She took a gulp of the water. All she could do now was wait for the inevitable.
For Piper to come and tell her how stupid she was being.
* * *
Jace was beside himself. He alternated between feeling like throwing up and ramming his fist into the wall. Instead, he sat on the side of his and Caroline’s empty bed, head in his fists. Piper and Michael had been kind and understanding, but there had been nothing they could say to him that would ease his fears.
He’d made a huge mistake. His wife couldn’t handle being that sexually adventurous. It was such a stupid fucking mistake! As much as Caroline had evolved, both sexually and otherwise, their encounter with Emma and Pete had been too much for her, and deep down, he’d known it.
He risked his marriage to the only woman who had ever held his attention for more than ten minutes for a fucking ejaculation.
He stood and began to pace.
Piper had insisted she go to Caroline alone instead of him. He’d argued, but she’d been adamant. She’d told him that she knew better than he did how to tackle what Caroline was coping with. That Caroline needed someone to commiserate with, not “someone to tell her nothing was wrong and it was all going to be okay.”
He’d reluctantly agreed.
Pacing around the bed wasn’t getting him anywhere, so he went out into the hallway. After he’d left Piper’s, he’d texted Caroline a dozen times, but so far she hadn’t responded. As he passed by, he was tempted to ram his fist through the wall, but he resisted the urge. Caroline would have been horrified when she came home and found it damaged.
Instead, he headed down to the kitchen and grabbed some milk out of the fridge and a glass. As he sat down at the table—the same table he had trouble looking at right now—he had an idea.
Caroline wasn’t going to want to remember anything that had happened in the last few months. He knew his wife. Once she came home, and he reassured her they were going to get past this, she would cringe at all the things that reminded her of what he was certain she felt was the road to infidelity. Even though he didn’t see it that way at all.
He downed his drink, stood, and made his way to the basement.
Once he entered their “sex room,” he couldn’t help but feel disgusted. He took in the bed, the swing, the TV to blare their favorite porn. It was all too much. If he’d known then what he knew now, he would have decided that fucking his wife anywhere was enough.
They didn’t need all this shit.
Storming to the swing, he yanked it down. Then he began to disassemble everything. His wife was going to come home to the way things used to be. The way she wanted them. His mother-in-law would be happy, too, because she’d have her fancy bathroom back. He climbed onto the bed and started to tear down the mirrors he’d stuck up there with industrial adhesive. Some of the sheetrock and paint came away with them, but he’d have it all fixed by this afternoon.
As he worked, he couldn’t help thinking about his wife alone in that hotel room. She was probably reliving the night, and each time she did, she would spiral deeper into guilt. He wished like hell he was the one going over there, not Piper.
But he had to grudgingly admit that Piper would likely have a better way with words—especially since she had been through this before.
He had to pray it would be enough to bring Caroline home.
21
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Caroline climbed back in bed and pulled the covers over her head, but before she had, she’d positioned the safety-bar thingy between the doorjamb and the door so Piper could get in. Not seven minutes later, there was a rap, followed by Piper’s melodic voice. “I’m coming in, and I brought ice cream!”
Caroline didn’t bother getting up or even opening her mouth to welcome her. Piper’s footsteps came to the bedroom doorway.
“Oh, so we’re in full-on feel-sorry-for-ourselves mode, huh? Okay. I can deal.” Caroline heard her go back into the other room and open the small fridge. “But you don’t get to do that alone.” Piper was back in her room. “Move over. I’m getting into bed with you.” Caroline felt the covers tug back. “Move, you’re hogging the entire bed and all the covers.”
Caroline grunted as she shuffled her body over. “Fine,” she muttered, “but I’m not talking to you, so don’t bother.”
“When have I ever needed someone to answer me? I’m perfectly fine rocking a monologue. In fact, I can talk to invisible crowds for hours upon hours at a time. You don’t scare me with your McGruff.” Caroline was surprised when Piper wrapped her arm around her waist and tugged her back against her. “Don’t stiffen up like that. I’m not trying to have sex with you! I’m just trying to give you some much-needed comfort. And, dude, you need it. Relax. Attagirl. That’s it.”
Caroline let herself relax, and immediately began to cry, which quickly morphed into loud, body-racking sobs.
“There, there,” Piper crooned. “I always have a really good cry after great sex, too. It’s such a cleanser for the dirty palate. It clears out all the guilt and anxiety like a charm. Go on”—she rubbed Caroline’s arm—“weep out every last drop, and then we get to eat ice cream.”
“It’s six thirty in the morning. Ice cream does not fix everything,” Caroline wailed. “This is not funny!”
“Of course it’s not funny. I never said it was. You need this. Cry away. And, yes, fortunately for us, ice cream does have magical healing powers. They’re missing a golden opportunity by not marketing that on the front of the container. If an ice cream company hired my ad agency, and I got the campaign, I’d insist on rebranding. I didn’t bring praline this time, though. I went for the deep, dark stuff—dark chocolate with salted caramel something or other. You can’t go wrong with salted caramel these days. It’s freakin’ everywhere.”
“Pass me some tissues.” Caroline sniffled. “They’re on the bed stand next to you.” A second later, Piper passed a pile of tissues over her shoulder. Caroline took them and turned slightly so she was lying half on her back, still under Piper’s arm, and blew her nose. “I know you just think I’m a big baby who can’t handle herself.” She hiccupped. “That what I did wasn’t so bad and I’m so stupid to be this upset.”
“If I thought you were stupid, we never would’ve come this far in our friendship. Stupid people make me rashy and bitch-slappy. And let’s face it, I told you to take baby steps, and instead you took a giant leap off the big, scary sexual cliff. I’m not surprised to find you here”—Piper craned her head to examine the room—“in this super-modern hotel suite, folded in on yourself, feeling nauseous and scared, and totally worried about the state of your marriage. You know, come to think about it, I’ve never been to HotelRED before. Next time, I’m picking it for my breakdown place. It’s kind of cheery, but cold at the same time. The perfect place to pull up your bootstraps.”
How did Piper know Caroline so well? She should be a therapist. Begrudgingly, Caroline had to admit she felt better having her here. But she wasn’t ready to confess that to her yet.
“Speaking of bootstraps,” Piper continued. “If you remember correctly, before you went on your merry videotaping adventure, I told you you didn’t even have to get naked if you didn’t want to. Then I find out that you not only got naked, but you and Jace fucked like people possessed in front of the Slaters. There is no stupidity in that—only unbridled passion and crushing regret. Hey, that should be the name of a soap opera, if it’s not already.”
Caroline flinched like she’d been slapped at the words fucking like people possessed. She was so embarrassed. Through more tears, she managed, “You don’t have to be so vulgar about it.” Then she groaned. “God, I sound just like my mother!” Then she dissolved into another fit of crying.