Page 29 of For Pucking Keeps

But he didn’t answer. When I’d called the restaurant to tell them I was on my way, the receptionist told me he wasn’t there. So, there I was, rushing home, thinking the worst.

I knew wedding planning had been stressful. I hadn't been the easiest to get along with lately, but I had been as present as I could be. Our relationship had been a bit strained, but Shaun loved me, and I loved him. He encouraged me and supported my work. I reminded myself of this every time doubt crept in, when I worried if marrying him was the right thing to do. I was lucky to have him. He’d been with me from the beginning of my writing career, our relationship had morphed from friendship to love slowly, our love took time to flourish; easy, convenient.

A horn honked loudly, pulling me from my thoughts and I quickly changed lanes to allow the impatient driver to pass. “Call Shaun,” I ordered my phone. The phone began to ring as the road to my neighborhood came into view. The phone rang and rang,only to go to his voicemail. Dread coiled in my belly as I thought about all the reasons why he wasn't answering. When had he ever ignored my phone calls? In fact, I was the one who got the third degree when I didn't pick up his calls. I got so lost in my writing that everything around me faded into the background until I could come up for air. I realized then I might lose him if I didn't devote more time to him. Maybe I’d write less after we married. Even as I thought it, I wondered if I was compromising too much.

Pulling into the driveway, I parked behind Shaun’s car. “Oh, thank God,” I said to myself, my relief and worry eased.

I rushed up the path to the front door, stopping short when I saw Mace’s car parked on the road across the street. Thunder boomed and lightning streaked across the sky ominously and I hurried up the walkway to get out of the downpour. I didn't question why Mace was here, my best friend was always around. I'd just talked to him earlier this morning as he asked me my plans for the day. Then we'd made plans to have coffee tomorrow morning to catch up with Julia, like we always did. But had I missed him telling me he was going to stop by tonight? I went over my conversation with him in my head as I entered the house, dropped my things and went in search of Shaun and Mace.

“Hey, Shaun. Did the weather make you decide on not going out?” I asked as I made my way through our home, bypassing the front living room, aiming towards the kitchen. That was what I did. I’d talk to him, and normally he would appear, always present, hearing my voice ring out through the house with my ramblings of the day.

But he didn't come out to greet me. Neither did Mace. When I entered, the kitchen was dark and empty, with only Shaun’s car keys on the counter. Pausing, I listened for voices, but I couldn't hear anything, especially from this part of the house.

“Shaun!” I called his name once more, continuing my rant. “I was so worried I rushed home as soon as I could. I mean, you know how my thoughts spiral. I was thinking the worst. Oh yeah. My sisters called, but I won’t talk about the wedding tonight.” I kept talking as I removed my shoes, leaving them under the stairs as I made my way up to the second floor. “It’s been the longest day of edits.” I sighed. “Did I mention I hate editing. I may need you to check my work. I’m absolutely going cross eyed,” I said as grunts and moans echoed down the hall. My steps slowed, the pit in my stomach returned, bile rising in the back of my throat as I stepped closer and closer to our bedroom door.

“Oh fuck, Mace. That’s right baby, fuck my ass!” Shaun’s voice was lustful, pleading, his pleasured moans made tears spring to my eyes.

I already knew what lay in wait for me but like a moth to a flame, I fluttered along to my death, the burn inevitable.

“This ass is mine!” Mace shouted. “Say it, Shaun. Who do you belong to?” he demanded. The sound of skin slapping skin combined with the thumping sound of our headboard hitting the wall felt like a smack to my face.

“I’m yours, Mace. Only yours.” Shaun’s muffled words were the final nail in the coffin of everything I thought I knew. I flung the bedroom door open, my eyes burned as I fought back tears, because I would be damned if they got to see them fall.

Mace’s ass came into view, his legs spread wide, muscles flexing as he thrust wildly into Shaun. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience as I saw Shaun clutching the sheets, body bent like a pretzel as he writhed beneath my best friend.

The sound of the message popping up on the screen, brings my thoughts back to the present. The surprise and shock of that night fades fast as I scan Julia’s message.

Julia: I only work hard for you. But enough about me. I have good news. In fact, excellent news to share this bright and early morning. You, my dear friend, Alexis, well, Jaz, have been nominated for the Lit! Award for your last book. The best news, the ceremony will be held in Seattle, so you don’t even have to travel. You can take your arm candy with you and make all the nerds jealous. I will even get a chance to meet him.

I sit back in my chair, floored with disbelief. I should be jumping for joy, maybe a silent victory dance so I won’t wake Tor. But I don’t have the heart to celebrate. A Lit! Award is prestigious, especially for a Romance author. I am honored, and if Tor doesn’t have a game, I know he will be beside me. That’s not a worry. What does worry my already worried mind though?—

Me: Shaun? Mace? Tell me they won’t be there Julia.

The dots dance, then stop, then dance again, and that same sense of dread I felt all those months ago comes rushing back.

Julia: He received an invite. Remember he did edit the book, Lex. He feels he has every right to be there. Mace has said it would be a good chance to clear the air.

Me: I don’t want to clear the air, Jules. I’d rather not attend if they will be there.

Julia: Don’t be ridiculous. This is your night. Don’t let them ruin it. Plus you’ve moved on. If you don’t want to talk to them, you don’t have to.

Me: I don’t need this on top of everything else.

Julia: You’re still feeling guilty, aren’t you? I don’t see anything wrong with what you’ve written. So what if it’s more autobiographical than not. Your readers won’t know.

Me: But I will. Besides, Tor won’t see it that way.

Julia: Listen, as a friend I get it. As your publisher, this is business. You can’t pull the book. You have no time to rewrite it. This is happening, accept it. Tell him, get it over with. Make him understand.

Me: I don’t think he will understand. I don’t want to lose him.

Julia: If he loves you. . .

Me: He does. . .

Julia: Shit.

Me: Yep. I’m screwed because I love him too.

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