Chapter Twenty-Seven

It was four in the morning before Karla climbed into her own bed. She sent Mitch a text telling him they celebrated her last night at Sand Dune with drinks after closing and she was exhausted and going to bed. She promised to reach out when she woke up and apologized for the short notice. Of course, she left out the more titillating aspects of the celebration. He didn’t need to know that, even if he said he could handle it. He was male. They don’t handle their girlfriend getting banged by others very well. As it was, she’d be getting a spanking anyway for telling him what she did without asking. She would picture him punishing her for screwing Heath and Sean, as opposed to not asking permission to go home instead of to his place and ease her guilt.

Yet, she couldn’t sleep. She snatched a quick shower and slid her naked body between the cool sheets, exhausted, a throbbing between her legs reminding her of her night. She should have passed right out.

She didn’t.

Instead, she tossed and turned, her mind not allowing her to slip into the slumber she needed. Around six in the morning, she pounded her fist into the bed, growling into the dark room. This is ridiculous! I’ve cheated on plenty of guys without remorse. I’ve screwed married men. And women for that matter. Why is this time bugging me so damn much? She stared up at her ceiling, the dropdown design barely visible in the moonlight that filtered through her window. This is really going to suck if I start feeling bad every time I screw around.

She rolled over, tossing the covers away from her, suddenly feeling overheated. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on something else, anything else, but, whereas she would normally be replaying the sex she had earlier that night in her head, all she saw was Mitch washing her body yesterday, telling her the past was gone, forgiven, and a new journey was beginning, one in which she could trust him. She opened her eyes and stared at the shadows. Men always say what they think you want to hear, but never really mean it. Yet, what if Mitch actually did mean it? What if he wanted everything she wanted?

Then I just royally screwed up. A tear she didn’t even expect came rolling down the side of her face and into her hair. She didn’t wipe it away. She could never let him find out what she did. She had to protect this secret like no other. Of course, that would be easy. Just never go back to Sand Dune. He’d think it was because of Paul and her mother, never suspecting anything different, wanting to protect her. The only thing I need protecting from is me.

Another half hour passed and still sleep eluded her. With a growl, she kicked the covers the rest of the way off and slid out of bed. If I’m going to be miserable, I might as well be miserable with bacon. Her stomach growled as she stood up. Her body swayed, the alcohol still calling the shots. Yet, while it may be making her walk wobbly, it wasn’t her excuse for what she did. She knew what she was doing while it happened. She did everything willingly, just like she always did, which is why her remorse confused her.

Slipping on her robe, she went to the kitchen, pulled out a frying pan and flipped the stove on before getting the bacon out of the fridge. Dropping the pan on the stove, she mumbled to herself as she stretched the bacon out in the pan. Yanking the utensil drawer open, she grabbed a fork and then slammed the drawer shut. She then scrounged a plate out of the drainboard and covered it in paper towels.

“You do realize it’s Sunday morning, right? Like six-thirty Sunday morning?” Aimee asked as she trudged over to the kitchen counter, her robe not even tied around her T-shirt clad body. “Shouldn’t you be asleep or at least at Mitch’s making breakfast?”

“Sorry,” Karla said, as she flipped the sizzling bacon. “I assumed you would be down the hall. I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

Aimee covered a yawn as she shuffled over to the coffee maker. “Nah, I’m up. Might as well make some coffee. Great thing about Sundays is afternoon naps.” She pulled the carafe off the boiler and filled it with water. “You want to tell me what has you slamming around this early? You and Mr. Greenway get into a spat?”

“A spat?”

“You know, a tizzy, a tiff, an altercation, did you have a scrap or squabble, a falling-out, a row, you know, did you fight?”

Karla laughed, which surprised her that she even could. “I know what a spat is, dork. Oh my god, you’re a walking thesaurus. No, we did not have a fight.” She gave a weak shrug. “I just wanted to come home and sleep in my bed. It was a long night.” She kept her focus on the sizzling bacon, ignoring the fact that Aimee stopped moving and turned to stare at her.

“You, Karla Harper, decided to come home and sleep in your own bed? As opposed to going over and spending the night having wild sex with Mitch? What did you do?”

“What do you mean, what did I do? I didn’t do anything. I came home. What’s wrong with that?” She flipped the bacon again and then popped some bread into the toaster. “Why are you making a big deal out of this?”

Aimee grabbed her by the arm and turned her so that they were facing each other. “Because you’re my sister and I know you. You would not just come home without a reason when there is a perfectly good bed at Mitch’s with a very willing man attached to it. You were all lovey dovey and sickening at the beach yesterday, so if you’re here and he’s not, then you did something. Now, spill it.”

Karla shrugged her arm out of Aimee’s grasp and turned back to the stove. She bit her lower lip, pulling bacon out of the frying pan and placing the crispy strips on the paper towel. She wasn’t sure if she should tell her sister what she did or not. Aimee could be a judgmental prude at times, and Karla already beat herself up enough about what she did. She didn’t need the sanctimonious lecture. Yet, Aimee was also like a dog with a bone when it came to wanting something. She would nag Karla to death until Aimee wore her sister down. Like now. She wasn’t pressing the issue. She just stood there, her arms over her chest, waiting, as if she knew Karla would tell her. It was rude. She wouldn’t do it. No. Not this time. She would just fix her BLT and ignore Aimee’s staring, judging, obnoxious…

Karla took a deep breath. “I cheated on Mitch last night. Or this morning. Whichever. I had sex with Heath and Sean at Sand Dune before we left.”

She turned to see her sister’s reaction and wished she hadn’t. Aimee just stood there, her mouth hanging open, staring at Karla with pinched eyes. It was like staring at a statue. “Would you stop looking at me like that,” Karla said, as she pulled the toast from the toaster and threw it on a plate. “I feel bad enough already.” She tossed several pieces of bacon on the plate and walked over to the table and sat down.

Aimee followed her, arms across her chest as she took the seat next to her sister. “Of all the stupid, selfish, stupid…”

“You said that one already,” Karla said. “And trust me, I know. I know.” She tossed slices of bacon onto the toast, wishing she had grabbed the butter, but too annoyed to get up and get it now. “And you know the part that’s really nagging at me? Oh, you’re going to love this. I actually do feel guilty. Me. Karla Harper. I never feel guilty about anything.” She pressed the other piece of toast on top of her bacon and squished it down flat. Picking up the weak sandwich, she stared at her sister. “Yet, I do. It’s why I’m awake. I can’t stop thinking about what I did. Oh, not the sex. That would be normal for me to think about. No. I’m thinking about how sweet Mitch was yesterday and how I couldn’t go twenty-four hours before screwing him over. What the hell has happened to me? I used to be able to screw someone over within the first hour and think nothing of it.” She bit down on her sandwich and regretted it. It tasted like sandpaper. No flavor. No bacony joy. She dropped the sandwich onto her plate. God, she was screwed.

“Oh my god, you really do love him,” Aimee said, her eyes wide, mouth hanging open. “I don’t believe it.”

“Oh, shut up. He ruined a perfectly good sandwich.”

“Karla, you have to tell him.”

“Are you crazy? If I tell him, he’ll just leave me like the rest of them did. No. Telling him is what I most certainly must not do.”

“Not that, you idiot,” Aimee said, leaning forward. “You have to tell him you love him. Karla, this is new territory for you. You’ve never loved someone like this before and you know it. You have to tell him.”

“Tell him I love him? The day after I had a threesome behind his back? You really are crazy, you know that?”

Aimee shook her head. “Believe it or not, I’m not telling you to tell him about what you did. You’ll have to live with that. I’m telling you to tell him you love him.”

Karla stared at her sister. Love him? Do I really love him? That must be it, though. Why else would she be feeling so shitty about what she did? She liked other men, sure, even told them she loved them. It was part of the game, after all. They expected to hear it. Yet, this was different. This was… so much more. She took a deep breath. So much more. She sat there, staring. “Aimee, I’m scared. What if I screw it up? Hell, I already screwed it up.” She leaned forward, her hand on her forehead, holding her head up as her elbow kept her from hitting the table, “No. No, you haven’t. Aren’t you always telling me how he promises he’s different? Didn’t he take you out to that bar and let other men enjoy playing grab ass with you all night? Karla, I know you don’t believe it, but I really do think Mitch is just as twisted and kinky as you are. Maybe he’ll spank you again, but I just don’t see him walking away from you.”

Karla looked up at her sister, her lips pressed into a thin line as she listened to what Aimee said. True, Mitch made some promises, but it was never Karla’s experience that men meant what they said. She cocked her head a little to the side. “Why are you on his side so much?”

“Because I’ve never seen you like this over a man. Karla Harper uses them, gets what she wants out of them, and then tosses them to the curb. She doesn’t sit and stew about their feelings. She doesn’t care about their feelings. Yet, you care about his. You love him. And what’s more, I truly think he loves you. I think you two are meant for each other. This is your chance to have what you want, as well as what everyone else has. Even better, you get to have it on your own terms. He’s perfect for you.”

Karla nodded as she listened. Mitch was perfect for her. That night at the bar was intense and so unlike anything she ever experienced before, it still sent tendrils of excitement throughout her body. And he promised more of those nights for her. Aimee was right. He was perfect for her—if he meant what he said, that is.

She sighed as she dropped her hands into her lap. “I need to talk to him.”

Aimee nodded as she reached across the table and took Karla’s BLT. “You do. And I’ll finish this for you. I’ll even do the dishes.”

Karla shook her head. “Gee, thanks.” She pushed back from the table and stood.

“Oh and wearing something really skimpy might help. Just saying’.”

Karla gave a soft laugh. “You know, I’m not the only one who’s changed recently. That statement never would have come out of your mouth before.”

Aimee shrugged as she took a bite of the sandwich. “Maybe we’re switching roles,” she said around a mouthful of bacon and toast.

Karla laughed as she turned toward her room. “Now that’s a scary thought.”