“Do you think you’ll be able to catch him?”
“Yes. We won’t stop until we’ve caught him.”
Unable to listen to my husband talk with the woman the way he used to speak to me, I strolled into the room and stopped short as if I hadn’t been listening at the door.
“Sorry. I’m not interrupting, am I?”
The two of them looked up at me. Their blue gazes peered at me with interest and my dick twitched in my pants.
“Not at all. Marcie and I were just getting to know each other. Weren’t we?”
My husband smiled at the girl. She couldn’t be much older than Katie and she was fucking gorgeous. When I saw her earlier, I’d noticed her immediately but damn if she didn’t flip all my switches. Other than her height. She was short as shit, but she packed a lot of hotness in that miniature package.
Her curves had curves.
Perky tits, a tiny waist, and a ass that would look so damn good with a handprint or two on it.
Glancing between her and Declan, I could see it blossoming on her ass while Declan fucked her and I shoved my dick down her throat. A groan bubbled up my throat, forcing me to clench my teeth to keep it from escaping.
Declan’s fucking chatter all those years ago about a third making our relationship work better played like a reel in my head. The man planted the seed, and it hadn’t ever left my damn mind. Nights when I missed him, I’d sit drinking when I’d been told not to because of the meds I was on, and I’d think about how it would’ve worked. What kind of woman we’d both find attractive.
And now… here she sat.
With my husband.
Who I hadn’t spoken to in a year.
Who I’d tossed out like week-old leftovers, not once, not twice, or even three times. Four fucking times I’d thrown away a chance at happiness with him.
But the two of them sat before me, a living picture of the happiness he suggested all those years ago, and I wanted to join them.
I wanted them to want me to join.
The sound of Declan clearing his throat jerked me out of my head. Our eyes met, concern etched on his face. His eyes pinched together at the outer corners.
“How’s your head?”
“Oh! Did you get hurt earlier?”
“It’s fine. And no.”
My tone came out harsher than I intended, and she dropped her gaze and muttered, “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”
Declan’s gaze bored into mine as if admonishing me, and I sighed. “You didn’t. Declan’s just a worrywart.”
“You were knocked unconscious, nearly drowned before they pulled you from the ocean, and then spent several days in a medically induced coma. It’s not being a worrywart. It’s expressing concern that you might have some issues arise after having your head shoved through a damn wall.”
Marcie’s eyes darted back and forth between Declan and me. Her mouth opened and closed several times before asking, “Have you known each other long?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She laughed, but the sound was stilted and awkward. “Well, that’s not confusing at all.
My stomach growled, but before I could move, Declan pushed himself to his feet, grabbed a plate and utensils, and handed them to me.
“Eat.”
