My Always One - Aleatha Romig Page 0,37
door. As I reach for the light switch and flick it up, I’m face-to-face with Jack.
The next few seconds blur as Marshal steps in front of me and Jack takes a step back.
“Get out,” I say, holding the door open. “And leave your key.”
“Fuck,” Jack says, sidestepping Marshal. “I didn’t think Michaels would be here.”
“I’m here,” Marshal says, puffing his chest. “You heard Sami, get out.” He extends his hand, palm up. “And give me the fucking key.”
“Samantha,” Jack says, ignoring the wall of a man in front of him. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake, but that’s all it was.”
“Your mistake has a name, Jack,” I say. “Ellen is her name. I recognized her. She works at your firm. You introduced us at the dinner with the head partner at The Rooftop. Were you fucking her then?”
“No.”
My hand goes to my hip. “Tell me, is fucking interns part of the program your firm offers? I haven’t looked at the website. Is it spelled out or is that clause only in the fine print.”
“Samantha, stop. It’s not like that.”
I point to our—no, my—bedroom. “You screwed her in our bed.”
“Tell me what you want. I’ll do it.”
My lips purse as if I’ve tasted something sour. “You’re pathetic. The flowers were pathetic.” I shake my head. “I was so stupid.”
“Sami,” Marshal says, his voice supportive.
“No, Marshal, I was. I didn’t see Jack for who he is because I didn’t want to.” I spin toward my ex-fiancé. “Now I see what a pathetic excuse of a person you are” —I shake my head— “and I can’t unsee.”
“Samantha,” Jackson says, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I absolve you of your guilt. I actually want to do as Marshal did and thank you. Thank you for showing me your true colors before it was too late.” Stretching out my arms, I spin around. “I can’t tell you how liberating it feels.”
“It will never happen again.”
My gaze narrows. “You’re right. It won’t happen to me because we’re done. Thank you, Jackson. Now, for the last time, get the hell out of my place.” I see Marshal in my peripheral vision. “Or I’ll let Marshal do what he has offered.”
Jackson takes a step back. “Touch me, Michaels, and I’ll sue.”
“Jail time for a friend,” he says with a grin.
For a second, I recall offering to torch a house in Lansing.
Reaching in his pocket, Jack takes out a keychain, removes the condo key, and sets it on the table near the door. “Goodbye, Samantha.”
“It’s Sami,” I say.
Without another word, he steps through the doorframe and closes the door behind him.
Marshal gently reaches for my shoulders. “I know I keep asking you, but tell me, are you all right?”
“I will be after I have the locks changed and a new bed delivered.”
“Where are you going to sleep?”
I lift my eyes to his and shrug. “The couch, unless you have a better idea.”
“How about a sleepover at my place?”
“Let me pack a bag. Tomorrow I’ll call the maintenance office about new locks. Oh, and remind me to call the fire department.”
Marshal’s eyebrows knit together. “The fire department, why?”
“I’m burning the bed.”
“There’s my girl. How about I get the matches?”
“Partners forever,” I say as I go to the bedroom and begin to fill a bag with clothes and cosmetics for work in the morning.
When I turn, Marshal is leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his wide chest. There is something in his expression that I can’t exactly read.
“Now what are you thinking?” I ask.
“I’m sizing up your bed. Fire is a little drastic, but I have a saw.” He lifts a hand to me.
My hand seems smaller than before as I lay it in his.
His fingers close and he tugs me to him.
I come to a stop as my breasts collide with his chest.
Marshal’s lips come to my forehead. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a sleepover.”
“Last night,” I remind him.
“That one wasn’t planned. What do friends do at a sleepover? Watch movies. Oh, should we stop for popcorn?”
I tilt my head. “Do you have a movie in mind?”
“No,” he says as he cups my behind, tugging me closer. “I can’t think of one title at the moment.”
“Are you still hungry?” I ask with a grin, my mind going to all he’s eaten.
“Not for popcorn.”
“Then I guess we don’t need to stop.”
Sami
“Either spill or set me up with your friend Marshal.”
I look up from my computer, lost in the advertising proposal I was putting together for a big