It’s not until she ends the call and sets her cell on the bar that she realizes where her hand is, and she finally lets go, and it’s like all the warmth inside my body is taken with it.
“Well, I guess I better head out. Hopefully the roads aren’t too bad,” she says, spinning on the bar stool and tucking her phone into her back pocket. She then unties her apron from around her hips that flare out and beckon my hands to grasp them and pull her close. Now that I’ve had her pressed to me, her curves tucked up against my plains, fitting as if she was made just for me, I know I have to find a way to make her mine.
There is no more waiting. It was already hard enough, fighting the urges without having a single taste of her, but now that I’ve experienced even the barest modicum of intimacy, I’m already an addict for Cece, and I won’t stop until she’s mine.
God knows there will be obstacles. There is no easy and painless road to get to my goal. The smallest speedbump being Mike, who is still technically her husband.
No. That cheating bastard is the least of my worries.
But other things, other people, on my side of the equation—that’s another story in itself.
And I can only hope that once Cece finds out the truth, she doesn’t stop looking at me like I’m her savior.
9
Cece
A few weeks later
“Morning,” Mia greets me.
“Morning, I already fed Merc and Ret, and let them out,” I tell her, my voice sounding down even to my own ears.
“Thanks.” She walks past me to the coffee pot and fills up her cup, adds creamer, and takes it to the island, where she sits on a stool. “How was work?” she asks, blowing across the top of her mug.
“Good.” I spread peanut butter on a slice of bread then place it carefully on top of another slice I covered in jelly. I know she’s waiting for me to say more, but I can’t seem to find the words. Not after the news I found out. I’m still kind of in shock if not numb to it all.
“Have you spoken to Mike?” she prompts, and I can tell by her tone she’s getting annoyed at having to drag any information out of me.
I swallow, knowing the floodgates are about to be opened. I’ve hidden my head in the sand all this time, almost seven months now, and now I’m about to be ripped out and left in the sun, feeling overexposed and vulnerable once again. “We talked yesterday. He’s picking up the girls Saturday morning, and they are going to stay the night with him.”
“They are?” she asks, her surprise evident without even looking at her. Mike has been staying with his parents since he told me about the affair, and before, we agreed the girls wouldn’t spend the night with him there. His parents may be super hoity-toity and rich, but they only have a two-bedroom condo. It’s in the most expensive high-rise in the city, but the spare room at their place only has an air mattress that Mike’s been using while staying with them. The room is otherwise a second closet for all of his mom’s luxury handbags and designer shoes, with floor-to-ceiling wall-to-wall cubbies and display cases for all her accessories. Up until now, I’ve lived in a mostly content bubble—well, as content as I could be after my husband cheated on me and moved out—since I always knew my girls would be home in their beds each and every night. Now, I won’t have that, and it’s like a scab has been reopened before the wound ever had a chance to heal.
I finish putting together the sandwich and meet my sister’s gaze, trying to keep my voice as even as possible. “He got a two-bedroom apartment in town and bought the girls bunk beds with a double on the bottom and a single on the top, so they can all sleep in the same room when they stay with him.”
“Oh,” she says, seeming to study me carefully, and no matter how hard I try to keep my shit together, my eyes begin to water. “That’s good, right?”
My chin wobbles, my heart sinking to my stomach. “They need their dad. They miss being with him.” I duck my head, embarrassed by my tears and my reason behind them. I want my babies home with me.
“Are you crying because the girls are going to be staying with him?” she finally asks after an awkward silence.
“Yes.” I shake my head, looking back up at her. “No.” I shake it again. “I don’t know. I think I thought we would work things out and he would eventually move home.” I glance away before meeting her eyes again. “Now he has a place of his own, so I think that means we really are done.”