Page 89 of The Best Men
In my defense, your honor, this couch is mighty comfy.
Except for . . . this book under my thigh. I reach for it—one of Rosie’s early reader books, about a sporty girl.
Like the kid who’s snoring softly next to me.
How long have we been sleeping?
No idea.
I stand and scoop her into my arms. She murmurs something, then drops her head to my chest. I carry her up the stairs and to her room, next to Bridget’s. My ex’s door is ajar but it’s dark in there. Bridget loves her sleep, and will get plenty more of it when I take off with Rosie Saturday night and my ex does . . . whatever.
But . . . so what?
It suddenly strikes me that I’m tired of being tired of Bridget. I’ve got my kid, and my work, and my life in New York, and Bridget can just do her thing. I don’t care so much anymore.
And that feels good.
I lower Rosie onto the twin bed. She doesn’t wake up once, so I don’t bother to tell her to put on jammies or brush her teeth.
Leaning down, I kiss her forehead. “Love you, cupcake,” I whisper, then leave, padding barefoot along the hall and back down the stairs.
The sleek modern clock on the wall ticks past eleven-thirty. Everyone’s asleep, but my thoughts veer to one person only.
Is Asher in the guest house, alone and waiting for me? Going for a dip, hoping I’ll join him? Drinking a whiskey poolside, looking ridiculously sexy as he waits for me to ravage him?
I’ll take all of the above, thank you very much.
But when I slide open the glass doors and walk past the water, the pool is dark and quiet. My gaze flicks to the chair by the potted palm this time. A white-hot image flashes before me of what he did to me on that chair last night, but that’s chased by other images too. Yesterday, walking around the city so comfortably together. This morning in bed, talking like it’s just what we do. Even playing in the pool with my kid.
Which is stupid. Just stupid to think of.
Best to focus on sex.
Maybe he’s waiting in bed for me.
That possibility puts a spring in my step, but when I open the door to the guest house, it’s empty and dark. I try to shrug away the disappointment.
It’s fine.
I’m here for my sister anyway, and today, I helped her with wedding stuff. That’s the point of this trip.
After I brush my teeth, I head to my room. A pang in my chest twinges as I pass Asher’s room, which is so, so dumb.
It’s just the sex I’m missing.
That’s all.
In my room, I get undressed, then slide into bed and grab my phone from the nightstand. After I unlock it, my text notifications rain down on the screen.
Brett:God, will you please come back from vacay because I’m sick of getting picked off by Ryan at Chase.
Better news: Options got clobbered for a minute and I covered your short in September volatility. You’re welcome. And even better news (for me),knight takes rook.
But seriously, I hope you’re having fun. If you’re not, go find some fun. Get a sunburn. Get laid. Or I will never share my list of the best secret spots in the city for pork buns ever again.
Damn, I can’t believe I left that rook exposed. I guess my mind hasn’t been on chess.
Mark:One, you can’t resist sharing your finds so I call bullshit on your threat. Two, I’m definitely enjoying it.
