Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
I like my doctors, including my therapist, to be more scientific minded than what a religious leader would be. So if there was something Roman and I needed to fix within our relationship before taking it to the next level, there would be a clear and already tried-and-true method of doing that, rather than “just pray about it.” I didn’t want someone to read me stories and make me decipher them and somehow apply them to my life to guide me in a certain direction. I needed clear instructions based on conclusions formed from lots and lots of experimentation.
The divine intervention for me was Doc and all his wisdom falling into our laps.
But it was when I was working all hours—too busy to notice Roman needed me, I assume—that my husband turned to another woman for attention. At least that’s what I’ve sorted out in my own mind. Don’t get me wrong; there is no excuse for what he did, and I don’t blame myself for what happened, but I can understand how it did.
“Babe?” Roman’s voice pulls my eyes to him.
“I’m sorry, what?” I shake myself out of it.
This. This is what I was trying to explain to Doc this morning.
A perfectly normal, happy night, my favorite meal with my favorite guys, yet my mind will still randomly wander back to her.
“I asked how your doctor appointment went today,” he says gently, watching me closely. And I have to give it to him—he’s so patient with me, never allowing himself to get frustrated, even when he knows exactly what is circling my mind, and even after all this time since the incident happened.
I side-eye in Bram’s direction, then focus on Roman’s intense gaze. Bram knows we had some kind of… disagreement, but he doesn’t know the specifics. Even though he’s Roman’s closest friend—his only friend, really—I begged my husband not to confide in him, too embarrassed of the situation. If Bram knew the details, I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye, and since we all lived together and I saw him all the time, it would be miserably awkward having to see the look of pity he would most likely give me.
I, after all, am a woman who forgave my husband after he had an emotional affair. That’s a sign of weakness, right? What kind of woman would still be with a man after he turned to someone else who wasn’t his wife?
“It went good,” I answer vaguely and then change the subject. “How’d your meeting go?”
“Awesome. We got the account,” he replies and high-fives Bram across the table when he lifts his hand. I giggle when Roman has to grab a napkin from the holder to wipe off all the garlic butter his friend left behind. “They want us to not only design their website, but also set them up with all their software within their company, from corporate all the way to order fulfillment. It’s a big job, and the payout will be huge.”
“Fuck yeah, bro,” Bram says after swallowing a forkful of spaghetti.
I smile and reach beneath the table to squeeze Roman’s knee. “That’s great. I know you were really anxious about this one. I knew you’d get it though. Y’all are the best.”
His eyes heat at my touch, making my neck break out in a sweat, and I pull my hand away to pick up my fork and twist it in the noodles. It reminds me of what Doc said in our session today, about what he saw in the surveillance footage of our private room.
I push it out of my mind and look over at Bram when Roman asks, “And what about your meeting, Abe? How’d it go?”
He wipes his mouth with a napkin and leans back in his chair. His hand dives through his blond hair, making it stand up in its perfectly mussed way. “They tried haggling the price with me. I hate that shit. You know how they say rich people stay rich because they’re the cheapest people on the planet? That’s the damn truth if this big-ass company is anything to go by. One of the most popular sites for women’s fashion right now wants to do an overhaul on their website, and they’re trying to low-ball me. The whole time, I was thinking ‘You ain’t fucking me in my squish mitten without lube, bruh,’ but instead of saying that, I just left after telling them our prices are firm. We’ll see if they call back.”
My nose wrinkles. “Squish… mitten? That’s a new one.” He smirks, and I get back to the conversation. “It’s not the first time that’s happened, and they seem to always call back after getting other quotes and seeing they’d get more bang for their buck with you two.”
“Us,” Roman inserts, and my eyes lift to his in question. “All of us, babe. They’d get more from us—Me, Abe, and you included. Never forget you’re a part of this company. We would’ve never gotten it off the ground if you hadn’t invested the first three grand for all the licensing.”