Page 13 of Kiss From A Rose

"Anyway, just cancel it. I don't think I can make it, and the kids said they can't either."

"But, Gray—"

"I have a meeting, Rose. Just handle this, yeah?"

I looked at the date and sighed. Fuck! I was an asshole. This was last September. She'd booked the house for her birthday—so the family could celebrate it together, so we'd fucking acknowledge her.

Had I remembered? Did I give her a present?

What the fuck had I been doing to my marriage?

Aimee knocked on my open office door, and I waved her in. She was my executive assistant and the best I'd ever had. She was in her late twenties and absolutely perfect at her job.

"Gray, we need to RSVP for a few things." She sat down and gave me a broad smile.

She was blonde, stacked, and beautiful, besides being competent. Holden teased me that I was banging her. The thought had crossed my mind; of course, I was a man. It was what you thought when you saw a good-looking woman and wondered how it would be to fuck her.

But I wasn't a cheater, and no way did I even want to. Rose and I had…used to havea great sex life. When had we stopped having sex? When was the last time? Was it after that night when I came too soon and hadn't gotten her off after because I was too tired? Yeah, I was pretty sure it was. Shame coated my insides again. Every time I thought about how I treated Rose, my respect for myself got lower.

"Will Rose be joining the Mayor's Barbecue next weekend?" she asked.

I shook my head.I didn't fucking know.

"No? She's busy?" There was a smirk on her face like Rose had no right to be.

"What does that mean?"

"Just that your wife is…well at home not doin’ much, Gray."

"What?"

Aimee just shrugged. "I…anyway, let's move to—"

"No, explain."

"Well, you told me not to put her calls through unless someone was dying because she had nothing to do and couldn't understand that you were the one who was always swamped with work."

I'd said that? I was a jackass.

"When did I tell you that?"

"A few months after I started working for you. Your wife had called, and I sent the call through; you'd told me not to do that again.

The hell of it was that I couldn't even remember, but it sounded like something I'd say and do.

"So, how often did…doesshe call?"

Aimee shrugged. "A few times here and there. She called once a week or so ago."

On the day of our anniversary, she'd tried to reach me by callingandtexting—my Rose who kept waiting for me to show up andseeher.

"What did she say?"

Aimee licked her lips.

I waited.

She rolled her eyes. "Just that it was your anniversary or something. I just told her you were in a meeting."

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