Instead, he sets me on my heels by quietly stating, “It’s true. I’ve been really thinking things over, and I think I made a mistake.”

“Figured out maybe I was a better lay than the other women you’ve been out fucking?” I ask acidly.

Another moment of silence before he says, “I’ve been with a few women, Jorie. But this is something else. I miss you. My wife. I miss you in bed and at my kitchen table and in my car when we drive up the coast. I miss talking to you after an exhausting day of work when we’re eating macaroni and cheese out of the box, and well… everything. Eight years of memories we’ve built up, and I destroyed them in a fit of middle-aged distress.”

“You’re not even middle-aged, Vince,” I say but the sarcasm in my head doesn’t come through in my voice. That’s clearly because he’s shocked me by his candid words and earnest demeanor.

“Maybe I’m just old enough to realize that what I thought was important wasn’t and what is important I didn’t realize until you left.”

“Huh?” Totally confused.

“Jorie… I want you to come home,” he says. “I’ll go to counseling if you want. We can talk things through. We can get you a sex therapist or something—”

“What the fuck, Vince?” I practically screech into the phone. “You can’t say something that demeaning to me and think I’m going to run back into your arms.”

“What?” he asks, completely clueless. “I’m just trying to be honest with you.”

My insides boil with rage, and I’m dizzy from what I think might be an unnatural rise in my blood pressure. When I cut my eyes to Elena, she looks back at me with her head tilted and her expression worried.

I take a deep breath and let my nasty bitch come out. “There’s nothing wrong with the way I have sex, Vince. See… I’ve been doing a little exploring myself.”

I hear his sharp intake of breath because I can tell he never thought I had something like that in me. Well, guess what, Vince? You don’t know the gumption deep inside the woman you married and then broke her heart.

“Just last night, I dropped to my knees as soon as we hit his apartment and I let him fuck my face so hard, I cried. Then he ate me out and gave me three orgasms in a row. I’m sorry things aren’t going so well for you, but they are fucking fantastic on my end.”

I wait with glowing self-satisfaction for him to say something in return, but I get nothing but silence.

Dead silence.

“Vince?” I say tentatively into the phone.


I look back to Elena. “He hung up on me.”

“Holy shit, I can’t believe you told him about last night. You’re evil and genius and I want to marry you. Divorce Vince and marry me.”

I give a tiny chuckle, but I’m immediately flooded with guilt that I said those things. I know they had to hurt, and I’ve never been one to strike out so viciously just to assuage my own hurt.

“I should call him back,” I say with a heavy, guilt-laden voice.

“You should do no such thing.” Elena’s voice is harsh. “He deserved every word of that. He put you down and made you doubt yourself. Your words didn’t throw his deficiencies at him but rather pointed out that you’re worthy. There was nothing wrong with you doing that.”

Is she right?

Did he deserve that?

And did I deserve to have guilt-free sex with Walsh? Was I using him to put a bandage on my battered self-esteem?

Speaking of Walsh, I flip to my texts and frown when I see he’s sent me a response. Sorry. Caught up in late meetings and still working. Can’t see you tonight.

“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath.

“What?” Elena asks cautiously.

“Walsh just blew me off,” I tell her as I toss the phone her way. She catches it, turns it to face her, and reads his texts.

“I don’t get it,” she says in puzzlement, tossing my phone back to me.

“I don’t either,” I tell her as I stand up resolutely. “He’s definitely past thinking of me as a little sister, so the hang up has to be with Micah.”

“Why would Micah care if you and Walsh were together?” she asks.

I shrug as I head toward my bedroom to pull together a sexy outfit. “I have no clue, but I’m going to find out.”

“Are you going to his apartment?”

“Yup,” I call over my shoulder. “And I’m not leaving until he sees me. I hope Bentley is a good conversationalist.”



I sit at the bar in The Silo, sipping at a vodka on the rocks. The rocks are all melted and its mostly watered vodka but I take my time with it. I’ve violated my “no alcohol when fucking at the club” rule again, but I’m not going to let it stop me from what I came here to do.

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