and orchestrated for myself. I shouldn’t have made love to him last night, but in a selfish way, I’m glad I got to be with him one last time. I may pretend, but inside, I know that there is no us—never was and never will be. I’ve been as strong as I could be for as long as I possibly could without going crazy. I’ve waited, prayed, believed, lied to the world and myself, and ultimately…I lost. The tears run down my face but the water washes everything away…even him, and hopefully, one day, the pain.
I know—William fucking Knight is downstairs and I’ll have to figure out a way to deal with him without Emily or Louis knowing I did this. This will be my gift to her. After being the shittiest friend any girl could ever have, I owe her this. She may never find out that I took care of Will “The Problem” Knight for her and Louis, but I will know and that’s enough.
The shock hasn’t worn off yet as I think that this stranger was in my room last night watching Jeff and I make love. The thought of him spying on us causes my body to respond in a very unprofessional way. I need to be Sara Klein, attorney at law, not Sara Klein, slut extraordinaire. How could that stupid man think I was fucking my best friend’s husband? I mean, yes, I’m fucking somebody’s husband, but that’s a different story. What Jeff and I share is not some transient secret office affair. Ours is a heartbreaking love story that spans half my life.
I dress casually in comfy shorts and a soft sweatshirt, fighting the urge to wear Jeff’s old T-shirt under my loose top. That old grey T-shirt is one of my most prized earthly possessions and I handle it with tender loving care. I head downstairs to try and make the British fool understand that he needs to go back home to Mother England and stop dreaming about breaking up my best friend’s marriage. I saw the look in his eyes when he said her name. The only other man who has the right to have that look in his eyes is her husband, and he does!
My new guest is in the kitchen. He’s removed his light jacket and stands in a wrinkled white T-shirt. The boy obviously lives in the gym; his biceps are on display as he expertly pours our tea. I look away from his arms and catch him eyeballing and assessing me as well. He knows I’m his only meal ticket to Em and I’m sure he’s about to try and milk me. I need to use his weakness for that woman and extricate every shred of information needed to help send him packing.
I give him a small smile as I pick a seat at the round kitchen table. He walks over and places my hot cup of tea in front of me, and smiles back. “Tea. Should I have poured the milk prior to your tea?” he asks.
“No, I like adding it after and watching the milk disperse and hide the tea,” I say, not sure why I’m offering him any explanations about my tea preferences. He nods and smiles and he’s sorta handsome in that carefree, Australian surfer kind of way. When I was a teen, he would have been exactly what I’d lust over. His eye color looks Photoshopped and those disheveled blond locks would have made him the perfect candidate in my childish fantasies. I wonder how far he and Em really got in St. Lucia. The way she described his dick and blushed really was a Kodak moment.
As I add the milk and take my first sip of tea, I can’t help but close my eyes and hold back a sigh, trying to savor the comforting flavor. If this were my last cup of tea on earth, I’d be okay with that—it’s that good. I don’t think anybody, not even my mom, has ever made me a cup of tea. Jeffery probably makes Jacqueline tea all the time.
“Nice shower?” he asks me as I return back from my mini tea-induced orgasm to the here and now.
“The best shower of my life,” I answer sarcastically, thinking that telling him I just washed the love of my life’s scent off my body forever probably wouldn’t be wise.
“Really? That good? Well, I may have to give it a go myself,” he says with a smile and a