Page 22 of All Her Broken Pieces

I had no idea it had gotten this bad between them. “Why wouldn’t he be excited? How often does he do that kind of stuff to you?”

“Um, like, never lately. Ever since we had Hallie, we basically have to schedule our sexy times, and even then, we rush through it with little foreplay, afraid she might wake up or interrupt us. She normally sleeps in our bed, so when we want to have adult time, it’s usually not long before Hallie wanders into our room, wanting to snuggle with us. She doesn’t seem to sleep as well in her bed.”

“And that’s another reason why I don’t want kids,” I say. “Wait, Hallie is four. Are you telling me you’ve had boring sex for the past four years?”

“I wouldn’t say boring, just… routine. It’s been a while since we’ve mixed things up.”

“Do you ever ask for what you want? Boss him around or even push his head down there?”

“Oh, hell no. Even texting him something like that was a first. That’s why I made that bargain with you. I didn’t think you’d hold up your end. It’s hard for me to ask for what I want in the bedroom, especially that. I always feel so awkward because I’m too much of a people pleaser. I wish I were one of those women who own their sexuality, like the ones I read about in romance books.”

“You shouldn’t feel bad or nervous about asking for what you want. I do it all the time. In the office and in the bedroom. It’s always a no if you don’t ask. And from the looks of that text, it seems like Robert isn’t upset you did. And the whole point of our bargain was to push each other out of our comfort zones. Right?”

“I didn’t even think about that, but you’re right. Are you going to see Ethan again?”

“I might not have a choice,” I mutter under my breath.

“Come again? Always with the breadcrumbs.”

“Well, he does make my favorite dish at my favorite restaurant so I’m sure we’ll see each other.” I leave out the part that I might have to let him take me to and from my surgery.

____________

Over the next few days, I think about asking a handful of different coworkers for help. Think about it, but don’t act on it. It takes very little small talk with each person to figure out that I don’t actually know or trust any of them well enough to ask for that kind of favor. Fuck, Becka is right. I need more friends.

I love my life and the limited people I allow in it, but when you are as fiercely independent as I am and suddenly find yourself needing to depend on outside help, you start rethinking your choices to keep everyone at arm’s length.

“Bridget, can I see you in my office?” our CEO Mark asks from my office door, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Sure,” I say curiously, following him down the hall. I take the seat across from him as he taps at his computer, not giving me his full attention.

“I want to make sure all of the reports are up to date before you take off on your little vacation.”

“I’m having surgery, not going on a vacation,” I snap. I know this man didn’t bring me to his office to talk about something that could’ve been an email.

“Ah, that’s right. What’s this for again?”

“Respectfully, Mark, you’re not allowed to ask me that, but it’s fine. I’m having a cyst and ovary removed.” The rules don’t apply to men like this. He has enough money to make any problem disappear, so I opt for honesty.

“Trying to become one of the guys?” He laughs, proud of his joke as I swallow down the retort I really want to make at his blatant misogyny.

“I still have more balls than half the assholes you have working around here,” I shoot back.

“That you do. How long till you’re back up and running?”

“I’ll be off for a couple weeks, but working remotely for a month after that, so six weeks out of the office.” I need him to see me as irreplaceable.

“Sounds good,” he says, still looking at his computer as he waves me off.

During the walk back to my office, it becomes painfully clear that I may need to consider Ethan’s offer for help. The quicker my recovery, the sooner I can get back to work, where I belong.

CHAPTER7

Ethan

“You hear from Bridget yet?It’s been like, what, a week?” Alyx asks me while we’re preparing for dinner service.

“Yup,” I say, popping the “p” and taking a deep breath while I dice up vegetables. “But who’s counting?”

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