Page 86 of Stepping Up to the Plate

Iwake up alone in my bed. Part of me hoped Brady would sneak in. It’s rare we sleep apart anymore. Since the other night, our connection has become even stronger. Neither of us have dropped the L-bomb yet, but we are both dancing around it.

I see a good morning text waiting for me, but I need coffee first. Tiffany and I indulged in a little too much wine last night and my head hurts. I down a glass of water while the coffee brews and go through feedback from the editor on my latest piece for the magazine.

I smirk when Tiffany makes her way into the kitchen appearing as rough as I feel. “I’m glad I’m not the only one hurting this morning. You look hot, Tiff.”

“Shove it, Bunny. I blame you.”

“Me?! You’re the one who opened the second bottle. I was perfectly content stopping after two glasses.”

“But you gave me non-bubbly wine. My body needs the bubbles, Lo. It needs them,” she whines.

“There are more things to drink in the world than champagne,” I comment.

“Yeah, prosecco… And coffee. Gimme,” she demands, making grabby hands at my latte. I sigh, handing it over as I turn the machine on again.

Tiffany is lost scrolling on her phone as I catalog what I need to do today. I glance up when I hear her gasp. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” she squeaks in a small voice.

“You don’t sound fine.” When I study her, she’s gone pale and is frantically scanning her phone. She is obviously reading something that is upsetting her. After a minute, her gaze flits up, and she wears a concerned expression.

“What is going on, Tiffany? Did Taylor Swift get canceled?” I joke. When she doesn’t laugh, a knot forms in my stomach. “What is going on? Tell me,” I implore.

“Okay, don’t freak out.”

“Not off to a great start,” I mutter.

“How are things with you and Miller?”

“They’re great, why?” I ask.

She gulps, peering at her phone and then back at me. “Where was he last night?”

“He said he had a meeting and then I assume he went home.Why?”

I can see her war with herself before she slides her phone across the island. I don’t understand what she is showing me at first. There are four pictures of a man and a woman. In two, she’s tied up. In the third she is cradled in his lap. The images are too grainy to make out either person until you see the fourth image.

The fourth image shows Miller staring down at a woman in a robe. He is staring into her eyes with his hands on her shoulders. It clicks in my brain that the man in the other images has on the same outfit as Miller does in the fourth. What the hell?

“I don’t understand,” I say. “Where is this? Who is she? Why is he with her?”

“I don’t have those answers, babe. But Miller will. I’m sure he has an explanation. He isn’t the type to cheat. He’s obsessed with you.”

My brain can’t process what I’m seeing or what Tiffany is saying. I am having serious déjà vu. This experience is all too familiar.

“Sweetie, you’re buffering. Sit down,” she cajoles and I plop down on a stool, still staring at her phone. “I think it’s safe to assume the pictures are from Club Hedone. He didn’t tell you he was going there last night?”

“No,” I force out.

“Is it possible that’s where his meeting was?”

“Meeting?” I question. My conscious mind is officially offline. It is in a tailspin. I focus on trying to remember if Brady mentioned he was going to the club. If he was, why didn’t he ask me to go with him? Is it because he wanted to play in a way he didn’t think I’d be game? Things have been good lately. We’ve been trying more things. Why would he do that?

“You said he had a meeting last night. Could he have been meeting with someone at the club?”

“He has owner’s meetings at the club. But those are only once every couple of months,” I answer.

“Has he had one lately?”

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