Hooking Up (Shacking Up 2)

“Amalie, you know how this works. I love you. You’re my wife. I hold you to a higher standard. Everyone needs a mistress or two. They’re what deep throating is for, and maybe anal.”

My mouth opens and closes a few times. I can’t even process what he’s telling me. “A mistress or two?”

“For variety.”

“What about the sanctity of marriage?” I’m starting to feel ill as this new, horrifying reality sets in.

Armstrong shakes his head and purses his lips as he struggles to find the right words. “It’s really just a guideline.”

I sink into the chair, my knees weak. I thought I’d moved past all the anger and sadness into some level of acceptance, but I’ve just been slingshotted back to ground zero. My head is swimming, it feels like I’m drunk, even though I haven’t even had my morning mimosa yet. “Were you ever faithful to me? At all?”

“I’ve never had sex with anyone but you since we’ve been together.” He adds, “I’ve never kissed anyone, either.”

“I don’t understand what that means.”

“It’s just a blow job, Amalie. That’s all. Nothing more.”

“Nothing more?” I echo. “You let someone who is not me blow you at our wedding. That’s not nothing, Armstrong, that’s cheating.”

“I think you’re working under an antiquated view of what constitutes infidelity. A blow job doesn’t qualify as cheating.”

My shock seems to be boundless. “In what world?”

He rests his palm against his chest. “Amalie, you have my heart. That’s the only thing that matters here. We can work this out. It’s an excellent partnership.”

I can’t listen to any more of this. If I do, there’s a good chance I’ll end up committing murder. I don’t know what Bora Bora’s prison system is like but I’d prefer not to find out. I point to the door. “Get the fuck out.”

“Amalie, you need to be reasonable.” He’s standing right in front of me. His crotch level with my face.

“Or what?” I wonder how many times Brittany has gotten on her knees for him. I wonder if she’s the only one. It seems unlikely based on what he’s just said.

“I’m being nice right now, Amalie. You’ve had a week to adjust your expectations. And people are talking. I don’t think you really want to push my buttons any more than you already have, do you?” His eyes are dark and angry as his fingers wrap tightly around my bicep, squeezing.

“Get your hands off me!” I try to shake free of him, but his grip tightens.

My reaction is instinctual, my years of self-defense kicking in. I cock my fist and punch him square in the nuts, bringing him to his knees.

His mouth drops open in shock as he cups himself and falls to his side on the floor, curled up in the fetal position. “Why?” he gasps.

My chair tips back as I push up to stand. “Because you’re a pussy, and a cheater, and you tried to threaten me with force.” I grab my phone with shaking hands and pull up my contact list, stepping over Armstrong as I scroll to the one and only person who can help me right now.

Ten: Dick Punch

Lexington

“Hi, Lex? It’s Amie. Amalie. Hi.”

I’m shocked to hear her voice so it takes a second before I answer, less than eloquently. “Hey. Hi, Amie. How’re you?”

“I’m fine.” She laughs uncertainly. “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

The waver in her voice makes me sit up straighter. “Are you sure you’re fine? You don’t sound fine.”

She sighs softly. “Not really. I need your help.”

Based on her tone, I don’t think this is about being her toy chest beta tester. I’m sitting on my deck with a pile of file folders, crunching numbers between dips in the water. Yesterday was full of meetings, today I’m reviewing the most important things that need to be managed. In three hours I have another meeting at the sister resort a ways down the island. “What’s going on? Are you in trouble?”

“Um. I think . . . I think I need to get out of here. Could you come get me? Or . . . never mind. You’re probably in the middle of a meeting. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

I move my laptop to the table. “I’m not in the middle of anything. I can come right now. What’s happened?”

“Armstrong’s here.”

“I’m sorry, did I hear that correctly?”

“Armstrong is in Bora Bora.”

I slip my feet into my flip-flops. “Is he with you right now?”

“He is.”

“Has he hurt you?” I grab the keys for the hotel jeep I’ve been using during my stay and rush down the dock, forcing a smile as I pass a couple of the cleaning staff and resort guests.

“Hurt me?”

“Put his hands on you, touched you, harmed you?”

“I don’t think so. No. I mean, he put his hand on me, but I punched him, so I’m okay.”

This time my smile is real. “Good girl. I’m on my way. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“I’m okay. I think. I need to pack. I should pack.”

She sounds like she’s in shock. It’s a different kind of shock than the night of the wedding. “Are you sure? I can stay on the line.”

“How long will you be?”

“Ten minutes. Fifteen at the most. I’m not far.”

“Okay. I’ll be fine until then. I’ll see you soon.”

Amalie ends the call. I stare at my phone for a few seconds, debating whether I should call her back and make sure she really is fine. Or as fine as she can be considering the circumstances. Of course Armstrong would come to get her. He can’t stand losing and he hates the idea that people may be talking negatively about him because of this.

Over the past few days I’ve been in constant contact with Bane. The first call I received wasn’t all that friendly. He assumed I’d somehow known Amalie was going to Bora Bora. Armstrong’s honeymoon had never been something I’d cared to hear about. When Bane realized how ridiculous that was he calmed down and apologized. If this had been a few years ago his worry might’ve been valid, but I haven’t fucked with Armstrong in a long time.

Beyond calls from Bane, I’ve been fielding endless messages from Ruby updating me on her best friend’s status, including her hut number, should I need it. The temptation to check on Amalie has been strong, however, I wasn’t going to initiate contact. I will not be the asshole in this situation by taking advantage of her in a weak moment. But her coming to me, well, that’s different. She’s asking me for help. I don’t know how Armstrong is going to react to seeing me, but I’m not about to let him mess with her any more than he already has. I’ve had enough of his bullshit to last an entire lifetime.

I jump into the jeep and head toward the Haven. Once there, I secure a golf cart so I can navigate the narrow paths leading to the beachfront huts. It doesn’t take me long to locate Amalie’s hut. She’s wheeling her suitcases out the door while Armstrong grabs her arm, in an attempt to pull her back inside.

I barely have the cart in park before I’m rushing him. “Get your hands off her!”

He releases her, face scrunching in confusion. Obviously she didn’t mention me coming to get her, and no one told him I was here, which gives me an element-of-surprise advantage. I come in low like a linebacker, jamming my shoulder into his stomach, launching him back into the hut. We land on the floor in a heap.