6

When his muscles relax, I wait for him to pull out and cuddle me against his chest, like he always does. But his phone rings inside the beach bag, and he stands up, running his fingers through his hair, as he looks around for it. I don’t know why I’m surprised he’s going to answer the call. I guess I hoped that, just this once, he’d put us first.

I watch him dig into the pocket of the beach bag, pull the phone out, and then glance at the screen. And then he holds up a finger, letting me know he needs a minute. Normally, I’d give him all the time in the world, but it’s Saturday, and the office is closed. Only dire emergencies are handled on the weekends, and considering we’re in another country, Cannon couldn’t be much help.

Something inside me snaps, and I get up from the bed and storm across the room. Without thinking, I grab the phone out of his hand and hang up.

He glances back and forth between the phone and me and then stares at me in disbelief. “What the hell, Piper? That was a work call.”

“Was it?” I ask him, no longer taking his word for it.

“Who else would it have been? Everyone knows I’m on vacation.”

“You’ve been taking calls the entire trip, Cannon. We just had sex, and you got out of bed to answer a work call. Do you even get how messed up that is?”

I wasn’t expecting it, but remorse fills his eyes, and he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

But that’s the thing, I stopped believing him.

“No, you’re not. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t keep doing it.”

“I can’t help it,” he says. “I’m under a lot of pressure.”

“I don’t care!” I yell.

He takes a step toward me, and I take a step back. We’re both completely naked, and I feel so exposed, like he can see my heart beating out of my chest and feel the fear in the pit of my stomach. My confidence disappears, and I sink to the floor, curling into a ball.

“Piper,” he says when I start to cry, “please don’t.”

Through tears and a throat so clogged with emotion that it burns, I manage to speak the words I’ve been holding inside for so long, “Something has to change, Cannon. You’re always at the office. Always on the phone. And, when you’re not, you’re distracted. I brought you here to get us back on the same page, but we’re not even in the same book anymore. I don’t know what to do.”

He grabs the robes off the back of the door and slips one on. The other, he hands to me. When I don’t budge, he slips it around my shoulders and tries to cover me up. I’m shivering, but it’s not from the air-conditioning. It’s because I’m scared of what he’s going to say back.

But he doesn’t say anything at first. All he does is sit in the chair by the window, looking at the beach.

I’m not sure how long I’m supposed to wait for a response or if he plans on giving me one at all, so I decide to ask him one more thing. This one answer will save me a lot of wasted breath. “Are we done, Cannon?”

Still staring out the window, he barely flinches when he says, “No, baby. I did this to us, but I still want you, Piper.”

If he means becoming a workaholic and losing sight of what’s important, then, yes, he absolutely did do this to us. But I don’t care about the blame game. All I care about is fixing what’s broken.

“Tell me what to do, Cannon. Do you want to go to therapy? What will make this better?”

His phone rings again, and I cover my face with my hands because I want to throw the damn thing off the balcony.

He lets it ring three more times before the call goes to voice mail. I think it’s a small victory until it starts ringing again.

“Fuck,” he says, clearly torn.

“Just answer the call. I know it’s killing you.”

He hesitates for a split second before he stands and holds the phone up to me. I see the name of the firm on the screen, proof that it’s a legit work call. That little fact doesn’t make me feel any better.

As usual, he leaves the room and handles his business. But I can’t say a word about it because, this time, I told him to take the call.

 

West

“West!” Tilly shouts as I suck on her clit.

I’ve been spending so much time between these legs that I’ve forgotten what food tastes like. The only scents I smell now are the fresh air that comes in through the sliding glass door and the lotion she uses on her skin.

Tilly jokes, saying I’m on a pussy diet. Doesn’t matter what she calls it; she fucking loves it.

What it really is, is a way to forget that I’m not with my boys while they’re on a four-game streak on the West Coast. Keeping my face buried prevents me from watching TV, from checking the score on my phone.

But not even my wife’s delicious cunt can stop me from thinking about hockey.

“Come,” I demand, pulling my lips away so that I can give her my tongue. I slide three fingers inside her, curving them up and toward me, reaching the spot that causes her to buck. Then, with just the tip of my tongue, I tease the very top.

“Oh God!” she screams. “Just like that.”

She grabs ahold of my hair, yanking that shit so hard that she drives my teeth into her. By the way she shouts and cranks her hips, it’s what she intended.

With just a few more of my licks, she’s shuddering, yelling my name through our living room, squeezing the leather cushions like she’s trying to tear through them.

“Holy fuck,” she groans as she looks down at me.