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AUGUST

Sienna

Happy Ducking Birthday

“Carl?” I call, hip-butting open the door to our Long Island apartment. “I wasn’t expecting you to be home.”

There’s music coming from our bedroom, so I ditch my work bag, slip off my high-heeled shoes, and pad through the bright space that’s illuminated by New York’s August sun but cooled by our aircon.

The countdown to Carl’s fortieth birthday has been a sore point for months. Me being more than ten years younger than him has become a source of tension in our relationship. Still, I’m carrying a box of celebratory cupcakes, decorated in variations of Happy 40th Birthday. They’re as much a sign of hope for me – hopefully once this landmark day has passed, my fiancé will turn his frown upside down.

“Honey?” I ask, pushing open our bedroom door.

To find…

I stare at the enviable curves of our company secretary, bouncing on top of my fiancé. As my jaw metaphorically hits the floor, so do the cupcakes, along with my intended overnight stay in a swanky hotel, and the surprise sexy lingerie I’ve bought to welcome Carl into his fifth decade.

Seemingly, he also thought he’d bang his way into his forties, just not with me.

“Sienna!” he says, sitting up and exposing more of him than I’ve seen in weeks as Marcela pops off his dick.

He isn’t even wearing a condom and that’s what makes my stomach turn as fast as my legs rushing me away from the sight.

I’m pacing the floor in the lounge, the image of them together so vivid in my mind I might as well have watched them finish.

Rage. Betrayal. Helplessness. Out of control. I’m experiencing all of these feelings, though I’ve no idea in what ratio.

It’s Her who appears first, mid-shag flushed in the cheeks and insanely sexy lace garment still on show as she buttons up⁠—

“Is that Carl’s shirt?” I ask, in disbelief at the continued brazenness of this woman.

“Oh, ah, yeah. I don’t have anything else.”

I knew how attractive she was when we hired her. I was blown away that someone who could have worked as a model or been a lady of leisure who screwed a billionaire would want to be a secretary at our public relations company.

How didn’t I foresee this, when I plan for precisely 100 percent of everything else that happens in my life?

“What did you wear to get here?” I ask, immediately thinking better of it and holding up a hand to stop the answer. “I don’t even want to know. Get out of my apartment.”

She pouts, not wilting as she should be with the heavy disgrace of her actions, but straightening her proverbial backbone. “Look, I didn’t⁠—”

“What? Know your boss was engaged to be married to your other boss?”

She sucks in those already otherworldly defined cheeks. “Mean for you to find out this way.”

My nostrils flare like a raging dragon and if I could, I’d breathe fire all over this bitch. “Get out.” I point to the door, arm fully extended, which gives sitcom vibes but once the arm is out there, I can’t take it back. I feel like a moron, limbs trembling, as she takes an eternity to leave. “And in case you’re wondering,” I call to her back. “You’re fired!”

She has the audacity to slam my door.

“You can’t fire her, Sienna,” Carl says as he pads from our bedroom in his loungewear. The sight of him makes my blood boil. “It’s an employment lawsuit waiting to happen.”

“Ohhhhh, I suppose that’s why you’re screwing her, too? Don’t dare not? Better keep her sweet once you’ve been morally grey!” I gripe.

He stares at me like I ate the last donut in a box and I glare back. Then he holds out his hands from his sides like that silly purple-top-wearing emoji on my phone, and shrugs. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“Heartfelt,” I say as my anger morphs into something I like even less. Something that makes my eyes sting.