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After an hour in the gym and forty-five minutes in the shower—fifteen of those spent beating one off to visions of naked Sally on her knees before him—Sly snatched his cell from his dresser and checked it.
He cursed.
Loni: You’re home?
How did she know he was back in town? He’d been damn sure to keep the word of his short visit to immediate business associates—the people on his crews and his upper-level admin. Loni must still have connections through his office, which meant he had a snitch in his midst. Not a surprise, though, since some of the single party girls in reception and office admin loved Loni—and all the parties she’d invited them to when she and Sly were married. Thankfully, Derek, his personal assistant in his headquarters office, was a happily married gay man who preferred nights at home over nights out clubbing, and he’d been with Sly since he’d first started White. Sly trusted Derek with nearly every minute detail of his business, and Derek was paid well because of that.
Loni: Want to grab lunch?
No, he did the fuck not.
Hell. He’d hoped to avoid seeing her again, especially after what happened the last time they were together. Talk of getting back together, of trying for a real marriage…. Loni had been desperate, sadly delusional. She had to know they were never going to get back together. They shouldn’t have been together in the first place…but that was on him. And he was just starting to come to terms with that. In all honesty, he hated admitting that he felt sorry for her…and angry at himself that he had put her in that position. She wouldn’t be so hung up on what they had or could have if he hadn’t allowed his guilt over Jake’s death to lead him into the biggest mistake of his life.
Sally’s take-no-shit view on what happened that night Jake died had struck him hard, making him really take the time to see things from an outside perspective, one that wasn’t tainted by emotion.
Jake was dead. Sly should not have been driving, but he wasn’t the one driving the 18-wheeler that crossed the double yellow line. Both Jake and Loni had been sober enough to click it, securing themselves in the car. If Jake had given it a single thought, he’d have scars, but he’d still be alive. Loni would still have a brother. Sly wouldn’t have a mountain of baggage keeping him from rushing headlong into the best thing to ever happen to him.
Sallina was a breath of fresh air—air he needed to breathe to live. But until he made things right with Loni, making her see she was better off without him, he would always feel that last bit of guilt nagging at him. Oh, and Sally would beat his ass if Loni kept coming around.
Sly: Only home until I can deal with stuff at work. Won’t have time for lunch today. Sorry. Definitely when I come back, though.
Short. Pointed, without being cold. He’d placate her for now, get home to Sally, then make plans to come back and sit down with Loni. For the last time. He didn’t want to hurt Loni, but he was tired of walking on eggshells around her. She had to get over them, what they had been, and build a future for herself without him in it. He was done with letting his guilt make decisions for him, and he wanted better for Loni. She deserved it.
Loni: I was a bitch to you, Sly, and I really want to apologize in person. It’s the least you can do.
The least he could do? Once again, the play on the guilt. Rolling his eyes, he ground his teeth together.
She wanted to apologize—but for what? For being a bitch to him? For trying to get him back by talking shit about the woman he loved? Yes, Loni had a lot to apologize for, but that wasn’t all that needed to be said. Fine. He’d meet her for lunch. Today there would be a reckoning of more than seven years of thoughts, actions, and behaviors between them.
It was time to let Loni go. For good. So he could hold Sallina all the tighter.
Sly: Where?
Loni: Come to the house. Jessie is making her salmon, and I know you love it.
He didn’t love the idea of meeting her at the house they called home together for five years, but at least there, Sly knew they’d have total privacy, she couldn’t make a scene, and it meant he could leave when he wanted to.
Sly: I’ll be there.
Sitting at his home office desk for three hours getting nowhere, he headed to the worksite to see the progress for himself. After conferring with the plumbers, city engineers, and his crew chief, he was relieved to learn the problem was well in hand, and he could actually leave Miami. Again. Thank God. Having lived in the small town with its close-knit community, its people—including Blaze, AJ, Anna, and Maeve (surprisingly enough)—he was ready to get out of the hustle, bustle, and busyness of the major metro area. He was ready to get back to his beach house, his slower pace, and his woman.
This time, when the text notification chimed, he was eager to reply.
Sally: I’m sitting here at my desk wishing I could have you for lunch.
He groaned, quickly remembering how voracious she could be once his cock was in her mouth. Damn, he was glad he was back in his office with the door shut.
Sly: I want that too, baby. Then I would have you for lunch—we can go Dutch. Both of us paying with our mouths. I’ve got 9 inches for you to enjoy.
Sally: Sounds good to me, though I don’t think I’ll get much time for lunch today. George the Cock-Goblin is determined to work me into an early grave with his shit.
Sly: Sounds like you need a vacation. Tropical beach and clear, blue water. Someplace where they speak French….
Sally: I’ll pack my bags!
He chuckled at her enthusiasm even as he made mental plans for a two-week vacation to Martinique.
Sly: Already buying the tickets.
