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“Uh-oh,” Amy May said when she looked up and saw my tear-ravaged, rage-filled face.
I didn’t reply, instead I headed into her office and threw myself down on her flower-patterned love seat.
A few minutes later, I heard Amy May’s footsteps and thrust my hand out without looking up. Once it was filled with a cupcake, I pulled it back and dove in to the fudgy goodness.
She got me a fudge cupcake with dark chocolate frosting. Amy May so got me.
“What’s going on?” Amy May asked from somewhere beside me. “I haven’t seen you look this crazed since you found The Douche behind Starbucks.”
I told her everything in between bites, holding the tears at bay as I let the rage take over. When I’d finished my story, I looked up to see Amy May looking at me thoughtfully.
“What?”
“I think you should talk with him, let him explain.”
“What?” I practically screeched.
“Look, Lila, what happened with your marriage sucked, totally, and you were one thousand percent in the right to do what you did after you found them … but, Cade isn’t your ex. This isn’t history repeating itself.”
“It sure as hell looked like it was.”
“I think you need to give him a chance to explain,” she repeated, then placed her hand on my thigh as she came to sit next to me. “Everything you said about him up to this point has been great. Amazing, in fact. I can’t believe he was putting you on. There has to be more to it.”
“But I saw it with my own eyes,” I argued, a little miffed that my best friend wasn’t taking my side.
“You also thought you saw Jason with another woman, with your own eyes, and you were mistaken,” Amy May pointed out gently. “Just hear him out.”
“I’ll think about it,” I grumbled, then stood to leave.
“Do you want to come over, talk some more?”
“Nah, thanks, I think I’m just going to head home. Maybe take a bath.”
“Want some cupcakes for the road?” she asked, and I instantly forgave her lapse in judgment.
I dried off, threw my robe on and, thinking a glass of wine was just what the doctored ordered, padded out to the kitchen. I had music playing in the bathroom while I took a bath, the strains of it filtering through my apartment so it wasn’t totally still.
I placed the already opened bottle of red on the counter, then reached for my favorite goblet when Cade’s voice behind me caused me to jump.
“You ready to talk?”
I whirled, my hand clutching my chest.
“What the fuck? How did you get in here?”
Cade was sitting at my kitchen table, legs casually stretched out before him, his hands behind his head. He was wearing a white V-neck, had cuffs and bracelets on his arms, and his hair was hanging loose with a beanie on his head.
I was trying hard to hold on to the fact that I was pissed at him. It was hard, when all I wanted to do was lick him.
“Cade, seriously, you broke into my house? What the hell?” I asked, finding my anger.
“I told you we needed to talk and you weren’t answering your phone or the door, so I let myself in.”
I crossed my arms and glared at him.
“Fine, you want to talk?” I asked, uncrossing my arms and placing them on my hips. “Did you fuck her?”
Cade’s face darkened and he sat up, no longer relaxed.
