CHAPTER FOUR

CAYLEE

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Parking the car outside Scarlett and Cole’s house, I let out a sigh. She’s going to ask about Jake. I told her I wanted to enjoy Trina’s wedding and would tell her everything on Monday.

I now refer to Mondays as Aunty Cay-cay day. I don’t work, and after an hour at the gym and breakfast at my favorite coffee shop, I head over to see Zara, my niece.

I undo my seatbelt, grab my purse and start walking down the path.

What am I going to say? Hey, it’s nothing. I’m a whore and was banging this guy for a few months. Not dating. Just enjoying a variety of late-night orgasms.

Which, given the number of complaints I’ve been making about there not being enough good guys in the world who are marriage-worthy, she might have grounds to judge me.

I can’t expect to be meeting The One if I’m shagging Mr. Wrong.

Scarlett wants the gossip and to understand what Cole, the most protective brother in the history of brothers, is on about.

I’m sure he strained his eyeballs by giving Jake the stink eye all night at the wedding.

I could fudge a story, but Scarlett is my sister-in-law (to be) and she has an uncanny way of getting the truth out of you.

I knock on the door, and it’s ripped open before I get the third knock on wood.

“Thank god. I need to know everything right now,” Scar says, pulling me inside.

Christ.

“It’s not all that interesting,” I admit, kissing her cheek quickly and then heading into the kitchen. As I pour a glass of orange juice, Scar tightens her ponytail with a quick tug and hops up onto one of the stools.

Ready for story time.

“Listen, my life consists of diapers, breastfeeding and stories from the BHS locker room right now. Please save me.”

I laugh.

We both know that’s not completely true. Mom babysat for them on the weekend so she could attend the wedding, and Scarlett looked gorgeous. She and Cole are madly in love, and while they still argue like crazy, it's clearly some kind of foreplay, and that’s all I need to know about that.

They are very focused on Zara.

“Is she down?”

Scar nods and glances quickly at her Apple Watch. “Another fifteen minutes. So, spill.”

I sigh again.

Rounding the kitchen island, I pull out one of the stools and place the orange juice on the table, spinning.

“Fourteen minutes. Jesus. How bad can it be?” Scar kicks me gently with her toe.

“It wasn’t bad, I’m just not proud—”

“Hey, no judgment from me.” She holds up her hands. “If it was some erotic BDSM thing you both had going, albeit from me to—”

I start coughing.

“What? No. Jesus, Scarlett. It wasn’t... well, the sex was amazing, but—”

“Knew it! Tell me everything. Does he have a sex room? Hanging chair thing you fucked on?”

Blink.

“Ever done it on one of those crosses? St Andrew’s Cross. That’s it. How wild would that be? Are they named after a real saint? Man, that’s a bit fucked up, isn’t it?”

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

“I’m really worried about you.”

She keeps kicking her excited feet and giggles, then checks her watch again.

“Thirteen minutes. What else?”

“If you would let me finish a sentence, I could tell you what really happened.” I sip my juice.

She slumps. “Fine, but add in some sex toys or something, even if it’s not true.”

We did use sex toys, but if Scarlett thinks I’m giving her a play-by-play description, she’s about to be twice as disappointed as she is now.

“I met Jake is a bar one night while out with Kathy.”

“Sex club?”

“Jesus.” I rub my forehead. “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but does my brother need to...you know...come home and...”

“I dare you to ring him and offer up the idea.” Scarlett beams.

“Flag that. But no, not a sex club. A normal bar. I took him home—”

“Go Caylee!”

“He leaves afterward.”

“Afterrrr???”

“Sex.”

“You’re boring.” Scarlett climbs off the stool and wanders over to the sofa and sits, putting her feet up. She’s moving closer to the hall so she can hear Zara despite the baby monitor. I’ve seen her do this a few times.

Then she pouts, and it’s clear she’s highly disappointed in the entertainment supplied this morning.

Fair call.

“Well, maybe that’s why he was seeing other women.” I shrug. “I’m boring.”

Scar straightens. “He did what? The cheater!”

“No.” I shake my head. “We weren’t dating. We never dated. It was more of a booty call situation. I don’t know, I was expecting him to ask me out. Take me to the movies. Dinner. Hell, even a walk around the block.”

“You aren’t a dog.”

I shoot her a dark look. “No. Anyway...it never happened. Each time I said I wouldn’t take his call, but—”

“He has a big dick.”

I give up.

“Yes, Scar. He has a really big dick.” I nod, conceding.

Zara decides to start crying. Boy, she has a big voice.

After a change and feed, I finally get to hold her, tickle her little feet and remind her I’m the best aunt in the world. She has Cole’s blue eyes and our dark olive skin, and Scar’s determined forehead.

“Who’s my pretty little girl?”

Zara wiggles, kicking her legs which are wrapped in pink fleece. The words on her onesie reads Girls Rule The World.

It goes without saying her daddy didn’t choose that outfit.

As the morning draws to an end and I gather my bags, Scar walks me to the door.

“Hey, are you sure he cheated? I’m no expert on the guy, but I feel like I have a nose for these things. I watched him at the wedding. He just doesn’t seem like the type.”

I snort.

“They’re all the type, trust me.”

I’ve been cheated on before. My college boyfriend, who everyone thought I’d marry, ended up sleeping with Maria from Mexico during a boy’s weekend.

Apparently, she really enjoyed the things he did.

Or so her text message said.

Which I discovered otherwise, I might’ve married the jerk.

Whether Jake did or not is irrelevant.

He was hiding something and keeping secrets.

No thanks.

That doesn’t mean I forgot about him when I got home after the wedding. I didn’t. I tried everything to get him off my mind as I writhed in bed, aching between my legs.

Then, resentfully pulled out my vibrator and focused on the memory of him sliding his tongue through my pussy and teasing my anus as he brought me to orgasm.

It worked.

Damn him.

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