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I get a vision of a beautiful woman with my Spencer, and jealousy twists in my stomach.
“You know her well?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I don’t know if I want to know the answer to this question, but I ask anyway. “How long have you been sleeping with her?”
“Do we have to talk about this?” he asks.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you want me to listen to what you have to say.”
“Ten years.”
My eyes widen and my stomach drops.
“It’s never happened before,” he says softly.
“What hasn’t?” I frown.
“I’ve never thought of someone else when I was with her.”
I stay silent, waiting for him to go on.
“I wasn’t prepared for it.”
“Do you think of other women often when you’re having sex?” I ask, confused.
“God, no. I’ve never done it, I just told you. I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s constant, and it’s driving me fucking insane to be honest.”
I twist the quilt between my fingers. “So, Sheridan is your girlfriend who lives in another country?”
“No, she’s just a friend.”
“Who you have sex with?” I’m trying to understand the dynamics of their relationship.
“In the past, yes.”
“What about your future?”
“Charlotte, the only person on my mind at the moment is you. If I were with you and it bothered you, I wouldn’t be with anyone else.”
If it bothered me? What the hell?
“It would bother me, Spence, of course it would bother me. I don’t like to share.”
“Then you won’t.”
I get a lump in my throat, and I want to believe him.
Silence hangs between us.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m on a yacht, sailing around Ibiza.”
