Page 86 of Captivating Mr. Second Chance

They didn’t get close to twenty-eight, but Ethan earned points for his tenacity.

The next morning, Laney woke up to the sounds of running water and the smell of coffee. As she sat up, the sheet slipped off her naked chest, and she took account of the tender places all over her body, including the few red marks on her breasts. She flopped back to her pillow, throwing her arm over her head, still too exhausted to get up.

“Ethan?” she called, her voice so scratchy it barely came out. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Ethan!”

The running water stopped, and a few seconds later, he popped his head around the bedroom doorway. “You’re up already.”

“You’reup already?”

“I was going to make veggie omelets. That okay with you?”

With him in only his glasses and a pair of athletic shorts, she let her gaze drift down his golden bronzed torso.

“Hey,” he said, forcing her eyes up to his. “Stop looking at me like that. I need to refuel.”

She playfully rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“We’ve got all weekend. No rush,” he told her then ducked away, presumably to fix up their breakfast, and she smiled to herself that sweet and nerdy but excessively good in bed Ethan Marrero was hers. She instinctively reached for her phone, then remembered Ethan had, at some point, plugged it in to charge. Rolling over to his side of the bed, she grabbed her phone from the charger, her attention catching on his phone, next to hers, with the kids fromGoonieson his lock screen.

Laughing to herself, she picked it up to get a better look and noticed the few alerts, including a text message from someone named Marcela. Normally, she would have thought nothing of it, except that it saidLet me know how the fundraiser goes. XO

XO?

Frowning, she keyed in his passcode. Because there were no secrets between them, she knew his passcode, 3141, the first four numbers of pi, like he knew hers, 0125, her birthday. She didn’t hesitate to open the text thread between Ethan and this Marcela person.

Ethan: It was great talking to you.

Marcela: I can’t wait to do it again.

Marcela: Let me know how the fundraiser goes.

Marcela: XO

Swiping her hair back from her face, Laney took a calming breath and assumed there had to be a logical explanation. There was no way Ethan would be cheating on her.

Yet the crushing weight of feelingnotenoughhad her opening his contacts. Marcela’s area code was unfamiliar, but they’d had a phone call for a half hour yesterday afternoon. Before Laney had come over to see him, Ethan, her boyfriend, the man she loved, and who asked—demanded, really—that she move in, spoke to a woman named Marcela for half an hour and exchanged text messages, including one from her that was signed with hugs and kisses.

Blinking away the tears threatening her eyes, Laney shook her head, unsure of what to believe. But she refused to open his social media apps to investigate. No, she wouldn’t give in to her worst instincts. Instead, she slipped into her underwear, pulled on a pair of his sweats and an old Princeton T-shirt and calmly walked into the kitchen with Ethan’s phone in her hand.

26

Ethan had just thrown the spinach and cheese in to finish off the omelets when he heard Laney shuffling up behind him. He circled around, spatula in hand, ready to pull her in for a kiss. But he didn’t.

Not with her red-rimmed eyes and frown marring her plump lips.

He set down the spatula and hooked his index finger on the bottom of his shirt that she wore, towing her closer a few inches. Though she barely budged. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

She cleared her throat and held up his cell phone. At first, he couldn’t even focus on it, didn’t care about it; he only wanted to know why she was upset. But when she didn’t say anything, he drifted his focus to the little screen, jerking his head back a few inches to see it.

“Who is Marcela?”

He took the phone from her hand and set it on the counter. “Is that why you’re upset?”

“Yes.” She huffed out a watery laugh, her eyes glassy, and he opened his arms to comfort her, but she stopped him. “Are you…” She swallowed thickly. “Are you cheating on me?”

He wouldn’t take no for an answer; he needed to touch her, and he took hold of her wrists to clasp her hands to his chest. “No. I am absolutely not cheating on you. I’m so sorry you ever experienced that, but I am one hundred percent in love with you.”

She still didn’t make a move toward him, as if she didn’t believe him. A tear fell from her eye, and he smudged it away with his thumb, promising himself that if he ever came across Bobby Magnate, he’d punch that shithead in the face. “Laney, do you really think I’d cheat on you?” He curled his hands around her face. “I’ve never hidden anything from you. I’ve never lied to you. You think I’d start now?”

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