Page 33 of The Breakup

“I envy you that,” she said. “Having a place you belong. Having a child to raise.”

There wasn’t a lot to envy about my situation. “Yeah. Well, don’t do it the way I did it, that’s all I’m going to say about that.”

“I think you’re a good father,” she said, softly. “Not that my opinion matters, but you seem like you have your priorities straight.”

“I try.” I bent over and picked up a rock and threw it as hard as I could off the cliff. It sailed through the air and I beat back thoughts of Ali and the past and my parents. Not anything to think about today.

Today was about long, tan legs, long, blond hair, and long, delicious kisses with my princess bride. “Come here, I want to show you something.”

Bella wrinkled her nose. “Are you going to show me your junk?”

That made me laugh. “First of all, why is that so horrible? Second of all, who the hell do you hang around with? I’m not going to just pull my dick out and wave it around in the woods.”

Bella walked over to me, tossing her hair back. “Male humor is a strange thing. It was a reasonable assumption, you know.”

“Not really.” I took her hand though and tugged her to the left. Buried in the trees was the abandoned railroad car that someone at some point had parked here for kicks. “It’s a caboose. I loved playing in this when I was a kid.”

“What? That’s crazy. Who put this here?”

“I think my grandfather. It has blankets and books and some pipe tobacco in it. Or it did when I was a kid.” But when I pushed the door open and took in what was in there now, I said, “Holy shit.”

“What? Are there bugs? A dead animal?” Bella grabbed my back and squeezed my flesh, her head poking up over my shoulder as she tried to peer around me to the dim interior.

“Uh, no. Not even close. This is someone’s personal red room.” I shifted so she could see. “It’s a fuck shack.”

“What…” Bella’s voice trailed off as she took in what I had already seen. “Is this what a red room looks like?”

“Someone’s version, yes.” It was quite the setup. A mattress on a bedframe, not currently made, but with restraints in the four corners of it, waiting to be wrapped around ankles and wrists. Behind the mattress was a shelf with all sorts of toys, from a whip to a crazy amount of oils and vibrators. I flicked open an armoire to my right. It had fresh linens folded up in it, along with bottles of wine, glasses, and candles. Yep. Fuck shack. I had a thought. I pulled out my phone and composed a text. This had the stamp of my brother all over it. Not Cain, Camden.

WTF is up with the old caboose by the camp?

“This looks fun,” I told Bella. “I like the atmosphere. It’s cozy and sexy.”

“But it’s…just for sex.”

“Looks that way.”

“Who does that?” Bella had moved inside and ran her hands over the whip, as if she was curious, then jerked her hand back like she’d been scalded.

“Anyone lucky enough to have a caboose, I guess.” I wasn’t scandalized. I was fucking turned on. This was way better than the cabin, which was cute and basic. This was really a place where you left the world behind and indulged in dirty deeds. Perfect.

“I don’t think we should be here. What if you don’t own this and someone finds us? OMG, what if a serial killer lures women here and murders them?” Bella grabbed my arm.

That amused me. “I don’t think serial killers provide pinot grigio, fresh sheets, and lube to their victims, but I could be wrong.”

“You don’t know. It could be their fantasy.”

“What the hell kind of fantasy is that? I’ve never heard of a Bed-and-Breakfast Killer.”

Fortunately my phone buzzed before Bella could spin a whole tale of our murder in the woods. It was Cam.

Like my getaway? Use it if you want but replace the wine and wash the fucking sheets.

“My oldest brother did this,” I told Bella. I turned my phone so she could read his text. “We’re safe.”

So you come to Camden and don’t tell us? You’re a dick.

You can come to New York and not tell me and I’m cool with it.

---