Page 12 of Meating Dalton

I miss you.

I can’t come over tonight. Nat will suspect something. I stay over every Thursday night. And last week was our anniversary.

My throat urges my mouth to gag, and I’d vomit if I could. Dull face, you’re barely attractive enough to pull the Goddess sleeping next to you. How the hell did you pull a—my eyes squint at the small icon for Cami’s contact photo—woman at least ten years younger than you? Meat rarely makes sense. But I’ve stumbled onto this drama and it’s definitely more entertaining than watching the unhappy couple sleep.

When are you going to tell her? I can’t keep waiting. Ditch the old bitch.

Glaring at the screen, I click her photo. Full name is Camilla Boston. Count your fucking days, Camilla aka Goldilocks, who should’ve gotten eaten for sleeping in the wrong fucking beds. Well, you crept into the wrong one and I like nothing more than righting wrongs. Another glance into the incriminating messages reveals another noodle of information.

Jason, you know I love you.

Jason dies too. End of story. Tomorrow, I’ll take Natalia and free up some damn oxygen on this planet by removing the flesh from meals one and two. Placing the phone back on the nightstand without reinserting the charger, because fuck you Jason, I creep out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind me. Good thing they don’t have kids. That could get real messy.

I sneak out the way I came, through the backdoor. Swiping Natalia’s keys earlier in the week and making copies proved ingenious. No broken glass or signs of forced entry. No, officer, I was never here. Though the idea of slicing Jason’s carotid with a piece of glass sounds fun.

A booming bark from the neighbor’s dog momentarily paralyzes me. My head swivels to lock eyes with the big fucker. Saliva drips from bared teeth and I growl back. Game on. Let’s rumble.

* * *

NATALIA

Waking up alone shouldn’t be a relief from one half of a couple who’s been together for five years. But a relaxed breath eases out of me upon spotting the empty place next to me that Jason slept in the night before. Sitting up and swinging my legs off the bed, I bask in the security of not being pregnant once again, which would tighten the noose that is Jason around my neck.

Maybe my hormones needed a jumpstart like an illicit kiss with a stranger in a bathroom, because my cycle started that night shortly after arriving home. It also provided me with the perfect excuse to not sleep with Jason while I still felt the ghost of John Doe’s lips on mine. I should’ve asked for his name, but I think kissing a guy behind my boyfriend’s back is borrowing enough trouble.

A name leads to a phone number, and that leads to me cheating instead of breaking things off with a clear conscience.

Today will be the day.

With that decided, I quickly get dressed for work, losing myself in the process of untangling and moisturizing my hair after padding to the bathroom. When my curls fall in a thick, coily arrangement around my shoulders, I walk out of the bathroom, snatch up my phone and hurry down the stairs. My lips curl into a scowl when I spot a text from Jason.

I had an early meeting at work this morning. Call you on my break.

My eyes roll and I leave him on read as I rush out of the front door. I’m sure he has plenty of ass kissing to do before the merger goes through. Leaving thoughts of Jason’s less than masculine qualities at times, I hop into my car and drive to BJ’s Coffee.

When I pull into the parking lot, I can barely hold in a growled, “fuck.” At a little past eight, there’s still at least ten cars parked outside the cozy, family-owned coffee shop. Getting out of the car, I hurry toward the frosted glass door of the front entrance.

I can’t stop the happy inhale of vanilla and coffee beans. Only two patrons stand at the front counter and, without looking around, I take up a position behind them. My mind and body need caffeine, especially on the day I decide to break up with Jason. I’ll have to give Sarah an abridged version over the phone until we can link up.

“Next,” Jeremy calls, beaming at me when I approach. The other two patrons walk over to the mobile orders section. It must be my lucky day.

“Hi, Jere. I’ll take the usual with a ham and cheese croissant,” I tell him, grimacing after the words leave my mouth when I realize I left my purse in the car. My eyes close for half a second before snapping open with a will of their own.

“Here,” a familiar, deep voice says, a tattooed arm reaching past me and a muscled chest pressing into my back.

“I’ll get what she’s having and charge my card,” the stranger that I’ve run into three times now says to Jeremy. The youngster darts brown eyes between the two of us before grabbing the proffered debit card. My limbs stay locked into position.

Warmth seeps into my skin from the press of our bodies. Soft lips graze my ear.

“Morning, sweet flower. Why don’t we move aside so someone else can order?” he teases, his voice causing my nipples to tighten. I nod breathlessly, moving without thought to the left. More air whooshes out of me as I allow my eyes to take in the people sitting at the tables spread out through the establishment.

Sunlight kisses Jason’s dark hair, making it glisten from his overuse of pomade. Across from him, a petite blonde smiles with one hand resting possessively on his arm. He doesn’t shake it off, lips moving animatedly and brown eyes shining with soft affection.

Did he ever used to look at me like that?

“Natalia!” A voice shouts and my head swivels to Jeremy behind the counter with my coffee cup in hand. I reach for it with nerveless hands, ignoring the handsome stranger watching the scene unfold. By the time I turn back to face Jason, he’s spotted me. Wide eyes glance from me to the man at my side.

Oh, no, you don’t.

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