She freezes in my arms, and her hands go slack in my hair. I’m so busy sliding my hand between her legs and feeling how slick she is there that it takes me a minute to register why.
I pull back and look up at her. “Four days in Atlanta,” I explain. “Alec’s flying in today, and we have business meetings that can’t wait.” I stroke her between her legs, and her eyes float closed. She widens her stance to make room for my hand, but instead of giving her what she wants, I tug her toward me. “Come here.”
She straddles my lap and loops her arms behind my neck. “You don’t have to explain yourself. Of course you need to work.”
“If our schedule weren’t so crazy, I’d come back every night.” I kiss her gently and groan as she rocks against me. She’s so fucking wet. I can feel her through her panties and my boxer briefs.
I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight, and stand.
Brinley squeaks in protest but wraps her legs behind my back. “What are you doing?”
I head toward the stairs and the luxury shower waiting for us up there. “I’m making you late.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Brinley
It’s been a long freaking week. And it’s only Wednesday.
My parents are still in town—not that they’re talking to me. They’re just around. Meaning there’s potential for any public outing to turn excruciating if I happen to run into them.
Cami’s having the time of her life at Disney World and sending me pictures that alternately make me smile and remind me of this missing piece of me. I never feel quite right when she’s gone. Her birthday was yesterday, and after I sang to her over FaceTime, I indulged in a private little cry over not being there with her.
Every time I get a message on my work email from anyone in the Wright family, I go tense all over, convinced the ax is about to drop.
And Marston’s still in Atlanta. He texts me between meetings, calls me at night, and generally has me so wound up that I’m likely to jump him the second he walks in the door on Friday.
When I enter my condo after work Wednesday, Julian’s keys are on the entryway table.
My stomach pitches. We haven’t spoken since he stormed out Friday night. Maybe he’s here to talk. Maybe he’s going to apologize for the way he acted and admit he played a part in how all this unfolded. I screwed up, and I can forgive him for being hurt, but he lied to me to get me to agree to this marriage and then snooped through my things. I think there are apologies owed on both sides if we’re going to maintain our friendship going forward.
I drop my purse by his keys and head toward the sound of steps in the bedroom, but when I step inside, I gasp.
The closet door’s wide open, and inside are big boxes piled full of my clothes. On the bed, more boxes with all of my belongings piled inside.
Julian’s stooped in the corner, taping shut yet another box, and when he looks up at me, his eyes narrow. “I’m done with Cami’s room. You can help me with the kitchen after this.”
I look around, taking in the boxes one at a time. “What?” I shake my head. I’m completely missing something. “What’s happening here, Julian?”
He straightens and tosses the packing tape on the bed. “I’ve let you and your kid live here for less than half rent for months while you led me on. I have a waiting list of people who will pay more than list rent for this condo. I’m done losing for you.”
“Losing what?”
“Money, time, my future, and my pride. I’ve given enough, and you’ve given me shit-all in return. Nothing but empty promises. I’m done. I need you out yesterday so I can get someone in here who isn’t going to take and take and never give back.”
That feeling in my stomach turns to a full-on twist of knots. “You’re the one who wanted me to live here,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I told you I couldn’t afford it, but you insisted.”
“I wouldn’t have done that if I’d known you were married to that asshole, though, would I?”
He’s right. I swallow back my angry retort and scramble to think of a solution. “I’ll borrow money from—” From my parents? Unlikely. And my friends don’t have it. Kace might, but he just bought a house that he’s renovating and . . . I shake my head. “I’ll borrow it from somewhere. Somehow. Let me pay full rent until I can find somewhere else.”
“Even if someone would give you the money—and I seriously doubt that—I wouldn’t take it.” He looks around my disaster of a bedroom slowly, his disgust palpable. “You can’t have everything handed to you your whole life and never expect to give something in return, Brin.”