Although, I doubt she’ll ever finish the book she’s supposedly writing. Between taking care of Latch and their son Logan, she has her hands full. She doesn’t need to work anyway. Haven is set for life. She married one of the most notorious bad boys of the video game industry. Not only an award winning graphic designer, but a wealthy one at that. The man is outrageously hot and twelve years younger than her. Plus, he’s extremely smart. Yeah, she hit the mother lode, but it was an unstable path to happiness. Were all the ups and downs to eventual bliss worth it? The love they share is so evident and nauseatingly sweet, I feel as though I’m on the verge of a diabetic coma every time I leave.

“We need to talk, Haven,” I say as I pull her into another room. My heart is pounding, and I’m wondering if she can hear it.

“I have guests. Latch’s mother, Keenan—”

I stop her before she goes through the entire guest list for Latch’s party. “This is important. A crisis. A fucking disaster on a global scale,” I hiss as I close the door. “You got anything to drink in here?” I ask as I look around, hoping to find a brandy decanter or whatever the super wealthy Scots stash in their libraries.

“No, all the booze is in the kitchen. The one you dragged me out of. What is it, Weezie? You’re kind of scaring me. What’s going on?”

I can feel my cheeks heat as I begin to perspire. Here I am, forty-five years old, and I can hardly articulate what I want to say. I can speak three languages with a cock in my mouth. What the hell is wrong with me?

I begin to pace by the window with my head hung. This isn’t that big of a deal. I throw men away all the time. True, I hadn’t done it with Keenan. We’ve been together for five years. I had rules—fucking rules to live by—until him. I can’t understand why this has to be so damn emotional for me. He has to realize what’s coming. He has to expect it. He’s spent years getting to know me. He knows who I am.

“It’s Keenan. I um…” I stammer as I cross my arms and exhale.

“What is it? Did you have a fight? What did you do? Are you breaking up?” Haven bombards me with questions, her face blanching with every inquiry.

I wish. “Not exactly. Maybe. Yes. I need a break—from him.” There, I said it. Hell, that wasn’t so bad. Actually, I feel better.

Haven spins me around, and her face is clouded in anger. Not an expression I’m accustomed to except when she was dating Latch.

“What do you mean a break? What the hell, Weezie? You’ve been together for almost five years.”

“The first two don’t count. We weren’t exclusive—”

Haven cut me off, waving her hand in my face. “Yeah, I forgot those first two years meant you could fucking do whatever and suck whoever you want,” she spit out, giving me a brittle look.

Whoa. First of all, my bestie rarely says the word fuck, and sucking cock has always been referred to as a puff chore. My girl is a delicate flower. I suppose having Latch McKay pluck off her petals for the last five years has given her some steel cajones.

“He fucking proposed,” I whisper. “That’s right, bestie. That fucking Brit blindsided me by asking me to marry him. I didn’t know it was coming. Not really. There were no signs of delusions prior. He wasn’t drunk. He doesn’t do drugs. And as far as I know, there’s no mental illness in his family. So why, for God’s sake?

“I tried to pretend his knee had given out when he went down on it. After all, he is an action star and occasionally enjoys doing his own stunts. Then the prick produces a ring with a diamond… equivalent to the size of his cock. I didn’t know what to say. I stumbled my way through, ‘I have to think about it.’ Which made his luscious lips all frowny and sad, causing him to pause and then get pissed.

“I have gouged out his heart with an ice cream scooper. I’ll never forget the way he looked at me. I marred his beautiful face with heartbreak. And it actually hurt me to do it. I felt discomfort. Something I never experienced before when I denied other men. But I’m doing it for his own good. I’m not the woman for him, and trust me. I am definitely not wife material. It’s better he gets hurt now than him finding out down the road.” I end the monologue with a deep exhale. I might pass out. Divulging that amount of information all at once has made me hyperventilate.

He was oblivious when it came to my behavior and attitude. I could be professional in public when we were together—most of the time. However, there had been several instances where I’d had too much to drink and gotten a little amorous. So sue me. My boyfriend is sexy as hell, and when the mood struck me, I wanted him.

For Keenan being a model slash movie star and best friends with reformed man whore Latch McKay, he’s reserved. Soft spoken and a gentleman. Possibly the British in him. I always told Haven he was a one-night stand that never went home. I’d almost given up on him years ago. He kept me at bay for so many months I was convinced he was either the greatest fuck there ever was or a eunuch.

Shock registers on Haven’s face. Then her expression becomes downright scary. Her cheeks blush profusely and her state appears confused. She looks fucking elated and angry all at once. I know what she’s thinking. Jesus, I can read her mind. The bitch wants us to have identical lives. To be married together. Fuck my life. She had to know—this is not me. I’m past the age of the white wedding and dream honeymoon. What is wrong with everyone? Doesn’t she realize I’m not “M” material?

“That’s wonderful, Weezie. Keenan is perfect for you. I can’t wait to tell Latch. Just think… two BFFs married to two other best friends.”

“Wait a fucking minute. What the hell? Did you just ignore the part where I said no fucking way? It’s not going to happen. What is wrong with everyone? Have you all been drinking the same Kool-Aid?” I stare at her for a minute, then all of a sudden have a epiphany. “Oh my God—you knew. I can tell. You knew he was going to propose and you didn’t tell me. Warn me. Jesus, Haven, have you gone cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. Has everyone gone mental? You of all people should know I can’t do the ‘M’ thing. It’s unnatural. You’ve known me longer than anyone. Why would you keep this from me?” I say, furious with her for not giving me a heads-up.

“Weezie, don’t be mad. You’re right. I do know you too well. And you would have overthought it and run before he even had a chance. And what do you mean the ‘M’ thing? Damn, Weezie, it’s marriage, not a death sentence.”

“Monogamy,” I say, choking. “It’s not part of my chemical makeup. He thinks a piece of paper is going to keep me in check? I’ve been doing it for years, but it hasn’t been easy. I can’t be corralled. He thinks he can break me like some fucking horse.”

“Bullshit. You’re making up goddamn excuses. Why would you even want another man? He’s young, gorgeous, and treats you like a queen. He’s a dream come true, and he loves you—regardless of what a slut you used to be. You’re not getting any younger. Do you think you can puff chore your way through the next ten years? At least give him a chance. You’ve been together long enough to know. He’s the one. I know it. Everyone does. The question is why don’t you?”

I think about what Haven just asked. Why don’t I know it? The problem is I do know it. Do I love him? With every fiber of my being. Jesus Christ, even acknowledging I love him to myself makes me dizzy. I tried not to. I didn’t want to. But when I look at him, he makes my girlie parts tingle. I had many men get me excited, but not like this. The way he gazes at me guts me every time. I’m caught between not being able to breathe and losing consciousness.

He squeezed into my life by a hair—by a thread. I never allowed another man that connection. Sexuality had never been anything to me but a release mechanism. I’d never felt a bond, just a carnal need. But with Keenan, it had always been different. He aroused me not only physically, but emotionally, and now I was going to punish him for it.