Until Cece (Happily Ever Alpha World)

I make a show of blowing her off. “Everyone thinks Winston is hot. It doesn’t matter if you have a vagina or a penis.” Which is 100 percent accurate. He gets hit on by all genders every night, and he handles everyone with grace. There’s not an ounce of the toxic kind of masculinity in that man’s body, and it’s absolutely endearing the way he kindly turns down come-ons even from men.

“This is true,” Mia agrees. “But I didn’t think you noticed.”

I pout at that. I may be a mom of three who’s had an abnormally low libido for the past several years—before being in close proximity to my boss—but damn, I’m not dead. “Umm, how could I not notice? He’s Winston. He kind of steals the spotlight, even if he’s not trying. But he’s also married,” I confess, feeling the need to relieve a bit of my guilt that built up before bed last night, even if I’ll keep it close to the vest that I let him do filthy things to me only days ago.

“He’s married?” she gasps, the same reaction I had inside me when I found out.

“He is. And his wife came into the restaurant yesterday making a scene, and let’s just say she’s not very nice.” I wave away the memory, wanting to get back to the subject of Talon. “But we’re not talking about Winston. We’re talking about Talon, who is as hot as his name and totally into you.”

“Do you think so?” Her voice and her eyes seem so hopeful it makes my heart ache.

I snort. “How many men do you know would show up at a woman’s house when they find out they’re sick? Especially”—I emphasize the word—“when they aren’t dating. They aren’t even really seeing each other. Not to mention the fact that he looks at you like…” I close her eyes for a moment then sigh. “God, I don’t even know, because I’ve never had a man look at me that way.” Winston does, a voice whispers, but I shove it away. “All I know is he’s totally into you, and if you weren’t my sister, I would be so jealous right now.”

The problem is, I am jealous. I’m 100 percent jealous that my sister is completely single and a man who is also completely single is clearly smitten with her, and if they both wanted to, they could be with each other right this very second without any qualms.

Which is so fucked up of me and fills me with even more guilt than I already carry, because if anyone deserves happiness, it’s Mia.

“We have a date Saturday,” she tells me.

“So you’re going?” I ask, and she frowns. I roll my eyes. “Last night, you kept talking about how you didn’t know if you should go. It happened every time you picked up your phone, wondering if you should message him. We really need to work on your alcohol tolerance.”

“I think I’ll be happy to never drink again. And I didn’t know if I should message or go, because I don’t know if I trust that he’s real. But as you put it, how many guys would most likely illegally get your address and show up at your house to check on you when you don’t call to let them know you’re okay?”

“I’m pretty sure a stalker would do that,” I joke, and she sighs. “But seriously, Mia, like I told you last night, what do you have to lose if you spend some time with him? Plus, if you’re lucky, you’ll have the memory of his penis. I just hope it’s not small, because that would really suck—not only for you, but for the population of women in the world who are drooling over him.”

She laughs loudly, making my grin widen, and she lets out a deep breath. “I’m going out with him. Well, not out. He’s taking me to his house and—”

“Banging your brains out?” I cut her off hopefully.

“Oh my God, what’s wrong with you? He’s just making dinner.”

What’s wrong with me is I had my first non-self-given orgasm in over a year a couple nights ago, and I can’t stop thinking about it, even though I know it’s wrong. “Well, I still hope he bangs your brains out.”

“Can you please stop?” She groans.

“Sorry. You’re right. I’ll stop.” I pretend to zip my lips closed.

“Thank you. Lord… I think you need to get laid. Maybe it’s time for you to sign up on a dating app or order a new vibrator.”

“Already done. Not the first option, but the second. I don’t need another man,” I tell her, something I’ve been chanting to myself over and over since I left Win’s house the other night.

“Right now.”

“What?” I prompt, only half listening now that the image of Win and what we did together won’t get out of my mind. God, what I wouldn’t give—