Page 47 of Repluse

Why?

Has he been having his affair with Alice our entire marriage?

Why didn’t he just marry her instead?

Is he going to marry her after he divorces me?

Why does he go to a sex club with her and save his boring, lack lustre three pumps for me?

Where’s Ella?

Is she safe?

Am I safe?

What’s going to happen to my mum if I come out of the divorce with nothing?

Can I trust Frankie?

And Scott! What. The Actual. Fuck? I don’t even want to attempt getting my brain around that scenario.

I begin to feel sick as I circle around and around, and when I attempt to answer each question, my brain goes off on a tangent, leading to nine hundred and seventy-nine others being raised.

My skin feels too hot, my heart like it’s about to beat out of my chest, and my head like it’s on the verge of exploding.

As stealthily as I can, I slide out from between the two sleeping men. I find a T-shirt on the floor and pull it on. I’m pretty tall for a woman, but it still covers my bare arse and smells distinctly of Frankie.

The double doors to the hallway are open, so I exit the bedroom quietly and head up to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. Without the heat of the boys’ bodies surrounding me, I’m suddenly cold, so once my tea’s made—which takes about ten seconds with Sam’s fancy tap—I curl up in the corner of the sofa under the knit throw I’m seriously considering taking home with me.

Drawing in a long deep breath of the berry-scented tea, I wrap my hands around my cup, and contemplate what an unmitigated disaster my life has become.

I need to calm myself down and come up with a plan. I know Frankie’s said he’s working on something, but what if he’s not? What if he’s still on the side of Team Logan and just using me for sex?

Sam’s said that he’s got me covered with somewhere to live and to look after my mum if everything goes to shit, and I do like him… a lot. But do I, once again, want to be so reliant on men for my financial security?

I’m well aware that this is karma coming to bite me on the arse after all the scheming I did to get Logan to marry me, but if you’d experienced the childhood poverty I did, you might be inclined to give me a fucking break.

I let out a loud breath/sigh/huff of frustration but instantly pause when I hear a sound from the hallway downstairs. A few moments later, Frankie enters the kitchen, looks around, then leaves. I hear doors open, then he comes back to the kitchen. Silently, and wearing just his boxers, he passes me as he moves through the family room and looks out the sliding doors to the deck. Raking his fingers through his dark hair, he lets out his own loud sigh before turning to face the room. That’s when he sees me.

“Fuck, Mils! You scared the fucking life out of me. I thought you’d taken off in the rain somewhere.”

“Why would I?” I question, watching on as he laces his fingers together at the back of his head, his very fine, almost naked body on full display.

I blow on the steam rising from my tea, even though it’s already cool enough to drink.

“Today’s been a lot. I thought maybe…” He pauses and sighs. “Is that one of your girly teas?”

“Yep.”

“Can I have one?”

“Go for it.”

“Which flavour do you recommend?”

“If you’re having trouble sleeping, the night-time berry.”

I watch on as he moves to the kitchen, performing the same tea making routine I did. Mug in hand, he returns to the sofa, sits in the opposite corner to me, takes the throw placed up his end, and covers himself with it.

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