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Unclasping the lid, I open it apprehensively and peer inside while Susanna leans forward so she too can see the box’s contents. The moment I see the slice of cheesecake, I know who the sender is.
But why?
“There’s an envelope,” she says in anticipation, no doubt wondering what the hell is going on.
Reaching for it, I open it. Inside sits the same piece of paper I left for Madison. However, underneath my handwriting are the words:I saved you a piece—from one angel to another.
“Dr. Mathews, are you okay?” I remain mute, as the note in front of me has my full attention.
Why did she send this?
Sadly, Madison’s walls are paper thin, and I heard the majority of her conversation with David. There’s no doubt she’s into him. I mean, she said so herself. I just need to forget the fact she nearly kissed me because her actions surely don’t match her words.
I couldn’t stomach a second longer of listening to her canoodling that love-sick fool, so I left. But I left her a note because I didn’t want to just bail yet again. I had no expectations, and yes, I could have chosen something else to write. But I thought this was better than the alternative of, “Your boyfriend is a parasitic dick.”
Eyeballing the cheesecake and note, I honestly don’t know what to do. I’m drowning in two women who are both toxic to my health for entirely different reasons, but toxic nonetheless.
Slamming the lid shut, I push the box away from me and place the folded letter into my pocket. Kicking the waste bin out fromunder my desk, I slide the box across my desk and am about to throw it in the trash when Susanna stops me.
“Aren’t you going to eat that?” she asks, obviously confused by my distaste toward a harmless piece of cheesecake.
I shake my head. “Nope. Would you like it?” I offer the box her way.
“Are you sure?”
“Knock yourself out,” I reply. Susanna happily takes the box from my outstretched palm.
“Are you sure you don’t want it?” she questions, and I can’t help the dry chuckle that spills from my lips.
“That’s the problem, Ms. Vale,” I vaguely reply, no longer referring to the dessert.
Susanna looks puzzled by my ambiguous response, but she doesn’t push. She takes the box and makes her way toward the door. However, she suddenly stops, and with her hand poised on the handle, she raises the box above her head and says, “Food for thought, Dr. Mathews.”
She gently shuts the door behind her, and I sigh because she’s absolutely right.
The rest of the week is no better than the start, and come Saturday afternoon, I’m dying for some S&S—scotch and sex.
Juliet has been MIA all week, and after my blow-off last weekend, I really shouldn’t be expecting anything less. But having easy, freaky sex on tap for the past three months really spoils a man, and my hormones are in overdrive.
I guess I could call Juliet, but I feel we’re both on the same page and realized we’re nothing more than fuck buddies who got a little carried away with a Disney HEA.
But now I’m stuck. Do I go out and look for someone to burn some of this pent-up sexual frustration with? Or do I just call Juliet? She ticks all the right boxes sexually, and she’s familiar and uncomplicated, but for some unknown reason, I can’t seem to make the call.
As I pass a jogger, I know the reason is because of Madison. I can’t get that damn image of us almost kissing out of my head, and the more I try to forget it, the more lucid it becomes. I haven’t heard a peep from her after she sent the cheesecake, and I’ve purposely stayed away. I need to clear my head of both women, and to do that, I need to get laid.
Reaching for my cell from my jacket pocket, I quickly dial Hunter, who answers on the second ring.
“S and S?” he asks, and I hum in agreement.
“Let the games begin.”
Sadly, Finch hasn’t joined us, so it’s only Hunter and me, which is never a good combination when we’re both horny and drunk. However, I’m the designated driver, so I’m only one of the two, but it’s still enough to have me seeing double.
Hunter has dragged me to Cherry Pop, the club where I saw Madison looking like a total goddess on the dance floor.
Although I wish he’d chosen somewhere a little quieter, I can see why he selected this venue. The girls are barely clothed and barely legal, and with the amount of cheap alcohol flowing through their veins, I know this will be an early night.
Hunter seems to also be on the prowl, and our joined bachelorhood must be a magnet because I already have five random phone numbers in my pocket, two of which I have no idea how they ended up in there.
