Good Time(51)

Vince cleans us up. He gets up to dispose of the condom and comes back with a warm washcloth which he uses to clean me. “I can get up,” I protest. Because no one has ever done that for me before and if he doesn’t love me back I might die. I love him. I fucking love him and I don’t even care how stupid and unpredictable love is. How uncertain and fragile and without guarantee.

“Sure you can,” Vince agrees, which is kind because we both know it’s a lie, “but I’m already here.” He winks when he says it, accompanied by a wicked little grin. God, he just made a joke while cleaning me up after sex so I don’t have to move. If I didn’t already love him that alone would be enough to do it.

When he’s done he gets back into my bed and I snuggle into his side and it’s all so fucking normal and perfect. He laces his fingers with mine on his chest and we talk. He uses his other hand to play with my hair and I’m not sure if I want to fall asleep or stay awake forever so this night never ends.

When he tells me he’ll be traveling next week I know I have to say something. Now, before he leaves, because he’ll be gone an entire week clear across the state on some trial he’s consulting on. Maybe it’s too soon, but fuck it. Maybe my decision-making skills are shit but my spontaneity skills have served me well.

“You know how when you meet someone new, you’re on your best behavior? How things are a little awkward because you’re still feeling the other person out?”

“This has been you on your best behavior?” He can’t hide the alarm on his face and I slap his chest with my open palm.

“No! That’s my point. I’ve never felt that way with you. From the very first day I felt like myself.”

Vince slow-blinks at me, his features relaxing.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“Do you?” Vince rolls us over so he’s on top, brushing my hair back from my face. Then he kisses me, his lips brushing softly against mine. It makes me crazy, the soft caress of his lips in direct contrast of the hardness of his body, pressed against mine. The way his cock rests against my stomach, getting harder by the second.

“I do. I am.” I’m distracted by his kisses and his cock, but I want him to know how I feel. “Which is good because I think fate wanted us to be together.”

“Fate?” Vince pauses in kissing me, another frown marring his brow.

“Hmhmm.” I trace the line on his forehead with my fingertip. He nods, but in a distracted way, so I’m not sure we’re on the same page about the contribution of destiny. But it’s fine because destiny doesn’t really care what you think about it, it just does its thing without your approval anyway.

Besides which, he’s rolling another condom on so we can talk about destiny later.

By later I mean much, much later because his stamina on round two is off the charts. Life could not be going better for me. I’m capable of multiple orgasms and I’m in love with my husband. A man who makes me believe forevers might just exist.

Until destiny delivers a turd directly to my doorstep. A turd in the form of annulment papers.





Chapter Twenty-Six





Vince left on Monday.

That part was fine. The trial, he’d mentioned the trial. He’d mentioned Reno. He’d mentioned he’d miss me. Isn’t that what he’d said? I’ll miss you, gorgeous. I’d grinned like a silly swan when he’d said it. Secure in where we were headed. Secure that his feelings for me were at the very least on the same game board as my feelings for him. But maybe I’d overwhelmed him with my silly proclamation of love. With my overactive imagination and demands for his time. With me.

Why? Why had I been sure?

I’ll miss you.

Miss you forever?

He’d never mentioned that I’d be served with paperwork. Paperwork that would end our marriage. No, not just end it. Undo it.

Is it better to have loved and lost or to have never loved at all?

Lost is the answer here, because at least that’s real. At least that happened. An annulment is nothing; it’s a footnote on a Wikipedia page. It’s official legal paperwork declaring that something was so insignificant as to have not existed. That it never should have happened to begin with. Maybe we were on different game boards after all. Maybe I was playing the game of Life and he was playing Operation because I feel like I’m a moment away from being shocked as Vince removes my heart.

He argues with people for a living and he couldn’t talk to me himself?

That’s so… insulting.

Is it because I distracted him with sex all week? He had to wait until he was six hours away and then have me served? Do you know how that feels? You probably don’t. I hope you don’t because it feels terrible. Awful. The worst ever.

“Are you Payton Tanner?” That’s what I was greeted with when I opened my door this morning. I was less than a minute from leaving for work when my bell rang. I thought the guy worked for the apartment complex—that was my first thought when he spoke because how else would a stranger at my door know my name?

“You’ve been served,” he said, thrusting a manila envelope into my hands and walking away. A very familiar manila envelope, because it looked exactly like the one Vince dropped on my countertop a week and a half earlier.