“Room service!”
He exhales, a low sigh against my hair, and steps back.
“I’ll get it,” he says.
I retreat to the balcony, pretending to admire the last sliver of sun sinking behind the horizon. The sea glitters, calm and endless, and I focus on the sound of the waves instead of the rush in my chest.
Behind me, I hear the cart rolling in, the clink of plates, the murmur of Beckett’s voice as he signs the check.
When I turn, the room is empty again, but there’s light visible through the crack in the bathroom door.
I press my palms to the railing and stare out at the fading light, telling myself the warmth on my cheeks is from the sun.
It’s definitely not from my husband.
Beckett
The shower hisses to life,and I twist the knob hard toward cold.
The water hits me like a punishment. I let it.
For a few seconds, I just stand there, head bowed, watching the stream run off my shoulders and down the drain.
My body is one long ache of exhaustion, frustration, andwant.
Right now, mostly want.
I scrub my face and try to focus on the sting instead of the heat crawling under my skin. The damn piercing doesn’t help—still tender, still reminding me of my own stupidity. I grit my teeth and rinse the soap away, ignoring the throb.
When she came out of the bathroom earlier, damp hair clinging to her shoulders, wearing those barely-there pajamas that did absolutely nothing to hide her curves, I almost lost it. And when I touched her shoulders, felt her shiver under my hands... it was the kind of moment I never would have walked away from before.
But I did. Because I’ve lost that right, for now, anyway.
How the hell had I let things go this far?
It’s like something in me short-circuited last year—maybe even died.
I hear the phone buzzing by the sink even over the hiss of the water. And I fucking hate it. I hate that my instinct is to jump—to give them everything I can until there’s nothing left.
FuckingAurum Micro-PIPE Units.
I’d followed my instincts and gone all in. At first, it had paid off. God, did it pay off. For a while, I thought I’d made the smartest move of my life.
Only it was just the opposite.
And now I’m doing everything I can to undo it—lying, conning, entering deals I have no intention of closing, accessing correspondence I have no business seeing—but I’m close.
If I’m lucky, it will never touch Ashley or the boys.
After nearly a year, it’s almost over. A few more weeks. Then maybe I’ll finally be able to breathe again.
The phone falls silent. Unanswered.
For now.
The timing of this cruise wasn’t ideal. But after eighteen days away from my wife and my kids, I latched onto it like it was my last lifeline.
Eighteen days in a furnished apartment that looked like no one lived there.
