she’d tried to overcome her feelings, only Alisha had been even more jealous.
Then, when Barry brought in Kahlua, the two slaves had joined forces against Valerie.
Valerie took the second box to the car and drew in a long breath of the sultry Florida air, cleansing her lungs of the toxic stench of the past.
Back inside, there was Kahlua, naked and stinking of sex. “Hey, it’s our pal, Val. The ex who never gets sex.” She ran her hands over her oversized, abnormally high breasts, gifts from a previous lover. “I’m sorry. I should have dressed. I know it bothers you to see someone getting some when you can’t get anything.”
Responding to nitwits is an exercise in futility.
Valerie picked up the next box and carried it out. Three more to go.
Kahlua and Alisha were talking amiably when she returned, obviously having united against a common enemy.
“So, Val, babe. Got any since you left?” Kahlua asked in a simperingly sweet voice.
Valerie picked up the next box, her arms aching.
“Please. You know no one would want her if she even had a sex drive left.” Alisha shook her head in pseudo pity.
Valerie carried the box out. Returned. Two left.
“You should take that paycheck you’re so proud of,” Kahlua sneered, “and buy yourself a fun night with a man. Man-hos aren’t picky.”
Alisha choked on the beer she was drinking.
Barry walked out of the bedroom, fastening his jeans. “Val, babe. You’re here.”
Valerie turned. And felt…nothing. What they’d built together—raising children, making a marriage—was gone.
Kahlua was right in a way. Sex with Barry had been only so-so. Once in a blue moon, he’d go down on her so she could get off. He wasn’t inventive or one to exert any effort.
“I’m here for the boxes.” Valerie motioned to the wall.
Still naked, Kahlua handed him a beer. Leaning against the doorframe, he put an arm around her. “You’re looking…good, Val.”
Good, hmm. After all the snark from the two women, Valerie had to clamp down on her urge to let loose, to sound like the sarcastic heroines in her favorite romance novels. But why bother?
She picked up the box.
“I miss you,” he said.
She froze. In December, she’d longed to hear those words. It’d been her choice to move out, but the first month alone had almost broken her. If he’d said something then, she might well have returned.
Not now.
“I’d take you back, you know.” Ignoring Kahlua’s angry gasp, he moved close enough to stroke Valerie’s hair. “I might even toss in a spanking or two.”
The memory blanked her mind. Being laid out on the bed, his hand coming down on her butt with a loud smack, the warmth of an orgasm, the…
No.
“Sorry, but no.” Arms encumbered with the box, she couldn’t shove him away, only retreat a step. “We’re done.”
His mouth tightened, then he nodded. “Have you heard from Hailey or Dillon recently?”
Dillon had been in China since January, setting up a manufacturing plant. Last week, he’d called, and they’d talked for over an hour. Even men in their twenties could get homesick, it seemed. “Dillon won’t be back for another six or seven weeks. And”—no, she wasn’t about to serve as an intermediary between him and their children—“you have a phone, Barry. Call them if you want to know how they’re doing. Or maybe you should invite them over.”
“I’ll call them both.” He scowled…because he had been avoiding having the children over to visit since Kahlua and Alisha moved in. He couldn’t avoid telling them forever.
She sighed. It was bad enough she’d acquiesced when he’d asked her not to tell the children about the slaves. Although, really, how in the world would she have ever found a way to explain? Hailey and Dillon believed Barry could do no wrong.
“Hey, this box is heavy, and I need to go. Good seeing you all.” Such a lie.
As she lugged the box out the door, it occurred to her he hadn’t offered to carry it.
Had he always been such a jerk and she hadn’t realized?
She drove to her apartment in the “New Tampa” area. Near I-75, the complex was just far enough from the university the place wasn’t filled with students.
After storing the boxes in a closet, she forced herself to change into running shorts, sports bra, and a loose tank top. Because exercising was part of her new life.
Ugh, ugh, and ugh.
I can do it. I will.
Once out of her apartment complex, she walked to the Flatwoods Wilderness Park, feeling the heat surround her. Up north, people considered March