Page 71 of Trashy Affair Duet


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Cash: I told you it’s complicated.

Me: Then fucking uncomplicate it.

Cash: I’m not sure I can.

Because I’m just a girl he’s hot for, and nothing more. All this time I thought he felt the same way, but if he isn’t willing to fight for us, then I must have been wrong. The realization winds around my throat, squeezing a sob free.

Me: You shouldn’t have kissed me.

Cash: I know, Jules. And I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am that I put you in this position. I never wanted to hurt you.

Me: It’s too fucking late for that.

I power off my cell and let my despair bathe Lesley’s pillow. Our texts haunt me for what seems like hours, making sleep an elusive bitch. He’s not just the man I’m in love with—he’s also my boss. The man I’ll have to face at work on Monday morning. Somehow, I have to make this right. At the very least, we need to go back to the way things were, back when we kept an appropriate amount of distance between us.

The kind of distance that doesn’t involve spending time outside of work. The kind that doesn’t involve kissing or late-night phone calls that end with me crying out his name as I come.

Fingering my silent phone, I consider texting him again to tell him I’m sorry, too. That I don’t blame him, despite how much he’s hurt me. Because we’re both to blame for this mess, and for both our sakes, we have to find a way out of it, through it, around it.

Clearly, texting isn’t going to help—if anything, it’s only gotten us into more trouble. But I can’t imagine having this conversation at work either. Hoping to set things right with him tomorrow at the market, face to face, I eventually fall asleep.

But the following morning, he never shows.

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