Page 2 of Operation Annulment
A tiny yet very important velvet box.
I fight the urge to squeal and dance around. Instead, I calmly pick it up as if it’s something I see every day. The box groans, and I glance around, suddenly afraid I’m about to be caught. The emerald-cut diamond is flanked by rows of smaller stones on either side. It’s got to be two carats, at least.
I want to try it on but force myself to close the box and leave it where I found it. I’ll have to work on my surprised face—maybe I’ll practice it in the mirror a few times until it seems believable.
“Oh my gosh—Benjamin!” I whisper breathlessly.
It needs some work.
I’ve just picked up my bag when I hear a low groan from the main bedroom.
My mind races with possibilities—none of them good.
What if someone broke in and hurt him?
What if that second wine glass was for someone else?
It doesn’t make sense, though. That’s my diamond ring sitting onthe island. If someone broke in, I think they would’ve snatched it up. And I’m sorry, but men who are about to propose to their girlfriends do not cheat.
I pad barefoot down the hall, my heart beating loudly. I push open the door and breathe a sigh of relief. Benjamin’s just doing a home session with a patient—wait.
He’s bent over the foot of the bed, breathing heavily, while a gorgeous man stands behind him. His dress shirt is unbuttoned, revealing a perfectly waxed torso. My brain scrambles to explain what I’m seeing. If this is a therapy session, then why is?—
The man reaches down and strokes Benjamin’s?—
Oh God.
Thrusting. Groping. Moaning.
“Don’t go through with this, Ben,” he begs, his hands working him faster and faster.
Stomach roiling, I turn to escape, catching my elbow on the door frame with a resoundingsmack. I bring a hand up to muffle my cry, but it’s too late.
They freeze before simultaneously turning toward the door.
“Jesus, Kate!” Benjamin lunges off the bed and scrambles across the hardwood floor, searching for his pants. “Don’t freak out. It’s not what it looks like!”
I note the company badge clipped to the man’s collar, and my heart sinks.
No, it’s somehow worse.
Because Benjamin isn’t cheating on me with a random stranger, but a co-worker.
I’m a walking cliché.
A joke.
The laughingstock of Physical Therapy Associates.
Were they laughing at me behind my back? Poor naïve idiot thinks her boyfriend is being gallant by wanting to take things slow while he’s busy screwing his assistant.
My cheeks burn with humiliation as I stumble back down the halland out to my car. I make it three blocks before the numbness wears off, and I’m forced to pull over.
No love-making. No engagement.
Nothing but the soul-crushing reminder that no matter how hard I try, eventually, everyone leaves.
one
