My Two Husbands: A Laugh Out Loud Romantic Comedy

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My Two Husbands: A Laugh Out Loud Romantic Comedy Page 4

by Amanda Aksel


  What can I say? She’s made me an offer I can’t refuse. “I think I can swing that. I’ll bring chips and salsa.”

  “That’s my girl!” She wraps her arms around me, and I’m engulfed in her Juicy Couture perfume. “Thank you for finding me the most perfect condo and negotiating that insanely low price. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “You’re welcome, Sloan. Just tell your friends. Or maybe your parents’ friends.”

  She laughs. “You got it!”

  I show up at her place with snacks and a pretty houseplant—a little tip I picked up from another agent. This way, whenever they look at the plant they’ll think about the real estate agent that got them their house. As opposed to a gift basket filled with items that they’d consume and then toss in the garbage to be lost forever. Of course, my plan only works if they take care of it. So I stick to the really hard-to-kill plants.

  “Oh, awesome, my first fern,” Sloan says, taking the plant from my arms. The fact that she knows what it is tells me that her little fern will grow big and strong, just like my business.

  My heels echo on the tile floor, bouncing against the bare white walls. A couple of beach chairs are placed near the back patio door. She invites me to sit and hands me a chilled bottle of some kind of margarita wine cooler. “Bottoms up!”

  She tells me her plans for the place, which sound gorgeous. I should have her help me with my little house. Then she changes the subject. “So, are you dating anyone special?”

  “No,” I say, “The last date I had was awful.”

  Sloan’s brow wrinkles. “What man would dare take you on a bad date?”

  I giggle. “Well, I don’t think it was his intention but . . .”

  Her bottle floats away from her mouth. “But what?”

  “His best friend kept showing up, and I don’t know, he . . . rattles me.”

  “Well, that sounds promising.”

  I shake my head. “No. I mean he’s a total ass. He spent the entire time staring at me from across the restaurant flirting with his date like he wanted to make me jealous or something.”

  “Well, did it work?”

  “Yeah, but only because I was feeling frisky and my date was being a perfect gentleman.”

  “Well, it sounds like you’re more interested in sleeping with this guy than your bad date.”

  “I’m not.” I’m really not. “But even if I were, it would be too complicated.”

  “That’s why you have to keep it simple, like me. I’m dating about four guys. Not exclusively, of course.”

  “How do you juggle all those men?”

  “It was challenging at first, but then I got them on a rotating schedule. Mondays I play tennis with Evan. Fridays I go dancing with Juan. Sundays I sail with Charles. And every other Saturday, I take a day trip to the Keys with Leo.” Sloan may be the most successful twenty-something year old I’ve ever met.

  “You sound really organized.”

  She scoffs. “Uh, you wouldn’t say that if you saw my desk at work.”

  “What happened? One of your four dates toss everything to the floor so he could pound you on the desk?” I giggle.

  She nods, blushing. “Yeah. Let’s go with that.”

  ***

  It’s about two weeks after my fiasco of a date with Kyle when I head over to the new build to get a couple more updated photos for the listing. When I pull up to the house, there’s no sign of contractors or anyone else. I plug the code in to the lockbox and let myself in. By the looks of the foyer, you’d never know it was a work zone. I snap some photos of the nearly finished space with my digital camera. I bet this place will sell in a flash as soon as I get these on the internet.

  Making my way through the house, I head out the sliding backdoor to the screened-in patio and pool.

  “Hey, Quinn,” a man’s voice calls.

  What the . . .

  I look up. Jake is sitting on the edge of the pool with his jeans rolled up to his knees and his feet dangling in the water.

  “Um, what are you doing here?”

  “I forgot my hammer, and it’s like ninety-eight degrees with the humidity, so I figured someone should enjoy the pool.”

  Why does this dude keep showing up? “You really shouldn’t be here.”

  “Well, what are you doing here?” he asks with a suspicious glare.

  I fold my arms. “This is my listing. I don’t have to tell you why I’m here.”

  “That’s fair.” He nods. “So, I guess things didn’t work out with Kyle, huh?”

  “You were there. As always.” I roll my eyes.

  “Yeah, that was weird, right?” Jake scratches his shoulder, and his bicep swells in his white tee.

  “Yeah, how is Kyle?”

  “He’s good. Believe it or not, he started back up with Christine.”

  “The waitress from the restaurant?” Maybe that’s for the best.

  Jake nods, and I wipe a little sweat from my hairline. “C’mon and put your feet in.”

  “No, I have to go.”

  “Where?” he asks. “Quick, make up a lie.”

  I shake my head and blurt, “I have to update the pictures of this place.”

  “Is it urgent?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then put your feet in.” He gestures at the pool with a condescending look in his eyes.

  I let out a sigh. In his defense, it is effing hot. I slip out of my pumps, then walk to the edge of the pool.

  “Wow, I didn’t know you were such a rule breaker,” he jokes.

  “Shut up.” I sneer and sit on the edge. The cold water spikes my skin at first but then soothes it. “So I’ve seen you what? Four times in the last couple of weeks? You stalking me or something?”

  He chuckles. “If I was going to stalk someone it’d be Megan Fox, not you. Maybe you’re the one who’s stalking me. Did you ever think of that?”

  “In your dreams, Jake.” I splash a little water his way, and it splatters on his shirt.

  “Oh, you wanna play, huh?” Jake rises to his feet, his legs dripping with chlorinated water as he takes a few wide steps back. He dashes toward the pool and cannonballs into the water. A small wave rushes over my lap, leaving huge water spots on my skirt and blouse.

  “Are you crazy?” I yell.

  Jake shakes out his hair like a wet dog. “Hey, you started it.” Wading around the water, he floats in front of me. “Jump in, it feels great.”

  “No,” I say. “I’m not swimming in my clothes.”

  “Who said anything about keeping your clothes on? See.” Jake pulls off his shirt and tosses the soaking cotton onto the concrete patio.

  I flatten my lip, trying like hell not to blush. Even with the water rippling around him, I can still see his six-pack. Of course he’s built like a Greek god. “No, it’s bad enough I’m even letting this happen.”

  “C’mon, Quinn. Have a little fun. You know you want to.”

  “No.”

  He glides up to me, takes my foot, and slides his hand up my legs. “C’mon please? Just this once.” A spark of electricity runs from my toes up my spine. I let myself look into his whiskey-brown eyes. For just a second, I let my guard down. But that’s all the surrender he needs to grab my waist and yank me into the pool. My head pops out above the surface, and I gasp for air. Nothing like cold water to shock you out of a trance.

  Gritting my teeth, I clear my eyes. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “I bet you feel better though, don’t you?”

  I might be seventy-something degrees on the outside, but on the inside I’m burning up. I huff, narrowing my now mascara-smudged eyes at him.

  “You’re in here now, might as well enjoy it.” He swims up to me, his chin dragging across the water. “You know, you’re cute when you’re all wet.”

  I swallow hard. How I ended up in this pool with Jake Bruno this afternoon, I’ll never really know. But as I gaze into his dark eyes, wanting to swim in them, I wi
ll myself to let go. Maybe there’s a reason he keeps showing up. And I don’t even have to try.

  I make a wave with my arm and splash the cold water in his face. “Yeah, you’re not so bad either when you’re soaked.”

  “Hey!” He grabs me by the waist and pulls me in. I scream like a giddy teen as he lifts me up. He’s definitely about to throw me in the deep end. But he doesn’t. Instead, he lowers me slowly, his eyes drawing up my body to my pink, parted mouth. I wet my lower lip, tugging on it with my teeth as I feel his breath draw closer. With my hands resting on his broad chest, he leans in until I have no choice but to let our lips meet. His mouth is cool, but his tongue is warm and welcoming. My head floods with pleasure as if this were the kiss I’d been waiting for all this time. In this moment, my job, his job, the pool, the bad date—all of it disappears. And the only thing that matters is right now, kissing Jake Bruno in someone else’s pool.

  EPISODE FOUR

  “K yle, it was an accident!” I cover myself haphazardly with my dress.

  My husband won’t look at me. He’s just pacing the room in nothing but his boxer briefs. “So what? You’re still in love with him?”

  Oh, geez. If I had actually slept with Jake he’d only be slightly madder. “Kyle, what are you talking about? You’re my husband. I love you!”

  He stops, and his eyes almost meet mine before falling again. I watch his chest heave in and out as I walk closer. With mindful caution, I reach my arm around his bare body. His heart races beneath my ear, but the moment only lasts a second before he peels me off again. “I can’t do this right now. I think you should sleep in the guest room.”

  I flinch. “Seriously? Kyle, what I said doesn’t mean anything. You know that, right?”

  Kyle shakes his head and turns toward the bathroom. “I dunno.” The door slams behind him, jolting me out of my drunk haze even more. Kyle’s never been this upset with me. Come to think of it, I don’t think he’s ever been upset with me, and I’ve certainly never been in the doghouse. How did this happen? Everything was going great until I said one stupid, unintentional thing.

  For a moment, I try to put myself in his shoes. But the roles could never be reversed because there’s no way in hell I’d let Kyle’s ex-wife live in the loft. It’s complicated, I know. So I take my punishment, grab my pillow and pajamas, and drag my feet down the hall to the guest room.

  I flip on the bedside light and remove my jewelry, including my wedding ring, leaving them on the dresser. I’ve never felt this distant from Kyle. A sinking feeling of insecurity weighs on my gut, and I’m tempted to put the ring back on just to feel some connection. But Kyle loves me, and I love him. And we are so much stronger than what happened in the bedroom. This will all blow over by morning.

  I climb into the sheets and switch off the light. Now there’s nothing but the noise of my thoughts. Why did I say Jake’s name? It doesn’t make any sense. I wasn’t even thinking about him. Sure, I was with the guy forever, and I screamed his name a lot over the years. But that was a long time ago. Maybe in order to be completely deleted from my sex vocabulary, Jake needs to get out of my house.

  ***

  When I open my eyes in the morning, I flip the sheets off my body and rush out of the room as if waking to a fire alarm. I hope Kyle was able to sleep because I hardly did. When I get to our bedroom, Kyle isn’t in bed. Not in the bathroom either.

  “Kyle?” I jet downstairs. “Kyle!”

  The kitchen’s empty except for Lily who’s standing by the back door waiting to be let out. Lily and I step out to the backyard, and I walk around the side of the house to the driveway. Oh no. His car’s gone.

  I should be worried, right?

  As soon as Lily’s finished with her business, I hurry inside for my phone. There’s nothing from Kyle—not a call, text, or email. So I message him.

  NATALIE: Hey, where are you?

  Messaging bubbles begin dancing at the bottom of the screen, and my heart thuds against my chest.

  KYLE: Got an early start at work. We can talk later.

  I breathe the tiniest sigh of relief. At least he’s responding, and he wants to talk later. What is he thinking right now? How mad is he? I can’t take the questions. A second opinion is desperately needed. So I call my best friend, Sloan.

  “Hey Nat! What’s up?” Sloan answers with the static of busy noises in the background.

  “Oh my god.” I sink my face into my hands sitting at the kitchen table. “Can you talk?”

  “Sure can. I just picked up my first iced latte of the day. What’s happening? You don’t sound good.”

  I let out a groan. “I did something bad . . . like really bad.”

  “You didn’t buy a timeshare, did you?” For some reason she’s deemed timeshares at the top of the list of the biggest mistakes anyone can make. That and agreeing to let your ex-husband live at your house with your new husband.

  “It’s worse,” I say.

  “Do you need bail money?” Her tone turns serious, which is good. This is serious.

  “I wish that were the issue.” I take in a deep breath. This is the first time I’ll have to admit this to anyone else. “Last night when Kyle and I were having sex, I accidentally said Jake’s name.”

  Sloan lets out a long, exaggerated gasp. “No! Oh, that is bad.”

  “Needless to say, Kyle’s pissed. I had to sleep in the guest room, and he’s at work already. It’s only seven thirty.”

  “Eek,” she utters as if I just squished a giant waterbug with my heel. “I gotta be honest, Nat. I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you sleep with someone as long as you were sleeping with Jake, it’s safe to assume there’s gonna be a slip up here or there.”

  “Exactly, it didn’t mean anything. It was like a verbal malfunction or something. And I was drunk. But Kyle doesn’t see it that way. He actually accused me of still being in love with Jake.”

  Sloan goes quiet. And the pause grows from one second to two, then three.

  Does she think I’m still in love with Jake? Why would anyone think that after what happened?

  “Sloan!” I say.

  “Sorry, I was drinking my coffee.” Thank god. “So are you still in love with him?” she asks like it’s nothing, like she’s asking if I’m going to the Keys this weekend.

  “Why would you ask me that? Why would he ask me that?”

  “You didn’t answer the question,” Sloan points out.

  I grit my teeth. “Yes, I did.”

  “Actually, you didn’t. And I think any therapist would tell you that there’s something to that.” Sloan didn’t use to believe in therapy. But ever since Jake moved in, she finds ways to casually bring it up. Kyle and I met a couple on our honeymoon last year. The wife was a couples therapist. When we told her how we met, she smiled, but I could see the concern-slash-judgment in her eyes. I don’t need to deal with that shit every week.

  “Sloan, I called for your help. This is not helpful.”

  “Look, you know I love you and Kyle, but marrying your ex-husband’s best friend and having him live on your property is bananas. You’re bound to have some baggage.”

  My friends did warn me about getting remarried so quickly. I didn’t listen because it felt right, and I stand by that choice. Kyle is my person, and I’m not going to let the person who brought us together tear us apart. I’m gonna go to his office and make things right.

  I let Sloan off the phone and hop in the shower. As I scrub my scalp, the question rings in my mind. Am I still in love with Jake? For a long time I hated him. Not like, I-hate-peas kind of hate but that deep, disgusted—wish-he’d-never-been-born hate. But as he got clean and did his best to make amends, I hated him less. And less. And less. Then I knew that I still loved him as an important person in my life. But I’m not in love with him.

  I grab my towel off the rack and dry all the droplets on my body. Brushing my teeth, my wedding r
ing is noticeably absent from the sink. It’s still on the guest room nightstand. My soaked hair drips onto the ceramic tile, and I pull off my towel to dry it as I walk down the hall to retrieve it. Then the hall bathroom door creaks open, and a man walks out.

  I gasp, jumping back before realizing who it is. “Jake!” And this time, it really is him.

  His eyes widen, then draw down, tracing the curves of my body. “Uhh.”

  I quickly cover myself with the towel. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  J ake’s tongue swirls around mine as we float in the cool, chlorinated water. I wrap my legs around his waist, gripping his bare back. He pushes off the floor of the pool and swims me over to the edge, holding me firmly against the tiled wall. Squeezing my thighs in his hands, he slides my skirt up. I reach down between us, feeling his buoy rise to the surface. So far, this is the most fun I’ve ever had in a pool.

  “What on earth?” A woman’s voice cries above us.

  My eyes shoot open, and I whip my head around. From the way she’s dressed joined by an unassuming couple standing behind her tells me she’s an agent. And that scowl on her face screams that she’s not amused.

  “Cover your eyes, honey,” the wife says, and I blink water out of my sight, focusing on a little boy standing waist high. As if this couldn’t get any worse.

  The boy smacks his hands over his eyes. “Why are they kissing in the pool? That’s disgusting!”

  The agent digs inside her large burgundy tote purse. “I’m calling the police. You two are trespassing.”

  “No, wait!” I push Jake off of me and swim to the closest set of stairs. Thank god I still have my clothes on. “I’m the agent on this property.”

  The sour-faced woman walks over, narrowing her eyes. “You’re Natalie Quinn?”

  “Yes.” I stand up straight, wiping my hair away from my face.

  “Forgive me for not recognizing you.” She purses her lips again, creasing the fine lines around her mouth.

  “That’s okay,” Jake says, jumping out of the pool. His jeans are weighted with so much water that they fall very, very low on his hips.

 

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