I Love My Healed Heart: 4 Book Box Set/Omnibus (Erotic Romance) Read online

Oh no. Wait. Did he sleep with me to get back at her?

  Pulling my hair into a wet ponytail, my mind races. I feign apathy. “Right. I forgot. Who broke up with who, again?”

  He thinks I knew, right? I hope so. Could he be that diabolical? Ugh. That would wreck me, if he just used me. I swear it would. You know what? From the look in his face, if I have any idea what truth looks like – and believe me, I question that ability now – then he thinks I knew, which means he thinks I signed on knowing. He doesn’t think he pulled one over on me. I’m going to go with that idea.

  “I did. I broke it off,” he answers simply, like it’s obvious.

  “You did. You broke it off?”

  “She’s not a very nice person sometimes,” he adds, frankly.

  I smile at him, kiss him once on the lips, relieved, as I lean my hip on the bathroom counter, facing him. Why do I always think the worst? Oh yeah, because I was cheated on. Another bi-product of betrayal. Damn you, David. I was a pretty trusting person before you, you jerk. “No, she’s really not. How long ago did it end?” I hope I’m not asking too many questions.

  He turns and walks into the living room with me following. “About a month ago, but she still thinks we’ll get back together. See those flowers?”

  Now I do. How did I miss those flowers sitting right in the middle on the coffee table? “Umm…yes?”

  “She gave me those. You want to read the card?”

  YES.

  “No. That’s okay. You know… it’s private…” He walks to get them, with a smile on his face that says he knows I want to read the card. I watch him, biting my lips, knowing I shouldn’t read it. “…and it’s about my boss, so I probably shouldn’t. And I just had sex with you in the shower, so it’s a little weird.” Nicole would say to read it. Amber would say to get the hell out of here. He plucks the card from out of the flowers and walks back to hands it to me.

  I look at it and read: Give mommy another chance. Shrieking, I toss it into the air like it bit me.

  “You should see your face!” he says, laughing.

  For once, I don’t find something funny. That was so not funny.

  “What the hell is that? ‘Mommy’!!??”

  “Don’t ask. She’s trying to be nice,” he laughs, shaking his head.

  Have to go now. Or ten minutes ago. Before my brain was defiled with images of The Bitch and James together and her being Mommy. Someone should fly out of the sky and give me an Oscar for my performance as I laugh, like I did earlier when The Bitch suggested I live with wolves. I laugh. I kiss him goodbye. I tell him this was sooooo much fun. I tell him I’ll see him later. Tired. Have to get up early. Great time. Thanks. Bye. He doesn’t see anything weird going on. He waves from his door as I stroll ‘happily’ down the hallway. As soon as I hear him close it, I push the button for the elevator, pull out my phone and text Amber: James dated The Bitch. And I just showered with him. What do I do?

  As I’m riding down, there is no response. Why????? Oh. No cell service. The second I step out, the response text comes through.

  Amber: Who is James?

  What is she talking about? I just told her about – ohhhhhhh. I told Nicole, not Amber. Amber is the one who told me not to have an office fling. Oops.

  Another text comes through, and I cringe before reading it.

  Amber: James, from your OFFICE?!!!

  Out the door of his building and I’m walking up Fourth Street, heading for the subway, scheming how to get out of this. I’m not going to lie to her or anything wrong like that. I don’t think? Grrr.

  Another text tone. I peek at the phone, terrified, but it’s from Nicole.

  Nicole: With Amber. Girl, you are in trouble. Get over here and tell us all about it. ;)

  Then one slams in from Amber: Come to ‘Angel’s Share’ immediately so I can spank you. I thought he was gay! Must hear details. Weeeeeee!

  I freak out an old guy by bursting out laughing at exactly the moment he passes me. After he jumps I reach out and almost touch him in apology. “Sorry. It’s just, my girlfriends are really funny, and I… sorry!”

  He jerks away from me, and lets me know with a “harrumph” and a deep frown that he wants to be left alone. It’s hilarious and makes me laugh harder. I love this city.

  So my girls are in the East Village. Near my home! Cool.

  I text back: On my way.

  One last text from Amber: Do you think something will come of this?

  Me: He’s The Bitch’s Ex, Amb.

  Amber: Emphasis on EX

  Me: I don’t know…

  Running down into the subway to catch the L train, I lose my signal. As I wait for the train, see all the people around me the idea occurs to me that there are so many people on the planet, why not have a little fun? I ignore the nagging thought that I’m just scared of getting hurt again. I don’t know how I feel about James. But I sure as hell know how I feel about Satana Incarnate. And I think it’s a good idea to avoid him, no matter how hot that shower was. Or the bathroom. Or the fingering in the middle of the office, thing. Sigh. My body tingles just thinking about it.

  But Amber’s question haunts me the whole ride over, and not because I’m thinking of James. Do you think something will come of this? I think something is coming from all of this and that something is my life. I’m on a grand adventure. We all are. I don’t have the answers and when I thought I had them, they were wrong. I hesitate to plan or hope or try anymore.

  I’ve been through so much pain over David’s betrayal. I trusted him and he hurt me very badly, but I’m fine now, I think. I released the last of my pain when I cried those surprising tears in the shower; the bittersweet release. I think I’m over it now. If I saw him again I think I’d just say, Hi David. I wish you the best. I don’t plan on hanging out with you anytime for the rest of my life… but be well and be happy.

  As the train slides to a stop, I walk off and smile at a cute guy who passes me to board. I shoot a look over my shoulder and wink at him, ignoring the ache in my stomach. That’ll go away soon. I need a little room to be wild. I can’t wait to tell everything to Nicole and Amber!

  We never know what’s going to happen when we wake up in the morning, do we? I mean, wow! There’s no use in planning. Just ride the wave... that’s all we can do. And then tell our girlfriends about it, of course J

  The End Of Part 2

  I Love My…

  Freak Out

  By Sabrina Lacey

  Contents

  1 Meeting Up With My Ladies

  2 Thursday

  3 Shoebox Sweet Shoebox

  4 Friday

  5 Minutes Later

  6 That Night

  7 Around 10 P.M.

  Meeting Up With My Ladies

  By the time I get to the lounge bar Angel’s Share, my ladies have concocted a story amongst themselves about my seducing James. They think I asked him out. Then he and I had dinner, wine, roses, conversation (as if) and then – surprise! – we made love.

  Um. No.

  “He slid his hand under my skirt in the middle of the office, in the middle of the day, uninvited!” I announce triumphantly.

  “What?!!” They explode in unison.

  Nicole practically shouts, “No way. NO WAY,” as Amber just keeps shaking her head like a shocked smiling robot whose jaw has fallen in love with the floor.

  We’re sitting at the bar. I’m on the right, Amber is in the middle and Nicole is on the left. Amber’s chair is pushed out so we’re in the shape of a V, which is kind of perfect now that I think about it. I reach over and grab each of them by the arms.

  “Way. It was so unbelievably, mind-blowingly hot!”

  Amber blurts, “What is happening with you lately? It’s like there is a God and he’s sending you these gorgeous hunks to help you get over David.”

  “I’m over David,” I argue. My best girlfriends share a look, which I choose to wave off so I can tell my story. Let them think what they want. I’m completely o
ver fuckhead and his cheating betraying bullshit. “So this is how it went,” I say and launch into the story of what happened with me and James.

  When I get to the part where I found out less than an hour ago that he dated The Bitch, we are all stunned together. They’ve met her too, over the four years I’ve been working at the magazine. We all agree that it’s hard to see that woman dating anyone, because she seems like such a sexless controlling monster. That she sent flowers to James, hoping to get him back? Well, that’s ridiculously hard to wrap my mind around. I turn to them for answers.

  Amber wags a delicate finger at an idea, as she takes a sip of her buttery chardonnay. “You know what though? She’s a woman and we women – all of us – just want to be loved. So she sent a few flowers. Makes sense.”

  Nicole plays with the straw in her Bombay Sapphire tonic, and agrees, “It’s true. We all want that, even her. I feel a little sorry for her. She’s a power player. Everyone does what she wants. And she’s used to calling the shots. You can tell, because she’s sending him flowers, to try and reconcile. But men are the pursuers, so in truth, she’s screwing herself.”

  “Because he won’t screw her, when she does that,” I agree.

  “Nope. Men give the flowers to you. Never give a man flowers,” Nicole agrees.

  I nod, laughing. “Not unless you want to confuse him. Because he’ll like them. Kind of… because, who doesn’t like flowers? And nice gesture, right? But then, he won’t want to sleep with you. And he won’t know why! Nor will you! But after many sexless nights, you’ll know. It’s because you reversed roles. You took away the desire he had to slam you up against a wall and show you who’s boss…and you took it away with a seemingly innocuous bunch of roses.”

  “You think that’s true?” Amber asks from a distant place. She is staring forward into a memory, her eyes clouded by approaching awareness.

  Nicole and I both answer, without pause, “Yes.”

  “Oh my God.” Amber looks to each of us and all of a sudden Nicole and I know what she’s going to say before she says it. “I gave Josh flowers.”

  “That’s it!!! That’s why you’re not getting laid!” I yell out, as if she just won the Lottery. This attracts the attention of more than a few people, including the female of the two bartenders working tonight. The she-bartender pretends to look down at a glass she’s shining, but I can see she is extremely curious as to what we’re talking about.

  “Why’d you give him flowers, Amber?” Nicole asks, her wrist on the bar, with all of her fingers up and waiting. How bad is this situation, her hand is asking when her mouth does not. It’s saying, “Hold on now. What are we talking about here? A couple of little flowers, or an enormous bouquet and tickets to the opera?”

  Amber looks uncomfortable, defensive and guilty. Her cute little blond head is miserable as she confesses, “When we moved in together four months ago, I bought him a big bouquet of flowers. Like big, big bouquet. I wanted to celebrate!”

  Nicole and I look at each other and Nicole asks the question I’m thinking. “What colors?”

  “Lavender and…”

  “No!” I exclaim before she adds…

  “Pink,” she admits, dejected.

  “Pink? Oh boy. Pink is never good to give to a man. Blue, maybe. But even then… N.O.” I sigh, wondering where to begin.

  Nicole’s hand collapses. She picks up her gin and takes a big disbelieving gulp.

  “Excuse me,” I call to the she-bartender and add, “Can I please have another?”

  “Chopin on the rocks?” she asks while bent forward, shoving a glass into the water of a sink I can’t see. She’s a brunette, brown eyes, tank top and black jeans, and since she’s a bartender, she’s very pretty. But we’re not afraid of pretty girls. They have the most trouble making friends, in fact. Knowing this will help you in ways you don’t even know. Trust me.

  “Yes. Two limes. Thank you. Love your hair.”

  She beams, surprised, “Thanks!”

  I turn back to Amber. “Okay. This is good.”

  Nicole’s eyes fly to me. Amber jerks toward me, all the cells in her body hopeful as she asks, “Good? It’s good? Really?”

  “How is this good?” Nicole asks, stupefied.

  “Thank you,” I say to the she-bartender as my drink arrives. I saw her pour and it was generous. See what I mean? And now she’s hanging around. This is when the three of us realize she’d been listening for a while. Which is fine. Everyone needs to know these things if we want to have happy relationships. I include her in the conversation with a quick summary. “My friend Amber here is a sweetheart. Look at her. Blond adorable little elf, am I right?”

  “So cute,” agrees the she-bartender. Amber smiles, thankfully. Nicole nods, acknowledges the female moment and waits for the lowdown, all business. “This is serious people,” is all over her face.

  I take a deep breath and lay it all out on the counter. “Right. So Amber thinks that her man wants to be treated like how she treats her girlfriends. Us. Amber’s the type of girl who always remembers big days – birthdays, anniversaries, promotions. She sends cards. She calls. Amber lets you know, without wanting anything in return, that she has your back. It’s amazing and we love you for it,” I say, touching Amber’s arm to say thank you for being you.

  “We do love it. Don’t change.” Nicole touches her other arm, and holds it. Amber is flanked by support as she copes with the realization that she is the cause for the no-sex-diet she’s unwittingly signed up for.

  “So,” I continue, “when you gave him flowers, you treated him like he was one of your girlfriends. Neither he, nor you, realized it, as it was happening… but you reversed roles! It has been since caveman days that men hit us over the head and carry us back to the cave. They do the wooing. They bring the flowers in hopes of getting action. If you bring the flowers, it tells them you are hoping for action. And if you are hoping, then there is a chance that no action is coming. And why would there be no action coming? They’re men. There’s always action coming. So not only did you reverse the roles, but you made him second-guess if he was bringing the action. Does this make sense?”

  Amber nods.

  Nicole wants to help our disconsolate little elf and prods me, impatiently, “So, why is this good?”

  Both Amber and the bartender look to me. Someone calls for a drink but the she-bartender ignores them, which I love her for. This is my new favorite place.

  “This is good because now we know the reason. This whole time we haven’t known what was wrong with Josh, and now we know!”

  “So I can fix it!” Amber shouts.

  “So you can fix it!” I shout back, knowing I’ve just made her day. Amber loves to fix things.

  But then her eyes go blank and she bites her lips. “Um…how do I fix it?”

  All eyes are on me. There’s a lot of pressure, but I can take it. “You start playing the helpless girl. All of a sudden, jars are very hard to open. You can’t put on your necklace without help. You drop things wearing a skirt that’s too short – or better yet – just panties, since you live together. ‘Oh, oops. I dropped that.’ But then don’t look at him or pressure him in any way. Just walk away like you didn’t just show him your ass and your lady bits.”

  “That’s genius. I would’ve expected something from that move,” she-bartender says.

  “You can’t. You’re planting seeds. Building the bridge. It may not happen that day. It might. Either way, don’t take it personally. Allow it to take time.”

  Amber’s got her phone out and is taking notes in an app. “Right. ‘take time.’ What else?”

  I stick my finger in my drink and lick it, like I didn’t know I was being sexy. They all get it, nod understanding. Boom. That lesson learned, I list off, “You call or text him, saying you’re lost and does he know how to get to such-and-such? And then reply with a big smiling emoticon and ‘You’re a lifesaver. I was soooo lost.’ You listen to his day and you don’t talk ab
out yours. Just for a while. Don’t worry, this part is only temporary. And you do not, I repeat, do NOT correct him on anything, or tell him how to do anything. If he drinks out of the carton, or leaves the seat up… I. Do. Not. Care! You keep your mouth shut. If you see him flipping through the channels and oops, he just passed a show he would like – do not tell him! If he needs to brush his teeth – do not say a word! Let him get his ‘man’ on. Let him be king of the castle. Do it, and soon he will be bending you over the couch and showing you his smoking-hot gratitude.”

  “Holy crap. That’s amazing.” Nicole says.

  “Wow,” says the she-bartender.

  “What’s your name?” I ask her.

  “Jenn,” she answers.

  My ladies and I all smile and say in varying times, “Hi, Jenn.”

  Amber, back in her own world starts nodding and thinking, then nodding and thinking some more until finally she declares, “I can do that!”

  “I know you can, baby. It’ll be tough, but you can do it.”

  “The reward is greater than the pain,” Nicole toasts, glass lifted.

  The three of us clink our glasses together and Jenn says, “Next one’s on me. I’m married, and things are about to get good again.”

  This makes me feel great.

  Let me be clear…

  It’s not that men need us to play stupid for them. No, it’s that they need us to make room for them. We need to understand that they like to help us, they want to feel needed. They love taking care of us. They hate being told what to do. Being told a better way to do something? Major turn off. Think about it. It assumes you don’t think they can do it. And if, in truth, you don’t…then do it yourself and be quiet.

  Sure. We can do everything ourselves. So can they! That’s not the point. People aren’t supposed to be alone. We live longer with company. Be good company so they can be good company… and don’t quit five minute before the miracle. As Gandhi said, “You must be the change you want to see in your relationship!” Or…something wise like that.