Between Us (all of us #1)

T W E N T Y T W O

A U B R E E

Things have began dulling down around here, but after that conversation with Trenton last week, I'm still on edge.

He didn't take it well. He didn't want to take it at all. It actually felt like I was breaking up with him. I keep seeing the look on his face and the words that accompanied it.

That wasn't enough.

He was right, it wasn't. I didn't feel like I'd gotten enough of him either, but what I did get was still too much and I knew I shouldn't have any more.

Solana and I went out for mani-pedis this afternoon and I gave her the run down of it all.

"Well first and foremost, you blew him," she says, receiving a nosey stare from the woman stroking hot pink gel polish over her bare, stiletto shaped, acrylic nail. "That was your first mistake. Never give a fling a blow job, Aubree. Never." She scoffs as I watch my technician file and shape my ring finger. "You can't just give a guy award-winning head and then expect him to just suddenly respect your marriage and never want to see you again. Don't you know the key to a man's heart is at the back of your throat?"

"That's ridiculous, Sol."

"Is it really?" She turns to look at her technician who glances up at her through the bright light shining down on their hands. "Is it, Helen?"

Helen looks at me and gives me a quick head shake before continuing the precise gel work she's highly concentrated on.

"Do you know how many teen girls give head, Aubree? Plenty. Know how many give good head? Close to none, and that's why he loves you." She raises her eyebrow like that's supposed to explain how I convinced a teenage boy he's in love with me. Or—excuse me—that he could love me. We all know what he meant. What he was thinking. Why do men always resort to that? They draw the L word when things go south like it's the wild card in a game of UNO.

"It's not your fault, though—rookie mistake." She shrugs, twirling her finished hand. "I don't blow a man unless I'm drunk or want him around for a while. I learned the hard way."

I blink to myself, turning my attention back to my hand as each nail is coated in white polish.

Roger's returning home today, so I already cleaned the house from top to bottom before I got my nails done. After leaving Solana, I did some grocery shopping to make sure both I and the house was to his liking.

He needs to be in as good of a mood as possible because tonight's a big night for Diesel. We're going out to dinner with Chloe's family to get acquainted and discuss the pregnancy with them for the first time. I think they want to be sure that we're all on the same page as far as their living situation and money is concerned, and I agree. We do need to discuss this all, because they clearly have no clue what they're doing or what they've gotten themselves into.

They have no idea what the road looks like ahead of them, and instead of being like Roger's parents who'd rather force the idea of termination than the idea of preparedness, or my parents who'd rather baby me, pat my head and say, "there, there," instead of making sure I fully understood the big changes both my mind and body were going to go through, we need to break it all down for them and make sure they have their best shot at this.

Standing in front of the vanity mirror, I watch my bedroom door open behind me.

Roger comes toward me with a smile. "Well, hello." His arms wrap around from behind me as I continue putting in my earrings. "How'd I get so lucky, hm?"

We smile at each others reflections and he kisses my neck.

I narrow my eyes at him. "I ask myself the same thing all the time." Lucky isn't exactly the word I'd use. More like, how did I get, here. Period.