“It was couriered to me while he was in a honeymoon suite… with his mistress.”
She’s practically panting, dying for me to continue.
Since I am just as desperate to move through my shock of the past few days, I continue.
“While wearing the teddy you mentioned earlier, I went to the hotel to confront him.”
If she gets up in my business any more, she’ll be sitting on my lap. That’s how close she sits to make sure she doesn’t miss a word I speak.
“Roy wasn’t the only person in the room when I let myself in.”
My silence leaves Shiloh no option but to interrupt. “Someone was there with him?” When I nod, her mouth falls open. “His mistress?”
“No,” I answer a little too loudly. I startle the commuter next to us as much as the person behind him does when they beep, announcing to him the light has switched to green. I shift to first while saying, “It was the husband of his mistress.”
That sounds bad even to me, but Shiloh acts oblivious. “Holy shit cakes. So the people who were being cheated on cheated with each other?”
I hate the way she makes it sound, but there’s no denying the truth.
I nod, and again, Shiloh’s mouth falls open. “What did he look like? Was he hot? Did he have tattoos? Did he do nasty shit to you? Was he everything Roy willneverbe?”
My nods are endless, and they feel as freeing as Nero’s attention has made me.
“He was…” I bite my bottom lip, and Shiloh goes crazy. She rocks her hips and makes inappropriate noises like I wasn’t married the last time we spoke.
“Miranda!” She looks like she wants to pinch my cheeks like my aunts did in my youth. “I’m so fucking happy for you. This is exactly what you need.”
“It’s not like that,” I say, shifting gears. I bought a stick shift car on purpose. It means Roy can never borrow it. He can’t multitask, so steering and changing gears is above his skill set. “It was just anat the timetype of thing.”
Shiloh sinks into her seat, her exhale a harrumph.
She only stays down for half a second. “Then why do you smell like a hot hunk of a man now? Your anniversary wasfourdays ago.” Her tongue slithers like Hannibal. “I can practically taste the testosterone slicking your skin. If this god, who finally showed you what you’re worth, used protection, he must have marked his territory all over you with the remnants left in the bottom of the condom and you refused to shower.”
“You’re disturbing,” I say with a laugh, stupidly nervous.
“And straight up fucking honest. The hotter your cheeks become, the more cum I smell.” An inane amount of jealousy smacks into me when she breathes in deeply and then releases it with a moan. “It is too fresh to act like it was from days ago.”
“Because it isn’t,” I admit, talking slowly. “He came over last night.” She pants like a dog in heat, impatiently waiting. “And should be gone by now since Tempy?—”
“He stayed to watch Tempy?”
“No… he… ah… He said he would wait for her to finish breakfast and then take her outside to go potty before locking up for me.” That couldn’t sound more domestic if I had planned it. “I was running late. We… ran a little over on an activity this morning, so I…” I give in. “So he agreed to watch Tempy for me until it was her naptime.”
Shiloh squeals. “He spent the nightandwatched your baby! Are you sure you’re not already married?”
I wish divorce litigation worked that fast. “He stayed because he had something important to tell me, and I delayed the process because he likes feeding me as much as he loves eating me.”
Where the hell did that hussy come from?I should be fuming mad that my naked derriere was uploaded to the world wide web. Or at the least, panicked. But Nero’s attention has made my confidence so high unwanted attention a video like that could stir up doesn’t seem as taunting as it once did.
Shiloh stares at me with her mouth hanging open and her eyes bulging. “He likes to…eat…” She lowers her eyes to my crotch hidden by a momma pouch I have no right to have. “Down there?”
I’ve not kept a single thing from her in the five years we’ve worked together, so I won’t now.
I nod, my cheeks turning the color of beets.
“And he loves feeding you?”
The heat turns excruciating as I recall our time in my kitchen. The oven was on, but it wasn’t the reason the cookies were as hard as rocks this morning. They were meant to be cooling, not facing an extensive re-bake.
