Sliding a hand under the chaise cushion, I felt something hard, but it wasn’t the remote. It was a stack of picture frames.
I pulled them out and raised my eyebrow at the picture in the first one. Michael was standing next to a sexy-ass woman at what appeared to be a masquerade ball. Her face was covered in a glittering purple mask, but her perfect body was on full display.
Her huge breasts sat under her shimmering pink bra, and her tight black shorts exposed her long legs. Her curly dark hair was pulled into a long ponytail that touched her bare shoulders.
I pressed my finger against her curvy thighs, then I trailed it down to her ankles. I couldn’t help but envision her legs wrapped tightly around my waist—her sparkling silver stilettos digging into my back as we fucked.
The words “Thanks for meeting me at my first Mardi Gras! New Orleans is amazing!” were scrawled in the bottom corner in white, and as I stared at the picture a bit more, I noticed that he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring.
The picture was dated for a few years ago, but I refused to believe that he’d ever had an affair with this woman. Even so, I didn’t think he was stupid enough to hide the evidence in plain sight.
“Who the hell is this?” I asked, holding up the frame. “And is Eliza fine with you framing pictures of yourself with other women in this house?”
“Huh?” His head snapped up. “I’m in framed pictures with other women?’
“You heard me,” I said, walking over to him and holding it in front of his face. “That’s definitely you, and this woman isn’t Eliza, so—”
“That’s Christina.” He shrugged, laughing. “I thought I told you about randomly surprising her at Mardi Gras a while back. She was complaining about not having any friends to travel with, so I showed up, and we made a thing of it. Good times.”
I dropped the frame to the floor like it was on fire. The sudden shattering of the glass barely made a sound against the screams of his kids.
I’m going to hell…
“Now, that you’re over here, though,” he said, handing me his phone. “Swipe through a few of these pictures and let me know if any of my colleagues stand out.”
I took his phone and slowly scrolled, trying to wipe away all of the thoughts I’d just had about his damn daughter. I hadn’t seen her in years, but I honestly never paid too much attention to her when we were living in Florida.
I was her designated driver to and from the airport, the guy who showed up on a few beach trips here or there, and nothing more.
Jesus Christ.
I scrolled through the last few pictures—not feeling the slightest tinge of attraction, and returned his phone. “I’m not interested in any of them.”
“None?” His eyes widened. “Not even Sarah with the big smile and breasts? Even my wife likes Sarah.”
I didn’t even notice Sarah. “I’m sure.”
“Well, if you’re not going to take me up on any more blind dates—which would be your loss, by the way, why not ask out that Essays & Mail woman?”
“It’s Words & Letters.” I rolled my eyes, giving up all hope of ever finding the remote. “And I’ll pass. I just enjoy talking to her. I’m not trying to do anything else.”
“I don’t see why not.” He shrugged. “I mean, she’s probably fucking hideous since she’s been hiding behind a screen all this time, but you talk to her often, right?”
“I do.”
“Then go for it,” he said. “Ask her.”
I pulled out my phone, willing to do anything for a distraction at this moment. The second I logged into the app, I noticed that Bella had reached out to me, but it wasn’t a letter. It was via the instant-message feature we hardly ever used, the one that limited the number of words and wasn’t conducive to sending our usual letters.
Instant Message from Bella: I need you to tell me exactly how you’d fuck me…
Okay. I’m living in the fucking Twilight Zone today. I put my phone away and sighed.
“She’s not online yet,” I said. “I’ll ask her when I get home, so I can think about when and where we should meet first.”
“Great idea,” he said. “Now, promise me that whenever you finally realize that she’s a fraud who’s pretending to be someone else, or a gold-digging scammer that you’ll let me know. Okay?”
I didn’t get a chance to respond to that.
One of his oldest toddlers—Jason, ran into the room, screaming at the top of his lungs. His diaper was full of shit, but he suddenly stopped in front of me and smiled.
Laughing, he dug into the back of his dirty diaper and pulled out the remote.
“I’m going the hell home now.”
FIVE Ryan/Dane
Later that evening
I reopened the instant messenger on Words & Letters to make sure that I’d read Bella’s latest note properly and wasn’t imagining things.
Instant Message from Bella: I need you to tell me exactly how you’d fuck me…
Nope. It was just as I’d seen it, but after receiving that letter from Daniella earlier, I was convinced that she was still holding her phone hostage somehow. She was probably still hanging out with her, so I waited for a few hours to respond. Until I was certain that she was home.
Instant Message from Me: Is this some type of game between you and your friend? Bait me into saying some shit so you can see if I’m ‘hiding something’? (Is this even you typing this?)
Instant Message from Bella: This isn’t a game at all, I promise. The reason I haven’t finished My Hot Neighbor is because I’ve been struggling to finish writing the pivotal sex scene, but I don’t think I can put off publishing it anymore. I lied about the extensions, by the way…
Instant Message from Bella: This is definitely me. Proof: Two months ago, we had a heart to heart about your cheating
