Love Her or Lose Her (Hot & Hammered #2) - Tessa Bailey Page 0,17

and let her aspirations slip further and further until they were unreachable. Now the situation had reversed and the success of her marriage was the thing that felt unreachable.

“No,” Rosie said, guilt settling on her shoulders. “I don’t think I can try again.”

Her friend gave her a sad look. “I’m sorry.”

“That being said . . .”

Bethany perked up. “Yes?”

“I’m kind of surprised, but . . . I don’t think Dominic is going to give up that easily. He wants his chance.”

For long moments, the only sound in the kitchen was the clock ticking on the wall. Until Bethany inflated one cheek and let out a “Hmmmm.”

“What?” Rosie narrowed her gaze at Bethany. “What was that?”

Bethany picked up a rag and started to clean off the counters. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

“You’re not saying something.” Rosie searched the kitchen with a sweeping look and picked up one of Bethany’s favorite fresh-cotton-laundry candles. “Spill or the candle gets it.”

“You wouldn’t,” Bethany said, and gasped. “I had that shipped from Bali. They captured the essence of a sarong drying in the tropical breeze.”

“You know that’s bull, right?”

A noncommittal sound from her friend.

“Okay.” Bethany pulled out a stool and settled into it, indicating Rosie should do the same. “I dated this divorced guy once. Way back in the day—like two threesomes ago.” She winked to let Rosie know she was kidding. “He told me after several margaritas that when he was on the outs with his wife, they went to . . .” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Extreme couples counseling. Like, I’m talking extreme. I think he even called it last-ditch.”

Rosie waited for Bethany to say she was joking. She didn’t. “Are you serious? Dominic talking to a stranger about his feelings? He gets uncomfortable when people cry on television.”

“Okay.” Bethany shrugged. “Say he says no. At least you tried. You gave him an option.”

Unbelievably, the idea went from cockamamie to brilliant in the space of a breath. “But what if he says yes—” Rosie cut herself off with a wave of her hand. “Never mind. There is a zero percent chance Dominic Vega goes to counseling.”

Funny, those words didn’t comfort her whatsoever. When she asked Dominic to try counseling and he said no . . . that would truly be it. Their marriage would be over. There must have been a tiny part of her that was still holding out for an improbable reconciliation, because she was almost scared to set herself up for that one final disappointment.

Rosie tried to swallow but her mouth was dry as dust. “I’ll think about it.”

That night, Rosie barely slept, which was saying something, since—like everything else in Bethany’s house—the bed was decadent. High-thread-count sheets, cushy pillows, a mattress that swallowed her like a cloud. The kind of luxury one would expect from Port Jefferson’s premier house stager. None of it lulled Rosie to sleep, however, and by the time the sun came up, she was gritty-eyed, restless, and ready to jump out of her skin.

She threw on some yoga pants and tiptoed down the stairs, intending to go work out some frustration at the gym. Her muscles were strung tight as a bow and no amount of stretching seemed to help. No use in pretending she wasn’t horny. Her soon-to-be ex-husband had shown up with his leader-of-the-pack swagger and eyes that could strip her without removing a single stitch of clothing—and now her body hated her for declining the pleasure he could provide.

On her way out the door, a flash of red brought Rosie to a screeching halt. She tugged Bethany’s white coat to the side, only to find her red one hanging by the door. How had it gotten there? Just yesterday, she’d been mentally kicking herself for not taking it along the night she’d walked out on Dominic. They were heading into October, and in a town surrounded by water, the temperatures were starting to chill fast. She’d considered buying a cheap one, rather than return to the house and risk a run-in with her husband . . . but apparently that wouldn’t be necessary. Maybe Bethany had gone and picked it up?

That seemed unlikely. Did Dominic . . . ?

No way.

Rosie shook her head as she donned the coat over her workout clothes, locked the door, and strode across the porch, her footfalls extra loud in the morning silence. She breathed in the crisp morning air deeply on her way to the car, spinning the keys around her finger. When Rosie