Page 31 of Five Days to Be Mine

Griffin Cartwright strides through the room, grinning at his wife.

“Making sure it's perfect for you, my love,” Nevie says.

Her face lights up with a real smile as Griffin throws his arms around her and they kiss deeply.

I turn my gaze away, shuffling down a wave of jealousy so unexpected it almost literally knocks me off my feet.

What is it like to have that kind of love? My attempt at marriage didn’t last. I was too young and too inexperienced.

Now my thirty-fifth birthday is a couple weeks away and I haven't found love yet.

An image of a woman with the most fantastic breasts and delightful laugh flashes through my mind.

Mara.

She gave me one night, but I wanted more.

Maybe Nevie is right and I need to pursue her again.

Though I had tried since the morning after, when I woke up and she wasn't beside me.

I tried her place of work and I sent a message to her Instagram account.

Both were busts.

If Mara wanted to hear from me, she’d reach out.

It’s not like she doesn’t know I live in the Hugo Hotel.

“Evan doesn’t have a date for our party,” Nevie says, with an exaggerated pout.

“I’m sure our friend can handle his own love life. Right Evan?” Griffin slaps me on the back.

“I hear you can’t be good at everything.” I smile ruefully. “I’m good at being a restaurateur, but bad at relationships. How‘s that for a new tagline?”

“Awful, but then you know that.” Griffin shakes his head. “Come to the club sometime, pick up a willing submissive and have a great time.”

When I was younger, there would have been nothing more appealing to me than doing exactly that.

Now, Sinful Bites takes up most of my nights and there’s only one woman I'm interested in.

“Keep trying, Evan. A little bribery never hurts.” Nevie raises a shoulder.

“Are you causing trouble?” Griffin threads his hand through her braid, leaning her over his arm.

“Always my love.” Nevie grins at him.

Griffin laughs and they lock lips again.

“Hi Evan, sorry to be running late. Traffic,” Steff Goldstein rushes through the doors, with a smile.

Her long brown hair trails behind her. She nearly trips over her long skirt.

“Hi Steff, thanks for coming.”

Steff, whose interiors have been featured in restaurants from Amsterdam to Zimbabwe, sets her briefcase down on top of a table toppling the glassware.

Nevie rushes over to help keep the glasses from falling but I wave her off and set them upright.

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