I feel like she just gave me the cure for a terrible disease.
“Plan B. Got it.” I head for the door. “Not all heroes wear capes. I’m going right now.”
“Wait,” Breslin says. “One more piece of advice.”
“What?”
“Don’t forget to pee after sex. It helps prevent UTIs.”
UTIs are the least of my worries right now.
“Roger that.”
I hang up with her and swing open the door.
I’m so preoccupied with ordering an Uber and looking for the carry-on Breslin packed for me, I almost crash into a naked Preston…who’s eating a sandwich.
Winking, he swats my behind. “Don’t worry. Just refueling. I’ll be ready to go again soon.”
Damn him and his devil dick, because that’s what got us into this mess.
I locate my luggage on the other side of the room.
“No rush.” Kneeling, I grab the first few items I can find. A T-shirt and cut-off shorts. “I’ll be back later.”
His brows lift. “Where are you going?”
I quickly get dressed. “To the pharmacy.”
“You okay?” He jerks his chin toward the bathroom. “You were in there for a while.” He makes a face. “Is it the period shits?”
I rue the day I ever told him that because I’ll never live it down. “I wish.”
Then we’d be in the clear.
My comment only confuses him. “Huh?”
I glare at my husband. “We didn’t use condoms.”
Oblivious, he gives me a lopsided grin. Deep dimples and all. “I know. It’s awesome. Ten out of ten, would highly recommend.”
Preston is the smartest person I’ve ever met, but it’s clear our sexcapades must have destroyed a few brain cells.
“Preston,” I say slowly, drawing out every syllable so he gets it through his big, fat, gorgeous head. “We had unprotected sex.”
I see the moment the light bulb goes off because he turns white as a ghost. “Wait.” His throat bobs on a swallow. “You’re not on birth control?”
And here I thought Asher was the dumb Holden brother.
“I’m a lesbian,” I shout as my frustration comes to a peak. “Why the hell would I be on birth control?”
His smirk is far too sexy for the current topic of discussion. “You weren’t a lesbian last night. Or this morning.”
Pfft. Semantics. “That is neither here nor there.”
“It’s very here and there, Kit.” Plopping down on the bed, his expression turns serious. “If you knew you weren’t on the pill, why the fuck didn’t you stop me?”
It takes a staggering amount of willpower to stop myself from slapping him. He was there. He knows why.
“Because I wanted the D!”
And now I want the B.
“Don’t worry. Breslin told me how to pump the brakes before the car starts.”
He blinks. “Come again?”
“Since I don’t have a time machine, I’m going to the pharmacy to obtain some emergency contraception.”
His relief is tangible. “Thank fuck.”
I scowl. “And a big box of condoms.”
That sexy smirk is back. “Make sure you get MAGNUMS.”
Cocky bastard.
I hustle toward the door, but my next thought has me backtracking. “I need you to do something for me while I’m gone.”
“Anything.”
Good. This should go off without a hitch then.
“Call Breslin and tell her the truth.”
His face twists. “Fuck that.”
Dammit. I knew it couldn’t be that easy-peasy.
“Come on. My best friend legitimately hates your guts right now and my life would be so much easier if she didn’t.”
But the only way to squash this beef between them is for Preston to be honest with her about what’s going on with Becca.
“Not only did she refuse to tell me where you were and slam the door on my head, she kicked me in the balls. Twice.”
I’m about to point out that maybe she did him a favor considering the reason for my pharmacy visit, but then he grumbles, “Fine.”
Walking back over to him, I kiss the tip of his nose. “Thank you. It seriously means a lot.”
Truth be told, their hatred for one another would be comical if it wasn’t such a problem. Neither of them will ever admit it, but they’re far more alike than they realize.
They’re both insanely stubborn, cynical, introverted, highly suspicious of others…and extremely protective of those they care about.
Hell, I basically married my best friend.
I start to leave, but Preston grabs my waist. “Not so fast.”
Uh-oh.
I’m expecting him to tell me he changed his mind because he’s a stubborn ass, but what he says next sends a current of warmth to my heart.
“I love you.”
That earns him another kiss. This time on the lips. “Then call her.”
According to Preston—after she screamed her head off—the conversation with Breslin went fine.
Which basically translates to—they’ll never be bosom buddies, but they’re willing to tolerate each other for my benefit.
Thus, it turned out about as good as it could have.
I study his profile as we lie side by side on the bed, him staring at the ceiling, me staring at him.
As great as this honeymoon turned out to be, we’re going home tomorrow.
Back to reality.
Whatever that is because I don’t have the faintest idea anymore.
I don’t understand how I fit into his life or how any of this is supposed to work.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?”
My skin jolts at the deep, throaty sound of his voice.
I trace imaginary patterns on the bedspread with my finger. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
Everything.
“You,” I whisper, my chest twisting. “Becca. Jameson.”
I close my eyes as I recall the conversation where I told Becca my middle name. She loved it so much she declared Jameson would be the name of our future baby.
Guess she was telling the truth. Apart from the baby being ours.
In the past, that thought would have sent me into a depression for days, but now there’s a whole new reason for the heavy sadness weighing me down.
Preston might not be his dad, but Becca’s son is important to him.
Whether I like it or not…my ex and my husband are forever linked.
Preston’s chest lifts on a breath. “You’ll never see either of them. I’ll make sure of it.”
It becomes painfully obvious what that signifies.
“Because I’m your dirty little secret.”
Just what every woman wants to be.
A bitter laugh escapes me because it’s the mistress who’s supposed to be the paramour…not the wife.
Then again, we have a habit of doing things in the opposite order.
Preston must not see the irony in our situation, because he isn’t amused. “You’re not my dirty little secret.”
“What am I then?” I’m lashing out now, but I can’t seem to stop myself. “Exactly what role am I supposed to play? Am I your wife? Your clandestine lover? Your roommate with benefits? The business associate you fuck?”