Page 2 of Reformation

Damn, I miss having loose sexual morals. And sex. Fuck, do I miss sex.

“I thought we went over this,” I say in a low tone to my wife, who is fake waving at a woman I’m pretty sure she detests. “When we are attending functions, you need to be with me. Not gallivanting around like it’s your first rodeo. We are here for a reason. I need my wife next to me.”

Annika rolls her eyes, surely tired of hearing the same speech I gave her last week when we attended a charity event for homelessness or some other bullshit social emergency.

“Yes, my darling husband. I know. We are here to be seen because it’s important for the practice, and our social standing, to be at every high-society event in town. Your job is to be the dashing doctor, and I, the devoted wife.”

Her speech exudes sarcasm, and just for that, I bring her in a little closer, knowing she can barely stand being near me anymore, let alone being so close we are actually sharing the same air.

And if she wants sarcasm, I’ll shoot it right back.

“Why take that tone with me, my wife? Don’t you love attending these events with me? Once upon a time you did.”

How I don’t get another eye roll is beyond me. Instead, she takes hold of the lapel of my jacket, bringing my ear down to her mouth. To anyone looking at us right now, we likely look like a couple in love, a wife whispering secrets or dirty promises of how the night will end into her husband’s ear.

I know better.

“The only thing I ever loved you for was your wallet. And the only reason I’m here is that I’m waiting for you to screw up. One of these days you’ll fuck Evelyn, or some bimbo nurse, and I’ll get my money. Until then, my darling husband, you are stuck with me. For better or worse.”

She kisses me on the cheek for good measure, and it’s sad that I can’t even remember the last time her lips have come in contact with any part of me.

But I can’t think about that. As soon as Annika’s lips part from my cheek, I’m getting a slap on the back from another person whose name I barely remember. I extend my hand, find a different line of bullshit and begin my ass-kissing.

This is the price I pay for success. Because success, and money, is all that matters at the end of the day.

Chapter Two

Garrett

When Trevor and I decided to open the nonprofit clinic last year, neither of us really knew what we were getting ourselves into.

The paperwork is endless. The money needed to keep one of these facilities open is an amount that is nearly unattainable if you don’t keep up on schmoozing, wining and dining for donations, as well as applying for grants. What that translates to is that after hours of seeing private patients, and a few of the ones from the clinic, I’m generally stuck behind my desk, signing every form that Rebecca, our nonprofit office manager, has prepared for me. Because even though the clinic was both of our ideas, Trevor never seems to be around when it’s time to tackle the paperwork. He’s amazing that way.

“Why does it look like you’ve been run over by a bus?”

I look up to see my brother, Mark, and my three-year-old niece, Makenna, standing at my office door.

“Because paperwork is going to be the death of me. Why are you smiling like the damn Joker? And why the hell are you here?”

He laughs, a shit-eating grin covering his face as he takes a seat across from me. My niece, who is the spitting image of him with blonde hair and green eyes, sits on his lap, not paying a lick of attention to me. Instead, her eyes are glued to whatever she is watching on his phone.

“Because my wife kicked me out of the house because she needed, and I quote, ‘one-on-one time with her son before his first day of kindergarten.’ Even though she tells me on a daily basis that he’s ‘my son,’ and to take him away from her, she’s now realizing that she’s going to be without the little guy for hours of the day and she’s going to miss him. So, Makenna and I decided to have a daddy-daughter day. We went to lunch, went to the park, and we thought it would be fun to come see her favorite uncle.”

“I’m guessing all of that is code for Charlie said you can’t come back yet?”

Mark nods. “Yup. I’m kicked out of the house for another hour.”

We share a laugh and sit for seconds in comfortable silence. Which is not something I’m quite used to yet when it comes to my brother.

“Is Cullen ready for his big first day?” I ask.

“When we asked him this morning if he was ready for kindergarten tomorrow, he told us, and I quote, ‘Fuck yeah!’”

I laugh, knowing damn well that my nephew said those exact words. Since he was young, he has had a habit of repeating whatever comes from his parents’ mouths. Considering my brother is a former Navy SEAL and Charlie works for the CIA, swearing comes as second nature to both of them. We were shocked when Makenna’s first word wasn’t “shit.”

While Makenna is the easiest-going toddler known to man, my brother and his wife have their hands full with my nephew. Don’t get me wrong, the kid is cute as hell—he obviously gets his looks from me—but he’s not been the easiest child to raise. He’s a stubborn little shit who can drop casual F-bombs into even the most mundane conversation like it’s completely normal. He’s also a big fan of hiding things that are vital parts of your day—like your car keys. I’d say he is the most difficult five-year-old I’ve ever met in my life. Then I remember who his father is.

Mark and I weren’t exactly close growing up. We are only a few years apart and had a normal brother relationship, that is until one day he all but cut me out of his life before we even hit puberty. I came to find out just a few years ago it was because I told Mom about his stack ofPlayboys.Sonofabitch held on to that grudge for thirty years.

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