Page 13 of Secrets on Ice

“Because they didn’t look confused on that blanket, it felt very … you know …”

My brows pull together. “I know.”

“Do you think they love each other?” she asks.

The question sits between us. “I don’t know. Maybe?” My chest aches as I say those words.

“They’d better be in love, otherwise, what was the point of blowing up our lives for a fling?” she says angrily, and I agree with her.

“I don’t understand why they never talked to us about ….”

Silence again falls between us as we mull over the words.

“You think if they came to us, we wouldn’t be in the same mess we are now?” Cassidy asks.

“I don’t know. It would be shocking, but seeing it instead of hearing the words is a whole other thing,” I tell her.

“True. I can’t get those images out of my mind, they play on a loop continuously.”

“Me too,” I tell her, she’s not alone in that. I still can’t quite comprehend what I saw. I feel like I’m in a nightmare that I can’t wake up from. This can’t be real.

She reaches across the bed and takes my hand. “I keep going through every work trip. Last month they were in Vegas for that conference. Why weren’t we invited?”

That’s right. “They told us we would have been bored.”

“Right, or was it a lover’s getaway?” She shivers saying that.

“Kevin and I haven’t had sex in three months, and we were supposed to be trying for a baby,” I confess to Cass.

She gasps. “Me too. It’s probably been that long too, and we were supposed to be trying to have a baby as well. You think this started three months ago.”

“Maybe.”

She nods as if that little piece of the picture makes sense. “I’m glad that I didn’t get knocked up.”

“Me too,” I confess.

We’re quiet again. The tequila makes my head heavy, and the room starts spinning when I close my eyes.

“Em?” Cassidy whispers, her words heavy with sleep.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” I tell her.

“Promise?”

“I promise. You have me for life.”

The next thing I know, sunlight is pouring through the gap in the curtains. My head feels like someone has used it as a hockey puck. I groan and roll onto my back. Beside me, Cassidy makes a similar sound.

“Are you alive?” I ask.

“Unfortunately,” she mumbles.

I open one eye. Her hair is spread across the pillow, her face is puffy, and there’s a crease running from her cheek to her jaw.