I had been so happy with Jillian, but in my back of my mind, I’d always thought ‘what if?’ And now I knew what if.
If I had ended up with Christabelle, I would have been fucking miserable as shit.
Why hadn’t I seen that? Why had I been so tempted in my happy marriage?
Fuck. I loved my wife so much.
I was finally able to wiggle out from under the cats and stagger down the hallways to the kitchen, resentfully rubbing my jaw.
I remember what had happened now. That asshole Cash had punched me.
To think all the time he had been fixing my fucking plumbing he was plotting to snatch my wife out from under me.
Well, it was absolutely time to crawl to Jillian and beg for forgiveness before it went any further between her and Cash.
Mrs. Greenberg was drinking a cup of coffee at the table and she eyed me over her mug.
“Oh, look,” she said. “It’s Mr. Drunk and Disorderly himself.”
“I wasn’t drunk last night,” I retorted, slumping down in a chair beside her and looking at the bowl of oatmeal congealing in front of me.
“Too bad,” she said. “I’m sorry I missed it. Especially the punch. Lucky Ronnie got some good pictures on her phone. She’s real good with the phone, is our Ronnie.”
She opened her phone and flipped through eagerly, to where Ronnie had sent her several pictures, all captioned “LOL” of me confronting Cash and then ending up flat on my back.
“Great,” I said. “Glad those are out there now.”
“I warn you,” Mrs. Greenberg said, “if you’re going to make a habit of getting into bar brawls?—“
“I did not get into a bar brawl! Cash punched me! Why aren’t you mad at him?”
Mrs. Greenberg slurped her coffee noisily, and she looked like a smug cat herself as she peeped over at me.
“Mad at Cash? Oh no, the whole town is pleased as pie with him. You better hope he doesn’t try to run for mayor.”
“This whole Cash thing ends now,” I said. “I am going to go over there and grovel on my damn knees for forgiveness.”
Just then, a movement outside the window caught my eye and I turned around. Jillian was opening the front door, and my god, she looked gorgeous.
She was wearing that long, white pajama set I absolutely loved because it clung to every trim little inch on her body. Her hair was tied up in a loose knot and it looked incredibly attractive falling all down her neck.
My throat was dry and parched, and I licked my lips.
“Jillian!” I croaked, reaching for the door. “Please forgive me! I love you so much and I promise you I’ll never, ever betray you again!”
She didn’t even hear me.
Opening the door wider, somebody else stepped onto the porch.
It was Cash. Wearing the same jeans as the night before. The same T-shirt as the night before, stretching over those disturbingly bulky muscles, his rugged face looking even more rugged and bristlier than ever.
My jaw dropped with horror.
What was Cash doing coming out of MY house this early in the morning? It was barely 7:30 am!
“Oh my,” Mrs. Greenberg said. “She HAS traded up, hasn’t she? Cash is a fine figure of a man. Look at how his ass fills out those jeans. If I were thirty years younger. Or even twenty years younger. Hell, I’d shoot my shot if I was ten years younger.”
Ignoring her, I bolted outside.
