by Kata Čuić
I cast another sideways glance to where Rob is currently ignoring his latest fling in favor of staring Alex and I down, the telltale twitch in his jaw signaling his displeasure.
I’m vaguely aware I wouldn’t even be considering this without all the liquid courage coursing through my veins, but…fuck it.
Alex is right.
I have to let go of the past if I want any hope of a future.
And I can’t do that until I know one very important thing.
From the moment Alex wrapped his arms around her, I haven’t been able to keep from grinding my jaw. Even now, with every measured stride Evie takes toward me, I can’t relax.
I don’t know what they were talking about during their slow dance and their traditional shots at the bar, but judging by the look on Evie’s face, it wasn’t anything good.
That doesn’t matter much to me. He was dancing with her, holding her in his arms, sharing a drink with her, and enjoying her company. Not me.
“Don’t you think?” The woman sitting at my side giggles. It’s this annoying, nasally, almost cat-like sound.
Actually, I take that back. Comparing her to my cats is an insult to them.
“Yeah,” I manage to choke out.
Evie gets stopped by Jess on her way, and I breathe a small sigh of relief. Maybe she’ll forget why she was heading my direction and go back to having a good time.
Please, don’t make my suffering be in vain.
If she talks to me, asks me to dance with her, or does anything else to interact with me, I’ll crumble.
All day I’ve been struggling to distract myself.
The bridesmaid I’m paired with has been the perfect route. Her interest was obvious the second she grasped my arm a little too tightly to walk back down the aisle at the ceremony.
I’ve used a woman’s lust to my advantage before, and after an hour of imagining the wedding Evie and I never had, I was desperate.
Does that make me a total bastard? Yep.
Would I be even more of one to succumb to the achy need to dance even once with Evie and pretend this was our wedding reception? Absofuckinglutely.
I tune back into the dull conversation I’ve been forcing myself to feign interest in.
“So, I was thinking instead of just sticking to my usual filter, I’d mix them up. A new one for each day of the week. Depending on which filter I use, my followers will never mistake Tuesday for Wednesday again! Isn’t that the best idea?”
Attempting to make it through this day sober was a horrible, horrible idea.
I flash her my dimple, knowing that’s all she wants from me anyway.
Look attentive; smile when appropriate. She has no interest in you, like all the others. They only want your body, money, and fifteen seconds of fame.
As she continues to prattle on about her various social media accounts, I’m tempted to bang my head on the table. Why couldn’t she have been smart and intellectually stimulating? How is Alyssa even friends with this woman?
Evie would kick my ass so hard for having these thoughts. I can hear it now.
“Just because she indulges in selfies doesn’t make her a narcissist. She might have horrible self-esteem, and that’s the only way she knows to get the attention she craves.”
“Buzz off for a sec, will ya? I need to talk to him.”
Those do not sound like the words of my ultra-feminist wife.
Ex-wife.
Former wife. In nine months.
Fuck, I need a drink.
Lydia’s eyes grow big and she sputters for a few seconds. “Excuse me? I was here first.”
Evie laughs, but it sounds…weird. “Aww, that’s so cute. Marking your territory. Seriously, though, this is a personal matter. And if you want to get technical, I’ve known him since I was fifteen, so I was here first.”
So close. I was so close to making it through this day unscathed.
Lydia leans dangerously near, the scent of a vodka tonic on her breath making my mouth water. “You want me to get rid of her?”
The idea makes me laugh outright. “You can’t. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
Behind me, I hear Evie scoff. “You know what? Never mind. That’s all I needed to hear.”
She stands to leave, but I grip her wrist.
If curiosity killed the cat, then I have a serious death wish.
“What do you need to talk about?”
“Forget it,” Evie huffs. “This was a mistake.”
I don’t tear my eyes away from her even as I dismiss my companion for the day. “Lydia, can you give us a minute?”
Not until I hear her stalk off do I pull Evie down into the chair she vacated so quickly. “What’s up?”
Evie furrows her brow and bites her lip, studying me closely.
I think I whimper.
Hopefully, the music blaring from the DJ’s speakers is enough to drown it out.
“Forget it,” she finally breathes, her sweet scent wrapping around me like a vice. “If you’re still trying to get rid of me, then I don’t want to hinder that in any way.”
Part of me wants to play up on her misunderstanding, but a much, much deeper-rooted piece of my soul clings to her subtle offering. She obviously doesn’t want me to get rid of her. “I didn’t mean I was trying to get rid of you. I meant, no matter what I do, you’re always on my mind.”
“I need your help with something,” she finally blurts after several painful moments of silence.
“Okay.” I release my hold on her and adjust myself more comfortably in my seat. Helping each other is the name of this game, so that, I can definitely manage.
“I don’t know if this new hormonal injection therapy is working.” Even as the words escape her lips, she turns a nauseated shade of green.
“Oh, baby-Evie,” I backtrack, but not quickly enough. “Are you feeling sick? Do you need me to make excuses to Alyssa and Jeremy so you can cut out early?”
“I definitely need you to take me back to your hotel.” She nods, her expression changing to one of confidence. Kind of. She seems to be vacillating, but I can’t tell if that’s from all the champagne and shots she’s consumed tonight. “Everything about this treatment seems to be helping, but there’s one thing I can’t really determine without help. I don’t know if I can have sex comfortably yet.”
Cue spit take.
Only I’m not drinking anything.
Evie rolls her eyes and crosses her arms under her breasts, plumping them up to wear me down further, as I continue to gasp for air.
I swear, she might hate my guts, but she still loves to fuck with me in any way possible.
“What does that have to do with me?” I practically wheeze.
“You have no-strings sex all the time. And one of the biggest penises known to mankind.” She actually points to my crotch. “I need you to put me through the ringer, so I can tell if this really is the magical cure for what ails me.”
I’m vaguely aware of shaking my head back and forth. “Don’t do this to me, Evie. I’m not strong enough to say no.”
She leans forward into my personal space and it’s a wholly different temptation than what Lydia offered. “I don’t want you to say no. I need you to say yes.”
“Why me?” I don’t bother trying to hide my whimper this time. “Every guy in this room has had his eyes glued on you all night.”
I would know. I’m still trying to develop my laser vision every time one of those assholes undresses her with his gaze. Me, included. I’ve already seen everything beneath her bridesmaid’s gown, but I sure as hell don’t deserve to have another peek.
“I need to know,” Evie emphasizes. “Please don’t make me ask someone else.”
Utter defeat tastes bittersweet on my tongue. “I said I’d do anything you asked of me for a year.”
She raises her eyebrows, an expression of pure disbelief on her gorgeous face. “Is that…a yes?”
More like a yes, please.
Evie seems to s
way in her seat, and I know damn well she’s had too much to drink. Which only puts me in a tougher position because she obviously trusts me. For some reason I may never understand, even after all the things I’ve done wrong by her, she’s asking me. No one else.
How can I refuse?
All the fantasies of taking her hard and fast against the wall vanish into smoke with the sound of the door shutting out the world beyond this hotel room.
As much as I had myself convinced during the last hour of the reception I’d take advantage of this moment, of her offer…I can’t do it.
She’s Evie. The Dream Girl of my naïve youth.
A dirty, hard fuck and this woman should never be in the same sentence let alone the same room. Why would anyone have a diamond in their grasp, only to bury it in mud?
As the silence becomes stifling, she frowns.
All I can think is I haven’t touched, tasted, or savored those lips in over a year.
“You’re already reneging on this, aren’t you?” Evie moves toward the door, wobbling a bit in her heels.
My arm shoots out as a reflex, my palm flattening against the surface to keep her from leaving.
She doesn’t bother to lift her gaze to mine, just stares at the door like she can will it open with her mind. “Let me go. This was a mistake.”
“Letting you go right now would be a mistake.” I’ve already made too many of those. “I thought maybe we could…talk a little first.”
Her laughter sounds harsh, but decidedly drunken in spite of her sharp words. “This isn’t one of your dates.”
“I never said I went on dates.”
Finally, her gorgeous blues turn on me with a levelling intensity burning through the half-lidded haze. “Then, why are you treating me differently than any of the other women you’ve slept with?”
“You’re my wife.”
I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding when she stalks away from the door.
She sits on the bed, crossing one leg over the other. Her dress rides up with the movement, exposing her sky-high heels and a sliver of ankle.
It might as well be a full-on strip tease for the way it makes me drool.
Evie extends her arm like some warped version of a game show hostess. “So? Talk.”
I take a deep breath and then another. The nerves that always seem to control my mouth where Evie’s concerned have no place here tonight. “The hormone injections are going really well, huh?”
“Yes.” The ice in her voice makes me shiver.
“Why don’t you seem happy about that?”
“I already told you I don’t know if they’ve helped with everything, and it doesn’t seem like I’ll be getting an answer to that question tonight.”
“You could’ve asked someone else to help you find out,” I remind her. Then, promptly kick myself.
She nods, bites her lip, then averts her gaze.
Something about her physical response tears at my chest. The memory of that same pattern of behavior massages my brain until my muscles tighten with realization.
She did that exact thing the night she lied to me.
Is she lying to me now?
Could any of the guys at that wedding reception have turned her down?
Did Alex refuse her proposition?
Am I her second, third, fourth…last choice?
I cross the room and crouch directly in front of where she’s seated.
She continues to avoid my gaze, studying the décor of the room with an undeserved concentration.
I don’t remember how to do this. How to have a conversation with this woman about anything other than surface pleasantries unless it’s in the heat of the moment. I can’t just jump in with all the scenarios exploding in my brain. She’ll only clam up, then I’ll never know the truth.
“Did you have a good time today?”
Evie’s expression changes from avoiding to confused, then finally to angry. But, she still doesn’t look my way. “I did. I would ask you the same, but I think we both know the answer to that.”
“We do?”
She rises to her feet, causing me to lose my balance. My ass meets the carpet, and it’s so fucking ironic, it makes me laugh.
The first time we met, she landed on her ass.
She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care I’m losing my shit on the floor as she wobbles back toward the door. “Why don’t you call Lydia? I’m sure she gave you her number. She’s obviously more your style, and you wouldn’t feel the need to make awkward small talk with her before getting down and dirty.”
She fumbles with the locks on the door.
Shit, can’t anything ever go according to plan?
Not that I actually had a plan for tonight, but still.
“Evie, stop. You’re too drunk to get home on your own.” I pick myself up and cross the room. No new play forms in my mind, but the thought of her leaving like this isn’t an option, either.
“You can’t keep me here.”
The insinuation I’d do anything against her will makes that familiar anger flare up in my chest. “You asked to come back to my hotel room. I didn’t make any unreasonable demands today. In fact, I did everything you asked of me without requesting anything in return—I showed up, I played nice, and I brought you here.”
“Yeah. You didn’t make any demands of me.” She swallows thickly, the sound louder than my pulse roaring in my ears. “You ignored me, flirted with your bridesmaid, and are making this last request more difficult than it needs to be.”
Her perception of today’s events snaps my restraint. “Maybe me giving you everything you want makes things more difficult than it needs to be.”
Evie turns to face me, nearly tripping over her gown in the process. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
She’s so drunk. There will never be a better time than this. The urge to let it all out and give her the full load of my frustration, pain, and sense of betrayal swims up my throat, begging to be freed.
“You were hellbent on being State’s finest football wife and even though I didn’t like it one bit, I didn’t stop you. Alex tried to convince me it was good for you. You told me you needed to prove yourself. Look how that fucking turned out. I was not on board with you showing yourself to the entire world. You don’t need anyone’s fucking validation or their acceptance you were actually assaulted. But, you had yourself convinced you were helping others, so I didn’t say a word about my doubts. But, after the spread was published, you didn’t hold your head high. You thought everyone was judging you. Do you realize hardly anyone read that article or saw those pictures? You wanted out of our relationship, not me. But, I fucking caved and did it because it was what you wanted. I didn’t even fight! I should have fought harder, but who was I to make you stay if you wanted out? And then…”
Maniacal laughter I don’t recognize fills the room. “And then, you begged me to sleep with someone else. Told you me you’d been getting your rocks off with other dudes who weren’t as big as me and didn’t hurt you. So, I found the first warm body I could to prove your theory I’d enjoy it with anyone else wrong. I didn’t even do it for revenge! I could have ignored the four years we spent together, wrote them off as a mistake, and fucked the entire goddamn campus after the way you tore my heart out! Instead, I fucked one woman who made it clear she wanted no strings attached. Three times. That was all I needed to know.”
Evie seems mesmerized, but I don’t care if she’s really absorbing my tirade. Getting this off my chest feels almost as good as any early morning fifth of tequila.
“I had all the plans in place. I was ready to win you back, to put the past behind us once and for all. Only to find out you’d fucking lied to me, tricked me into doing what you wanted, even though all I ever wanted was you!”
Her whole body jerks as though my last words physically slap her out of her drunkenness, but she doesn’t say a word. Simply blinks like she’s trying to process it all.
Y
eah, good luck with that, sweetheart.
It’s been a year and I still haven’t handled it.
I’m not sure how much time passes until my heart rate slows, my breathing evens out, and absolute rage isn’t pumping through my veins.
Throughout it all, Evie remains silent, stone still as I come down from my high.
Much like my gamble in the ER at Sacramento General, I roll the dice again. “So, tonight, no. I’m not going to give you exactly what you want. I’m not going to fuck you as some little test to see if your newest meds are working. I’m going to put you to bed because you’re drunk and I respect women too much to take advantage of that. And you’re going to let me, because after everything I’ve given, you owe me this much.”
Evie nods, but the movement is clumsy.
And I don’t feel any better, even after getting all that off my chest.
Maybe my earlier questions are still dragging me down. “Why did you ask me to be your test subject tonight? If you’re so fond of experiments, why didn’t you run a trial with no dependent variables like my horse dick? Surely, an average guy would have been better suited to confirm your hypothesis.”
She jerks again, but a sudden spark of awareness lights up her eyes. “I already tried it with an average guy and I hated it.”
Evie claps her hands over her mouth like she’s going to be sick.
That makes two of us.
Sleep is overrated, even though my eyelids refuse to open. My left side is no good. Neither is my right. On my back is the worst.
No matter how many pillows I clutch or prop my head with, my discomfort screams to be remedied. I can’t think of anything but how awful I feel.
If the damn room would just stop spinning, maybe my stomach wouldn’t be threatening to revolt.
I swallow, trying to rid my mouth of the taste of acid mixed with alcohol. It’s that weirdly sharp yet stale flavor after a night of over indulgence. The one you know is going to come back to haunt you in the morning.
The mattress shifts with the weight of a much heavier body on the edge. Before I can panic, Rob’s soft voice permeates the cotton in my ears. “Baby, sit up. I brought you juice and some aspirin.”
