“What?” I whisper, still pulsating with his cock inside me.

  “That you’re fucking sexy.”

  We gaze at each other through the glass, cheeks flushed, lips red, eyes lit with adrenaline and dopamine. I believe him. I believe it as fact. Though before him I struggled to accept even the slightest notion that I could be sexy, with Logan I buy it fully.

  “Yes,” I say.

  He bites my shoulder and growls. “Good,” he says. “Don’t ever forget it.”

  My brain, intoxicated with lust and addicted to Logan, drums up a wild thought that makes me shiver. I’ll always believe I’m sexy if I always have this man in my bed.

  * * *

  Logan halts his hands on the tops of my feet dramatically. He’s been rubbing my feet where they sit in his lap while I rattle off my family tree for a third time. He laughs and shakes his head. His laugh. Five days in and it’s one of my favorite sounds. For five days now we’ve separated only a handful of times. Logan ran to his apartment to get clothes and his toothbrush. He had to go to the drug store for more condoms. A lot more condoms. And I had to run a few quick errands one day. Other than that, we’ve been at each others side—or as close as two people can be. We’ve made meals together, ordered in and gone out. We’ve watched each other’s favorite movies and picked up a new release, too. We eat, we laugh, we talk, we fuck, we kiss, and we hold each other through the night. At this moment, Logan knows more about me than anyone has ever learned in less than a week. There’s been no mention of what’s to come. There doesn’t seem to be any expectations from him and I can’t even begin to think of what I expect from him. I just like having him around. No. I love having him around. And that scares the shit out of me.

  “Okay, I think I got it,” he says. I snicker and wait for him to go on. “Your sisters are Mary and…Melissa.” His brows lift asking me silently if he’s correct. I nod and smile. “So that makes your cousins Michelle, Marissa, Marianne, and…shit…Mariah?”

  “You got it right,” I laugh.

  “That’s a lot of girls and a lot of M names.” His hands continue massaging my feet and I sigh.

  “My mother and her sisters are crazy. You should’ve seen their faces when I told them we named our daughter Hailey. I blamed it on Todd so they wouldn’t shun me.”

  His face falls a little and he stares at my toes while he works. I realize what I’ve said and bite the inside of my cheek. Other than when I showed him the photo of Brandy with the kids, we haven’t discussed Todd or my divorce at all this week. I’m sure he’s put together a few pieces based on other morsels of information I’ve divulged but I haven’t come right out and told him the gritty details.

  “Where’d you meet him?”

  My gaze snaps to Logan and he’s waiting for my reaction with a sidelong glance. I suppose it’s time to tell him. There’s so much about who I am today and who I’ve become over the last year and a half that’s wrapped up in this story.

  “High school. We were fifteen when we started dating.”

  Logan blows out a low breath and nods absently. Does he know now? Does he infer that he’s only the second man I’ve had sex with in my life? Only now do I see what a heavy detail that is and how I’ve inadvertently woven him into my story.

  “What happened?”

  My lips twist and for the first time I don’t feel sad or angry recounting the story. “That girl—from the photo. She happened. I mean, we were already in trouble when she came along but there was no going back after I found out about her,” I say and rake my fingers through my hair.

  “So he cheated,” Logan muses.

  A dark laugh falls from my lips and he cocks his head. I pull my feet away from him and sit up on the sofa, crossing my legs like a child. He turns toward me and mirrors my pose with a furrowed brow. I take a minute to stare at him and collect my thoughts before I pour my heart out. This part of the story is what hurts the most. Even though Todd and I had grown apart as we grew up—we were totally different people by thirty—I still liked sharing a life with him. He was still my best friend and the father of my kids. I always assumed if he was going to cheat on me it would be about sex.

  “Honestly, by the time I caught on I don’t think they’d been physical. They said as much and I believed it. It didn’t matter, the other stuff hurt worse. I found emails and texts that went back months…they…fell in love. Right under my nose.”

  Logan’s jaw clicks. “That sucks.”

  “Sex is one thing, you know. I just assumed he had enough respect for me to tell me he wanted out instead of sneaking around with some young slut.”

  “To be fair, if they fell in love first she’s not exactly a slut, right?”

  My chest tightens and I narrow my eyes on him. “You’re defending her? She stole my husband.”

  I hated those words because if I let myself be honest, she hadn’t stolen anything that I hadn’t put by the side of the road. But no matter my role in the crumble of our marriage, I never cheated. I never crossed the line that he crossed. Logan’s face pales and he reaches for my hands in my lap. “I’m not defending anyone,” he says pointedly. “But…”

  I push his hands away and shoot upright, the tone of his voice making my blood run cold without warning. “But what?”

  Logan wets his lips and looks down at the carpet gravely. “Nothing.”

  “No, say it,” I demand.

  His eyes flick up to me, stormy with emotions I can’t place. His nostrils flare as he breathes deeply. “I don’t want to fight with you,” he says.

  Heaviness claims my limbs and I swallow thickly as I sit back down on the couch beside him. “I don’t want to fight with you either,” I whisper. With a sigh I push myself to a place of honesty. “It wasn’t just about her. We hadn’t been on solid ground for a long time. I almost broke up with him years ago and then I got pregnant…so we got married. We were good at life—running a household, parenting, scheduling—but we were really bad at marriage—communication, intimacy, commitment. I guess it’s just been way easier to call her a home wrecker and remove myself from the story.”

  Logan reaches out to me and squeezes my hand in my lap. Wow. That was the kind of revelation I’d have with my therapist. He tugs me to him as he lays back on the couch. I settle between his legs with my head on his sternum quickly comforted by the rise and fall of his breathing.

  “It’s always easier to shift blame. Nobody wants to fuck up—especially in a relationship. I made a ton of excuses when my ex and I broke up to make myself look better but in the end I had to accept that I fucked up. I hurt her.”

  I don’t say a word and feel myself holding my breath. He hasn’t mentioned an ex before this moment. Why? My heart clenches with anxiety. I want to know every detail and I want to know them now. Jealousy trickles into my veins and I cringe. How could I have let this happen? I let the boy next door into my bed and then what…fell for him? God, I feel like such a fool. I knew three days ago when Logan looked deep into my eyes, caressing my face while he moved inside me that I needed to shut it down. We’d fucked plenty of times during our staycation together but we’d made love too. The touch of his hands didn’t just spark fire in my loins now, it lit my soul aflame. I can’t help but think he feels it too. I feel him tense beneath me and I shift to put my chin on his chest, wanting to see his face.

  “You mad at me?” He asks.

  “For what?”

  “Defending Brandy.”

  I sigh. I know I shouldn’t hate her the way I do. My husband is the one who broke his promises to me. She didn’t owe me a damn thing. Plus, I remember those initial emails…she didn’t know he was married at first. He conned both of us. I couldn’t fathom why she’d still be with him after that lie and the hell she must’ve gone through after I went all ragey on them when I found out. She must love him more than I ever did. Logan’s defense of her was just a magnifying glass on my own insecurities but I…

  A shudder rolls through me. A chill of confusion. Panic floods Logan’s expression and I shake my head barely.

  “Logan, did…did I tell you her name?”

  Chapter Six

  Logan

  She flies off the couch. And I mean, flies. I barely see her feet touch the ground and she’s on the other side of the room as far away from me as possible with the widest eyes I’ve ever seen. My stomach aches.

  “Logan, what the fuck?”

  I sit up slowly and surrender my hands in front of me. “Hang on, just—”

  “Did you look through my phone or something?”

  I don’t know if I should stand or not. I want to touch her and show her that I care but the look in her eyes is almost fearful. Like she’s afraid of me. The though pierces my gut and my shoulders sag. I push my hands through my hair and exhale. “It’s not like that,” I say, itching to rise from the couch and hold her hands. I stay planted, held by her scrutinizing gaze from five feet away. She stares at me silently for a beat.

  “I think maybe you should go.”

  “Monica…”

  She turns her cheek and a lump forms in my throat. My feet twitch with the impulse to close the gap between us. I have to fix this. I have to make her understand. These last few days isolated with her, wrapped in her arms, surrounded by her words, held by her sweetness…have been the best days of my life. We’ve fallen into this perfectly natural routine and it feels right. Monica feels like home even though I know that’s crazy. I know it’s fast—too fast. I know I already feel too much, too deeply, but I won’t deny it to myself any longer.

  I’m falling in love with her.

  “Logan, please. I—”

  “Can I at least explain?”

  Her jaw stiffens and her eyes pin to the floor. I think it’s an agreement to let me speak before leaving so I decide to start.

  “I know her,” I say. With those three words she glances at me, brows knit together, jaw rock solid. I clear my throat and brace myself for her reaction to the unfortunate truth. “When you showed me that picture of her I was stunned…She’s my ex-girlfriend.”

  Fury paints her and I remain nailed to the couch. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

  There’s so much more to say but I weaken, shamed by the look on her face and my own thoughts. I should’ve told her sooner. She doesn’t want to hear anything more from me and I know it. But as I glance at the door knowing she wants me to go, knowing I may not get the chance to be this close to her again, I have to speak.

  Her bottom lip quivers. I reach for her hand but she shrinks from my grasp. “Go on,” she croaks.

  I rise from the couch finally and step into her space boldly. Monica doesn’t move this time and I feel it deep down that she wants me to stay. She wants to be this close to me. To forgive me. Chest to chest, we share the air between us and I hear my heartbeat in my ears. Will the details change her mind for better or worse? Will she accept that this is a terrible coincidence but that we don’t have to let it interfere with the way we feel about one another?

  I suppose that’s easier for me to say. I don’t give one fuck that my ex is with her ex. It’s more complicated for her.

  “We dated for a year. I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do. I’d changed my major a handful of times and had finally realized I wanted to teach. I was focused on school but she was focused on us. She wanted to get engaged and I tried to keep the peace by telling her ‘someday’ even though I didn’t mean it.”

  Monica takes a tiny step back from me, shifting on her bare feet but I see the distance her move created. “Did you sleep with her?”

  I press my lips together. I’d just told her we dated for a year surely she knows the answer. My heart twists a little knowing she wants me to confirm it.

  “Yes.”

  Another little shuffle of her feet puts her another inch farther away from me.

  “Did you live with her?”

  “No.” Brandy was a fucking slob. I hated her apartment and made a million excuses why we couldn’t live together yet.

  “Did you love her?”

  Without a thought or even a single pause, I step to her and let my fingers find her chin. Titling her face up so she’ll look at me, I meet Monica’s eyes firmly. I want her to hear this and I want her to see the truth on my face.

  “Not even a little bit.”

  The heaviness of her brow and the shadows in her eyes put a rock in my gut.

  “You lied to me. You kept her a secret. Just like him,” she whispers.

  The rock triples in size as she turns her cheek and I feel her slip through my fingers. I’m not like her ex. I’d never hurt her that way. Every nerve in my body aches knowing she’s about to send me out the door. How does something this perfect end? I don’t want that fucking wall between us tonight. I want to be in her bed where I belong, with her in my arms where she belongs.

  “I trusted you. I let you in,” she adds. “Now I think you should go.” I want to scream. I want to sit her down and make her understand that everything about what happened with her is different. But I know there’s still hurt in her heart and I’ve added to it like an asshole. I nod and let my feet lead me to her door, looking back at her once before I open it. She avoids my gaze while picking at her fingernails. I wish I knew what to say. I wish I hadn’t stayed silent about Brandy. I walk out and feel as though I piece of me remains on the other side of the door.

  * * *

  My front door opens and my heart seizes in my chest. Monica hadn’t set foot in my apartment during our five days together so I was crazy to think she’d be walking in now. Plus she didn’t have a key. And she certainly wasn’t my six-foot-two roommate walking in carrying a six pack and a pizza box. Jay’s eyes land on me and go wide.

  “You’re here,” he says.

  I’ve been on the couch since I walked over from Monica’s apartment when she asked me to leave. I grunt in response and he laughs.

  “She wear you out or get bored with you?” He jokes. I’m not in the mood. I shoot daggers at him with my tired eyes. I’ve been scrolling my phone searching for Monica on social media hoping to catch a glimpse of her face but she’s a ghost. She’s nowhere to be found online and while I’m infuriated not to see her photo when I want to, I love that she’s off the web.

  “I wasn’t planning on sharing, but you look like shit so…beer?”

  He hands me a green bottle of cold beer and I unscrew the cap with a nod of thanks. He puts pizza on two plates and brings one to me where I sit on the couch, taking the seat beside me silently. Jay and I have been friends since junior high school and he’s always been the one with girl drama, not me. I’ve barely had enough dates over the years to amount to drama. One girlfriend in high school who turned out to be just as interested in women as I am, one short lived girlfriend at the start of college, Brandy and a handful of hookups. And none of them ever made me feel the way Monica has in a matter of days.

  I eat one slice of pizza before shoving the plate away and downing a second beer. Jay doesn’t pressure me to talk, thank god. He turns on the Xbox and we play a game of Madden in silence. I try to drown out the thoughts in my head. I try to pretend like I’m not waiting for a knock at the door or a ping from my phone. The night wears on and eventually I hand my controller over to Jay with a simple goodnight and head to my bedroom.

  I haven’t slept in my bed in so many days it feels foreign. It doesn’t even feel good, the way sleeping in your own bed feels after coming home from vacation. Her bed gave me that ‘finally home’ feeling, not my own. I toss and turn for a few hours and try like hell to sleep but I can’t relax without her. My hands twitch with the need to handle her curves. My dick aches with a craving for her pussy. My heart hurts missing every piece of her.

  My ears perk at the sound of a light knock and I glance toward my closed bedroom door. I jump up and open it but there’s no one there. The glow of the TV still shines as Jay continues to play video games, wearing headphones now. I stand in the doorway of my room and stare at the front door to our apartment wondering if maybe that’s where the knock sounded from. God, maybe it came from within my head.

  Another knock sounds and a chill rolls up my spine as I whip my head back toward my bed and realize it’s coming from the wall. Closing my bedroom door again, I release a shaky breath and climb onto my bed. I face the wall with my knees pressed into the mattress and imagine her on the other side. What’s she thinking about? Does she want me to come back? Does she want to fight? Talk? Fuck? I’d take any of it. I’d let her scream at me all night, berate me for omitting the truth and fucking things up. My knuckles rap the wall three times and I hear Monica’s muffled voice.

  “Logan?”

  I swallow hard but a smile touches my lips. She’s not done with me yet. “Yeah,” I call back. The silence creates that same hum in my ears that bubbles fear and concern within me. Say something, sweetheart. Say anything.

  “I can’t sleep,” she says through the wall.

  One hand scrubs at my forehead and the other rests flat against the wall as if I could push hard enough and make my way through to the other side to touch her.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say. And it’s the truth. I know I fucked up. I know she’s hurt. And I want nothing more than to take it all back and fix it. I am so sorry. “Can you forgive me?”

  I wait what feels like an eternity, my heart beating like a war drum in my chest. I rest back on my heels, losing touch with our shared wall and begin to lose hope. And then she knocks twice. The same knock she’d offered our first night. It’s a yes. An affirmative. Positive. Plus sign. Ding, ding, ding. Triple cherries. Royal flush. Fucking jackpot. I leap from my bed just as I had that night only now I know what waits for me. Heaven. I hustle out my door, past Jay with a nod and exit my apartment heading straight for hers.

  I steady my breath staring at the gold numbers 103 on her door and close my eyes for an instant. Prepared for whatever sliver of a chance she offers, I raise my fist to her door and pound the announcement of my arrival.

 

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