Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Laura patted my back, her face scrunched in pity. “Oh dear, you’re more hopeless than I thought.” She tucked her feet under her bum on the settee, and for a moment, I was filled with illogical rage that she was putting her scent and her cells and her everything over my precious Riggs couch. “Why don’t you call him and tell him how you feel? He was obviously hurt over the whole thing with BJ, which means he cares.”
“He cares,” I agreed, “and that’s exactly the problem.”
I replayed yesterday in my head. Remembered Riggs’s face as his father drew his last breath. When he realized he couldn’t help it—that he cared deeply for Charlie. I was there when Riggs gave Charlie the best day of his life—even if it was his last one too—so I knew exactly where my husband was coming from.
He wanted nothing and no one to hold him back. He didn’t want to be chained, didn’t want responsibilities, a family, a wife; I’d agreed to it in our terms and conditions. It wasn’t fair for him if I ripped our verbal contract apart.
“I don’t think anything I could say would change his mind.” My chin quivered as I shoved another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth.
“Then,” Laura said, reaching to rub at my arm, “I’m afraid you need to do what he did to you and let it go.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
RIGGS
“Did you get a photo of the pool from this angle? With the carriages and the fruit baskets?” Elin, the marketing and commercial executive at Discovery magazine, trotted on the edge of the Marrakesh pool. She wore a white beach kimono and a tiny bikini while giving me meaningful looks that could only be translated into I want you to fuck me again.
Last time I did was two years ago, after a company Christmas party, along with two attractive interns who’d wanted a taste of an orgy. Ho, ho, ho, indeed.
I lumbered over to the angle she was talking about, clicking my camera.
I hated doing commercial work, and probably would’ve found a way to avoid it if it wasn’t for Duffy, who was too much of a temptation as long as we were cohabiting a continent.
Unfortunately, an entire ocean still wasn’t enough to keep her off my mind. I’d been miserable ever since I landed in Morocco, feeling homesick, lovestruck, and, worst of all—like a coward.
Problem was, you’re never homesick for the walls or the furniture. You’re homesick for the people who share it with you. My wife had grown on me in the weeks we’d spent together, and now being away from her felt like an unscratchable itch. I could turn my skin inside out and still go wild with misery.
After taking a gazillion pictures of the pool, which was bracketed by acres of green grass, luxurious orange recliners, and dining tables, I walked over to the outdoor spa, with its velvet burgundy seats and golden walls.
Elin followed me, her heels clapping the marble beneath us. “It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?”
“Hmm.”
I was only able to provide monosyllabic answers these days. Even that was a stretch.
“Do you have any plans after we wrap this up?” Elin purred. “We’re almost finished.”
“I think I’ll call it an early night.” I hoisted my camera over my shoulder.
Elin bit down on her lip in my periphery. “You know I broke up with Neil, right?”
I didn’t even know who Neil was. Only that four months after our Christmas sexcapade, when I’d called her to see if she was interested in a sequel, she’d said she had a boyfriend.
“Sorry to hear.”
“You shouldn’t be. He was an asshole.”
We got to the spa. I started taking pictures, wishing she’d take a hike. But Elin, while good at writing marketing pieces about luxury hotels, was bad at reading signals, so she decided to hammer the suggestion home while grinding her tits against my arm.
“We could have dinner together.”
“Not hungry.”
“Then we can go straight to dessert.” She giggled.
I turned around to her, a frown on my face. “Didn’t you hear I got married?”
The news must’ve made the rounds. Emmett had a mouth the size of Montana. Gossip was his favorite sport.
This made Elin pale. “Emmett might’ve mentioned something.”
“And you still thought I’d be game?”
Her mouth hung open. Good-natured, always-up-for-fun Riggs was obviously MIA.
“You’ve never been in a relationship the entire time I’ve known you. I just figured—”
“Figured what?” I knew I was directing my anger at the wrong person but still couldn’t help myself. I was on edge, waiting to see how much money Daphne was going to ask from my accountant and what kind of legal documents would be waiting for me back home to secure my wife’s personal wealth.
“Figured it wasn’t serious. Your marriage, I mean.” She pursed her lips, then said, “I mean . . . is it? Is it real?”