Sweet Sinful Nights

She was a big girl, she could handle eight hours; she could give him the time, she told herself. Even though it felt like an eternity. Her body was keenly aware of every passing minute, and each one wore her to the bone. Running a hand down the cat’s back, she wished her life were as easy as this—eat, purr, be happy.

But the universe insisted on throwing hurdles and roadblocks at her. The universe kept moving the line. Jump higher. Run faster.

Then it cackled at her and demanded she do it once more. It was so unfair, given what they’d shared in San Francisco. Making love with Brent again had been nothing short of cloud nine. It had been bliss and beauty, passion and pleasure. He had seduced her, body and soul, and she had craved every second of their intense connection. She longed for him. More than she’d ever expected to. More than she knew what to do with.

That was what hurt so much. After ten years of barely getting over him, she’d let down her guard in a few short weeks. Little good that had done. Here she was with a raw, beating heart, and no one to tend to it.

But herself.

“Be a good boy. Ally will be home later today,” she told the cat, who answered her with one final silky rub of his head against her leg.

She locked the door and texted her friend. Nick is fed, rested and ready for your return. Meow!

She popped back into her home, grabbed her purse, dropped a big pair of shades over her eyes, and drove to the airport. At the gate, she met Colin for their quick day-in/day-out trip to Los Angeles. He was leaning against the window looking at his phone. An airline voice blared overhead. “Flight twenty-three from Las Vegas to Burbank will board in ten minutes.”

Colin tucked his phone away when he saw her walking to him. “You look like hell,” he said.

“Thanks. Good to see you too.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Didn’t sleep much,” she said, yawning.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “It was supposed to be a good thing, but it turned out to be a bad thing.”

“Man trouble?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Something like that.”

“Be a nun. Easier that way.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You be a monk. How about that?”

He shook his head. “Hell no.” He tipped his forehead to a Starbucks across the concourse. “Let me get you a coffee. We can’t have you yawning like that in the meeting.”

On the short flight to Los Angeles, she downed her coffee, the caffeine rejuvenating her, temporarily erasing the sleeplessness. She touched up her makeup as Colin walked her through his goals for the meeting with the reality show producers who wanted her to choreograph a one-night reunion, but her mind kept wandering to the sight of Brent walking away.

He hadn’t called it that, but to her it was déjà vu.

The door shutting.

The two of them on opposite sides.

“The meeting should be short and sweet, and I have some key thoughts on how to make this a good deal for you,” Colin said, in his businesslike tone. The sound of his voice returned her to the present moment. She forced herself to focus, since he was in her corner, going to bat for her. “The important thing to keep in mind is that you’re rising. When you worked on the show a few years ago, you were merely an associate choreographer on staff. Now you’re a star, and you create your own productions. Those network guys know that, but it’ll be natural for them to revert back to thinking of you as an employee. My goal is to make sure they don’t treat you as anything but the star that you are,” he said, and even though she was still hurting, his praise made her feel a little better. “That’s why I’m going with you. Because you are Shay Fucking Sloan,” he said, punctuating his pep talk by pointing his finger at her. “And if they want you for a one-night reunion, I’m going to make sure they treat you like a queen.”

She wrapped her arms around him. “You’re the best. Thank you for always looking out for my interests.”

He waved a hand as they pulled apart. “You make it easy.”

When they landed in Los Angeles, her phone was silent. No messages. No texts. No calls.

Her heart sank. Brent had been radio silent all through the night and early morning.

But she’d survive, she reminded herself, as they deplaned on the tarmac, the sun shining brightly. No matter what became of the two of them, she would survive. She always did; she always had. She knew how to keep on living, keep on moving, and keep on fighting.

She had her brothers. She had the three men who had never abandoned her. The three men who would always be by her side. She would stand by them, too, through anything.

The four of them had an unbreakable bond. They were her people.

*

October.

The pictures he’d seen were from October. She’d been four months pregnant then. If the pregnancy had continued, she’d have carried to March.

He’d have a nine-year-old son.