Page 10 of Illicit Temptation

Shea - East Hampton - Present Day - August

Big girls don’t cry.

And this O’Rourke woman is ready to scream.

Anger floods my veins, absorbing the last goddamn thing I want to hear.

“Another year? You can’t get divorced foranotheryear?” I bellow to Archer, my voice vibrating off the glass walls of the exclusive Hampton Isles oceanfront party room.

Guests will be strolling in soon, and Archer is giving me this news while I’m working an afternoon retirement party. Likely, so I can’t make a scene. What a snake.

“The courts are backed up,” he argues, his voice flat.

“I would think a man with your power can get around that. Sounds like you need a better lawyer.”

“I just need you to wait a little bit longer.”

“I’ve been waiting for eight years.” God, as I say that, I see how pathetic I’ve been.

Archer looks me up and down, like my backtalk startled him. “I wouldn’t call what you’re doing here in East Hampton waiting.”

“What does that mean?” I fold my arms.

“Living a life of glamour, throwing parties for your celebrity friends. Your fifteen-hour work days, always glued to your damn phone, taking calls in the middle of the night from hysterical bitches, flying off to Paris to go fucking wedding dress shopping. Do you think I want a wife who puts anything before me?”

I stagger back, shocked into a rare spell of silence hearing how he feels about my career after all this time. Not to mention the venomous tone he dares to speak to me in. Even if he’s one hundred percent right in describing my life.

“You’re missing one piece of that puzzle, Archer,” I ground out. “I have nothing else in my life.”

Hearing those words come out of my mouth, I’m filled with regret. It’s not entirely true anymore. My brothers have kids now. And I recently got back from Seattle where I spent a week with Darragh and his precious little Sophie. I still can’t believe Darragh’s wife left him. And her child!

I love being the cool aunt. The squeeze of little arms around my neck is a bittersweet thrill. But I get choked up, thinking that’s all I’ll ever be. Fibroids are overtaking my uterus, and my new specialist has been advocating for me to get a hysterectomy for two years.

But if I do, it’s the end of the line. I’ll never have kids. No man will want me. That’s why Archer Crest is the perfect man for me since he has kids. It’s also why Ican’tstay married to Trace Quinlan, wherever the hell he is.

Trace is young, virile, and can have anyone. Not that I ever heard from him again.

Which bothered me. We have somecrazyunfinished business. That night in Las Vegas was three years ago. We made a mistake. I moved on. And apparently, so did Trace.

Only Arthur is once again dragging his feet with another delay to divorce the woman he said he can’t stand.

He gave me some half-ass excuse three years ago about being in New York when he was supposed to be with me in Vegas. I’d spent the night with another man between my legs, so I told myself I had one-upped him.

Archer and I had a good relationship at one time. When he wasn’t lying to me. Or...using me. I had been holding on to the hope that we would rekindle that, but that hope has been dying a slow death. All while my chance at having a family of my own is also fading. I can’t get pregnant without a uterus.

Cool Aunt forever, it is...

Yelling at Archer increases the sinister frown on his mouth. A scowl I’ve never seen.

“I’ll tell you what you do have...” He strides toward me. “A big fucking mouth. Do you think I wantthatin a wife?”

I laugh.Men want strong women, my ass.

“What? Can’t handle a little backtalk from a woman?”

“Careful, Shea-Lynne...”

What the hell am I holding on to with Archer? Yeah, we had a hot and heavy beginning. But it’s clearly over. I’ve been a fool long enough. I haven’t even climaxed from sex with Archer since...Trace. I shake that thought away and block his face from my mind.

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