Trying to patch things up with Monique was going to be difficult, especially if she was cheating on me… she was damn sure not going to make it easy for me. Could I forgive her if it was true? But then there was the other problem, when a mere look at Mila in her flimsy robe made my cock stir.
I cleared my throat and adjusted my slacks so my erection wouldn’t be obvious. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop staring, and I only hoped Monique was too preoccupied with her own breakfast to notice where my gaze kept landing.
Mila pushed away her plate, her food barely touched. She got up from the table with a groan, her thin robe parting at the chest, revealing a sliver of flesh beneath. She headed towards the kitchen and opened the cabinets, hunting, I presumed, for something more edible than the breakfast Monique had served. Monique watched her like a hawk as she dug around.
“Anything I can help you with, Mila?” she asked in a syrupy-sweet voice, which I knew meant trouble.
“I’m just looking for some aspirin,” Mila mumbled, looking like a guilty kid. A deep need to console her arose in me, and I fought the urge to envelop her in an embrace right there in front of my wife.
“What for?” Monique wanted to know, her voice already getting that well-known edge to it. “Are you hurting?”
“My head is pounding,” Mila admitted with a groan, and my wife narrowed her eyes. I already smelled trouble, and I took a deep breath, knowing hell was about to break loose, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
“I’d say that was from the junk you had yesterday,” Monique said angrily as Mila looked on with surprise. “Oh yes, Devan told me all about your little treat last night.”
Mila gave me a wounded look, and I winced.
“I never get headaches when I eat burgers, if that’s what you mean,” she said, trying to defend herself. “I’m only a little hung-over, is all.”
Fuck.
I sucked in a breath and shook my head, my fists holding the cutlery in a death grip. This was not going to end well, and I waited for the storm to come crashing down all around our heads.
I could tell what was going to happen even before Monique raised her voice. Mila’s eyes widened as she looked at me, knowing she’d just made a huge mistake. Yes, I had told my wife about the burgers, but I hadn’t mentioned the drinks. And now she was going to lose it.
“Why are you hung-over, Mila?” Monique asked, barely holding back her anger, her pencil-thin eyebrows raised high. Mila looked sheepishly at the floor, and my wife strode over to me, the anger seeping from her pores. “Why is she feeling like that, Devan?” she asked as she pointed an accusing finger at Mila.
I dropped my knife and fork and rubbed my eyes wearily, a heavy sigh escaping my lips. “We had a few drinks at the bar,” I finally admitted. Monique immediately shrieked in horror as if I’d just admitted we had worshipped the devil, not downed a few shots.
And Mila wasn’t even pregnant yet. Fuck, this was going to be a hell of a ride.
“Are you crazy? Are you both out of your minds?” My wife was yelling now, and I could only stare at my poor defenceless stepsister as Monique launched into another of her tirades. “You are so irresponsible. You should know better by now, and we’ve had this conversation! You promised to take care of yourself - you can’t be that selfish. Can’t you think of the baby for a second?”
“I’m not even pregnant yet!” Mila shouted back at her, tears welling in her eyes.
Monique strode over to Mila who was almost shaking now, clutching her robe in front of her body protectively. She had done nothing wrong, and this was fucking ridiculous.
Monique jammed a finger in Mila’s chest as she continued to shout. “You have to look after yourself if we’re gonna do this. We’re letting you stay here for free, and this is how you repay us? Don’t you care at all?”
I’d had enough. A primal instinct awoke in me, and I got up from the chair, sending it flying behind me, my hands forming fists at my sides. Mila was doing this amazing good deed for us, and Monique was attacking her for no goddamned reason.
“Monique! That’s enough!” I shouted, interrupting her raving. Then said as calmly as I could manage, “It was my idea. I wanted her to blow off some steam after the appointment. It would be her last chance for nine months, for fuck’s sake.”
My wife slowly turned around, and her wrath was finally on me, but I could take it, had been for months. Better me than Mila, anyway.
“I should have known,” she said with spite. This was god-awful; our relationship was on the rocks – no, strike that - it was already broken. We were drowning, and I’d dug an even deeper hole for myself… just threw away my goddamn life preserver.