Sunday was a complete blur. I spent the entire day in bed, unless I had to use the bathroom or get something from the kitchen. After several missed calls and texts from Joey, I finally turned my phone off and kept it that way the rest of the day. Juls probably made him aware of Reese being married, but whereas she was into lecturing me about the topic, Joey would high-five me, insisting I tell him every juicy detail about the hook up, and I wasn’t in the mood for either. I didn’t want to think about the best orgasm I’d ever had. I didn’t want to think about the way his lips felt against mine, against my skin, the taste of his mouth, his smell, the way his face looked when he came, the sound of my name on his lips, the way he looked at me as he fucked me against the sink, or how ridiculously huge he was; because he was married. He was fucking married and a complete tool for hooking up with me behind his wife’s back. I can’t even have a one-night stand without it blowing up in my face. Then there was my jerk of an ex-boyfriend. Following me outside and putting his hands on me like that when he should have been glued to his new wife’s side. Talk about a scumbag. Of course, he did get cheated on at his own wedding, which could not delight me more. That bastard got everything he deserved and whatever else is coming to him. I hope he doesn’t find out about his wife’s indiscretions for a while and thinks he’s in a loving marriage. When in reality, she is out fucking anything that moves.
My alarm annoyingly wakes me at five a.m. on Monday, as usual. I like to get a run in every morning before I open up the shop, mainly because of the large amount of sugar consumption that happens regularly between Joey and me during work hours. Dressing in my running gear, I grab my phone and keys off my nightstand and go downstairs into the large kitchen. I live in a small loft above the bakery and have since I opened the place three years ago. It’s practical for me living at my job since some days I’m required to get up in the middle of the night to work on something for a client. My loft consists of one large room, which I separated into two with a decorative screen, giving my bedroom area some privacy from the living room and kitchen. It is small, quaint, and cheap. Renting the room above the bakery only costs me eight hundred and fifty dollars a month, which is relatively inexpensive for the downtown Chicago area. Below the loft, the stairs dump out into the large kitchen/work space, which I spend the majority of my time in, with a doorway that leads out to the main bakery. I make my way through the doorway and smile at Joey’s face, which is pressing against the glass, peering inside. He never misses a run. I step outside and lock up behind me, seeing his angry expression glaring at me as I spin to greet him.
“Well, thank God you aren’t dead. What the fuck? I called you a million times yesterday.” He stretches his back by twisting from left to right. “I believe I told you I wanted details.”
I bend down and reach for my toes and he does the same. “I’m sorry. I needed to mentally check out yesterday. The wedding was a bit much.” Understatement of the century. Stretching my hamstrings, I stand up and press my hand against the window of the bakery to steady myself.
“And are you going to just stand there and not tell me what the fuck that means?”
“I’m sure you already know everything, you gossip queen. Hasn’t Juls spilled the big surprise?”
We start jogging down the sidewalk together, our feet hitting the pavement at the same time. It’s already hot as hell outside and that just ups my annoyance level.
“What big surprise? Juls spent the rest of the reception sucking Ian’s face and God knows what else, and I ate my weight in cake after I saw Billy flirting with a waiter.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Joey. That really sucks.”
“Whatever. He ended up driving me home, and I did him in the back of his Denali as punishment.”
I push his arm, but he doesn’t budge. The man is a mountain of muscle. “Jesus. Well, I guess you showed him.”
“Oh, I did. Now, what surprise?”
We make our usual trek down Fayette Street on the deserted sidewalk, Joey initiating the pace as he always does.
“Reese is married.” God, it still sucked today saying it out loud. And why did my heart physically ache at the sound of it. I couldn’t be that affected by a wedding hook up, no matter how good the sex was. I stop running and look back at Joey who is frozen on the pavement, his blond curls already sticking to his forehead with sweat.
“He’s what?” He starts up again, momentarily stunned, and I move with him.