Page 45 of Vows in Sin
Cleopatra gives me a side eye. “Can I ask you a question? That’s a dangerous question itself. You haven’t even told me about your sexcapades with the much older man yet.”
I can’t. Not yet. “Oh, girl, soon enough!” Too loud. Too bright. I turn it down a notch. I’ve already shared Sissy and that’s enough for now. “But it’s my turn to investigate. Are you ready to spill?”
“Go ahead.” She nods. “Ask away. Let me wash away this knot you put in my stomach, first.”
“What’s fair is fair.”
She takes a sip of fruit-infused water. “Ready.”
“Tell me what’s got you so wound up about this wedding,” I ask. “I know how much you love Blaze. Trust me. I want to hurl ‘cause you’re so freaking sweet together.”
“You’re right,” she laughs. “I’m stressed and it’s nothing to do with him.” She gets that dreamy smile every single girl in the city hopes to get one day, talking about their partner. “He’s perfect.”
“Spill it, Cleopatra.”
“What’s keeping me stressed is not the wedding, but, afterward, there’s this other ceremony.”
“Oh god.” Cue the flashes of weird cult rituals. “Like what?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know.” She rests her head back with a worried sigh. “The not knowing is the worst part. It’s got my stomach in knots.”
“Maybe I can do some intel while I’m here, like Harriet the Spy.”
“I tried asking. The women are like war spies over these secrets. They won’t spill a word.”
I lean in with a mischievous grin. “Have you tried torture?”
“Stop it.” She bats me away.
“Chocolate? Wine? Get them drunk?” I offer. I sit back and think. What makes women spill their secrets?
Alcohol and debauchery. The last two things I want right now. The two things she needs most. I swallow back the tightness in my throat. Paste on that smile. Throw a glitter bomb at her. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this. What we need is a bachelorette party.”
Cleopatra, not a party girl, crinkles her nose. “You think so?”
“I know so,” I say. “A party is just what we need…”
Need.
Need fills me, hollowing me out, heart, mind, and soul. Him. So badly. I hurt. All over. I ache, deep inside, for him. Even though I’m with my best friend, loneliness comes in a tsunami of a wave, taking over my whole body.
Right now the one thing I need is Reign.
And no party is going to fix that.
I go to smile. Nothing comes. Instead of the cheerful grin I want to give her, my eyes fill with hot tears. Turning my face away from her, I fly up from my spa chair, holding my robe tight around my waist. “Champagne just hit. Gotta pee!”
And I hurry away before she can ask me why more tears are flowing down my cheeks.
17
Reign
It’s better this way—clean, final, like cauterizing a wound.
But that’s a lie. Every fucking hour she’s been gone, I’ve felt it—like a phantom limb I’ve lost but still try to move. Or a tool I need when I’m fixing my bike. One I know I’ve lost but still reach for.
A part of me is missing, shaped like a goddess, smelling like heaven.
