Page 41 of Third Wheel

Maybe there was something to the betting pool. If Amy wanted a rebound, and he and Kincaid wanted to make sure that whoever she chose didn’t hurt her…

If you want a job done right, do it yourself.

Amy

“So, no STDs, thankfully. Also, not pregnant, though that would have needed a minor miracle.” Amy made a face. She’d chalked her lack of libido up to wedding planning stress, but looking back, not wanting to have sex with her fiancé in the weeks before their wedding looked like just another red flag. How many of them had she blatantly ignored because she’d felt like she was already in too deep?

Once the deposits were down, everything had felt… inevitable. Which was not actually a good reason to get married. She couldn’t help but wonder how long she and Jeremy would have lasted, even if he hadn’t been cheating on her with Noelle.

Would she have finally seen the light—realized he didn’t love her the way he should if he was going to be a life partner—and ended things?

Or would she have stuck around, tolerating his indifference the way he tolerated her love until he left her? Cheated on her with someone else?

Maybe she should thank Noelle for saving her because she had the awful suspicion that the latter was the more likely scenario. God, she was so pathetic. Needy. Clingy. All the things Jeremy had accused her of being over the years. Because what kind of sad sack of a person clung to a relationship like that if they weren’t clingy? What kind of person put up with so little if they weren’t so needy?

Sam poked her in the boob, making Amy jump and cover the top of the soft mound. She’d dressed for Stronghold in a corset and short skirt, even though she didn’t feel sexy. It was what was expected. Plus, it helped her fit in better.

“Stop thinking about him. Or her. Or them.” Sam wagged her finger at Amy. “They don’t deserve another second of your time or energy.”

“I was just thinking maybe I should be grateful to Noelle for saving me from marrying him,” Amy replied, rubbing the spot where Sam had poked her before dropping her hand. “Like, I could be married to himright now.”

Sam and Morgan’s expressions turned to pure disgust. Yeah. Amy felt that disgust, too; she was just also disgusted with herself because she would have married him.

Pathetic.

“Hey, can we join you?” The question came from behind Amy, and she jumped in surprise, twisting around to see who had spoken. Domi, Rae, Avery, and Iris stood behind her. It was Domi who had asked the question. Rae and Avery stood beside her while Iris hung back a little.

Poor Iris, who had been Noelle’s friend before she’d joined Stronghold and she and Noelle had their falling out. Iris, who was the reason Noelle had come to Stronghold in the first place. Iris, who looked at Amy with pure guilt on her face.

Amy glanced over her shoulder to make sure Sam and Morgan were okay with it—really, Morgan, since Rae and Domi hadn’t always been nice to her. They’d been more indifferent to Sam than anything else, but they’d had an actual problem with Morgan for a while. It seemed to have resolved, but… as much as she wanted to reassure Iris, she wasn’t going to make Morgan uncomfortable to do so.

The redhead nodded serenely. Morgan wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. Sam was. She nodded, too, though.

“Sure, come sit,” Amy said. As the other women moved to take seats around them, Amy glanced over to where Kincaid and Zach had been hanging out with Sam and Morgan’s Doms. They were now joined by Mitch, Brian, and Law, who were Domi’s,Rae’s, and Iris’ partners. Avery’s Dom was also her boss, and they both worked in the kitchen at Marquis, Stronghold’s sister club, so on weekend nights, they almost never were both able to get a night off.

Actually, she was surprised Avery was able to get a Saturday night off period.

Sam obviously had the same thought.

“I didn’t realize you’d have off tonight,” she said to Avery as the pretty brunette sat down next to her.

“Nick is training a new sous chef, so I get a night off,” Avery replied cheerfully, settling into her seat. The blue dress she was wearing would have fit in at a dance club, though it still worked for Stronghold.

The other group was far more diverse than Amy’s group of friends. Avery was white with light brown hair and hazel eyes, a smattering of freckles across her face. Domi was Puerto Rican, while Iris identified herself as Latina, and Rae was Black. Amy had always been jealous of Domi’s tightly wound curls—and her confidence.

Domi was petite in every way, but she was fierce. Rae was taller than her and just as confident, but her personality always seemed somehow softer than Domi’s. Maybe it was just because Domi was a masochist with an edge while Rae was more of a babygirl—though she never called Brian “Daddy,” even though he was a Daddy Dom. Amy had internally cheered when they’d managed to work things out despite that; anyone could see they’d belonged together from the way they’d circled around each other for months.

True to their dynamics, Rae dressed more like a babygirl. Tonight, she was wearing a pink tutu skirt with a white corset that had little pink bows at the top. Matching pink braids were threaded through the dark brown ones and tied into pigtails with more pink bows. Beside her, Domi was wearing a black leatherskirt, a dark purple corset, and her collar had spikes on it. The fact that she’d hooked up with sunny, laughing Master Mitch had always amused Amy. They were the definition of opposites attract.

“We just wanted to come say we’re sorry about your wedding and see if there’s anything we can do for you,” Domi said forthrightly, which was her way. She was definitely not the type to beat around the bush.

“Like bury a body or two,” Rae muttered, which made Amy smile. Rae might look like a fluffy princess babygirl, but she could be just as ruthless as Domi. Maybe more so.

“Thank you, I appreciate that. I mostly just want to never see them again, and if I can make it so I never think about them again, that’ll be even better,” Amy joked. Except she wasn’t really joking, but no one needed to know that.

“I know how that feels.” Iris was seated in one of the chairs across from Amy. The PVC dress she was wearing clung to her body, and her legs were pressed tightly together to keep the material of the short skirt from riding up. Her hands were clasped on her lap, guilt practically shimmering from every line in her body. “I’m so sorry. I… should have said something to you when she started making friends with all of you, but I didn’t know if you’d believe it, and I kept thinking maybe she’d changed… maybe she deserved another chance…”

“Hey, her shitty behavior isnotyour fault,” Sam said, using her Domme voice and reaching over from her own seat to put her hand on Iris’. “You are not responsible for someone else’s actions.”

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