He hangs up.
I pause in the doorway of my bedroom, my gaze moving to the glass doors once more.
“Yep, I’m not going to destroy it, so I might as well ignore it.”
I head into my bedroom to forget Dean and dance my ass off. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?
Chapter Eight
I fall into the booth, sweaty and exhausted and in desperate need of another drink.
“Are you working on your moves at home or something?” Mikey falls in right next to me, waving his hand to his friend who’s ventured to the bar instead of our booth. “Grab two.”
His friend nods. A friend who’s gotten handsy with me a few times on the dance floor, but he’s not bad looking. If I would just stop thinking about that DVD and Dean, I’d probably take him home with me.
“Who’s your friend?” I ask Mikey, sitting up straighter.
“Nope. Hands off.” He shakes his head.
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m not listening to another friend whine about you blowing them off.”
“Who me?” I act offended although he only speaks the truth.
“Yeah, you.” He laughs and sits up straighter, playing with the triangular advertisement in the center of the table. “So?”
“What’s with everybody’s so’s?” I grumble.
“Because you make us draw things out of you like a prisoner of war.” He looks up at me through his thick eyelashes.
“What does everyone want? In a city of millions, he happens to be the one tax attorney who volunteers to do pro bono work for the foundation I’m working at. End of story.”
His eyebrows lift.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He raises his hands up in front of him.
“That look isn’t good on you. I’d lose it for the ladies.”
He chuckles. “It’s a bit of a coincidence, no?”
I shrug. “Coincidences happen all the time.” His eyebrows lift again. I pluck the advertisement out of his hands. “You’re not one to hold back your thoughts.”
“You don’t want to know my thoughts.” He chuckles and leans back into the booth.
“Well, from tonight’s conversation, there’s Vin’s side and Zoe’s side.”
“Vin has a side? Usually that man is either on Zoe’s side or right down the middle.” He pauses for a second. “Strike that, he’s always on Zo’s side.”
He smiles, and I laugh. Truth is, I don’t want to know what side he’s on because there is no side to take.
“Seems Vin sees Dean’s side.”
Mikey shrugs, his gaze diverting to the packed dance floor.
“You, too?” I stare at him slack-jawed.
Mikey glances back at me. “I’m a guy, Chels.” He shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong, I mean, how it all went down was horrible and I hated seeing you so heartbroken afterward, but the guy’s hopes and dreams were shattered.”
“And that grants him permission to ruin our marriage?”
He places his palm up in the air. “I’m not saying what he did was okay, I’m just saying that I get the self-destruction. I think what you need to figure out is if it really is a coincidence, or if he knew you worked at RISE.”
I sit there blinking at him for a second, unnerved with what he’s suggesting. “No way. Why would he purposely seek me out?”
A smile lifts his serious lips. This is not why I came out tonight, but like any big family, mine doesn’t understand what privacy is very well.
“Maybe he has regrets? Maybe he wants you back? Maybe he wants to make things, right? I’m not him, I can’t say. But when Zoe called me tonight and gave me the low down, it all just seemed a little too coincidental to me.” He shrugs again and shoots me a look like, ‘hey, but what do I know.’ Obviously, a shit-ton more than me.
Why didn’t I suspect foul play from him? Because I’m too busy being enamored with him.
“Well fuck a duck.”
Mikey laughs and his friend slides into the booth, bringing along two girls, all their hands full of beers.
The girls instantly cozy up to Mikey and his friend. Feeling like a fifth wheel, I figure I’ll call it a night.
“I’m heading home.”
Mikey sits up to attention. “I’ll get you home. It’s late.”
I stop outside the booth and shake my head. “I’m the older cousin, remember? I can get home myself.”
“You sure?” he asks as the girl’s hand rubs along his stomach.
“Yeah, stay put.” I tuck my purse under my arm.
He slides out of the booth giving me a kiss on the cheek. “You have your pepper spray?”
I giggle at his assumption that I can’t handle myself. “I’m good. See you tomorrow night.” I kiss his cheek. “Don’t bring her,” I whisper in his ear.
He just shakes his head at me.
“Have a good night.” I wave and then walk off while his friend eyes me one more time like he’s committing my body to memory.
Then I vanish into the throngs of people and head back to my place that suddenly feels very lonely.
I’m not home for more than five minutes before I’m back to where I was hours before. My time out of the house was a nice reprieve from the burning desire to watch the DVD.
“Fuck it.” I plop down, grab the Rambo DVD, the plastic creaking in protest when I open it. Before thinking twice, I put it in the DVD player, head to the couch with the remote and press play.
The music starts, and I roll my eyes as a smile crosses my lips remembering how much work Dean put into it. Lights of the Las Vegas Strip shine out the window of our hotel room.
There’s me naked on a bed with a sheet over me, holding my hand out with my ring on it for his viewing.
“Say your name,” he jokes.
“Chelsea Bennett,” I say, my voice innocent and lovesick.
“Wrong.”
He yanks me by my ankle down the bed and I giggle not protesting one bit. “Do you need me to spank you?”
The camera shakes from him laughter.
“Please,” I pretend to beg.
“Say your name,” he repeats, and I hold my arms out.
“Mrs. Dean Bennett,” I say on the video.
I inhale a deep breath and suddenly I’m that girl again. Naive and pure and a true believer that my forever just got etched into some imaginary book of destinies. That Dean and Chelsea Bennett would live happily ever after.
Maybe that’s why the crash back down to earth was so painful.
“What do I get for saying it?” I tilted my head to the side into a sex kitten look with hooded eyes.
The sheet slides over my lower half and there’s my much younger pussy on display, freshly waxed. Ah, the good old days.
His hand comes into view, his middle finger running up my folds, his thumb pressing lightly against my clit. My gasp audible.
“Already wet.” Although he’s behind the camera, I can still remember his satisfied smile.
“Am I the best husband?” he asks.
“You are.” I’m panting as his fingers manipulate me.