Page 63 of Until August
“August was just helping me… um, organize my office,” I finished weakly. My office that smelled like sex. Just like me.
She snickered. “Sure, he was.”
“Why are you here so early?” I smoothed my hand over my hair and tried to act normal.
“Interviews. Remember?”
“Oh. Yeah. Right. I remember.” Totally forgot.
“Okay, well, I’ll leave you two to get on with… all that organizing.” She was laughing as she walked away. When she was gone, I let out a sigh of relief.
“All good?” August asked, studying my face a little too closely. Whatever he saw there caused his brows to furrow in concern.
“Yeah.” I forced a smile and looked away. “It’s all good. I’m just…” I brushed past him and was halfway out the door before I finished my sentence. “I need some air. Be back soon.”
I hurried down the hallway, burst out of the door, and made a mad dash for the parking lot.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Nicola
It was onlywhen I’d gotten safely inside my car that I let out a breath. I’d just had sex with another man, and the world hadn’t ended. God didn’t smite me down. My wedding band didn’t catch fire and burn me to ash.
I was still standing.
I lifted a shaky hand and flipped down the visor. I studied my face in the small mirror. My cheeks were flushed, and my lips were red and puffy from kissing. But if eyes were the window to the soul, mine was surely black. Because I looked… happy. Vibrant. More alive than I had in years.
I ran my fingers through the tangles in my hair. I smelled like sex. I smelled like August.
What have you done, Nicola?
I could justify it by telling myself that it was a mistake. I’d gotten caught up in the moment. These things happen. I missed sex, and I just needed to get it out of my system.
No harm, no foul.
No need to go back for seconds or thirds.
But that would be a lie.
I’d wanted August from the very beginning. From the day I’d walked into that little Vietnamese restaurant in Laguna and saw him standing behind the counter in all his August Harper glory.
I’d wanted him when I was sixteen, and God help me, I still wanted him now.
I’m sorry, Cruz. You’re still my always and forever, and you always will be. But you’re not here.
Another crack in my heart.
I scrolled through my phone, and when I found what I was looking for, I hit play. Then I leaned my head against the seat with my eyes closed and listened to the song on repeat.
It played on an endless loop, and I got lost in the music, seeking clues from every lyric.
This song would forever remind me of August Harper, no matter what happened with us.
I felt torn between two men—my past and my present—and I had no idea what the future held. But like August said last night, life is a risk. And if you don’t take risks, you’re merely surviving, not living.
Was it so wrong that I wanted to find a way to live again?
Was I cheating on Cruz if he wasn’t really here?
