“Why are we talking about him?” I ask, seething fury spilling in my voice.

  She unclasps her fingers and wraps her hand around the glass. With poised elegance, she brings it to her lips and takes a sip.

  “He’s your life right now, Violet. You no longer spend time with us, your own family, or your sister and your friends,” she says with a patronizing voice.

  “He has nothing to do with that.”

  With a soft pursing of her lips, she dismisses my words.

  “Hmm... Do you really think he’s worthy of your time? You’re probably nothing more than another experience to him, something different from the women his age.”

  “I don’t want to talk about him, or my life,” I say bearing little hope that my words would make her stop.

  “He’ll abandon you, Violet,” she says, looking straight into my eyes, tapping into my deep-seated insecurities.

  “Yes, he will... when you’ll expect it the least. He’ll find someone he’ll really fall in love with, someone young and innocent, someone who’ll look up to him, make him feel like a real, powerful man, and he’ll go gaga over that woman. Right now you may be his friend and lover, and he loves the equality and what not... They all do, but not long-term. Why do you think they always trade the women they buddy up with for the younger women who know nothing about them and gawk at them every time they say a word?”

  My fingers squeeze the fork, almost bending the metal.

  She continues, unfazed.

  “Yes... that’s the kind of woman they like to settle with, or if that’s not the case, then he’ll find another thrilling experience. Someone who can keep him on his toes, someone playing hard to get, fueling his taste for adventure, and stimulation... Because, make no mistake about it, that’s exactly what you are for him right now. A new, interesting experience. Some sort of upgrade from the usual, boring lay.”

  My stomach disintegrates into ribbons of pain, her words punching me in my gut. No matter how malefic she is, what she says, universally applies, and that includes Jagger and me.

  She takes another sip of wine.

  “Even if he has feelings for you, how deep do you think they run? He probably loves his snowboard or his ride more than he likes you. ”

  “How much depth did Brad’s feelings have?” I ask, finally managing to open my mouth and be more than a punching bag.

  She presses her lips in a tight line.

  “Brad is a mature man.”

  “Oh... Yeah. I forgot. The mature man who bedded women behind my back, while he was playing the perfect son-in-law, and husband. How can you give him a pass, while shredding to pieces someone you don’t even know?”

  She sinks back into her chair, sighing, exasperated.

  “You’re such a fool, Violet. I’m appalled I have to say this, but you think and act like a teenager.”

  I smile callously.

  “Maybe none of this would’ve happened had I been a teenager before I was a wife.”

  Her eyebrows rise.

  “Maybe, but it’s still not a good enough excuse for your stupidity. If this young man is as thoughtful and caring as you say he is, why would he want to see you drifting away from your family?”

  “There’s not only one reason why I’m ‘drifting’ away, as you say, and whatever the reasons, he has nothing to do with them. He’s not the cause of anything that’s going on right now. I had filed for divorce way before I met him, and I did, because I felt that the marriage was killing me. And it did, slowly, day by day. Things may not need to be perfect in a marriage, but at least they shouldn’t be deadly.”

  Her eyelids flutter with disapproval.

  Shaking her head, she creases her lips into a rictus.

  “I can’t make you understand. Not you, and not Lorraine, and frankly it’s not my place or my job to open your eyes,” I say, and motion for the check.

  She tosses her napkin to the side.

  “Well, it pains me to see you like that...”

  “Like what?”

  “You had everything you wanted--”

  “It was what you wanted for me. All I wanted was to have a life.”

  “You did have a life. And a good education... No financial stress. You had a good husband. Even if Brad was not the man for you and you moved on, you could’ve looked for someone more appropriate.”

  “Like?” I murmur absent as my eyes follow the waiter.

  “Jonas Hahn.”

  11

  JAGGER

  “For fuck’s sake, leave me alone!”

  I stretch my arm, grab a pillow and throw it in his direction. The sound of a vase hitting the floor comes to me meshed with his laughter.

  “Don’t make me regret bringing you here. There are plenty of rooms in this hotel. In fact, you could probably buy it.”

  “Come on, Jagger.”

  I push up to my elbows, and crack an eye open. Sporting only a pair of swim trunks, Braxton looks at me, impatient.

  “I want to go to the beach.”

  “Just go. Why the hell do you need me? The only reason you go is to chase tail, anyway,” I mumble, crashing back on the bed, my face hitting a pillow.

  “Exactly,” he says, laughing.

  “I’m not your fucking bait. You’re pretty darn good on your own. They fucking lose their heads over you.”

  “It’s not fun on my own. Besides, it’s two o’clock in the afternoon. How much longer do you want to sleep?”

  I push up again.

  “Two o’clock??”

  “Yeah, man... Wake up.”

  I roll to my back, wrapped in a sheet, and slide a pillow onto my groin. His gaze glues to the slanted pillow, the corners of his lips tilting up with a smile.

  His eyes glint, amused.

  “Go fuck yourself, Braxton,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “Not everybody got laid last night.”

  “I didn’t get laid,” he says.

  I look around, my eyelids heavy with sleep.

  “What about... What’s her name? Angel? Jewel?”

  “April.”

  “Yeah... April. Didn’t you bring her here last night?”

  “I did.”

  “What happened?”

  He slumps onto the couch, nibbling pineapple from a rainbow fruit skewer.

  “Where’d you get the food?”

  “I ordered it,” he says, motioning at the table set on the patio.

  I sit upright and tuck the pillow in front of me.

  A grin spreads across his face.

  “Relax. It’s not like I haven’t seen your dick before.”

  “You were talking about April,” I say, unable to stifle a smile.

  “I couldn’t get passed her voice.”

  “Her voice?!” I start laughing. “What was wrong with her voice?”

  “Fucking everything, man...”

  “You’re getting old, Braxton.”

  “Look who’s talking. The one with a week-long hard-on. Distance sucks, huh?”

  I lift my middle finger as I run the other hand over my face and rub my eyes again.

  “We were talking about April’s voice...” I mutter, slowly sinking into the pillow, indulging in the soft breeze coming through the open window.

  “It was a combination. Voice, volume, and nonsense. There was no way I could make her stop so I could fuck her. Anytime she hit a downtime, and I was getting hopeful, she remembered something else and poured shit on me again.”

  I let out a snicker.

  “So, what did you do?”

  “I put her on the street with cab money... for a month.”

  I shake my head, grinning.

  “How come I didn’t hear her?”

  “You were snoring.”

  “I wasn’t snoring. How the hell could you hear me? Weren’t you busy after all? Wait.”

  The memory of last night comes back to me.

  “Weren’t there two of them?”

  He crushes a piece of strawberry between his teeth and stretches a sly smile.

  “There were. That was the only time I didn’t need earplugs... When they were busy with each other.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. By the time I wanted a piece of the action, April had started to talk again, and it was over for good. My dick went on strike.”

  “And now you’re rushing to the beach... for the next April... You don’t fucking learn Braxton. Can you just not think about pussy for a few days?”

  “Can you?” he asks as he motions to the tent on my lap.

  “Fuck you,” I say laughing, pulling up to my feet, taking the tent with me and going to the bathroom.

  A couple of hours later, I’m lounging on the beach chair under a rainbow umbrella as Braxton canoodles with two women in the water.

  I call Violet again.

  She doesn’t answer. It’s the fourth call within the last hour, and she doesn’t pick up or call back. It’s Friday afternoon, and she’s probably still at work, but not answering is not like her.

  Chugging water from a bottle, I try to push the bad thoughts back. Distance sucks. Big fucking time.

  I turn my eyes to the horizon.

  The weather is perfect, the ocean filled with so much light, it makes the water sparkle like a giant gemstone. Fat clouds rush across the sky.

  I flip the phone and stare at the screen.

  Some stupid feeling pokes at my gut. It’s not her I’m worried about as much as Jonas. I know he’s been circling her like a fucking shark.

  I may be younger than him, but I’m not stupid. She’d fit perfectly into his life plan. They work together. She’s smart, good looking, creative, not to mention, hot as hell.

  He has the looks and the money, and I’m sure by now, he’s had enough tail, and knows a thing or two about women, enough to want to settle with someone like Violet. This is a full hand of aces if you ask me, and the man is not an idiot.

  The thought makes my stomach tie in knots.

  “You don’t like the ocean?”

  Drops of water fall on me as the woman wrings her hair, the water dripping on my lap, as she, oh so slightly, leans over me.

  Shielding my eyes, I drag my gaze up and take her in. Her blue eyes pierce me, her lashes soaked with water. I glance at Braxton who’s still in the ocean frolicking with the busty brunette.

  “I do,” I say as she bends at her waist, and runs a colorful towel over her legs, her ass facing me.

  I look away.

  She pulls her chair close to mine and bends again, stretching her towel, this time giving me a prime view of her cleavage. She’s so close I can smell the ocean breathing through her skin.

  She lifts her arms up, and her chest follows suit, her mounds coming on display. She’s hell bent on driving me crazy. Sliding into the lounge chair, she parts her legs, my gaze going straight to her crotch, her bikini hardly covering her folds.

  I guess that’s the whole point, isn’t it? These panties should be banned. I mean, I don’t let half of my balls hang out, do I? Why would she get away with only half of her pussy covered?

  A naughty smile ripples through her eyes.

  She fucking caught me. I look away again. A little too late, if I’m being honest. By now, she’s picked up on my struggle, and I’m wearing a target on my back. Sweeping my fingers through my hair, I gaze at the ocean.

  “Are you working tonight?” she asks.

  “Uh-huh. You?”

  A soft chuckle rolls on her lips.

  “I’m on vacation.”

  “Um...”

  “I’m Amber, by the way.”

  She stretches her hand out to me.

  “I’m Jagger.”

  “I know. Jagger Parker. I saw your name... last night.”

  “You liked the music?” I mumble, focused on my phone.

  “Yes, it was great... the best music I’ve heard so far.”

  I glance at her, and she gives me a sweet smile, her eyes moving to my shoulder as her fingers start brushing off sand from my skin. She pushes up to her feet, grabs a small towel and bends over me to clean my arms and back, her crotch dangling inches away from my mouth, her slit outlined beneath the fabric.

  Fucking hell.

  “Thank you,” I say as I rise out of my chair, snatch my phone, turn my back to her and step away.

  I call Violet again, fostering the insane hope that she’ll answer.

  She picks up and before I can hear her words, a man’s voice rings out in the background.

  “We can order dinner and stay late,” Jonas says, and a shiver races down my back.

  “Violet...?”

  “Hey,” she says, flat, as if I’m the guy who delivers their food.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, my voice shaking.

  “Yeah... What is it?” she says, cold, stirring a winter in my heart.

  “Is it a bad time? Are you working...?” I ask, my voice trailing off, making me sound like a moron.

  “Yeah... I’ll call you later. Okay?”

  “Are you coming?”

  Amber’s voice echoes behind my back before I even get the chance to end the call. I turn. Frantic, I motion to her to go to the ocean, when Violet’s voice rolls in my ear.

  “Who’s that?”

  “Nobody...” I say, and smack my forehead. What a fucking idiot! “She’s, um, Braxton’s friend. We’re at the beach.”

  Oh, shit... Not good either.

  Damn, this thing turns worse by the second. I wish I could take it back. Fuck, man... What the hell happened to my brain?

  “He’s with you?” she asks, surprise and anger twining in her voice.

  I bite my knuckles. And then I open my mouth, trying to sound calm, and collected.

  “Yeah... he came with me,” I say as casual as I can, as if it’s nothing, at the same time pushing out half of my lungs as I let out a long exhale.

  I’m so fucked.

  “Oh, I see... You’re having a good time... How come you didn’t tell me he’s going with you?” she asks, her voice dry like the sand between my toes.

  Because I’m an idiot would be the proper answer. I wanted him to come with me, aside from the fact that he nagged me incessantly, but I knew she’d get mad at me and the perception would be terrible, and as it turns out I was so fucking right, the anger in her voice confirming my suspicion.

  But I can’t tell her all that, so I say the next worst thing I could possibly say.

  “It’s work. Like yours,” I throw at her, and as soon as the words slip out of my mouth, I realize how bad they sound, and how much I regret them. I wish I could pluck them out of the fabric of time.

  “Oh, I see...” she says deeply disappointed, and angry and even a bit vengeful at the end for good measure.

  “Violet?”

  I hear Jonas voice again, and my stomach flips backward, tied in a knot.

  “I have to go,” she says, cold, and hangs up without saying another word.

  Fuck. Fuck.

  I throw the phone on the towel and kick the sand.

  VIOLET

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I murmur, my hands and face cold as ice.

  “So what do you think? Can we finish this tonight?

  “Sure,” I say, my stomach churning acid.

  Close to nine o’clock we wrap it up. The place is empty, a faint light outlining the corridor. I strut to my office, and he follows me.

  “How was your lunch today?” he asks casually.

  “Good,” I say flatly, avoiding his eyes.

  I walk to my desk, turn off my laptop, and grab my purse. Hands shoved into his pockets, eyes following my moves, he silently observes me.

  My heart starts racing. The more he prolongs the silence, the more anxious I become.

  I walk toward the door.

  “Is there anything else?” I ask, flicking my eyes to him.

  He pauses for a moment.

  “We should go out some time. Talk about other things besides work. What do you think?”

  A small smile tickles my lips. I wonder why it took him so long. Jagger was right, again, and yet he didn’t give a damn. He grabbed his best friend and went fucking in Miami.

  Oops, working.

  I would’ve believed him, but not with Braxton in tow. He’s there for one thing, and it has nothing to do with work. But why wouldn’t they have a good time?

  I study Jonas for a moment as if I see him for the first time. His eyes pierce mine as he’s waiting anxiously for an answer.

  “Yes, why not,” I say, and he smiles, pleased.

  Politely, he leads me to the door.

  “I’ll see you on Monday,” I murmur as I swiftly slip out the glass doors and rush to the elevator.

  One hour later, I walk out of my bathroom, wrapped in a robe. I slide the patio doors open and slump onto the sofa.

  A soft breeze rattles the leaves, carrying the cacophony of evening sounds. Crickets and frogs, the erratic call of a bird, the muffled hum of nature as it unfurls in the background.

  My eyes roam over the backyard, inevitably traveling to his house. The place is sunk in darkness, the silence burdensome. So many things have happened since that first evening when I spied on him.

  My whole life switched tracks. One little decision I made one evening, one innocent moment, has pulled me into another Universe that is so different in contrast with my old life.

  Things have crumbled, others revealed themselves, while some are still secrets. That night was the beginning of a new journey, and yet it baffles me how blissfully unaware I was, how I didn’t have the slightest clue.

  I stare at the dark, somber house, and it’s like watching and studying him. On one hand, I see the house, and on the other, I know nothing besides the facade. Same way I know nothing about him, the chambers of his soul or the stories hidden in the nooks and crannies of his heart.

  I know he loves me, whichever way love is defined on Planet Jagger, but his love is like the ocean. It comes and goes. It’s deeper than you can see, and it changes with the seasons, hours and even minutes. It can lift you up on its crests, and it can drown you, and push you to the bottom.

  I place the phone on the table and bury my face in my hands.

  Moments later, I call him. It’s late, and he doesn’t pick up, and that’s exactly what I count on.