Page 1 of I Wanna Be Your Lager

ONE

OUTHOUSE GETS TOSSED INTO THE WINDMILL

Eve

Goosebumps spring over my naked body as I rise to my feet. The comforter falling away. I lift my pastel pink dress off the light wood floor and slide my arms into the sleeves. Once in place, I tug the zipper along my side until it’s securely fastened. The light cotton is soft against my skin. Using the oblong mirror on the wall next to me, I finger comb one side of my disheveled hair. The moonlight shimmering in through the sheer curtain gives me just enough light to see what I’m doing. “The wedding was really beautiful, wasn’t it? Her dress was gorgeous. The way the tulle floated in the breeze made for some amazing pictures.” I glance at Pax from the mirror. His hand emerges from under the blanket with the used condom pinched between two fingers. He tosses it onto the nightstand and picks up his phone. My nose scrunches. If he thinks I’m cleaning up his mess, he’s delusional. I run my fingers through the other side of my hair and continue talking to myself. “When I get married, I think I want a beach wedding, but a mountain lodge would be pretty too.” Once I’m satisfied my sex hair is tamed, I spin to search for my shoes. “Want to go to the bar for drinks?” Bending over, I snatch onesideways heel off the floor and slide my foot in, buckling the strap around my ankle.

Pax, my boss, drops his phone to the mattress and leans against the headboard. The white comforter falls to his lap, exposing a dark smattering of chest hair. “I hate to say this, but I need you to leave.”

My body goes rigid. Did he just ask me to leave? No. Hetoldme to leave. Slowly, I rise and twist to face him. His shaggy, dark hair flops over his forehead, and his chest rhythmically rises and falls. A smile tugs at my lips. “Oh. You need some alone time to reflect on the amazing sex we just had.” It was mediocre at best, but some things you keep hush-hush. We have plenty of time to fix it.

He shakes his head. “No.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Is this so you can wax your chest again? If you aren’t aware, I’ve already heard you scream like a twelve-year-old girl.” I hobble toward the bed on my tippy toes to match the height of my one three-inch heel. “If it changes your mind, I actually like the chest hair.” As I reach the side of the bed, I bend over and rest my palms on the mattress, so my face is inches from his.

His gaze drifts away. “No, I have company coming.”

“Like a client? I would love to sit in on that meeting to get an understanding of what their needs are.”

“My wife is coming for a visit.” He shifts away to rub the back of his neck.

An anchor drops in the pit of my stomach. Blinking rapidly, I process his words. Is there a possibilitywifecould mean something besides the person you’re married to? I rise to my full height and prop a hand on my hip. “Back this infidelity train up. You’re married?” My gaze drops to his left hand in case I blocked out a wedding band. Nope. Nothing.

“Yeah.” His eyebrows knit together as if I’m speaking Latin.

“And she’s coming here?”

“Yes.”

My vision floods red. “Don’t you think this is something you should have told me, say… before we started fucking?” I clench my fists because if I don’t, my hands might accidentally wrap around his throat. He’s married. And I’ve been sleeping with him for six months. Sure, there was mutual flirting, but he pursued me. He kissed me first. But I didn’t know he was married.

“Why are you yelling? You saw the pictures in my office.”

I rear my head back. His invisible handprint evident across my cheek. “When I asked about those pictures, you told me she was your sister. I would remember if you told me she was your wife. Sister and wife aren’t remotely close enough to be misunderstood.”

His lips purse together, and his face scrunches as if he’s trying to take a giant shit. And maybe he is. All over my life. “I’m pretty sure I told you she’s my wife.”

“Um. I’d remember if you said wife. Again, it’s kind of hard to mix up wife with sister.” I’m drowning in a sea of red.

“Anyway, you can get your own room. Or you can catch an earlier flight back to Knoxville, and I’ll see you when I get back.”

My heart pounds in my ears as adrenaline races through my body. “Hold on. Your wife is coming for a few days, and you expect us to pick up right where we left off afterward? I want to make sure I’m understanding you correctly.” Is he delusional right now? What kind of woman does he think I am? He assumes I’m okay with this when I. Thought. We. Were. In. A. Relationship.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “We have fun together.”

Son of a bitch. I’m seconds away from reaching across the bed and smothering him with the hotel pillow. Right when I thought I had my life together, the outhouse gets tossed into thewindmill. Shit everywhere. Very similar to an automatic robotic vacuum running over a pile of shit and smearing it into the living room rug.

Sometimes in life, you have no longer than the bat of an eyelash to make a decision. Right now, my choices are to pack my shit, quit my job, and never see this lying, cheating bastard again or unplug the lamp and strangle him with the cord. As appealing as the second option is, I think it’s best if I go with the first. Frantically, I scan the room before hobbling around, picking up everything that belongs to me, and cramming it into my suitcase. I slam it closed and yank on the zipper. I’m surprised it doesn’t snap off. My other heel falls from my grasp and hits the floor with a thud. I shove my foot through the straps and secure it at my ankle.

“Thanks for being so understanding.” He rolls out of bed, still naked.

Quickly, I divert my gaze. For someone I once found attractive, he now makes bile rise in my throat. He’s living in a fantasy world if he thinks this is a “to be continued.”

I snap to my full height and square my shoulders. “Understand this, I’m leaving and never coming back. And if that isn’t clear, I also quit.” I yank the suitcase handle until it clicks into place.

“What do you mean?” He tugs on a pair of sweatpants, but his foot gets caught, causing him to hop around to maintain his balance. The urge to push him over is strong. “We have that big Holland/Pryor wedding to shoot next weekend.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you started sleeping with me! While. You. Are. Married.” I stomp toward the door, my suitcase trailing behind me. I throw open the door, and halfway across the threshold, I spin around. “I was lying! It wasn’t amazing. In fact, I used every agonizing second to make a mental note of my grocery list. And those orgasmsyou thought you gave me? Fake! Every! Single! One!” Before he says anything, I slam the door behind me. What an asshole! My hands tremble as I lug my suitcase down the hall. I can’t believe he would do this. Not only to me, but to his wife. My head throbs in rhythm with every footfall. When I reach the elevator, I stab the down button. Immediately, the doors open, and I’m thankful I don’t have to wait. I need to get far away from here. From him.

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