She makes a good point. I know he blames himself, thanks to the offhand comments he’s made about being a shitty husband and a failure. But he didn’t cheat on Kara. And if she’d truly gone behind his back with another man, then maybe all the reasons she’d given him when she’d asked for a divorce were just a way to excuse her own awful actions.
“Or...She wanted to leave him but didn’t want to look like the bad guy,” Jenny tries, drawing the suspicions out of my head and giving them voice. “So she blamed his schedule and his hockey career and whatever else and made it seem like that’s what destroyed their marriage. That way she wouldn’t have to take responsibility for being a cheater.”
“Maybe. But again, is it any of my business?” I counter.
“It’s literally your business, Hailey! She used your business to cheat.”
I falter, one hand rising to rub my cheek. Yikes. She’s right. Kara utilized Fetch’s services to make those lunch appointments with her dentist lover. If Matt is the kind of man to check credit card receipts, he would’ve just seen “Fetch” on all those statements, rather than the name of the restaurant where she was meeting Dentist Dan.
“Oh boy.” I raise my other hand and start massaging both my temples. “I just thought of something.”
Jenny eyes me warily. “What?”
“Are we cheater facilitators?”
There’s a beat of silence. Then she bursts out laughing. “I’m sorry—what?”
“Fetch is a cheater’s paradise,” I explain with an unhappy moan. “You want to buy sexy lingerie for your mistress? Use Fetch, and then your wife doesn’t see sexylingerie.com on the credit card statements. We also give clients the option to remain completely anonymous. Are we aiding the immoral?”
Jenny rolls her eyes. “Okay, we are not getting into a morality debate right now. These are grownups—if they want to use a delivery service so they can get their secret golly-jollies, let them. Besides, there are lots of ways to conceal shady credit card charges.” Another laugh pops out. “We’re not cheater facilitators, weirdo.”
I drop my hands and wipe them against the front of my yoga pants. My palms feel clammy for some reason.
“Anyway, back to Matt,” Jenny says. “You guys are dating. Don’t you think he deserves to know?”
“Yes. No. God, I don’t know. I just don’t want to hurt him. And even though he’s over Kara, I know this will still hurt him.” A groan slips out. This is why I don’t like it when people tell me their secrets. I can’t take on these kinds of burdens.
And yet I don’t think I can keep this from Matt.
I’m falling for him. All week I’ve thought of nothing but him. The sexy texts and hurried phone calls we exchanged haven’t come close to satisfying my Matt cravings. Fortunately, tonight I’m going to be on his arm. He’ll be wearing his sexy tux, smiling at me from the audience as I get up to accept my award. We’ll feed each other hors d’oeuvres and slow dance and, if I’m lucky, maybe sneak off and hook up somewhere in the hotel. Jess told me that coat closets are all the rage. That could be fun, a covert quickie in a coat room…
“Um, please don’t tell me you’re thinking sexy thoughts about the ex. Are you batting for the other team now?”
Startled, I lift my head. “What?”
Jenny snickers. “You got all blushy, which means you’re thinking about sex. But we were talking about the cheating ex, so…”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Um, no. My brain decided I don’t need to be thinking about that horrible topic anymore.” I pause, feeling heat creep into my cheeks. “I can’t wait to see Matt tonight.”
She’s quiet for a moment, a slow smile playing on her lips. “Wow. You’re really into him, huh?”
My cheeks get hotter. “So much.”
“Curling iron’s ready!” she chirps. “Sit.” She drags me to the chair she’d set up in front of the wall mirror in my bedroom. “And elaborate while I make you extra gorgeous.”
“There’s nothing to elaborate on.” I shrug. “I like him.”
Jenny grabs a handful of hair clips from the dresser and begins sectioning off my hair. Then she takes one small chunk and twists it around the hot iron. Steam rises up for a moment, and I say a quick prayer that she doesn’t burn my hair off. I’ve actually never seen Jenny do anyone’s hair before, come to think of it. But her long locks are always perfectly curled, so I’m hopeful that she knows what she’s doing.
“You like him,” she echoes. “What else?”
“I don’t understand the question.” Our eyes meet in the mirror, and we both start laughing.
“You’re the worst gal pal ever,” she declares. “I want details, Hailey. Like, is the sex still awesome after three months? Has the marriage word come up?”
“Marriage?” I squawk. “He hasn’t even referred to me as his girlfriend yet!”
“Really?” A frown mars her lips. She slides the curling iron down and a perfect spiral of dark hair bounces on my shoulder. As she unclips the next chunk, her frown deepens. “Do you think maybe this is just a fling for him?”
“I don’t think so,” I admit. “But don’t ask me what it is, because I’m still not sure.” A sigh heaves out. “All I know is that I get it now.”
“Get what?”
“Passion,” I say frankly.
Jenny giggles and tackles another section of hair. My reflection in the mirror shows loose, bouncy curls that, paired with my bangs, give me a flapper-girl vibe. I like it.
“Seriously,” I insist. “I honestly didn’t get it before. I thought that what Jax and I had was normal—pleasant missionary sex a couple times a week, I-love-you’s instead of dear-god-I-want-to-fuck-you, no orgasms more often than not…” I shrug. “It’s different with Matt. I swear, I want him all the time. I wish I could carry him around in my pocket and take him out whenever I’m lusting for him.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Um, we all wish that. But you’d never get any work done if you had a Pocket Matt.”
“Work’s overrated.”
As Jenny finishes my hair and moves on to my makeup, we chat some more about the sheer hotness of Matt Eriksson. Anticipation burns hot in my blood. I cannot wait to see him tonight.
“Oh wow!” Jenny exclaims thirty minutes later when I exit the bathroom in my dress.
“It’s not too racy?” Biting my lip, I step up to the mirror and examine the deep vee neckline of the long, silky gown. It’s black and has a high back to cover my tattoos—I don’t usually try to hide them, but I’m not sure who’ll be at the event tonight and how open-minded they are. The TWBA has been around forever, and some of the women who sit on the board are…old.
Oh brother. Am I being ageist right now?
“It’s a perfect combo of classy and racy,” Jenny assures me. “The future Mr. Hailey will drop dead when he sees you.” She bites her lip. “Wait, that’s not a good thing. You want him to be alive for your wedding.” She thinks it over for a second, then beams at me. “The future Mr. Hailey will come in his pants when he sees you.”
I sure hope so.