."
I tap the "View hidden photos" button and a few dozen thumbnails pop up.
The first and oldest photo is the first spicy selfie I ever took, and I never actually sent it to Eddie; I was too scared, nervous, and insecure.
I'm…what…?…Twenty-three? Yes, twenty-three.
I met Eddie five years after I moved downstate—I did an accelerated program that let me study for my bachelor's and JD at the same time, so I completed my law degree in six years, which I'm especially proud of.
Point is, I'm twenty-three, and about three and a half years postpartum.
With a deep breath, I push the phone to Cole. My heart hammers with nerves, even though I know he will react positively. "This was the first one I ever took. I never sent it to him, so you’re the first and only person to see it."
Cole stares into my eyes for a long time, assessing, searching. And then he finally allows his gaze to drop to the screen, and his eyes widen.
"Holy shit, Lace." His eyes darken with lust. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."
My stomach flips. "Thank you. I was too scared to send it to him.
I'd never even tried taking a selfie of that kind before, and I had no idea what I was doing. He asked for one. We’d only been dating a few months at the time.
I hadn't even slept with him yet." I let out a disgusted scoff.
"Should've been a major red flag, but I was a scared, lonely, sad, desperate young girl with no self-esteem.
I just wanted someone to like me, and his wanting a nude was validation I desperately needed. "
"I understand, Lacey," Cole says, his knuckles brushing my cheek.
"I want you to know very clearly that I am not judging you for your relationship with Eddie. You did what you had to do to survive. You were alone, making the best choices you could at the time. No one, and I mean fucking no one who wasn’t there in your life gets to say a single goddamn word about the choices you made, or why.
Not even me." He taps the underside of my chin, and I lift my eyes to his.
"That includes you, sweetheart. Give yourself some grace.
It didn't work out how you wanted, but that's not your fault.
Maybe there were signs of what kind of person Eddie Fascinelli was, but guys like him hide their inner monster and lure innocent girls like you with money and charm.
He was a grown man who was, what…ten, twelve years older than you? "
"Thirteen," I murmur.
"Thirteen. He manipulated you. Coerced, lied, and hid his true nature from you. You were a victim, sweetheart."
I shake my head. "Perhaps at first. But I saw early on in our marriage who he was.
I watched him blatantly hit on a waitress less than a month after our wedding.
I found out later that he went back to that restaurant and fucked her.
" I roll to my back, growling an annoyed sound.
"FUCK! I don’t want to talk about my stupid goddamned ex-fucking-husband anymore.
I'm sick of him. I'm sick of talking about him.
Sick of thinking about him. Sick of thinking and talking about and remembering all the ways and reasons I should've run for the fucking hills and didn't. He was never faithful to me, not for a single consecutive month of our entire eight years of marriage and ten years of being together.
I saw all the signs from the get-go. The late nights at work all the time—not unusual for a lawyer, but it was excessive with him.
The being cagey about his phone. Coming home wearing a different button-down than he left the house in.
He always claimed it was because he sweated a lot in court and kept clean shirts in his office.
But in the rest of life, he wasn't a very sweaty person.
He only changed his shirts so I wouldn't smell perfume or find lipstick on his collar. "
"Can I ask a dumb question?"
I snicker. "Sure. This oughta be good."
"How does one get lipstick on a collar? You see that in movies, but I assumed it was just movie bullshit.
Like, the kissing of necks, for one thing.
I've kissed necks, but to date, no woman has ever kissed my neck or anywhere that you might even conceivably get lipstick on a collar.
Maybe it's just because I don't wear business suits. I dunno."
I cackle. "You know, that's a good point?
I'm guessing it was probably more the perfume.
His side pieces were usually the type to wear cheap perfume.
" I let out a sigh. "But then, so was I, when he met me.
And, in fact, the only expensive perfume I've ever worn, he bought for me.
" I roll back to him, facing him on a diagonal with my chin on his diaphragm; I shove the phone in front of him.
"Stop talking about my brainless, dickless fumble-cunt of an ex-husband and look at my naked selfies, Cole Mannix. "