Page 55 of Trashy Foreplay

Other than birth control, Monica doesn’t take medicine. She’s the type of person that won’t even take aspirin unless absolutely necessary. I step all the way into the bathroom, dread diving to the bottom of my gut as I lay my hands on her shoulders.

“What are the pills for?”

“None of your business.”

“It’s absolutely my fucking business. Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Then what the hell is this?” I try to pry the pill bottle from her grasp, but she whirls around to face me, fisting it behind her back.

“Don’t you have a plane to catch?”

I draw in a deep, calming breath. “You said I put everything before you. Well here’s me putting you first. What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

“But Iamworried. First the drinking, and now popping pills? For fuck’s sake, Monica! Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just go already.”

“You begged me to stay ten minutes ago. Now you’re pushing me away?Again?” Dragging an agitated hand through my hair, I try not to lose my shit. But her continued silence isn’t making it easy. “I’m finding less and less reasons for us to stay together.”

Monica darts around me and leaves the bathroom, and I follow, quick on her heels. She stalks into the hall and grabs the handle of my luggage.

“Wouldn’t want you to be late.”

I take the suitcase from her, no doubt gaping at her like an idiot. Because I sure as hell feel like an idiot. “What happened to us?”

Still clutching the pill bottle, she won’t meet my eyes. Her vacant mask is back in place, any hint of tears dried up. “I don’t know.”

That makes two of us. Part of me hopes that a week apart to think things through will offer some clarity. But I’m not a total fool. Until she’s willing to let me in, my hands are tied.

20. A Frank Talk - Jules

Monday morning, I bring the sunflower bouquet Cash bought me to work because I know Mont Center will feel empty with him gone. Every time I glance at the flowers, a sharp pang tears through my heart.

I never thought I could miss someone so much. I miss those precious minutes each morning when we go over his schedule, and I miss the way his smile warms me all the way to my toes on days when I have the foresight to bring him coffee. It’s a small gesture he seems to appreciate. Maybe because he isn’t the type of boss to ask for such small errands.

But I have no one to bring coffee to this week.

No reason to feel giddy in the elevator on the ride up to the thirty-eighth floor.

At least work is keeping me busy. That’s an understatement. With Cash in Oklahoma, my workload has doubled. I’m finding mid-week especially chaotic, and as the end of the day arrives, I’m more than anxious to meet Les. She’s probably tapping her fingers waiting for me right now, since I was supposed to meet her for dinner twenty minutes ago.

Purse in hand, I’m passing the conference room on my way to the elevator, but the sound of Cash’s voice halts me in my tracks. His sexy tenor is coming from beyond the ajar door.

When did he get back? He isn’t due home for a few more days. A flutter of excitement goes off in my belly, and I raise my hand to knock. That’s when another voice freezes me before my fist reaches the door. A woman’s voice. No, not just any woman, but his wife’s.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize how odd it is that I know her voice that well. I’ve grown familiar with all things Cash, including Monica Montgomery.

I should walk away. Should mind my own damn business. I already know I won’t. Peeking through the space between the door and the frame, I see Cash standing with his arms crossed, facing his wife.

And me.

It’s too late to duck and evade. His gaze catches mine, and realization jolts through me because that’s not Cash. I’m stunned as usual that I can tell by a single glance the difference between him and his brother.

I don’t know what I just stumbled upon, since I didn’t catch what they were saying. Before Kaden can call me out on eavesdropping, I hurry toward the elevator and press the down button. The floor is empty. The day late.

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